Hi everyone! I know this update took forever. So sorry! This chapter ended up being like 45 pages long, single-spaced, which is one reason why it took me so long to update (I was also endlessly busy once school started up. Seriously. It's killing me.) Anyway, since it ended up being so long, I'm splitting it up into two sections. I'm almost done with the second half, so this should be updated soon.
By the way, if any of you are Spanish speakers or are learning Spanish, I am so happy and honored to say that Ingenious Idiot is in the process of being translated into Spanish by the lovely and amazing qaroinlove. Please visit her page if you'd like to read this story in Spanish!
Also, thank you all so much for helping me get to over 1,000 reviews! I'm so enormously ecstatic! A special thank you to CallToMuster for being my 1,000th review! But all of your words were so amazing and so encouraging! I read every one of your reviews and honestly, it brightens up my whole day.
I ended up choosing #1 – Jim being blind prompt, mostly because I had an idea for it already. And as I was writing, it kind of got away from me because I wanted to get more in detail about the entire process. Sorry if it ends up being so ridiculously long that it got annoying to finish. And, like I mentioned before, there's a second part.
But I digress. Without further ado, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy and as always, please review!
Disclaimer: I do not own any Star Trek franchise.
XV
Fake it 'til You Make it
Part 1
If Jim had to name his best feature, it would be his bright blue eyes that, under the right light, twinkled like the stars he loved so much. It wasn't just because he knew that he could charm anyone with them – and he meant anyone: women, men, non-human beings, and whoever else that breathed and lived – Jim took great pride in his ability to observe his surroundings, read into people's body language, and his more than perfect vision. It wasn't even just pride. For Jim, being able to see was a life or death matter. He never would have made it through his childhood if he couldn't see where the beer bottles were going to land; he never would have made it past the first wave of executions on Tarsus IV if he hadn't seen it coming. More importantly, Jim couldn't have been able to come onboard the Enterprise, let alone become her Captain, if his eyes didn't see the stars that led him to where he was now.
Like any normal living being, Jim relied heavily on his sight, and if he ever lost it? Well, it would be absolutely devastating.
"I don't understand why the hell I had to follow you down here," grouched Bones as he trudged through a thick jungle of exotic plants that towered over even Spock's head.
Jim rolled his eyes, carefully and subtly making a clearer and clean path for his best friend. Bones was not made for tropical, humid regions where half the foliage had spikes along its leaves or spat out weird goop. Five minutes into landing, Bones had already cut his right hand on a plant when he lost his footing.
"You're the one who opted in, Bones," Jim reminded with a sigh. He held up a large leaf so that Bones could shuffle under it without whacking his head.
"Like I'm gonna let you come down alone to a foreign planet to do scientific research on their stupid plants."
"I'm not alone. Spock, Sulu, and an entire science team beamed down with me."
"And if you touch a plant and suddenly swell up like a balloon? You think they're equipped to stop your throat from closing up?"
"I'm sure they can. Most of them are certified in emergency triage. Even Sulu is." Jim frowned. "I feel like the majority of the ship is certified now. Did you know that Scotty got certified too? He doesn't even leave Engineering all that much."
Now it was Bones' turn to roll his eyes. "Why do you think that is, Jim?"
Jim shrugged. "I've got an ambitious crew who want to avoid you and the menace that is Sickbay as much as me?"
"It's because they have a moronic Captain that has the preservation instincts of a gnat."
"Hey! When did I downgrade from mayfly to a gnat?"
"After you went charging into a warehouse full of angry mobsters in just swim trunks, you idiot."
Jim pouted, pushing through another batch of leaves. "I think I warrant a mayfly at least, Bones."
He glanced ahead, keeping an eye on Spock, Sulu, and three other Science Officers gather around a particular tree with matching concentrated and fascinated expressions. It almost made Jim burst out laughing. Nerds, the lot of them, and for once, he wasn't a part of it, secret or not. He had only beamed down to explore and stretch his legs a bit; his need for adventure was flaring.
