So, as I promised, here is the second part! I cannot believe that I got almost 100 reviews for last chapter alone. Words cannot describe how thankful I am to you guys, reviewing and encouraging me. Honestly, you guys give me confidence in my writing skills, so again, thanks!
I know people have high expectations for this section - again, same trepidation as before, but I hope I didn't disappoint. That's pretty much my greatest fear - that I let you guys down.
I know a few of you were asking what Jim was doing on-planet and who's funeral he attended. You shall find out in this chapter. Oh, and a few asked about the timeline of this story in regards to the movies. Let's just say that this occurs after Into Darkness, but Pike doesn't die. Or, you can also think of it as not really in the timelines, because it really isn't. I just kind of do my own thing and take so many liberties that's it's almost ridiculous. Uh, I think that's it.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! And please review!
Disclaimer: I do not own any Star Trek franchise.
No Into Darkness spoilers.
VII
The Cat's Out of the Bag Part II
The earliest memory J.T. had of Tarsus was love and laughter – of people caring for him and the feeling of happiness for the first time in his young life. He had friends, he had family. He had lived, but that all changed with the famine.
He was always a bright kid; he was one of the first to realize there was something wrong with the crops while he worked in his aunt and uncle's farm. When he discovered that it was a fungus, he brought it to Governor Kodos' attention. He, along with several other farmers, were told to not worry and because Kodos had a plan.
The following day, Kodos gathered half of the colony – about four thousand people – to a stadium. He stood before everyone with a reassuring smile upon his face. He spread his arms wide, as if welcoming his people before him, and spoke into the microphone – his speech to be broadcasted through the entire colony.
J.T. would never forget the next words for the rest of his life.
"The revolution is successful. But survival depends on drastic measures. Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered."
J.T. would never forget the next few minutes for the rest of his life.
There was utter chaos. Screams filled the air as gunfire sliced through the bodies of innocent, hard-working people. Friends, family, neighbors. All fell, one by one, lifeless to the ground.
His aunt had flung herself onto him, shielding him with her body. With tears leaking down her cheeks and her eyes dulling with each passing second, she hugged him tightly and whispered into his ear. "Survive…"
And then she was gone, along with everyone else that James had ever loved.
Guards wandered around, killing anyone else who tried to escape, but they failed to notice James hidden beneath the body of the one of the few people in this entire universe that truly cared for him.
Night fell and James crawled out from the mounds of bodies around him, barely clinging onto his sanity.
Nothing was the same again because that was the day that James learned that surviving was not the same as living and that he would do anything to survive.
That was the day J.T. was born, killing whatever was left of James.
The next months were a blur. Fighting tooth and nail for food; killing any soldiers who discovered him, and finding the first of his kids: Kevin Riley. Instantly, his purpose changed and he would do anything to keep Kev safe. Slowly, as he moved from safe place to safe place, his little band of kids grew. Some died, some lived. No matter how hard life became or how much guilt and burdens J.T. bore, the kids grounded him – humanized him and kept him sane; and in turn, J.T. gave all that he had so that his kids had the best shot to survive.
In the end, J.T. wasn't sure who saved who.
And that was all he knew.
When J.T.'s senses came back to him, the first thing he realized was that he was no longer surrounded by smell of blood or the sounds of frightened breathing. He wasn't lying in dark within a moldy, musty cave nor was he wearing the same rags as he remembered.
Instead, he felt bright, fluorescent lights over him; the ground beneath him was hard and smooth. Denim scratched his legs and the jacket was an uncomfortable weight on his shoulders. There were unfamiliar, adult voices talking around him. He kept up the act that he was still asleep, gathering as much data as he could – analyzing the level of danger these people posed to him and his kids. He didn't recognize any of the people around him and instantly, his heckles rose and he was prepared to do anything to protect his kids.
"Jesus," swore a man, "What the hell happened to him this time?"
An immaculate voice spoke next. "Mister Chekov, did you not inform me that the transporter was fixed?"
"We did say 'maybe'," added another man with a Scottish accent.
"How old do you think he's about now?" asked a woman.
"I'd say about thirteen?" responded the first man, "But it's hard to tell. He's as thin as freaking stick!"
"Thirteen?!" yelped someone with a Southern Terran accent. J.T. could easily pinpoint the fear and worry in that man's tone.
"Uh, yes?"
"Mister Sulu, immediately remove yourself from Jim's vicinity!"
"What?"
"Get away from him, you fucking moron!" yelled the Southern man.
J.T.'s instincts screamed at him when someone's hands froze a couple of inches away from his shoulders. In that instant, J.T.'s eyes snapped open and drew the knife in his boot that he had felt pressing against his ankle. He flipped the Asian man over in one swift movement and jerked him around to cover his front – using him as a human shield against the people before him.
He counted six people, including the guy he was threatening. The two closest to him both wore blue science uniforms of Starfleet. One had pointed ears and dark hair; the other was scruffy with brown hair. Behind them was a stunning young woman in a tight red Starfleet outfit and a nervous man in red. The teenager beside her had curly golden hair was wearing a matching gold uniform, as was the Asian man he had in a neck hold.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He didn't know them and he sure as hell wasn't on Tarsus anymore. So where the hell was he and where the fuck were his kids?!
Everything about this new place was a threat and he wouldn't stand for it.
He pressed the blade against his captive's neck, drawing blood.
"Who the fuck are all of you?" J.T. snarled.
The two redshirts took a step forward, but J.T. dug the blade deeper, making a steady, thin stream of blood drip down the man's bare skin.
"You take one more step and I'll fucking kill him. Don't think I won't." He glared at the people before him. "If this is Kodos' new form of torture, you can tell him to fuck off. I ain't telling him where my kids are!"
At this, everyone froze. J.T.'s blue-grey eyes were so cold, so wild that the Command crew actually felt fear. J.T. was unstable with no qualms about taking lives. But from his words, all their fear morphed from trepidation to shock.
Kodos? As in Kodos the Executioner? And then another dot connected. This time, Uhura, Scotty, Chekov, and Sulu were more than horrified at Jim's past. Jim was a Tarsus survivor?! This was something that they definitely did not expect from the happy go-lucky Captain, but now that they knew, little quirks started to make sense. Like the fact that Jim always forgot to eat unless Bones or someone else reminded him, or the fact that Jim hoarded rations in his room. There was always a massive chunk of his timeline that was missing – always fading out whenever he said he went off-planet and resuming when he returned.
Holy shit. How much pain and suffering did Jim go through before he got to Starfleet? And how did he come out the other end as 'normal' as he was and save the entire universe?
"J.T., we aren't your enemies," tried McCoy, raising his hands in surrender and speaking carefully, "We don't work for Kodos. He's long gone. This is going to be hard for you to believe, but you're about thirteen years in the future."
"Don't fuck with me. I'm not telling Kodos anything."
