...I have no words... Like no words. This is a first for me.

How long has it been? 3? 4 Years? Shit. I don't know.

I had no intention of going back to it. I had started the Six chapter all of those years ago, but I just stopped for some reason. No idea why I did. However, after watching Star Trek a few weeks ago, I got back into the Star Trek fanfiction. I could not stop reading it. It became my go to thing- no idea why. Then a reviewer, mameeta, had suddenly found my story and started read it from the beginning. I found myself loving the reviews that she was leaving. She was into it. Man, that got my mind kicking. So you can thank her for this. Or rather, she was just lucky to have found it when i was in a Star Trek mode.

However, I have to warn you. I am not the same writer that I was when I started. No where close. I am not sure if that is good or bad. I hoped that you could say that I have improved, but I am not sure. I would like to say that I am, though it is what it is. That being said, if I had to rewrite this story from the beginning, I would probably change the shit out of it. So if you are a new reader, please forgive me for my mistakes and my pretty OOC moments that I know exist. I am pretty sure this is one of my first Fanfictions.

Anyhow, here you go!

Also, there are some flashbacks. You can tell the time jump by this weird thing- _(O(O)O)_

Chapter Six:

The Bloody Truth

Jim was still emotionally raw from the bar, though he was a puddle all day, but he got changed into his dress uniform like nothing had happened. The heavy material itched like ants were biting him, and he wanted nothing more than to rip it off; granted, he wasn't sure if he was imagining it. Everything felt time times worse than it was. He wasn't sure what was real lately, especially considering Spock threw logic to the wind. If Spock could do that, what else could he do? Heck, Jim didn't know what to think about that? Was he proud? Maybe?

Whatever it was, Jim could not abandon Spock. Though he hesitated for a second, he rushed to Spock's defense without a care about his rank. His rank was the last thing on his mind, only Spock's rank. What did that say about him? Jim was sure it said something, but he could ponder that later. He had an Emergency session to get to, and he couldn't be late, not when the Admiralty already doubt his ability to lead after his inability to keep a First Officer.

He had to make a good impression, which meant putting on his game face. This meant he had to show a united show, not that they needed to put on a show. Scotty and Jim were a solid team, never turning their back on the other. Scotty had showed this time and time again. They just needed to show they were a team, which they had a chance to do. Commander Scott had been notified and was heading to meet him in front the building. In a hurry to meet him, Jim made his way to Starfleet HQ, ignoring the panic that seemed to spout up around him.

Jim had seen HQ at a variety of times, but none of those times compared to this. It was in a total uproar, which was discerning at this late of night. During his many restless nights, Jim had taken countless walks around his place, thinking about life, and in all of those times in the middle of the night, he had never seen it like this. This was something else. Granted, it wasn't surprising. He had heard the news, had seen the destruction in London. Even having fought Nero, the devastation flabbergasted him. He had been shocked by the entirety of it all, and damn it, he would be lying if he said it didn't freak him slightly. Who the hell would do something like that?

"Captain!"

"Scotty!" Jim replied, seeing his New First Officer by the entrance. A sad smile graced his face. If it was another day, he would tease the man about his dress uniform, which seemed out of place on him. The man had worn a dress uniform before, but he looked a bit out of place with his new rank. "You okay?" he asked, noticing the uneasiness in Scotty.

"Yes, Sir. It's just goin' to take me a few to get used to this." He answered, adjusting his uniform. "My first meetin' as you First Officer, and it's for this."

Jim forced the smile to say on his face and place a firm hand on Scotty's shoulder. "Don't worry. You got this. We got this." He didn't tell his new XO about the strange feeling in his gut—which, again, could be in his head. Spock had gotten him all confused with these feelings rushing up that he thought were dead. Feelings that he hadn't felt in a while. "Let's not keep them waiting."

"Aye, Sir."

Letting his smile slip away, Jim nodded and led them to the elevator. With each step, he forced himself to take a deep breath to clear his mind. Starfleet was attacked; he didn't have time for these sentiments bubbling up inside him. He blamed it on the good memories that he shared with Spock. God, they had so many good memories. They may be drowned out at times by the bad ones, but they existed, and they could still warm his heart. Jim could still see the smile—gifted for him only- that wormed its way onto Spock's face after one of their 'Date' nights. He could still see the emotions in Spock that was only shared with him. He missed those times.

"Are you okay, Jim?" Scotty asked, breaking Jim away from his reminiscing.

The doors had closed, and the elevator bolted upward. "Yea," he said with a soft smile. "Just thinking." He leaned against the side of the elevator and closed his eyes. Even now, he could see the Spock's face after one of their love sessions. He could feel his skin against his; it was a memory he could never rid himself of, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. He might've pushed them back, but after learning of what Spock did—after he pulled a Jim-, it came rushing back. It was like he was seeing Spock for the first time again; it was like he was getting another view of Spock, a view he hadn't seen before. It was weird… Could he not say that word enough?

"Well, don't think too hard, Jim. You know what happens when you do."

"Ouch." They let silence fall between them, which Jim didn't mind. Sometimes talking was more uncomfortable than silence, especially when he had something heavy on his thoughts. He could ponder in peace. It wasn't until the door opened that Jim opened his eyes, feeling something stir in his gut long before the doors moved. It was a bizarre sensation, growing deep within stomach. Not moving, Jim lifted his head and glanced up; there was no denying the skipped his heart had just taken. "Spock." He uttered; his voice was too soft to hear.

"Commander Spock," Scotty greeted. "How you doin' today, Sir?"