The jungle was full of bright, vibrant colors. Unlike Earth, the leaves of most plants was a magenta pink, splashed with dark green spots, but there were color nuances between each species. Some were long and tall, like a stalk of corn, and striped orange. Others held girth and had blue and lime green zigzags. The mesh of colors was almost disorienting and breathtaking at the same time.
On top of that, each plant had evolved to form some sort of offensive mechanism as defense. From what Jim had gathered from watching the Science team study each new plant, some secreted poisons - Jim had quickly figured out which ones those were and kept both him and Bones as far away as possible - while others did some venus flytrap move and consumed anything that came close. Sulu even got some sort of mucous-like liquid spat at him by a plant. Luckily, Spock had pulled the pilot into safety, because it turned out to be an acid that ate through the undergrowth and ground to form a shallow hole.
"I'll reinstate you to the level of a mayfly if you manage to get through the next two missions without a scratch," Bones returned.
Jim turned around, eyeing the cut on Bones' that still remained untreated. "You realize the irony in your statement, right, Bones?"
"It's just a scratch, Jim. Relax. There's no need to patch it up now."
Jim grinned, finding the whole thing amusing. "Then can we put money on that?"
Bones rolled his eyes. "You have a problem, you know that?"
"I've never seen you turn down a bet before, Bones. What does that say about you?"
"That I've been friends with you far too long." Bones raised a hand that Jim readily shook. "100 credits."
"Done." Jim patted Bones on the back and started to trudge forward. "Don't tell Spock. He'd just scold me again."
"You're afraid of the hobgoblin?"
"His lectures and rants are worse than yours, Bones."
"How so?"
"You just use metaphors and go round and round in circles. Most of the time, I can just ignore you until you get to your point, but Spock? He just logics me into submission."
"First of all, you in submission? And second, 'logics'? What are you, four-years-old?"
"I'm surprised that you completely skipped over the part where I said that I ignored you half the time," Jim chuckled, ducking low to avoid a long leaf in his path.
Bones was not as quick to notice and ran smack into it, swearing up a storm as he did. Jim's blue eyes danced as he laughed with mirth. That was until Bones pointed at something behind him with confusion and slight alarm in his expressions.
Jim turned quickly, his defenses rising, but he wasn't quite fast enough. All he saw was a six-foot plant loom over him and Bones before the thing spat out a thick, clear fluid at them.
Instinctively, Jim shifted so that the majority of his body shielded Bones, just as Bones reached for him to pull him away. Jim barely felt Bones' hand on his right shoulder before an intense burning sensation consumed him.
He bent over, hissing as he tried to rub out the fluid from his eyes.
Distantly, he heard Bones cursing, "Fuck, this shit burns!" and he instantly realized that whatever the fluid was, it had gotten into Bones' cut. And based on what he knew about the plants on this planet, there was a very high chance that it was poison that was now racing through Bones' blood.
Alarm swept through Jim. Even if he couldn't see Bones at the moment, he could picture the two inch laceration on the doctor's hand - the one that had grabbed for Jim. Blinking through the haze in his vision without much avail, Jim ripped off a section of his shirt and grabbed McCoy, pulling him closer. Without a moment's hesitation, he tied the piece of cloth around McCoy's forearm like a tourniquet and forced McCoy's arm above his head.
"Captain, Doctor!" came Spock's shouts. The team must've heard the commotion and came rushing back.
Jim felt hands over him and he pushed them aside, still keeping Bones' arm raised. "Tend to Bones. It got onto his bloodstream!"
Spock and the rest of the Science team descended on McCoy like a swarm of locusts while Sulu pulled Jim away.
"You okay, Kirk?" Sulu asked, peering into Jim's face. His eyes were bloodshot red. Alarmed, Sulu reached out and started to examine Jim eyes, gently prying his eyelids apart. "Did it get into your eyes?"
"How's Bones?" Jim questioned in return, wincing as Sulu's probing fingers touched his sensitive skin.