It had to be some sort of trick – he had probably been captured by Kodos and that fucking bastard wanted to mess with his head. Tarsus would hold onto him until he died, and he knew it.
"Doctor McCoy is not lying to you," said Spock, stepping forward.
Confusion crossed J.T.'s face as he eyed Spock, but it quickly morphed into a feral snarl. "A Vulcan? What the fuck are you doing on Tarsus?"
"J.T., you are no longer on Tarsus. You are onboard the flagship Enterprise and the stardate is 2259.04."
The fuck?! There was no way that was true, but even as that thought crossed his mind, J.T. glanced around his surroundings once again. The technology was far more advanced than he had ever seen, and that was saying something, considering that he had been in and out of starships since he was a kid. Unless this ship was a secret project commissioned by the fucking 'fleet, then J.T. had to consider the impossible, however improbable, to be true.
He nodded at Spock, but refusing to give in an inch. "Say that I believe you, despite how illogical this all seems," he said in fluent Vulcan, surprising all but McCoy, "Tell me what happened to bring me thirteen years into the future."
"You are currently the Captain of the Enterprise," Spock dutifully answered in Standard, "And you were on Earth to conduct business. However, Mister Chekov and Mister Scott had transfigured the transporters while you were away and when you were transported back on board, you did not rematerialize properly. In other words, it seems that you were reverted back to your current age due to the errors in modifications."
"And who are all these people? Are you also looking for my kids?"
"I assure you, J.T., we are not searching for them. These people are members of your Command crew, and they are your friends."
J.T. cocked his head. "Have you been with Starfleet for so long that you have forgotten how to speak your native tongue?"
"I have not," replied Spock in Vulcan before continuing in Standard, "However, I do not wish to keep the rest of your Command crew 'in the dark' concerning our conversation."
After a second of consideration, J.T. gave Spock a curt nod. "Fair enough. I believe you," he said. But the cold mistrust on his features did not waver. There was a certain murderous glint in his grayish eyes that never faded, even as he released Sulu, who scrambled to his feet.
Sulu stood a good few inches above the pre-pubescent teenager, and yet, he had felt unnatural strength bubbling in J.T.'s stronger form. His entire body, though weakened from starvation and horrifying conditions, had been so abruptly sharpened into a dangerous weapon and Sulu had no doubt that J.T. could have easily killed him without blinking an eye. He would have been completely at J.T.'s mercy – and that thought petrified him. How had Jim evolved from this?! How had he buried all this darkness and bloodlust to become the shining hope of the Federation? It just blew Sulu's mind.
"What? I just told you the same thing! And you believed him?" protested McCoy.
J.T. shrugged as he stepped forward, "He's a Vulcan. Vulcan's don't lie. Humans do."
He stopped at the edge of the raised transporter pad and stared down every single person before him. As soon as those icy, hard eyes settled on them, they felt as though they had been stripped down to their skeletons, leaving their soul out bare. It felt almost as if they had been violated by a single glance – as if they had been dissected and sized up in one moment.
Jim's bright blue eyes had always been so warm, so caring – a far cry from what was before them. Here was Jim at his lowest, at his most guarded and vulnerable. Here was someone who had broken and was merely a shell, carrying on in life with a single solitary purpose of surviving.
And it was terrifying.
"So," Jim cut the thick air easily, but leaving it just as cold as before. "I'm thirteen years in the future. Where's Kodos? Did Starfleet come in time to save Tarsus? I got in contact with this guy called Pike. He said that he'd save my kids."
McCoy flinched right as Spock was about to speak.
"Don't even bother telling me whatever lie you're about to spew me," he interrupted and pointed at McCoy. "That one's body language just gave him away."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Vulcans do not lie."
"True, but it doesn't mean you have to tell the truth. So Kodos isn't dead and Tarsus probably died off. Great." He stood, unsuccessfully hiding the wince that the movement caused.
"I'm sorry, Jim," said Sulu softly, coming up behind him and lightly resting his hand on J.T.'s shoulder in what he thought was a comforting manner.
J.T. reacted more on instinct than anything else. He shifted, taking one step back. Quicker than anyone but Spock could process, J.T. slammed his elbow into Sulu's stomach and as the pilot doubled over, J.T. grabbed his arm and flung him over his shoulder to land heavily onto the transporter pad. The loud thud was overshadowed by Sulu's groan, followed by a crack as J.T. slammed the knife down onto the pad. The blade had landed a centimeter away from Sulu's ear, just barely cutting into the cartilage and drawing blood.
"What the hell are you doing?!" screamed Uhura, "We're your friends!"
"You're not my friends. I don't have any," J.T. hissed back, turning quickly so that he kept all of them in clear view. "Let's get something clear right now. I don't know you, which makes you a threat. You keep away from me and you get to keep your limbs. Got it?!"
"Jim…" started Scotty.
"My name isn't Jim!" J.T. all but snarled.
Spock stepped in front of Scotty. "J.T., please calm yourself. We are not hostile."
"And I'm supposed to take your word for it?" J.T.'s entire body was almost vibrating with how tense he was, like he was a lion, ready to attack at any given moment. "I've been burned before. Even if you're a Vulcan, I don't trust any of you," he snarled.
Beside and slightly behind him, Sulu was lying fairly still on the pad. His eyes were open, but it looked as though he was having a hard time breathing. The blow to his stomach could have winded him, but McCoy wasn't sure if J.T. had struck higher. If that was the case, then he could have easily broken a rib and it could potentially pierce Sulu's lungs. The man would be drowning in his own blood if that happened.
At that thought, McCoy's entire demeanor changed. This had gotten out of hand. J.T. lived in chaos and the crew's trepidation of him only threw more fire on the oil. The more they feared him, the more cautious and dangerous J.T. would be. In the beginning, McCoy had been apprehensive, worried and a little bit scared, but now all fear was gone. Instead, determination took place and McCoy stomped forward. Like hell he was going to let his little brother do something that he would later regret, especially if he wasn't in the right mind at the time.
J.T. could see McCoy's mood change like a switch and was immediately ready for any attack that the doctor would throw at him. He growled and crouched slightly, his stance menacing. "Take another step and I will end you."
"I don't give a damn about your trust issues, kid. I'm a doctor, not a punching bag. Now, I'm going to make sure that Sulu's okay because I know from experience that you have unusually sharp elbows and ridiculous accuracy. If you can't handle that, then you better fucking deal with it."
"Leonard," warned Uhura, her voice weak, but she did nothing to stop him. She couldn't. Her own fear had her legs locked in a trembling mess that would not obey anything she told them.
McCoy ignored her and kept walking towards the downed Sulu. The second he was adjacent to J.T., the teenager attacked. J.T. threw a punch at the doctor's head. McCoy easily dodged, throwing up an arm to block the strike to his neck. With the other hand, McCoy grabbed onto J.T.'s wrist, right above his joint, and stepped into his space so that his back was pressed against J.T.'s front. Using J.T.'s body weight against him, McCoy jerked forward, throwing J.T. over his shoulder.