It was as if Scotty had not spoken, as Spock paid no attention to him. The Vulcan's eyes were glued on Kirk, drinking him in like he had just stepped out of a desert and Kirk was his water. With his hands behind his back, Spock stepped onto the elevator and held his position by the door, effectively blocking the exit—though there wasn't much escape as the doors closed behind him. "Captain."

Jim adjusted himself, but he didn't push himself off the wall. He just stared there at his former First Officer, unsure of what to say. What did he say? "I see you still have your ranks." His hands balling, he eyes dropped to the ranking on Spock's uniform. "So? Just a snap on the wrist?" he asked, pleased to see it.

"It is fortunate that the consequences were not more severe," Spock answered, slowly. "I must admit I find myself at a loss of words to your actions. I was not expecting-"

"Spock," Jim interrupted, not able to take the change in his voice. With a deep breath, his eyes snapped back up to Spock's eyes. God, he could get lost in them. "I couldn't let you be dishonorable discharged or demoted."

"Discharged, Sir?" Scott asked, looking confused.

Jim glanced toward Scotty—missing the slight twitch in Spock's shoulders—and smiled. "It's seemed like our former First Officer was channeling me, which I'm surprised didn't break him, and broke a few dozen Starfleet regulations. I'm so proud of him. I had to save his ass as you know him, falling on his sword, but man, I'm so proud." He turned back to Spock, who had taken step closer to Jim. His eyes still watched his every move.

"That does not sound like our Mr. Spock," Scotty replied, looking between the two. "Has he hit-"

"Why is Commander Scott accompanying you to the Emergency session," Spock asked, interrupting.

Startled by the tone, Jim narrowed his eyes at Spock, trying to get a read on the man. It was harder than it used to be, which struck him more than he cared to admit. "He's my First Officer." He answered.

"Excitin', isn't it?" Scotty asked, accent heavy. There was a light smile on his face, though fading a few seconds, as if he remembered who he was talking to.

Spock spared the Scotty a look before glancing back to Jim. "Commander Scott will make fine First Officer," he replied.

Once more, Jim was glued to Spock's eyes, and it took everything not to shiver under the immense heat. Shit. Shit. Shit. There was so much heat that it was almost too much to take. "Yup," he said, not finding the strength to say anything else.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. I hope to do him well." Scotty added. The Man, firmly Team Kirk, was not vengeful in anyway, which was why Jim had often used him as a sounding board. It was Chekov that Jim had to worry about, because that Russian was had a short temper, and he didn't have the best outlet for it. He really wondered what the man was saying half the time, but he was sure he should be worried anyhow. "Captain Kirk is a handful."

"Hey!" Jim protested, still unable to look away. What was wrong with him? And why was Spock looking at him like this?

"That he is, Mr. Scott, but it is an honor that I wished I still had." Spock answered. "An honor I would do anything for."

Jim didn't know what to say to that. "Spock."

"Jim," Spock said, softly. Something darted behind his eyes, but it was gone the next. "I am requesting a moment alone to speak with you after the Emergency session."

There it was. Jim didn't need to ask what this was about; he knew what this was about. Heck just look at that gaze Spock was giving him. However, he was saved from having to answer as the doors opened. A life saver if there ever was one. Unsure of what to say, Jim smiled. "We got a meeting to get to! Let's go," he said, bolting pass both Spock and Scotty. He was sure that he was acting like a child avoiding his problems, but his middle name was James Avoid My Problems Kirk. Both Spock and Scotty called after him, but like his middle name suggested, he ignored them.

*O*O*

Whenever Jim spoke to Pike, Jim had to figure out first who it was he was talking to. There were different versions of Christopher Pike, depending on what the situation called for. Jim, being the idiot that he was at times, had almost seen all of the versions of the old man. Right now, even in a room filled of Admirals, Pike was more than just Pike. He was Chris. He was channeling his inter dad mode and eyed Jim the second he had stepped into the room. "You okay?" he asked, crossing to the Captain. "You looked like you have seen a ghost."

With a weak smile, Jim looked around the busy room, taking note of all the Admirals, Captain and First Officers. It was odd to see this many in a small room, a first for Jim. He noticed a few of Admirals from tribunal staring at him with a few cold expressions that he could not read. Having gone in hot, he didn't make any friends, but he was sure everyone now knew he had a set of balls on him, which probably impressed a few of them. "Got trapped in an elevator with Spock." He answered with a chuckling sigh. "It was so much fun."

"Did you two talk or did you run away like a scared child?" he asked, giving Jim a skeptical look. "Hm?"

Jim wasn't sure if he should be insulted by what Chris was referring—even if that was exactly what he did-, but he felt somewhat affronted. However, no one needed to know that "What is there to talk about?" he asked, catching sight of Scotty in the doorway. The Scottish man met Jim's eyes, holding his glance.

Pike let out a harsh sigh. "Like how you put your ass on the line for Commander Spock? Or the fact that Spock still loves you?" he asked, stating facts. "I am pretty sure he would get on his knees and beg if he thought it would work."

There was no explaining how Jim felt at hearing those words, but there was no denying that he would always care for Spock. But did that mean he still loved the man? He didn't know where to begin as that was tricky question to answer. He couldn't tell if he loved the memories or he loved the man. Did love go away? Besides, what did that change? There was no going backwards. "Chris."

Pike placed a firm hand on Jim's shoulder and closed the distance between them. It was a rather intimate move, which didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the room. However, it was no secret that the Admiral saw the Captain like a son. Pike had gone to bat for Kirk many times over, and that wasn't going to change anytime soon. "Can you really say you don't love him? You rushed to his aid without a care what could happen to you."