"I don't know." Sulu turned back around to glance at McCoy who was vehemently arguing against Spock, telling him that he needed to check on Jim even while his hand was angrily red.
The two seriously were two peas in a pod, but the danger was still present and evidently clear. All the plants here had different defensive and offensive mechanisms - they couldn't treat either Jim or McCoy until they knew what they had been affected with.
Returning his attention back to Jim, Sulu spoke quickly and urgently. "Kirk, this is important. Do you know what plant spat at this stuff at you?"
"I may be a genius, but even I didn't memorize all the plants on this bloody planet!" he snapped back.
"Describe it then! You have a near-eidetic memory!"
Jim closed his eyes, shifting through his most recent memories until he had a full picture of the foliage. "It was tall, about six-feet. Bright, olive green with neon orange spots. It looked like a venus flytrap with a giant bulb on its head."
Sulu relaxed, the tenseness of his body bleeding away. When Jim felt it through Sulu's hands on his arms, his own worry curtailed.
"It's not poison, is it?" he asked anyway, just for confirmation.
"It's a paralytic. Annoying, but not life-threatening."
Jim let out a huff of relief, steadfastly ignoring twinges of pain that was starting to rear up within him. "Well, you better tell Spock and Bones before someone punches the other one out."
At that, Sulu finally tuned into McCoy and Spock's heated conversation (Jim had been keeping track from the very beginning - how he was able to multitask like he did was beyond Sulu, but hey, he wasn't exactly a genius like Kirk). Spock was trying to insist that McCoy let him examine him while McCoy was snapping back, saying that he was fine. Both were clearly exasperated by each other, which was quite something considering Spock's Vulcan heritage.
"Hey! There's no need to take each other's throats out!" Sulu shouted, immediately stomping over. "Kirk just told me what plant it was. It's Dionaea chikorita. It's just a paralytic. He'll be fine. We'll probably still need to get back on board to counter its effects."
"See! I told you that I was fine!" growled McCoy. "Where's Jim? Is he alright?"
"Yeah, he's fine," Sulu responded, turning around to point at Jim.
Only, he wasn't standing where he was supposed to be.
Jim had fallen, lying spread out on the ground among the dirt and leaves, convulsing and jerking with small grunting sounds.
"Jim!" McCoy called out, rushing forward and landing heavily on his knees before Jim. He quickly and carefully rotated Jim onto his side to prevent him from choking on his own vomit.
"Mister Sulu, you said that the plant was not poisonous!" Spock barked out, already in the midst of pulling out his communicator for a beam-up.
"It's not!" protested Sulu. "I'm sure of it!"
"The damn idiot's allergic!" McCoy yelled. "Get us back to the Enterprise."
Jim suddenly stilled, going completely slack. The sudden lack of sounds was deafening.
"NOW!" McCoy screamed.
Lights swirled around them, leaving nothing behind.
The incessant, irritating beeping of the monitors was what woke Jim up. He was surrounded in darkness, but he assumed that had to do with the bandage he felt wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.
He sat up, groaning and holding his head as the entire world spun nauseatingly. His entire body ached and throbbed, like he had run three marathons in a row. All his muscles felt tight and broken at the same time, as if he was a piece of elastic that had been stretched out completely until it had snapped.
Instantly, Jim knew what had happened.
"Ah, damn. Fucking seizures…hate them the most," he groaned out, seemingly to no one. But despite not being able to see and not sensing anyone's presence, he knew that Bones was sitting right next to him. "Did I have an allergic reaction again?"
"Yeah, you idiot," came Bones' voice. As Jim expected, he was right beside him based on the proximity of Bones' words. "Some of the plant's spit got into your eyes and you had a reaction to it. Damn stuff was paralyzing. I still can't feel my right hand. M'Benga had to do most of the treatment for you."
"Wait, you can't feel your hand?" Jim asked, concern bleeding through his voice.
"It could've been worse. If you didn't tie my arm like you did, it would've been my entire arm. So thanks for that. But relax, Jim. It's only temporary. Spock's working on an antidote."