The teenager twisted in midair to land on his feet instead of the intended back. The simple movement threw McCoy off and J.T. pivoted quickly as the hold on his wrist broke off. Quickly and in rapid succession, J.T. tried to strike McCoy's vital points. An uppercut towards the nose, an attempt to poke out McCoy's eyes, followed by another blow towards the doctor's throat kept him on his toes.
McCoy had never been good at hand-to-hand combat until he became roommates with Jim. After a few bar fights gone wrong, Jim had personally taught McCoy a few moves and he had gotten fairly good. Enough to hold his ground against the average man, but J.T. was far from average. And McCoy was already at his limit.
J.T. was centimeters from taking out his eye when Spock sprang forward. The teenager sensed the new presence and whipped out a hand to attack. Spock easily caught J.T.'s wrist and grasped it tightly. In a similar move to what J.T. had used against McCoy, he turned and jammed his shoulder into J.T.'s chest, flipping the boy onto the ground, trapping him there with his own weight. J.T. roared in anger and tried to gouge out Spock's eyes with his blunt fingernails. Calmly, Spock shifted his head to avoid the outstretched hand, but he didn't react fast enough. A thin line of green blood appeared on his cheek, right below his left eye. Ignoring it, Spock reached forward to curl his fingers against the bundle of nerves located at the juncture between J.T.'s clavicle and neck.
Instantly, J.T. slumped against the ground, completely unconscious.
"Was that really necessary, you damn hobgoblin?" snapped McCoy, ignoring his own aches and pains to check on the teenager.
"If I had not done so, you would have lost your eye, Doctor," Spock informed. "Mister Sulu, are you alright?"
"Yeah," breathed Sulu, as he slowly got to his feet. His hand was pressed against his stomach and his right arm was held stiffly against his side. "He missed my ribs by centimeters."
Uhura came up to support Sulu, eying J.T. with wariness. "I can't believe that Kirk was like that at one point in his life. I mean, I can't blame him, but that was not what I expected."
Scotty looked down at J.T. with such sadness. "Ah never knew tha' Jim had such a tuff life. Never woulda expected it."
"Did you know, Commander?" asked Chekov. "Did you know zat ze Keptin was a Tarsus surviwor?"
"Yes."
"So he trusts you, but not us?"
"That is not true, Mister Chekov. I would have never learned of Jim's past if not for the Betazoid Ambassador. He would never have told me on his own free will…" he said softly.
"Damn it," swore McCoy as he frantically lifted J.T.'s shirt.
All eyes were on him, panic spreading across all their faces.
"What's wrong, Leonard?" asked Uhura.
As the cloth pulled away, they could all see the small puncture wound to the lower right quadrant of his abdomen. It was about three centimeters in diameter, but jagged along the edges. Blood bubbled out slowly with each breath that he took.
And then suddenly the wince that they saw made sense.
"Shit. It looks like someone took a screwdriver and just stabbed him," hissed Sulu.
Scotty was shaken. "'ow did he fight with tha'?"
"You'll be surprised at what people can do when they've been backed into a corner, especially those who are forced to live like a dog," McCoy replied, his tone sad. "Spock, can you carry him back to his quarters? We can't let the crew see him like this. He's old enough that people will recognize him now."
Spock nodded. "Nyota contact Admiral Pike for his advice on how to deal with J.T.; Mister Sulu, return to the Bridge. You have the conn and run interference in case the Captain or I are needed." He turned to glare at Chekov and Scotty as he started to leave. "The two of you will fix the transporter properly this time. Otherwise, it will not be me you will have to answer to."
"How is he, Doctor?" asked Spock as he watched McCoy run a tricoder over J.T. who was lying on Jim's bed. The door had been locked and only McCoy's medical override could open it.
McCoy had already run the dermal regenerator on his wound, healing it, and was now checking if he had missed anything.
He shook his head. "It's like we figured – he's extremely malnourished and dehydrated. He's covered head-to-toe in bruises and cuts too." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "What are we going to do with him? He's not James; it won't be as easy to win him over."
"I understand. J.T., as of this moment, is dangerous to himself as well as those onboard."
"What are we going to do about him? We can't exactly let him loose and let him terrorize the crew. And Uhura said that Pike can't help. J.T. apparently hates him for not getting to Tarsus in time."
"It is unfortunate that Christopher cannot be as helpful as he was when Jim was younger," mused Spock, thinking. "I propose that we keep him in his quarters until the transporters have been repaired."
McCoy looked down at J.T. "I hate to agree with you, but I hate to do that to Jim even more. He never did well being tied down."
"It is for his own safety, Doctor."
"I get that; doesn't mean I have to like it."
"If it is any consolation, I do not either. We will have to make sure J.T. stays away from anything technological."
"Agreed."
Spock cocked his head, pondering. "Doctor, J.T.'s breathing pattern has changed, indicating that he is awakening. Please take a step back."
McCoy instantly obeyed and backed up against the wall so that there were a few feet of distance between him and his supposedly best friend. Spock approached the bed, standing at guard.
J.T.'s first words were an incoherent babble of a string of curse words followed by an angry groan. He turned over onto his side, glaring murderously at Spock. "You Vulcan pinched me!"
"You did not give me any choice, J.T."
"Fuck you."
"J.T., I will reiterate: we are not your enemies. We do not have any connections with Governor Kodos or Tarsus IV itself."
J.T. let out a frustrated growl and sat up, glancing at McCoy and easily reading his wariness. "You know that you can't keep me locked up in here for long."
"You are welcome to try to escape, but I can assure you that you cannot defeat me in combat, young one," replied Spock, rising to his full height.
"I can take that one down," said J.T., pointing at McCoy, "And I know that you care for him, so you really think you can win?"
McCoy spluttered to life. "Firstly, that's horrifying, and secondly, I'm armed with hyposprays that are filled with sedatives that can take down an elephant. And I know that you hate these things. I'd like to see you try anything against me now."
At the sight of the hypospray that McCoy was brandishing, J.T. failed to hide a cringe. He frowned and crossed his arms. While he couldn't fight and win the two of them, he still didn't believe in no-win scenarios. There had to be some way that he could get out and find a way back to his kids.
He eyed McCoy for a second longer as a plan began forming.
J.T. purposefully relaxed the tension in his body. "Fine, so it looks like I'm stuck here for the time being. What do you want from me?"
"Nothing, kid. Didn't we say that already?" sighed McCoy, his own shoulders sagging in relief as J.T. apparently gave in.
"People always want something. Especially when it comes to me." He slowly inched towards the edge of the bed and rested his feet on the ground. He eyed Spock and McCoy carefully as he did so, but neither made a move to stop him. In fact, none of them suspected anything.
McCoy just looked at the Vulcan. "Spock?"