Jim wasn't sure if that was completely true, but it was true he wasn't thinking about his own skin. "What do you want from me?" he asked, not having an answer. It wasn't like he knew what to say, and heck, why did any of this matter to Chris?

"Jim," Chris uttered, his eyes growing soft. There was a silent plead in this voice.

Why did people want to bring up the past? "There's Admiral Marcus. We should take a seat." Thank God! The Admiral had just walked into the room, and Marcus looked really to kill. Given the situation, he had every right to be angry. They were attacked, people were killed. Jim and Chris sat at the closest seats, sitting next to each other. Spock, who had walked in after Scotty, and Scotty took their seats as well, acting like bookends to their commanding officers. And even with Pike sitting between them, Jim could still feel Spock's eyes on him. It was unnerving.

At the end of the large circular table, Marcus sat and gave everyone a once over. His eyes were calculating and cold. "Thank you for convening on such short notice. By now, some of you have heard what happened in London. The target was a Starfleet data archive. Now it's a damned hole in the ground. Forty-two men and women are dead. One hour ago, I received a message from a Starfleet officer who confessed to carrying out this attack, that he was being forced to do it by this man, Commander John Harrison." On the screens in front of them, a dark-haired man appeared. Commander Harrison was a straight face man, and his cold expression showed that.

While everyone was looking down at the picture and his record, Marcus flickered his attention to Kirk, who was having a moment. At hearing that name, Jim froze as if he was drowned in a bucket of ice. His heart shot up through his chest, pounding heavily in his ear. He was in the twilight zone, and he felt sick, truly sick. No matter how many times he closed his eyes John was on the P.A.D.D. in front of him, staring angrily at him. The man didn't look any different from the last time Jim had seen him, even in his current cross state. Scotty, also knowing Harrison, stirred slightly and glanced at Jim. "Jim," he uttered, softly.

Closing his eyes once more, Jim let out a soft sigh. He caught Scotty's stare. "Not now," he replied back.

Marcus's cold eyes drifted from Kirk to the rest of the group. "He's one of our own. And he's the man responsible for this act of savagery. For unknown reasons, John Harrison has just declared a one-man war against Starfleet. And under no circumstances are we to allow this man to escape Federation space. You here tonight represent the senior command of all the vessels in the region. And in the name of those we lost, you will run this bastard down." He slammed his fist down on the table.

With the banging echoing in his ears, Jim tried to slow his breathing down, but there was no stopping the memories that started to work their way up. How the hell could John do this? This wasn't the man that Jim knew. This wasn't the man who Jim had spent weeks working next to. This wasn't… No, Jim couldn't go down that path. His increased panic wasn't missed by Scotty, who was placed a soft hand on Jim's leg. Pike even noticed, sending Jim side glances.

"This is a manhunt, pure and simple, so let's get to work. Earth's perimeter sensors have not detected any warp signatures leaving the system, so we know he can't be far. You will park your ships in a blockade formation then deploy search vehicles and landing parties to run down every lead." Marcus continued, his voice coming out in a growl. His aggressive eyes once more flickering to Jim, he studies the look on the Young's Captain's look. It went unnoticed by everyone—besides Spock, who narrowed his eyes at the interaction.

Jim, with a deep intake of air, flashed back to the first time he had met John. He hadn't been sure of the no-nonsense man, when he first met him, but he had shoved those feelings away the second John complemented him. It was ridiculous that he let down his guard after a few nice words, but he knew why. He was sure everyone knew why, and Jim hated himself for it. How could he fall for that? So what if he wasn't complemented during his childhood?

_(O(O)O)_

The sun may be out, warming everything that it touched; however, there was a chill in the air that was not there a few days ago. It was not yet December, but Jim found himself in a jacket, the weather threatening to dip below 60 degrees. The wind was light; yet, it was enough to send a shiver down his back. Jim, the rule breaker, could've put on a heavier coat; Starfleet did provide regulation coats, which provided more warmth. But where was the fun in that? Instead, he wore his worn, beat up leather jack over top his Starfleet Uniform, looking out of place along the other officers. He had gotten some odd looks in his jacket, but Jim ignored them as he looked upon the Providence, which was coming together.

Scotty could be seen in the distance, chatting with some of the techs about one of his designs. The Scotsman was heaven right now, building his own ship. Not many people could say they were involved with building the ship that they would serve on it. Jim was sure Scotty would love the ship that much more. Jim could say that for that same reason. Chekov was the same, as the young Russian, at any time, could be found on Providence itself slaving away on the operating system. With the outer core was complete, Chekov with help had joyously switched. He couldn't wait to get the ship in the air, and once the flight system was completed, the ship would be launched and finished in space.

From time to time, Jim would assist with the programing, finding himself enjoying it. Granted, he wasn't sure if this was because he enjoyed this kind of work, or rather, he loved the look on Pavel's face. Anyhow, it gave him an inside look at the systems that would operate the Providence, though that wasn't how he spent most of his time. Somehow, Admiral Pike, who was off planet on the Enterprise and not here to rant to, had convinced Jim to teach at the Academy while on Earth, so that was how Jim spent his day. It was odd, especially when it wasn't so long ago that he was a Cadet running through those very halls. He did have a new understanding of how stupid the cadets were now that he was looking through the eyes of a Professor. That aside, he enjoyed it, especially when the Cadets were into the class. So, what if he felt the need to complain about it time to time?