"If it's temporary, why is Spock working on an antidote?"
"Have you ever lost feeling in your dominant hand?"
Jim opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off.
"Don't answer that," McCoy said quickly. "I don't want to hear another one of your crazy stories. It's just going to give me an ulcer. The point is, if the hobgoblin can give me my hand back sooner, I'll take it."
Jim couldn't help himself and raised an eyebrow, wiggling it suggestively. "Do I need to introduce you to some babe next time we go to a bar?"
"Head out of the gutter, Jim." But there was no heat in his words. There was an edge to it that made Jim tilt his head curiously. He couldn't quite figure out what the twinge was, so he waited patiently for Bones to speak again. When he didn't, Jim gently prompted him.
"Bones?" he asked quietly.
"I'm a doctor, Jim. A surgeon by trade, remember?" Bones said softly.
Jim immediately understood. Bones had the steadiest hands – they were the only ones that Jim whole-heartedly trusted. Bones' hands were who he was just as Jim's blue eyes defined him. As a doctor – as a surgeon, losing feeling in his dominant hand was one of Bones' deepest, darkest fears that he had hoped would never come to pass. And here he was, living it.
So Jim did the only thing he could do and flop back on his pillows, huffing in disbelief. "Please, you're just upset that you'll have to do some extra work now to compensate. It's only temporary, right? No big deal. Besides, you're ambidextrous, aren't you?"
The reminder that things were temporary was just what Bones needed. And the fact that Jim didn't seem to take the situation seriously made everything seem…well, less dire.
Bones snorted. "Not everyone's like you, Jim."
"But you are. Don't lie. You're the same as me: you like to keep everyone guessing."
"How do you even know that I am? You've never seen me write or do anything with my left hand before."
"You have calluses on your left hand; your grip is just as strong as your right. And as you've said before, you're a surgeon. You're trained to use both hands. Need I go on?"
There was a moment of pause. "You're a freak of nature, you know that, Jim?"
"And you're surprised? I thought you knew me better than that, Bones. I'm hurt."
Bones chuckled. "I wasn't surprised. Just stating a fact, Jim."
"I don't know whether or not I should be upset at you for that."
"Well, let me know when you make up your mind."
"I'll let you know when you get this bandage off me already. It's itchy."
"You're such a child." But Jim heard him get up anyway and reach over. If it was anyone else, Jim's instincts probably would have forced him to attack the nearest person, seeing how his vision was still obscured, but Jim felt safe in Bones' hands. (Hand, if Jim wanted to be accurate at the moment.)
"So, how long was I out anyway?" Jim asked as the gauze started getting peeled away.
"Just a few hours."
"Why did you bandage my eyes?"
"We had to clean out every speck of that plant paralytic that got on you or it'd just set off another reaction. Some of it got into your eyes, which you failed to mention when we were on-planet." There was a touch of disapproval in Bones' words now, but Jim easily shrugged it off. "M'Benga had to go in and make sure that everything was clean."
Jim stilled. He didn't know why he didn't register the fact that M'Benga did his procedure back when Bones mentioned it earlier. Now that he was fully aware of it, he wasn't sure how he felt about it. It was a well-known fact that Jim hated doctors, hospitals, and anything even remotely related to medicine. And on top of that, he had enough trust issues to break down an entire school of psychologists.
"Relax, Jim," Bones said above him. "I trust M'Benga. He's a good doctor. And I was there for every second of it. If you don't trust him, trust me."
"Of course I trust you, Bones," Jim replied softly, but his tone was a bit aloof. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach and dread was starting to poke its head around the corner. He knew this feeling – he was intimately aware of it. What the hell was going to go wrong now?!
The last strand of the bandage came away. "There," said Bones, turning to grab an ophthalmoscope. "Just sit tight, Jim. I need to check your eyes one last time before I let you go."