The unspoken request was easily heard by Spock. "We do not wish anything of you, J.T., merely your safety," he repeated, knowing full well that J.T. was more inclined to listen to him. "We mean you no harm."
J.T. shrugged. "In that case, I have a few questions for you. What the hell happened to the transporters that made it 'de-age' me?"
"We are not clear on the circumstances; however, from what I can gather, Mister Chekov and Mister Scott were attempting to reconfigure the transporter to rematerialize in a faster pace. After the first modification, you were beamed aboard as a six-year-old child. The two proceeded to adjust the program and you were returned in your current state."
"And you haven't seen this program at all?"
"I have not."
"You didn't think to check over it yourself and find out what the issue is? Then maybe I wouldn't have been brought to this god forsaken place."
"Yeah, and Tarsus is so much better," snorted McCoy.
"At least in Tarsus, I know that everyone's out to kill you. I'm prepared for that, but here? I'm a flashing target in fucking neon lights!"
"We're not out to kill you, kid! We're here to help you!" McCoy shouted, taking a step closer to J.T. in his frustration.
"Forgive me if I don't believe you."
McCoy threw his hands up in the air. "I give up. He's even more stubborn than Jim ever was!"
In that one second, J.T. sprang forward, leaping off the ground like a cheetah, and attacked McCoy. He punched McCoy hard in the nose, feeling satisfaction when he heard the bone snap. McCoy went down in with a cry, blood spurting from his nose even as he pressed his hands against it.
Spock was there in an instant, his hands reaching out to subdue the teenager, but J.T. was prepared for him this time. As soon as Spock's warm hand grabbed his left wrist, J.T. slammed the stolen hypospray against Spock's forearm – hard enough that it drew blood. There was a hiss as J.T. injected the sedatives straight into Spock's bloodstream.
Spock's eyes widened as the world around him swirled unsettlingly and he stared dumbly at J.T.'s growing smirk.
"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, fuck you," growled J.T., and he shoved roughly against Spock's chest, making him fall hard on his butt, dazed.
Without hesitating, he ran towards the door and jerked out the keypad. Wires sparked as he pulled them apart and twisted a few together. There was a click and the door slid open. J.T. didn't even bother to give McCoy any parting words before he turned and disappeared from view.
"Fuck…" panted McCoy as he crawled towards Spock, still holding his bleeding nose. "You okay?"
Spock just blinked at him.
"Fuckin' useless Bulcan," sniffed McCoy as he felt up Spock for his communicator. "McCoy to Uhura."
"Uhura here."
"Kid got loose. Broke my godd'am nose."
"What?! What happened to Spock?!"
"Drugg'd. Find 'im, Uhura. An' call Riley."
"Okay, got it. What are you going to do?"
"Fix my godd'am nose an' wake duh damn hobgoblin!"
McCoy angrily hung up on Uhura and gingerly touched his broken bone. He slumped down next to Spock, who had started drooling. McCoy's face would have scrunched up in disgust if he could and sighed. "Godd'am it…I'm way too old for dis."
J.T. sprinted through the pristine white walls, completely ignoring the looks of the Redshirts passing by him. He was sure that he had gotten to the right floor to reach the transporter room, but why the hell couldn't he find it? If the goddamn broken thing had brought him here, it had to take him back to Tarsus.
His footsteps faltered for a split second. He wanted to go back to Tarsus?! For all he knew, he was free from the fear of Kodos, of starvation and struggling to survive day by day. This ship was clean and away from any of the horrors that he had seen on Tarsus. It didn't reek of death and blood and he could finally be free. But he thought of little Kev, Tom, and the others. He couldn't leave his kids behind. He had no one left – no one to care whether or not he returned home, but they did. They had aunts and uncles, sisters and brothers, all over the universe who wanted them to be safe – to be happy in a way that J.T. would never be.
He had to go back – for them. He didn't have a choice.
His feet started picking up pace again and he skidded around a corner, only to run smack into someone. Hands reached out to steady him and he instantly jerked away, his blue-grey eyes looking suspiciously at another Redshirt, who was a few inches taller than him. But this young man was familiar. The brown hair swept back and those dimpled cheeks – he had seen them before, but where?
The man's jaw dropped open and his eyes widened in surprise. "J.T.?!" he gasped.
"Who the fuck are you?!" J.T. snarled back.
"J.T., it's me! It's Kev!"
"Kev?" And then the lines connected. He was thirteen years into the future – of course someone like Kev had grown up! A rare smile broke out onto J.T.'s face and even tears started forming in his eyes. "Oh my god. You made it, Kev! You made it!"
Kev instantly wrapped his arms around J.T.'s body, hugging him as if his life depended on it. "Thanks to you, J.T. Thanks to you."
When they broke apart, Riley looked at J.T. from head-to-toe. The teenager was exactly as he remembered – just as fierce and protective as before. Even with his waning health, he was always full of strength and power. And Kevin was grateful for every bit of it.
Riley felt as though he should be more worried about the fact that seeing J.T. – a ghost of the past – appear before him didn't faze him in the slightest, but he had bigger concerns. Clearly, J.T. didn't remember anything from his time as a Captain, which meant that his identity had to be hidden. Jim had never wanted anyone to know his status as a Tarsus survivor, and Riley wanted to respect it.
"What are you doing here, J.T.?" Kevin asked, as he lightly grabbed J.T.'s arm and started walking.
J.T. flinched at the touch, but allowed himself to be led away. "Some transporter malfunction. Got de-aged, apparently. What are you doing as a dog of the 'fleet, Kev?"
"I followed a certain man to the stars."
"Yeah? Who?"
Amusement crinkled the corners of Kevin's eyes. "You, J.T."
"Seriously? I actually joined Starfleet?! You've got to be fucking kidding me. Starfleet fucked up all our lives! Why the hell would I do something as moronic as join them?"
"You didn't just join them, J.T., you became the hero of the Federation and the youngest Captain in the history of Starfleet."
"You're shitting me."
"Nope. Someone dared you and you, in your usual fashion, just broke all the precedents in the three years that you were at the Academy. You're pretty much a legend now, J.T."
"And you thought it would be a good idea to follow some crazy idiot to space?"
"If it's you, it's always a good idea. Hang on." Kevin punched in a code for the door before them and stepped in, leaving J.T. standing awkwardly by the entrance. Within a few seconds, Kevin reappeared with a baseball hat and shoved it onto J.T.'s head.
"What's this for, Kev?" J.T. asked, his eyes searching the hallway for any potential threats.
"Just a precaution."
"This is a little bit weird."
"What, the hat?"
"No, you taking care of me when I should be taking care of you."
Kevin smiled warmly. "You gave everything to take care of me once, J.T., and you still do everything you can for me thirteen years into the future. It's about time I returned the favor, don't you think?"
J.T. didn't really know how to handle that. It wasn't as if he did anything so that people would owe him. He just didn't like to see children suffer as he did.