Even on Earth, his Captain mode was never 'off,' and Jim took in his surroundings like he was going to war. His eyes darted to each person, taking them in each in, as he made his way to the bay doors. Once assuring himself that nothing was wrong – something he found himself checking more than once lately-, he headed to check on Chekov, wanting to see if there was anything he needed. Pavel might disagree and say he had everything under control while spouting off in Russian—a clear sign that Ensign was over his head. It may take some convincing, but the young Ensign would admit it and accept Jim's help.

Man, his crew had some quirks to them, though he loved them all the more for it. A smile grew on Jim's face as he buried his hands in the pockets of the leather Jacket, trying to protect himself from the chill. God, he really did love it here. He loved his crew. He loved everything about it. Looking back, he had no idea how he could live anyhow way. It-

"I doubt that jacket is regulation, Captain." A voice said, cutting off Jim's train of through. There was hint of playfulness in it.

With a grin still on his face, Jim turned to the jovial voice. "Oh, I think it makes me look dashing." He said, taking in dark haired man. His hair reminded Kirk of a Raven, and his eyes were something out of a romance novel.

The man—A Commander, judging from his rankings on his uniform—gave Jim a look once over. "I see someone is quite full of themselves," he said with an English accent.

"I didn't catch your name, Commander," Jim said, staring at the man. His Captain voice was breaking through, as he was a bit unsure of what to make of the man. Though he didn't—couldn't remember everyone he met-, he had not seen this Commander here before.

"I didn't give it," he replied, holding out his hand for Jim to shake. "Commander John Harrison."

Grudgingly, Jim took his hand out of his pocket and take Harrison's hand. He gave him a hard shook; a handshake said a lot about a man. "Captain Kirk, but I'm sure you knew it."

Harrison held on to Jim's hand longer than necessary, almost pulling Jim into him. "Yes, I did." he replied, finally letting go of Jim's hand, which went straight back in his jacket's pocket.

Jim took a look around before turning back to the Commander. "So, you're here to hassle me about my choice in jackets?" he asked, taking a step back from the man. "Seems like a hassle."

The strange Commander took out his P.A.D.D. and turned it on. Even from this angle, the blueprints for Providence were clearly visible on the screen. "Admiral Marcus sent me. He believed that I could be of assistance here."

Admiral Marcus was a legend. Jim had never spoke or been remotely close to him, though he had heard him speak quite a few times. On reputation alone, the Admiral made Jim nervous, being a no-nonsense kind of man; plus, he was the head of Starfleet and could make or break you in a matter of seconds. There was also the fact that Marcus was Pike's mentor, and Pike thought extremely high of the man. When Pike was in a talking mood, he could go on and on about the man, about how many lives he had personally saved. About how many missions he had under his belt. In Pike's eyes, there was no one better, and shit scared Jim. "Did he now?" he asked.

"He did. The Providence is going to be the top of the line ship, the best of Starfleet, and with my expertise, he believed I would best be served here."

Harrison holding something else back, but Jim wasn't sure what. "What is your specialty?" Jim asked. His hands were still buried in his pocket

"I am an advance weapon expert," he replied, his eyes drifting over Jim's head.

"A weapon expert? Why would I need a weapon expert working on my ship? Are you upgrading our Photon Torpedoes or something?" Jim asked, following his glance. Scotty had stepped away from the other Engineers he was speaking to and looked at Jim and Harrison. Narrowing his eyes, he was slowly making his way to them.

Harrison turned his full attention back to Jim, staring into his eyes. "Starfleet may be a peace keeping organization, but you can never be too careful, Captain Kirk." He said, stressing Jim's rank.

Jim knew the man had a point, and he would have to give it to Harrison, considering the number of times someone had tried to kill him. He could faintly feel Salean's hands on him squeezing the fight out of him, which chilled him to the bone. Not now, he scorned himself. "You may have a point, but that isn't what Starfleet is about. However, that doesn't mean I won't do whatever it takes to keep my crew safe. So, go ahead. Do you stuff, but my main concern is my crew."

The look in Harrison's eyes changed. "Your crew is your family."

"Yes, they are," Jim answered, turning from Harrison. "And I'll do anything for them." That was an understatement. He would die for them, which was why he left the Enterprise. He loved—still loved—that ship, but he could not risk anything happening to that ship or her crew, even if it meant he went through hell.

Before Harrison could replied, Scotty appeared at Jim's side, his eyes drilling into Harrison. "And who do we have here, Captain?" Scotty asked. He was asking nicely, but there was a hint of something else behind it.

"Commander Harrison," The Commander offered, not holding out a hand like he did with Kirk. "I was informing our Captain here about how Admiral Marcus lent me to Providence for the time being. You will be seeing a lot of me, Mr. Scott. But do not worry, I have no interest of stealing your girl."

There was a light scowl on Scotty's face as he fully took in Harrison. "Why was I not made aware of this? I'm goin' to the Chief Engineer aboard this beauty. I need to know what happens on my ship." There was no denying how protective Scotty was of his ship—something that Jim and Scotty playfully fought on.

"I wasn't aware of this either, Scotty." Jim commented, his eyes still on Harrison. There was something mysterious about the Commander, and Jim wasn't sure if he liked it or not. There was no denying how attractive this Harrison was, especially when he looked at you with those eyes of his. "But I suppose it won't do any harm. The legendary Admiral Marcus would not stir us wrong."

"Indeed, Captain Kirk." Harrison replied. Jim didn't realize it then, but he would realize soon after that Harrison had him.