When he swiveled back around, he saw Jim sitting rim-rod straight on the Biobed. His entire posture was tense; his muscles so tight that it almost looked like they were seconds from cramping. There was sheer panic in Jim's expressions. His wide, blue eyes stared straight ahead at nothing, or so it seemed like. Fear was written all over Jim's body language: he was practically screaming it.
McCoy felt alarm running through him, shocking him to his feet as if he was just struck with lightning. He had never seen Jim this terrified before. And that included seeing Jim seconds from being kicked out of the Academy for fighting, Nero, reliving Tarsus and his childhood, and even facing his ex-stepfather in person.
This…this sheer and utter terror was something that McCoy had never thought Jim was capable of.
And it scared the shit out of him.
"Jim, what's wrong?!" Bones frantically asked, hand already reaching out for his best friend. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"
Jim swallowed hard, his eyes shifting restlessly, as if they were unable to settle on something. When he spoke, his words were barely above a whisper. "Bones…I can't see," he breathed.
McCoy froze. He wasn't even sure that he heard right. "What?"
One of Jim's hands lunged out, grabbing McCoy's left hand (the one that could feel at the moment), and tightly clutching it like his life depended on it.
"I can't see!"
For the next three hours, Jim sat through a battery of exams. Through the entirety, Jim remained stone-faced and silent. It was the most quiet anyone had ever seen Jim before. He was also compliant, almost like he was just a doll being manipulated by a puppeteer.
It just seemed wrong, and no one could blame him.
Jim was blind, but it was temporary. At least, that was what McCoy and M'Benga told Jim. And that was all they told him. He was left sedated on his Biobed while McCoy and Spock argued heatedly about what to do in McCoy's office.
"You can't report this to Starfleet, Spock," McCoy growled. "They'll remove him and stick him into a hospital."
"Yes, Doctor. They will admit him into a hospital that is more equipped to handle his condition," Spock returned smoothly.
"He doesn't need to be hospitalized. It's only temporary."
"For how long? What if his vision does not return for a week or a month? It could possibly take even longer than that. We cannot protect him at all hours of the day, Doctor. We all have our duties."
"Can you even hear yourself, man? I know you're not fully Vulcan, you bastard. This is Jim we're talking about! You care for him. I know you do. You can't possibly be considering sending him away when he needs us. Not when he needs us the most."
Spock tilted his head curiously. He had originally thought that by getting Jim to a top-notch hospital sooner, the faster Jim's condition could be healed, but there was an edge to McCoy's words that made Spock question that train of thought. "Explain that, Doctor."
McCoy ran his left fingers through his hair, exhaling shakily. "You know how, as living beings, we take our senses for granted, but we all have a deep-seeded fear of losing any of them. For me, it's my sense of touch – my ability to move my hands and perform and be a doctor."
"I'm sorry, Doctor," Spock said, pointedly looking at McCoy's frozen hand and wrist at his side.
McCoy waved him off with the other. "It's not about me right now, Spock. I know my problem is temporary. Jim's? I don't know. And Jim's always relied on his sight. I don't know if he knows how to handle this."
They both glanced out through the glass doors to look at Jim's sleeping figure, worry and fear running rampant in their minds.
"What did you tell him, Doctor?"
"That whatever happened was just temporary, just like mine. I told him that the paralytic paralyzed his optic nerve, which is why he can't see right now."
"So you lied."
"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell him the whole truth."
And the truth was, Jim's messed up body didn't just have an allergic reaction to the paralytic. He had an autoimmune response to it. In layman's terms, Jim's body attacked itself when the allergic reaction arose, and in the process, Jim's vision was lost. Add on to the fact that it was a paralytic that got into his eyes? Medically, it made sense, but it also meant that McCoy didn't know how long his blindness was going to last.
"What do you propose then, Doctor?"
"Keep him onboard. He needs to be on familiar ground, around familiar people. Don't let the brass know either."
"I think we should at least inform Admiral Pike about this."
"Normally, I'd agree. I trust Pike and so does Jim, but then we're going to put him in an awkward position. He's bound by his duties."
"As are we, Doctor."