Riley seemed to understand and changed the subject. "Come on. Let's go find Commander Spock. He'll need to know where you are," he said as he headed towards the Bridge.
J.T. trailed after him. "Spock? As in the Vulcan?"
"Have you met him?"
"He's incapacitated right now," he shrugged.
"What?!" Riley swung back around with shock in his eyes.
At that moment, his communicator went off. Kevin snapped it open, even as he kept his eyes on J.T. "Riley here."
"It's Uhura. Something's happened and Kirk got de-aged to J.T. and we need to you to find him and calm him down before he hurts anyone else."
"Uh, he's pretty calm now."
"What?"
"I'm looking at him right now and he seems fine."
J.T. pointed at his stomach.
"Oh, but he's hungry."
"He just took down Spock and broke McCoy's nose, and he's hungry?!"
J.T. nodded.
"Yeah," responded Riley, exasperation kicking in. Leave it to Jim to rustle up a whirlwind of fiasco in just a few short hours (or at least he hoped hours, because minutes would really be pushing it). "I'm going to take him to the mess hall and get some food."
"Seriously?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Fine, just keep him out of trouble, okay? Don't let him hurt himself anymore."
"Understood. Riley out." He clicked his communicator shut and saw J.T. frowning at him.
"What did she mean hurt myself? I'm not fucking stupid enough to injure myself."
"It's just that you really care for this crew when you're Captain, J.T., and she's worried that when you get back to normal, you might blame yourself for this. And knowing you, that's probably what's going to happen," sighed Riley.
At this, J.T. quieted.
"What's up, J.T.?"
"Do you want me back? As your Captain, that is."
"Well, you can't stay de-aged forever, J.T."
So, J.T. was obsolete. He wasn't needed anymore. He wasn't sure about his other kids, but at least Kev had made it. And it seemed like he was happy with the life he had now – almost as if the nightmare that was Tarsus didn't exist.
J.T. had fulfilled the mission that he had started in Tarsus.
Suddenly, J.T. had no idea what to do with himself. He had spent his entire life struggling, surviving. When Kodos made his decree, J.T. coped with the loss of all the happiness he had ever known by throwing himself into saving his kids, but now that that was taken away from him, what was he supposed to do now?
Kev had said that his future self took care of him. That his future self was a hero. He didn't want to be one, but J.T.'s purpose had come to an end.
His shoulders sagged in resignation. Kev was safe, Tarsus was gone, and Kodos was no longer a threat. He didn't need to be here anymore. It was time to disappear.
At least this time, he'd actually get the chance to say goodbye.
"Hey, Kev? Where's the transporter room?"
"It's over there."
Kevin started to lead J.T., but the teenager shook his head, sadness filling his eyes, though that remained unnoticed by the Ensign. He took off the hat and handed it back to Kevin. "I think I got it. Don't you have things to do?"
"Yeah, but they can wait."
"It's fine. Go do your job, Kev. I'll just go find Spock and the others."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, go, Kev. I'm real proud of ya, kid."
Kevin laughed, "You're the kid now, J.T. I'll come by and see you as soon as I'm done with my shift. I'll see you later!" He waved jauntily and took off at a brisk pace down the other direction.
"Yeah…see you later…" J.T. breathed. "Bye, Kev."
He turned his back on 'his kid' and started to walk towards the transporter room, moving forward with each step. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath before he entered.
To his surprise, Spock and McCoy were already there. Spock was hovering over the shoulders of the Scottish guy and the teenager with curly hair – Scotty and Chekov, he was sure. McCoy was standing close, but he wasn't looking at the screen like the other three was. His broken nose had been mended and Spock seemed pretty steady on his feet. McCoy seemed to be a damn good doctor then, to have worked so fast.
No one had noticed him, so J.T. cleared his throat. All eyes looked up to see him standing there awkwardly. J.T. mentally prepared himself for entrapment or even physical retribution for what he had done. He had to force down the urge to fight and scratch out their eyes – he was there to return someone important to Kev, and he wasn't about to ruin it because he couldn't control himself.
"J.T.," Spock greeted, his voice a little slower than before.
"Vulcan. Doctor," J.T. returned.
"Uhura said that you met with Riley. Guess you don't see us as threats anymore?" asked McCoy, crossing his arms.
"Nope, still want to kick you in the crotch, but Kev needs the Captain back, so I'm here to offer my help."
Spock considered him. "Do you believe that you can resolve the programming issue?"
"Don't know," J.T. shrugged, "But I bet you that if I took a look at it, I can fix it up easily."
"Is this a ploy for you to escape again? You are onboard a starship. There is nowhere for you to go."
"I'm not trying to run. Look, I'm not the type of person to stand around and do nothing. And I'm definitely not sitting around all pretty for your stupid engineers to mess this shit up again."
Spock looked dubious.
J.T. rolled his eyes – a habit that Jim seemed have as well, "I'll make you a deal. You let me take a look at the program and if I can't fix it, chain me up and throw me into the brig."
"We're not going to chain you up," groaned McCoy.
J.T. raised an eyebrow, saying 'you serious?' wordlessly.
"I believe he is merely using a figure of speech, Doctor," said Spock, his lips quirked into a small smirk.
"You've got to be kidding me. A Vulcan is giving me a lecture on colloquialisms? The next thing you know, the universe is going to be ruled by pitchforks and horns."
"You guys clearly have some unresolved issues to work out," said J.T., "But why don't we get me back to normal first so I don't have to deal with this shit anymore."
"I second that," Spock agreed. "Doctor McCoy, please inform the others."
McCoy nodded as J.T. walked over to them.
"Come on. Let's get this whole entire fiasco over with."
And not for the first time, Spock couldn't help but agree.
When Uhura and Sulu entered the transporter room just a few minutes later, they all stared at J.T. with wariness. That, J.T. had expected, but he was surprised that he couldn't see hatred or anger within their expressions.
"Leonard says you're going to try your hand at the transporters?" Uhura asked tentatively.
"Yeah," came his curt answer.
"Can I ask why?"
"It's clear you all don't want me here and I don't want to be here either. So let me take a look at your fucking transporter system and everything will go back to normal, alright"
With that, he roughly shoved Chekov aside, scrolling through the program. After a few minutes of tense silence, J.T. changed a few things and with that, he walked calmly back towards the pad.
"I'm really curious at whether or not you're actually engineers, because you made a stupid math error halfway through the program. And then you messed up a section regarding relativity," J.T. sneered.
Chekov and Scotty both looked sheepish while the others fell silent again, struggling to overlap J.T. with the Jim that they knew and loved. It was almost impossible.
"Well, what are you waiting for? I don't want to be here, you don't want me here. Let's just get this over with," J.T. called out, already standing on the transporter pad.
"Why are you in such a hurry to remove yourself? If one saw it in a different manner, one could say that you are committing some sort of suicide," said Spock.