_(O(O)O)_

"This man has shown willingness to kill innocent people, so the rules of engagement are simple. If you come across this man and fear for your life or the lives of those nearby, you are authorized to use deadly force on sight," Marcus ordered, his cold voice snapping Jim out of his thoughts. The coldness of his voice could freeze hell.

Jim forced himself to take a few deep breaths, as he stared down at John, his eyes scanning every inch of the photo. The photo was not the best, taking from a half-melted security camera, but it clear enough to see make out everything. John, even in the devastation, looked calmed and collected as if he had just walked out spa. It may have been a few months since Jim had seen John—John, who at one point had turned down the offer to be Jim's First Officer—but this photo stirred some unwelcomed feelings within him. Forcing his thoughts away from that, Jim turned his attention to the bag he was carrying. "What's in the bag?" Jim asked, turning to Pike. Chris, even if Jim told him everything nowadays, had no idea that John and Jim were closed or even knew each other. For some reason, Jim was scared to tell the Admiral, the closest thing he had to a father, about John.

Chris gave Jim a look, stunned that he dated to speak while Marcus was still taking. "Jim, not now," Pike said as softly as he could. Over Pike's head, Spock's attention snapped to Jim, as he was able to hear Jim's whispers. Scotty leaned in a bit, staining to hear.

Jim shot each of them a look, hating this. He would rather be hiding from his feelings, pondering if he still loved Spock than looking at this. John had been entered his life, when he needed it—not that he realized it at the time. "It doesn't seem odd to you that he'd target an archive. It's like bombing a library." Having spent weeks together working on the Providence, he knew John wasn't stupid not in the least. There was a purpose for everything that he did.

Once more, Marcus's eyes were on Jim. "Everything okay there, Kirk?" he asked.

Jim looked up, scanning the room. His eyes counted everyone as they looked at him. He spared a second with Chris and Scotty before looking back up at Marcus. Was why the Admiral looking at him like that? "I'm fine, sir. My apologies."

"Spit it out, son. Don't be shy."

Why did everyone refer to him as son? He was not his son. Not the time, Kirk. He told himself. "Why the archive? All that information is public record, and if he really wanted to damage Starfleet, this could just be the beginning." That sounded like John, a man always thinking ahead.

"The beginning of what, Mr. Kirk?"

"Sir, in the event of an attack, protocol mandates that senior command gather captains and first officers at Starfleet HQ, right here. In this room," He said, feeling something foreign pool in his stomach.

Spock leaned forward, pass Pike to look at Jim. There was no tell on the Vulcan's face, but Jim could see there was something forming just behind his eyes. He was once more drilling into him with those same eyes. "It is curious Harrison would commandeer a jump ship without warp capabilities."

The room fell silent for a second, as something horrible dawned on them. However, that was all got to ponder that as in less than a second, the room was flooded by a bright piecing red light. Burning, it was like looking at the sun and forced several to look away. Jim, his gut screaming at him, was on his feet before he could comprehend what he was doing. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Spock stand up and take a protective step toward him. Annoyance grew at the sight of it—he didn't need protecting, damn it-, but it was gone the next, spotting the man in the pilot seat.

Just like that, Jim was doused in ice, feeling someone had dropped the temperature to match the arctic; his entire body shivered. He never thought himself as this kind of man, but yet, he froze. John, straight face as ever, hovered in the jump ship, his cold eyes meeting Jim's. Holding his focus, time had slowed down. With John's eyes on the Jim the whole time, John's hand flicked, disappearing from the wheel. "Clear the room!" Jim yelled, realizing what was coming next.

Just as the first shot was fired- its echo deafening-, Spock jumped into action. With a hard shove, he pushed Pike to the ground and leaped over the Admiral to Jim. Their bodies collided hard, taking them both down in a loud and painful thump. Using gravity, Spock pinned Jim to the ground and used his body to protect his former Captain, which Kirk was not happy. Jim didn't like this overprotectiveness when Spock was his First Officer, but he hated it now. However, that was an issue for another time. Right now, Jim had to deal with John, who was raining hell down upon them.

"Jim," Spock called, mere inches from his face.

Giving him his famous Captain look, Jim looked at him. His eyes said it all. "Get off, Commander."

_(O(O)O)_

The outside of the Providence was deceitful as it gave illusion that the ship was nearly complete. However, one look at the inside, it was clear that the ship had a long way to go. Whole sections of walls were missing. Large segments of walkways were absent, leaving engineers to fall to their doom if not careful. There was not a single door on the ship, besides the ones in engineering. Complete panels were missing from several departments. The bridge was built, but it was just an empty room with a good view. On Jim's more sentimental days, he would bring up a chair and would sit there all day. Either Bones, Chekov or Scotty would have to force him away.

That was not to say that their girl could not fly, having hovered a few times. If the Providence needed to be in the air, it could be piloted from engineering with a smiling Scotty at the helm. Even if in the beginning stages, it still did it for Jim. It gave him goose bumps, knowing the fun he would be having on that very bridge. God, he loved being on this ship. Even, this state did it for him. It was amazing to watch it come to. It gave you a whole new outlook on it

Even if he didn't like it, it had been a few days since he was on the Providence. Besides being a Professor, he still had sessions with Dr. Jones a couple times a week, so his time on the Providence was limited, especially with the drive. So, any time he could be here, he made the most of it, never allowing himself to rest for a second. Jim, in his Professor blacks, walked through the ship with a huge smile on his face. He could not wait until he was in that Captain seat again. There was nowhere else he belonged; it was in his DNA. It was-

"Captain Kirk."