"But not nearly as tightly as him. We're on a ship under Jim's direct command, which means that we have the most freedom than anyone else in the entire 'fleet. Jim wouldn't want to burden Pike with this – the less people who know the better."
"We cannot keep this from the crew. Jim's condition is too obvious, too easily noticed. We cannot possibly hide it."
"And I'm not telling you to. The crew will cover for Jim."
"Can you guarantee that?"
McCoy rolled his eyes. "That moron has sacrificed his life for almost every single person on this goddamn ship. I think that he's safe."
Spock pondered it for a moment and finally conceded. "Understood. However, I do believe that we should move Jim back to his quarters before he awakens. As you say, he will feel safer in familiar surroundings."
"Yeah, definitely. He's gonna be feeling especially vulnerable now. He won't be happy waking up in the SickBay."
"I assume that we do not want him to wake up alone and disoriented. Shall we remain with him until he awakes?"
"I'm a bit conflicted on that. He might be volatile when he wakes, just to protect himself. We don't want another J.T. incident occurring again."
If J.T., a 13-year-old boy who was starved, beaten, and god knows what else, could take them down in a few seconds, what could a fully grown and terrified Jim do? Neither of them wanted to find out.
"But we should stay," continued McCoy, already walking out of his office and towards Jim. "I don't want him to be alone when he wakes up."
He didn't say it out loud, but Spock knew that it was tradition for McCoy to be beside Jim for the entirety of the time that he was hurt. It was well known that even Jim expected McCoy to be next to him anytime something went wrong - it was how Jim knew how severe his injuries were. If McCoy was already nagging and ranting as he surfaced to consciousness, he knew he was going to be alright and whatever happened was fairly minor. If he woke up to a quiet and tense McCoy, well, it just meant that it was a very close call and Jim tended not to dwell on it, but he always did purposefully become more compliant to mollify his best friend.
Spock followed McCoy and helped the doctor unhook Jim from the bed and set it to hover. As he did, he glanced at McCoy's clearly worried expressions and wondered if the same showed on his own.
Jim was the strongest being that Spock had ever known – he had survived so much, lost so much, and still managed to put on a smile every day. Spock could not understand how that was with his logic; he was forever in awe of the human that was Jim Kirk. If there was anything Spock had faith in, it was Jim. But this? Jim without his magnificent sight that saved hundreds and thousands, if not millions of lives? Spock did not know how Jim was going to react to this.
And honestly? He was frightened to find out.
There was only darkness when Jim woke. His eyes were closed, but he knew he was surrounded by blackness, and he would be when he opened them. It was a familiar feeling – one that he knew far too well and still dreaded, no matter the circumstances. Under his fingertips were standard Starfleet sheets and blankets. Though the material was ambiguous and same throughout the entire ship, Jim just knew that these particular ones belonged to him, which meant that he was in his quarters.
He lay still, taking in his surroundings without his sight. He would have to get used to it – he might as well get started now. There were two presences in his room – one near the door and one by his bed. Their breathing was quiet and soft; he could barely hear it, but it was clearly there. He didn't need his vision to know that they were Spock and Bones (he figured that Bones was the one closest to him – it was sort of tradition for them). Still, as much as he appreciated his friends staying with him and making sure that he wasn't along when he woke, but he couldn't do this right now. He couldn't handle their concerned questions or their pity.
That was always the worst – the look in someone's eyes when they pitied you. It made him feel so small and scrutinized at the same time, like there was no possible escape from their never-ending gaze, and that he could never amount to anything. It was as if there was no hope or love, no desire or serenity. Just shame and utter disappointment that he was nothing but a failure.
And Jim could not even begin to take that right now. Even if he couldn't see it.
He sat straight up, letting the blankets pool around him, and cautiously opened his eyes. It was just as he expected – complete and utter blackness.
"Jim?" Bones questioned. Jim felt him moving towards him.
Jim ignored him. "Lights, 100%."
"Jim," Spock protested, a moment too late.