J.T. shrugged. "You said Tarsus is gone. Winona's not going to want me back and I sure as hell am not going back to Frank. Future me is supposed to be this Captain, right? Sounds better than anything I have waiting for me. And future me can protect Kev, so if erasing me is what it takes, then I'm more than happy to oblige."
Well, what could you say to that?
Spock gave in with some reluctance and nodded at J.T. "If that is what you desire, then we shall comply. However, before you go, I would like to tell you something that may comfort you."
"Doubt it," snorted J.T. "Come on, stop lagging."
"J.T.," Spock said, stopping a few steps before him, "Your kids do make it."
For a brief second, the hardened, cold mask that J.T. had been wearing broke and relief spilled out. It was comforting to see that buried deep inside him, protected by all the darkness and anger that surrounded him, was the same golden, caring heart that Jim had been so famous for.
"Thank you," J.T. said in Vulcan. "Now let's get your friend back."
Jim was fairly confused at where he was at the moment. He wasn't sure if he was upright or upside down. Everything was swirling around him in a nauseating manner. It was dark though – that much he was aware of – and he hurt. His muscles ached and were sore in a way that he hadn't felt in years. In fact, he hadn't felt this sort of pain since puberty.
Flashes of memories of Winona and Frank flitted in; of Tarsus and his kids. Of Pike saving him, failing him, and saving him again. Of the Enterprise and the warmth that always enveloped him when he was aboard her. Words drifted in and out of his consciousness; some voices he recognized – Kodos, Frank, Pike, Spock, and even Bones – others were familiar, yet foreign at the same time.
Slowly, he managed to filter through what were memories and what was reality. He honed in on the voices in his immediate vicinity and used them to pull him out of whatever abyss he was floating in.
He groaned, forcing his eyes open. He rubbed his face as he gingerly sat up. Instincts kicked in and he instantly categorized where he was. The familiar sight of the transporter room was a good thing – at least he hadn't been drugged and dragged off to God knows where (it wouldn't be the first time, sadly enough) – but the concerned expressions of Spock, McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty were worrisome.
"Oh, please don't tell me that I did something insanely crazy and slept with some diplomat's wife…" he groaned. "Bones, why the fuck do I feel like I went through some sort of growth spurt?"
They all visibly cringed, and suddenly, all the memories came floating back, stealing his breath away. There was pressure building in his chest, threatening to crush his lungs and stomach from the inside out. His hands started to shake and cold sweat started to cover his brow. And then he had a terrifying realization.
They all knew. They knew.
And fuck was that more than he could deal with right now.
"I gotta go," he rushed, meaning to get to his feet and run out, but his muscles protested.
He almost face-planted onto the ground if Bones didn't catch him in time. "Ow, ow, ow! Fuck me. This is why I hated puberty."
Bones gave him a strained smile. "You okay, Jim?"
It was a loaded question, and he thought about it.
He glanced around, searching expressions and body language. There was no sign of pity, no disgust or derision – just simply concern and more love than Jim could probably handle. These people were nothing like Winona, Frank, or Sam. They weren't Kodos or any of his soldiers. They were his friends – his family. They would never abandon him; they would never hurt his heavily shielded heart, even if he had hurt them.
The cat was already out of the bag. He trusted them with his life and he knew that it was time to trust them with his secrets, but with everything that had happened, he couldn't do it now. All he wanted to do was take a long hot shower and dissolve, if it was possible.
He straightened, a cold look spreading across his face as he buried all of his impending panic deep within himself. "Spock, I find that I am emotionally compromised and I hand over my command to you for the time being. The rest of you, keep your questions to yourself for now."
He was almost out the door when Uhura called out. "Wait!"
They could all see him flinch. "Yes?" he turned slightly to face her. He didn't even bother to hide the weariness on his face and he could see Uhura hesitate at the sight of it.
"Why…why did you go on-planet? Pike wouldn't tell us anything."
He paused and turned back around, not willing to face them. "Winona died. I was attending her funeral."
And then he was gone, leaving that bombshell to shatter any semblance of calmness left.
It was three days before anyone saw Jim's shadow, let alone his person. Every single member of his Command crew had sought him out at least once, but they could never find him. The computer didn't even register his whereabouts – no doubt caused by Jim's amazing hacking skills. Not even Chekov or Scotty could reverse it, though that may have had more to do with their reluctance than their actual abilities.
The only ones that weren't actively looking for Jim were Spock and McCoy. In fact, McCoy seemed to have disappeared with Jim as well. He did pop up a few times to talk to Spock in whispering tones, only to vanish again. In between those moments, Spock was tense and more prone to logically ripping poor ensigns apart. With all that he knew, he felt illogical worry grow with each passing second. If McCoy didn't keep him update on Jim, Spock would have torn the entire ship apart to make sure that Jim's memories weren't destroying him again.
But at the end of those three days – almost close to four – Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, Scotty, and Spock's communicators rang around 0300. Luckily (or perhaps it was planned by Jim), all of them had the Beta shift.
A simple message from Jim was left: "My quarters in ten."
Needless to say, they were all in front of Jim's door in seven minutes. When Chekov knocked, McCoy was the one to open it. The gruff doctor looked rough; lines were drawn in from tiredness, but he did look slightly happy to see them.
"Doctor," greeted Spock.
McCoy merely nodded in acknowledgement and moved aside so that they could file in. Before them was their elusive Captain.
Jim was sitting on the edge of his bed, facing them. The lights were set dimly, but even then, they could all see the paleness of their friend and the dark circles under his eyes. Clearly, he hadn't slept well, if any, in the past three days.
Quietly, Jim spread out a hand, signaling them to take a seat. They obeyed, taking a spot around him on the floor. Only Spock remained standing, leaning against the closest wall. Bones shuffled past the crew and sat next to Jim, his solid form acting as an anchor – both comforting and supportive.
Jim leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his thighs as he considered each and every person in front of him.
"I'm sorry."
All heads (except for Bones and Spock) snapped up in confusion.
"What for, laddie?" frowned Scotty.
"Well, I did attack you guys, so sorry for that. Especially you, Sulu. Sorry I went ape-shit crazy on you."
"No harm, no foul," Sulu replied.
"That's it? Bones made me grovel at his feet for forgiveness!"
"You broke my nose!"
"And I did say sorry for that!" protested Jim, bumping playfully into his best friend.
It was clear that Jim had blamed himself and would have most certainly groveled at McCoy's feet if it was necessary, but McCoy never would have let that happen. The two had probably brought out a bottle of expensive whiskey and got wasted, putting all hurts behind them. Well, at least that was what the crew thought they did. They never were really sure how things worked between McCoy and Jim, but they knew to never take their close friendship for granted.
If it wasn't for McCoy, they were pretty sure that Jim never would have called them here.
"Why don't you just get on with it, Jim?" McCoy said gruffly.