Snapping out of his thoughts, Jim turned to the voice. "Commander Harrison," he spoke, seeing the Commander walking toward him. "You're still here?"

"And I see you are now in regulation." He replied, his voice dragging bit.

Jim's eye twitched, sizing him up. "My jacket and I feel personally attacked," he teased, playing hurt. Like before, there was an P.A.D.D. in John's hand, but this time, he had oil spattered across his hands and face. There was a large black spot on his forehead and chin. There were specks of blood on his hands well, mixed with the oil. If there was any bit of oil or blood on his clothes, it was not visible on his black clothes.

Harrison gave him a smile—an actual smile. Okay, that was weird. "Oh, Captain. I did not mean it as such." He said, taking a step toward him. "And I must agree. The leather jacket does more for you than those Professor blacks." He gave Kirk a once over, his eyes lingering on his chest. "Though, you do not look bad in anything."

There was no denying the odd feeling that bloomed in his stomach. It was so odd that Jim didn't even know where to begin to explain what he was feeling. Seriously, what the hell was this? "Oh, I'm sure you could find something. Like a chicken suit. I doubt I would look good in that. You may."

"I do not believe I would as well," Harrison replied, his voice husky. He glanced down at the P.A.D.D., his eyes scanning over the results that popped up on it.

"So, what are you looking over?" Jim asked, while he pushed whatever he was feeling down.

"I am currently integrating the Weapon system with the Providence's core." Harrison's fingers moved upward on the P.A.D.D., scrolling through the data. "Mr. Chekov has been watching me like a hawk, so don't worry, Captain. I won't hurt your ship." Again, he stressed the word Captain.

Jim chuckled as a smile grew on his face. "Ensign Chekov is a very protective. If you stay here, you got to get used to that." He paused for a second, thinking about how overprotective the young man was now that they lived together. Granted, the Russian was just as protective even when they weren't. "But we love him for it."

"The question is: is Mr. Chekov protective of the ship or you." Harrison looked around, watching the hallways for something. "I have come to learn in my short time here that you love your crew as much as they love you."

That was not the first time Jim had heard that, having been reminded of it often. Spock, the man who still struck a core within Jim, had reminded him of this every time there was a bruise on him. Bones, his new bossy roommate (yay, two overprotective roommates), reminded Jim every day. The good doctor didn't even have to say; it was in his eyes every time he looked at Jim. "Do they have you shaking in your boots?" Jim asked.

Harrison's eyebrow shot up for a second before the smile returned to his face. "If I ever serve on a ship, I desire it to be on a ship with a crew like this. A family."

"You might pull your hair out." Jim smiled. "So, what specific weapon system are you working on?"

A Cheshire cat smile appeared on Harrison's face. "Mr. Kirk, why don't we discuss this over a meal?" he asked.

That funny feeling was back, and once more, Jim had no idea what this was. It was weird. He wasn't even sure if he liked John Harrison, but here he was. They were joking and chatting with the other like friends. "Sure, we'll get to know each better. Maybe, Scotty and Chekov would like you better."

*O*O*

Jim had said it once, but he would say it again: being a Professor was weird. It was only a short while ago that he was a trouble making student; plus, it was odd to be called 'Professor.' It made him felt old, which was not allowed. He wasn't even thirty yet! He was not old any kind of way… even if he was basically old. He was living an old man's life. All he did was sleep, eat, teach, work on Providence, eat and sleep in that order. On the odd days, he would see Dr. Jones and play chess games with Chekov. Shit, he rarely went out anymore, not remembering the last time he had done so. Okay. Maybe, he was an old man.

With a strange smile, he dismissed his class and collected his things. He had free moment before his next class. Jim didn't know what to do with himself when he had moments like this, though he supposed food was in order. His stomach growling, he didn't have much to eat this morning. "Food it is," he uttered, zipping up his bag. He picked up his bag—how weird to have a bag in a paperless world? — and turned to the door. He froze, noticing a man in the doorway. "Oh, Commander Harrison. Hey," He greeted, his voice going up a bit in his surprise.

Said man walked down the aisleway toward Jim. There was a neutral smile on his face, only changing when he was mere feet from Jim. "Good Afternoon, Professor Kirk."

What was with this man and stressing his title? "I still don't whose thought it was the best idea to make me a Professor." He paused for a second. "Shit, I think scared all of my professors, when I was in the academy."

Harrison laughed—freaken laughed. "Oh, I can see that."

"What are you doing here, Commander?" Jim asked. He held his bag close to him, as he took the man in. Once more, he wore all black, but this time, he wore a navy Starfleet bomber jacket.

"Did we not agree to a meal? I am here to collect," Harrison answered with a smile.

A surprised look on his face, Jim never expected the man to agree, even if it was his idea. "Um, sure. I have a class later, so we can't go off campus. But there is this nice café overlooking the ocean."

"Sounds good, Captain. Lead the way?" Harrison said, stepping aside and letting Jim wall pass him.

With a smile, Jim led the Harrison to the Café. They didn't speak much as they walked, though Jim was focused on not working into anyone. At this time of day, the Academy was busy as a beehive with cadets everywhere, and he was playing frogger. He had lost count of how many times someone had walked into him and how many red faces he had come across. Jim, the nice guy that he was, smiled at them and told them it was fine. After a while, he wondered if the students did it on purpose as none of the other Professors seemed to have this issue.