Jim felt the shift in the atmosphere, feeling the slight heat on his skin from the bright light, but he saw no difference. Despite expecting that, Jim's heart sank, and subconsciously, he curled up, hugging his knees and making himself smaller, trying vainly to be less vulnerable than he already was. It was as if his entire soul was laid out bare.
"Get out," he said quietly to Spock and McCoy.
Bones immediately tried to reach for Jim, but Jim's body language threatened bodily harm if McCoy laid even a finger on him. McCoy flinched back – he had never been on the receiving end of Jim's infamous "touch me and I'll kill you" aura.
Reading the atmosphere, Spock stepped forward. "Jim, please calm yourself."
"Get out," Jim snarled again, this time slightly louder.
"Jim…" Spock tried.
"GET OUT!" Jim roared.
Both Spock and McCoy stumbled back in shock. Jim had never raised his voice to them, let alone with such raw pain and anger in his tone. So they did the only thing they thought to be right – they left without another word.
Jim heard the door swish shut. "Computer, initiate protocol JT5475," Jim whispered. "And lights, 0%."
And he was plunged into the darkness again. Not that it made a difference.
Alone, Jim could now allow himself to succumb to his panic and fear. He had never been afraid of the darkness. He had been born, raised, and grown in the darkness. Wherever he went, the black followed him – he could never allow the night even an inch of weakness because he knew that if he did, it would consume him whole without a question asked.
He had never been afraid. There had never been a reason to, because despite Jim thriving and living in the blackness, he always knew that somewhere, somehow, there was light awaiting him. It may not have been much – a simple ray of sunlight here and there or even just candlelight – but it was always there when Jim needed it most.
There would be none now.
He let his eyes close and his head sink onto his knees. What was he going to do without his sight? He would have to give up his Captaincy and leave his home, his family. Everything Jim needed to feel alive – to be alive – was hinging on his eyes. His damn, useless eyes…
Lunging from his bed with an angry, grief-filled cry, Jim swiped everything off his desk. Things shattered as they hit the ground and wall with such force. He moved on, flipping the table completely over and the chair, which broke upon impact.
He stubbed his toes and was sure that he was getting bruises by accidentally running into his furniture during his rampage, but the despair in his heart overshadowed and overwhelmed any physical pain he could feel.
Within minutes, Jim's entire room was ransacked and overturned, like a wild tornado had swept through and destroyed everything, except for the few trinkets that his crew had given him. Those were kept safe in their own little corner in the one untouched corner of Jim's quarters.
With trembling hands, he reached out for his most prized possessions. His fingers touched nothing but wood at first, but as he continued to search, he found what he was looking for. He felt the smooth edges of the guitar Uhura had given him, the curves of the chess pieces Spock gifted him, the ruffled pages of Sulu's book, and more the raggedy softness of the rabbit stuffed animal Chekov gave him.
Gently, he grasped the animal with both hands. It wasn't very large: it was about fifteen inches tall and six inches wide. He could feel the age of the rabbit – the years of comfort and companionship it had provided to Chekov when he was a child – by the worn fabric and diminished cotton within it. Some small, childish part in his brain yearned for such consolation, and he hugged it tightly to his chest, burying his cheek into its head.
All strength suddenly left him, and he sank to the ground, leaning heavily against the wall for support. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks and he made no effort to stop them.
He let the ugly despair wash over him and sweep him under the deep, dark ocean where he was drowning. Cruel strings of fate bound tightly around his limbs, cutting off all circulation and ability to move. He could no longer breathe or function, and piece by piece, he fell apart, losing everything and breaking all at once.
For the first time in his short, tormented life, Jim let go.
For the first time in Jim Kirk's life, the darkness had finally won.
"How's Kirk?" Uhura asked worriedly the moment Spock and McCoy returned from Jim's room. Her brown eyes took in the sight of McCoy's distraught expressions and Spock's unnaturally tense form and immediately knew that something had gone horribly wrong, and she wasn't the only one beside herself with worry about Kirk.