"Fine, fine." Jim ran his fingers through his hair and looked at his friends. "There's really no easy way to start this, so I'm just going to be direct. Yes, I was abused and neglected as a kid. Yes, I am one of the Tarsus Nine. It all sucked, but I'm over it now. Sorry for disappearing on you for so long before you got a chance to fill in all the holes. I needed to deal with you guys finding out."
"Were you ever planning to tell us?" asked Uhura, her voice soft.
"No, but can you really blame me? It's not exactly something I like to talk about. I mean, I knew sooner or later that you guys would find out, so I'm sorry that you guys found out this way. It's not the easiest thing to stomach." Jim sighed. "Look, I get that it might be confusing and I'm willing to clarify things."
"Are you sure? You're okay with that?" Sulu questioned.
"It's like what I told Spock during the whole entire Betazoid Ambassador fiasco: I've already dealt with my past, you haven't. So the question isn't whether or not I'm okay, it's if you're okay. It's a lot of information to soak in and I know there're a lot of gaps, so seriously, ask away."
When they hesitated, Jim rolled his eyes. "I won't answer anything if I'm not comfortable with it, don't worry. Who wants to start first?"
Chekov was the brave soul that threw out the first question. "I did not know you had a brother."
"Yeah, an older brother by four years: Sam."
"The kid you said that you hadn't seen him for awhile," said Sulu, "What does that mean?"
"Sam ran away from home when I had just turned six. He couldn't handle Frank anymore."
"He left you alone with Frank?"
"He was ten years old. He would've barely been able to take care of himself, let alone a six-year-old kid who had a knack of getting into trouble."
"And have you been in touch with your brother?" Spock asked.
"Not really. He did go back home when Winona divorced Frank, but that was when I was on Tarsus. I came back and saw them happy together and I just couldn't take it, so I took off. After the Narada, he sent me a few messages saying how proud he was of me, but that's about it. The last message I got was him telling me that Winona had died from a disease."
Scotty scratched his head. "Why do ya always call her Winona? Ain't she your mother?"
This, Jim tensed at. "She didn't allow me to call her mother or any variant of it. Apparently, I looked too much like my dad and she couldn't stand to look at me. Her way of dealing was to pretend I didn't exist or that I wasn't hers."
Uhura shifted a bit to fold her long legs beneath her elegantly. "How are you handling her death, Kirk?"
"I don't know. It hasn't really hit me yet. I mean, I don't really know how to mourn for someone who I wasn't allowed to even look at. But she was my mother. So I guess I'm dealing." Bones bumped him gently, and he cleared his throat and amended his statement. "Somewhat."
"What did Frank do to you?" Sulu almost whispered.
Jim gave him a dark, strained smile. "That I won't answer."
Chekov immediately went into a different direction. "So you're fluent in Vulcan as vell, Keptin? How many other languages can you speak?"
"How did you learn Vulcan?" Spock added, "You speak well with no accent. It is quite impressive for a human."
"You remember Hoshi Sato – the famous linguist?"
Uhura nodded her head vigorously, "Of course! She was fluent in more than forty languages and inspiration to communication officers throughout Starfleet!"
"Yeah, that's the one. I met her when I was on Tarsus. She taught me quite a bit, including Vulcan. As for the other languages, you guys know about Russian, Spanish, and now Vulcan. I know more, but it's no fun if I tell you them all now."
"Vhy did you get sent to Tarsus?"
"That's actually kind of a funny story. I got fed up with Frank and finally picked up the guts to retaliate, so I uh…hotwired his antique car and drove it off the cliff," replied Jim with a sheepish look that immediately sobered, "I got caught by the authorities and Frank's abuse and Winona's neglect came out into the open. I was shipped off to the next relative, who happened to be my aunt living on Tarsus."
Spock was not the only one who didn't know this part of the story. "What happened to your aunt?" he questioned.
"She died protecting me when Kodos did his 'purge'. She told me to survive with her last breath. So I did. Found a few kids here and there and kept them safe and alive. They were my responsibility, my kids, until Starfleet came and sent them back to whatever homes or families they had left."
"You sound angry," Chekov frowned, confused.
"Believe me, I was angry. My entire purpose for surviving on Tarsus was ripped away from me by people who were inept and arrived at Tarsus far too late to save hundreds and thousands of lives. I remember thinking that Starfleet could go fuck themselves for all I cared, so I wiped my records clean from their databases and became a ghost, never staying in one place for too long. Spent years wandering around Earth, dealing and suppressing."
"And yet you're the 'golden boy' of the Starfleet now," grinned Sulu.
"Well, Pike dared me, and I never turn down dares. It's a character flaw that I'm not working on," shrugged Jim. He looked at them carefully, and though he was completely reluctant, he knew he had to prod towards the one thing he didn't want to talk about – otherwise they would never get past James or J.T. to see him. "None of you have asked that one question I know you're all itching to scream out. Someone be brave and just throw it out there."
Uhura cleared her throat and mentally braced herself. When she spoke, her voice was soft and gentle, as if she were coaxing a child. "What you went through – it would have broken anyone. How are you still…you?"
A glint of steel had entered Jim's eyes and his expressions were tightening; it was clear to everyone that Jim's emotional state had deteriorated, but he persevered to answer his family's questions.
"When I was on Tarsus, my aunt told me that it didn't matter how many times you get knocked down – it mattered how many times you get back up, and only then will you find the strength to overcome anything. I've lived by that for as long as I can remember. And I'm not the type of person to just give up when things get hard. I don't believe in no-win scenarios."
"Speaking of which…" McCoy grinned, wiggling an eyebrow at Sulu. Though confused at first, Sulu understood McCoy's intentions of changing the subject completely. They would all do anything to erase the coldness that was creeping onto Jim's face.
Jim was immediately on guard, the abrupt change of topic surprising him right out of his dark mood. "What's with that smile? I don't think I like that smile, Bones. Stop that. Stop that right now."
"Who wants to have the honor?" smirked Sulu.
"Oh, please let it be me!" exclaimed Chekov.
"Ever heard of 'ladies go first'?" Uhura slid in elegantly.
Jim groaned, "Why do I feel like I'm not going to like this?"
"Don't worry, Jim, you won't," chuckled Bones.
"Spock, want to explain?" Jim looked at Spock.
"Doctor McCoy is referring to a bet that was placed when you were de-aged."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "A bet?"
"Genius versus genius," Sulu said, clasping his hand on Chekov's shoulder.
"Chekov is going to compete with Spock in a game of brains?" Jim's eyes lit up. "This, I gotta see."
McCoy laughed loudly, "Spock isn't competing, Jim."
"Then who…?" Jim's voice trailed off and his blue eyes widened in shock. "Oh, hell no!"
"Please tell me why I'm doing here again?" whined Jim. "I can't believe you sold me out like this, Bones! I feel like a cheap whore!"