"I hope this is okay?" Jim asked, after finding a table at the little café. Surprisingly, they were able to find a table at the busy café, but if Jim had to think about it, it was probably due to who he was. That tended to happen when you save the planet. "I like this place. It has a nice view." He waved to the bay. There was a nice view of the Golden State Bridge.

"I agree, Captain." Harrison replied, as he picked up the menu. "It is a good choice."

Jim's eye twitched, growing tired of the man calling him Captain. He reminded him of a certain Vulcan, which irritated him. It just hurt. "You got to stop calling me Captain, especially when we're sharing a meal together." He picked up his own menu and started to look through it. Everything, with his growling stomach, looked good. "Call me Jim."

Harrison looked up and smiled. "If you call me, John." There was something weird in his tone, but it was gone a second later. "It is only fair." Before looking back at his menu, he glanced around.

There was that feeling again. "Okay, John." Jim smiled. "So how do you like working on the Providence?"

"She will be amazing ship, once she is completed, and you will be one lucky captain," Harrison answered, looking back at Jim. "You better be careful. I might be tempted to steal her from you."

Jim laughed, his cheeks heating up. "You can try, but you will fail. And then you'll have to deal with an angry Scotty and a vengeful Chekov. Those two you don't want to make mad. Well, you probably shouldn't make Bones mad either. He'll hypo you and laugh while doing it." Bones and he may not be where they were in the past, but Jim counted him as a friend.

"Well, I seem to have no issue with making those two mad. I have lost count how many times Commander Scott had ranted at me, while Ensign Chekov cursed at me in Russian." The smile had not left Harrison's face. He leaned back in his chair, as his eyes once more glanced around the café.

Jim followed his eyes. "Are you okay? You keep looking around."

"Ah, you noticed. Of course, you would. You are worthy of your rank," the Commander said, taking another look at the tables around them. "You draw a lot of eyes. You must've drove your previous First Officer crazy."

With a chuckle, Jim could acknowledge that. "I can admit that I drove Commander Spock crazy." Then again, there were a lot of things that drove the Vulcan crazy, but Jim would rather not think about that. "But what can I say, I'm young Captain. I am-"

"Stop that," Harrison ordered, giving Jim a hard look. "I will not listen to you bad mouth yourself, even if you wear an out of regulation jacket. As I started before, you're a worthy Captain. Your age has nothing to do with it. You have something that no one else has. You have the loyalty and love of your crew. You have the respect of your peers. Just look around, you attract attention where you go because you are James T Kirk. This is not because you are a fool. You are no fool." His eyes locked onto Jim's, refusing to let the young Captain to look away. "Not with that brilliant mind of yours."

"Um, yea." Jim had no doubt that his face was cherry red. "Chekov is not cursing you. He's probably just frustrated. He gets frustrated a lot." He didn't know what to say to Harrison- No, John. He should call him John after those words.

John's eyebrow rose. "Я не слишком уверен в этом," he replied in Russian.

"Oh, shit," Jim exclaimed, his eyes widened. "Does Chekov not know?"

"Why would I inform him that I speak Russian? Where would the fun be in that?" John asked with a shrug. Before Jim could reply, the waitress—smiling largely at Jim— gave them their drinks and took their order. Being the nice man that he was, Jim smiled at her. She lingered a bit before noticing John's cold eyes, which were solely focused on her. She backed away as quickly as she could, disappearing into the kitchen. This went unnoticed by Jim.

Jim waited until she was out of sight before he turned back to John, his eyes completely soft. "I can talk to Chekov for you. Admiral Marcus has you helping us out. It would do no good for Chekov to be cursing at you." The idea that Chekov was swearing at the Commander was off putting. That did not sound like the Chekov Jim knew, though he did know the man was protective of all things he held dear.

"Where would the fun be in that, Jim?" he asked, popping out Jim's name. He was giving Jim a large smile.

Shaking his head, Jim let out a chuckle. "Okay." He paused for a second. "But you okay with this? I don't want you to be insulted or uncomfortable." Jim wasn't sure how long Commander Harrison would stay, but he would treat him apart of his crew and that involved respect. He may not know why he needed an advance weapon specialist, but he was here.

"Why would I take it as an insult, Jim? It is a reflection of how your crew sees you, and there is no better show of respect."

Shit, that feeling was back in his stomach, and Jim couldn't stop the blush forming on his cheeks. However, he wasn't so sure it had ever left. He was pretty sure it was painted on his face at the moment John found him in his classroom. God, what was wrong with him? "Well, yea, thank you."

John took a slip of his drink, his eyes still on Jim. "No thanks needed, Jim."

Jim needed to change the conversion now. "So, why don't you tell me what you are working on? What does Admiral Marcus have you working on?" With that, John explained his current project on the Providence.

_(O(O)O)_

Pain wasn't new for Jim, having experienced it throughout his life. He had lost his father on the day of his birth—something that would always haunt him. Lost his mother shortly after due her seeing his father's ghost everywhere she looked. He had been abused his entire life. All of this was due to George's death, and even after all these years, he couldn't rid himself of that. He hated his counterpart because of this. Selek, Spock's counterpart, had told him very little about his timeline, but he knew his counterpart had grew up with his father. He had the love of two loving parents. That wasn't something Jim could ever get over.

However, Jim had learned to live it with. He had learned to accept the pain and grow with it, as it made him who he was. It made him strong, even if he doubted himself. It gave him balls, his fighting spirit that could not be curbed. It was also why he could do this job so well, but that didn't mean he didn't he felt. He still felt the sharp pain in his chest, and no matter how often he built up his shield, it ate at him. Right now, Jim felt nothing but pain, and he wanted nothing more than to pull his heart from his chest. He wanted nothing more than revenge, killing the man who had caused him this pain. Though he may not be thinking with a level head, Jim prided himself with putting people first. Life was important to him, and he would do whatever it took to save those around him. However, right now, he couldn't find those thoughts. Right now, he wanted to kill someone, and there was one person in mind.

Fuck John. Fucken that man. Fucken everything, he had ever said to him.

There was no describing the pain that shot through when he searched for Chris in the rumble. Everything that Jim had prided himself on went out the window at the sight of Pike bloody and broken on the ground. Pike was like—No, he was a father to Jim, always there for Jim. He was there, even when Jim didn't think he needed it. He was there even when Jim didn't want it. He was there when he had tried to quit Starfleet. Even in his darkest moments, Chris believed in him, supporting him though everything, and Jim didn't know how to handle being alive without that in his life. The very idea made his heart ache. Damn it, Jim thought, trying to keep back the tears.

"Damn it," Jim cursed, loudly as he stared at Christopher Pike's stilled body. His heart was pounding in his chest as Jim fell to Pike's side with a loud thump. Jim, holding his breath, checked for a pulse. It took him a few tries with his hands shaking-tremoring. All of his training disappeared at the sight of Chris, struggling to breathe. He couldn't lose this man. He couldn't. "Yes, yes." He yelled, feeling a pulse. "Chris." The Admiral was alive, clinging to life.

Chris, his eyes opened, was staring up at Jim. There was this indescribable fear and panic in the man's face that broke Jim. Chris attempted to speak, his mouth opening, but nothing came out besides a pained moan. It was-

"Jim," Spock called, lowing himself next to his former Captain.

Jim, still shaking, glanced up, staring at his former lover. Memories started to force their way up as Spock was all too close to him, but he didn't have it in him to push the man away. Instead, he leaned into him—something he would regret later, but he didn't care. Spock had been his rock in the past, and he needed that now. "Pike needs Medical. He needs it now! Get Bones." With a firm hand on Jim's shoulder, Spock flipped open his communicator. The Vulcan's words were lost to Jim, whose sole attention was on Pike. "Get Bones."

Spock, keeping his former Captain close, pulled the shaking Captain closer. He was talking into his communicator; his words were nothing but breaths to the Captain, who hovered over the downed Admiral. Everything around Jim disappeared, as he pressed his hand against the wound on Chris's chest, trying to stop the blood. "There's too much blood. Too much." The blood was painfully warm under Jim's hands, and it took everything in Jim to apply pressure and not panic. It felt like someone had placed a bag over his head and pulled it tight, making it difficult to breathe. God, his stomach was flipping, as he watched Pike grow paler. "Get Bones. I need Bones."

"He is coming, Jim," Spock answered, his voice soft. His breath was hot against Jim's ear. "I need you to breathe, T'hy'la. I need you to breath." Spock's hand fell down from Jim's shoulder to his lower back. "Admiral Pike will be okay. Doctor McCoy is on his way. We will both keep the pressure on. It will be okay." Spock placed his hand on Pike's wound, right next to Jim's hand. The tips of their fingers touched, but neither paid any attention. Jim was worried about Pike, while Spock was focused on Jim.

The emergency session was a shit fest, and it showed. This conference room looked like someone had set off the bomb, which wasn't far from the truth. There was a layer of dust on everything; the lights were gone. There were holes in the walls and the next room over. Tables were overturned. Part of the ceiling were now on the ground, and there was glass everywhere. Blood was shattered everyone as there was multiple bodies. Yet, Pike, Scott, Spock, and Jim were alive, though not all in the same fashion.

Chris was barely hanging on. Scotty's head was bleeding, but overall, he was in one piece besides his uniform, which was ripped in several places. Spock, besides the blood sprinkled across his uniform and his hair out of place, was fine. Having kicked himself into action, Jim's shoulder was throbbing—being hit by something. Jim didn't know what, considering he went into autopilot. Besides disabling John's jump ship, he couldn't remember what exactly he did; well, he didn't remember it clearly. It was a fog, but he did know Bones was going to give him hell for his injuries.

However, none of that mattered; he was unable think about anything else besides the man, who had become his father. He was unable to draw himself away from Chris, who looked to be on death's door. The man was pale, a deadly pale, and he was lined in dark bruise and deep cuts up and down his body. And He was covered in blood. God, he couldn't stop thinking about the warm liquid that now covered his hand. Jim couldn't stop thinking about his father, a man who had been through hell. With shaky legs already, it was unlikely that Pike would ever walk again… well that was if he woke. No! He would wake again, because Jim refused to think otherwise. Bones would save him.

"Jim," Spock called again.

Another warm body settled next to Jim, but it meant nothing to him. His anger was back, clouding everything. His ever-growing anger. Jim blamed himself for not seeing this, for not realizing what Commander John Harrison was up to until it was too late. How could be so stupid? How could he not see it? How could he allow himself to be used by that man? It did not matter what it took; Jim was going to kill John Harrison.

Author note:

So, I hoped you like this chapter. I had fun writing it. I will note I don't recall exactly how I would have ended this all those years ago. Judging by what my past self wrote in that unfinished, unpublished chapter 6, this is already completely different. And I am okay with that. LOL

I do know that my past self wanted to keep Pike alive, so damn it. I am keeping him alive. He died too soon in my mind.

Until next time!