"I assure you, Jim, that the amount of sleeping partners that you may have had has nothing to do with your current situation," replied Spock, raising his voice a little bit to speak over McCoy's sniggers.
"And you, Spock! Traitor! I can't believe you got roped into this too! I have a reputation to maintain! I will not be known as a math nerd!"
"But you are one, Jim."
"I hate you both. I ought to throw you two into the brig!"
"Keptin, are you ready?" Chekov asked as he came up to him.
The teenager had a smile on his face and was almost bouncing on his toes in anticipation. Behind him, two large whiteboards had been set up in the observation deck – one for each of them. Sulu and Scotty were both discussing loudly about who was going to win while Uhura was standing by with a sly smile on her face.
"I don't want to do this. I really don't want to do this," pleaded Jim.
"Too bad, Jim. I got a lot of money riding on this, so you better win, or I will make your life miserable."
"That's comforting, Bones."
"Oh, and Spock bet on you too. Don't know what the pointy-eared bastard will do to you if you lose, but I don't think you'd want to find out."
"I hate you all."
"Come on, Keptin." Chekov grasped Jim's arm and started dragging him towards the boards.
Jim went reluctantly, protesting the whole way, but at least he let himself be pulled. They all knew what Jim was capable of and the fact that he was amusing Chekov made them feel relief that they weren't actually forcing him against his will.
"You ready to get your ass kicked, Kirk?" grinned Sulu.
Jim gave him an even look. "Are you daring me, Sulu? Because you know that I don't back down from dares."
Sulu pulled himself to his full height. "What if I am?"
"Oh, I'm so going to make you regret this. Let's go, Chekov. Let's see what you're made of!"
McCoy just shook his head, thinking that it was way too easy to bait his best friend.
Spock stepped in between the two boards, standing his hands in front of him as he held a PADD. "Try to be the first to finish, Jim." He swiped the screen and instantly, an equation projected onto the whiteboard:
If p(x) = a0 + a1x + … + amx^m is a polynomial with real coefficients ai then set (p(x)) = a02 + a12+ … + am^2.Let f(x) = 3x2 + 7x +2. Find a polynomial g(x) with real coefficients such that: (i) g(0) = 1, and, (ii) (f(x)n) = (g(x)n), for every integer n1.
Jim and Chekov immediately started scribbling frantically. Chekov muttered to himself as he worked through the problem.
"Keep your thoughts to yourself, Chekov!" yelled Jim in Russian, even as his eyes scanned his board and his work.
Chekov just laughed and kept on doing his math.
Behind them, everyone (except for Spock) started cheering for their perspective bets. Well, McCoy was threatening in a playful manner. No one but Spock understood any of the mathematical work that the two were writing.
And then suddenly, both yelled out in triumph, throwing down their markers and raising their hands. They had finished at the same time. They had the same answer of: 6x^2 + 5x + 1.
"Is that right, Spock?" asked Sulu as all of them.
"Yes, it is correct," responded Spock.
"Who finished first?!" exclaimed Uhura.
"It seems that they both reached the correct solution at the same time. As such, I declare this match a tie."
McCoy frowned. "Does that mean the bet's off?"
"It means that no credits will exchange hands."
"Damn it, Jim! I told you to win!"
Jim shrugged, stepping away from the board, but not before ruffling Chekov's hair proudly, "That was the best I could do. Now if any of this leaves this room, I will hurt you, do you understand me?"
"Tha's a bit overkill, ain't it, Jim?" said Scotty.
"Not at all. I have a reputation to uphold and I like being known as the most charming playboy in the entire Federation. Can't have enemies know that behind all this awesomeness is a secret nerd," grinned Jim, "Are we done here? Everyone happy?"
"No," muttered McCoy.
"Don't be such a sourpuss, Bones. At least you didn't lose," laughed Jim as he clapped Bones on the shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and pretend that this never happened. Good job, Chekov. The rest of you, you all suck. See ya!"
Jauntily, he left the observation deck. He sensed someone following him and he turned as soon as he boarded the turbolift to see Spock right behind him.
"Yes, Spock?"
There was a twinkle in the Vulcan's brown eyes. "I know what you did, Jim."
"What are you talking about?" Jim asked, his eyes wide with innocence.
"I know that you purposely waited to complete the problem at the same time as Mister Chekov. You would have finished 11.28 seconds before Mister Chekov if you had not slowed your writing speed."
"Oh that?" Jim's face scrunched up a little. "I can't exactly win, now can I? People will talk if they learn that I'm good at math. Just don't tell Chekov."
"I assure you, I won't, Jim."
Jim sighed in relief. "Thank god."
The doors started to close and Spock couldn't help to have the last word. "However, I will inform Doctor McCoy of the fact that he could have won a hundred credits."
"What?! No! Spock, don't you dare do that! He'll kill me!" yelped Jim, but he was too late to say anything further as the lift started to bring him to his floor.
Spock allowed himself a victorious smile as he headed back to the observation deck. It was a bit mean, but he had also lost the chance of winning a hundred credits from Nyota.
That ingenious idiot was going to pay, and Spock was really looking forward to it.
(A day later, Jim was found duck-taped to the ceiling. Soon after, Jim retaliated by blowing up a giant holograph of McCoy cuddling with James, a picture that Scotty had taken, and plastering it all over the Enterprise. Spock, on the other hand, came out onto the Bridge with his eyebrows shaved off.
Needless to say, an enormous prank war broke out between Jim and his two best friends. Many people were roped in – Scotty had redirected all of the cold water to McCoy's sonic shower; Nyota and Chekov hacked Spock's computer to have meowing cats pop up all over the screen; Sulu reconfigured Jim's replicator to only spit out dresses instead of his usual pants and shirt.
Things only died down when someone – no one was sure who – replaced Jim's usual meaty hamburger with tofu, causing him to go into anaphylactic shock. No one was surprised that Jim ended up being allergic to soybeans – the man was allergic to so many things – but no one was laughing when he went into respiratory arrest.
Apologies were made left and right at Jim's bedside and all prank wars were officially banned.
The Command crew never found out the reason why McCoy and Spock had teamed up in the first place to torment Jim. And if they knew about the small holograph of James and Bones hidden away in McCoy's desk drawer, well...that was their little secret…)
So, I hope it met your expectations! I tried, but again, I struggled. At least it's over with now.
The next chapter is going be revolving around Chekov and Jim getting held hostage and Jim tortured. It should be fun to write, so I hope you guys stick around. After that, it'll be Spock getting hurt and Jim's amazing survival skills. Like always, I can't guarantee a specific post date. I'm currently in school and it's going to get ridiculously hectic within the next two weeks, so updates will come slowly. Mostly because I get paranoid and read and edit my stories over and over again like a hundred times.
Anyway, please let me know what you think! Maybe I can get to 500 reviews with this chapter? ;)
Thanks for reading!
~ Kanae Yuna