The entire crew had been immensely concerned about their Captain's health when Spock made the announcement that Jim was temporarily blind. He had emphasized that, under no circumstances, were anyone to report Jim's condition, and to respect their Captain and his need for privacy as well as autonomy when he was feeling well enough to wander the ship. Though slightly alarmed, it seemed that the crew accepted and agreed to keeping their Captain safe without any protest or questions, quite unlike the Command crew.
As soon as Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty heard that McCoy and Spock were moving Jim back to his quarters, they were already there to meet them, but Spock and McCoy hadn't allowed them to enter. They had waited in Spock's room for any new information for about an hour or so before Spock and McCoy returned.
Both of them had matching shocked faces and were moving so numbly that they were immediately ushered into a chair.
"What happened?" asked Sulu. "Is Kirk okay?"
"Do you think he's okay?" snapped McCoy, anger quickly replacing his own panic and fear. "The man's blind! Would you be okay with that?"
"Calm down, Leonard," Uhura quickly stepped in. "We're all worried. Don't lash out at us because of that." She turned to a very quiet Spock. "Why aren't you in there with him? I thought that you weren't going to leave him alone to do anything stupid."
"He did not want us there. He was very adamant," Spock responded. "And angry," he added after a second of thought.
"Jim shouted at us. Told us to get out." McCoy paused, suppressing a shudder. "I've never seen him like that before, Uhura. I didn't know what to do. I still don't know what to do."
"I thought that his condition is temporary," said Sulu. "Does he know that?"
"That's what we told him, but we're not a hundred percent sure of that either. And even if it was temporary, it's still one second longer than what Jim can probably handle."
Chekov frowned. "Vhat are ve going to do zen? How do ve help him?"
Scotty sighed and rested a hand on Chekov's shoulder. "Ah don' think this is somethin' we can 'elp him with. This is somethin' Jim'll have to figure out on his own."
There was a sudden loud roar of frustration that was barely muffled by the walls that separated Jim's room with Spock's. Everyone flinched when they heard the first glass shattered that was rapidly followed by thuds and crashes.
McCoy jumped up, wanting to go and check on Jim to make sure that he didn't hurt himself, but Scotty reached out and grabbed onto him.
"Doctor, this ain't somethin' we can help him with," Scotty said with seriousness that no one had really seen before. "He's gotta come ta terms first before we can help him. Let him get this out of his system. He'll be fine."
"But…!" started McCoy.
"No. You leave Jim alone, ya hear?"
"Are you hearing yourself, man?" McCoy growled.
"Are you hearin' yerself? Tell me, Doctor, wha can ya do right now that's of help ta Jim? You know as well as any of us tha he ain't gonna listen to ya when he's this distraught. And even then, wha makes ya think tha he'll listen ta any of us when we 'ave no idea wha he's going through? If ya talk ta him now, you know you're making it worse. This is not somethin' we can help Jim through – we can only support him."
"You cannot possibly be suggesting that we leave Jim alone, Mr. Scott," protested Spock.
"Ah'm not. We're always aroun' if Jim needs us. He's never alone, and he knows it, so if he asks for space, we should give it ta him. As his friends and family, we should do what we can ta help him in other ways."
Sulu cocked his head, considering. "So, what do you suggest, Scotty?"
"Uhura and ya should monitor all communications from here on, just ta make sure tha no one reports Jim's condition ta the brass. Chekov and I'll look to make a program tha'll detect and disable any communications tha'll pose a danger ta Jim. Doctor, you should get some rest – ya won't be much help ta anyone if you're exhausted. When you're rested, ya should work with Spock ta find somethin' tha'll help Jim's eyes."
Scotty was determined – his expressions hard. "Ah will say this one more time: ya leave Jim alone, ya hear? No botherin' him about his health or askin' if he's okay. That's just like pourin' salt on his wounds. If he wants ta talk to us, he'll come when he's good and ready. Until then, ya just do anything else that you think can help. Got it?"
All nodded.
"Good." A grin broke out on Scotty's face. "Now, I've got some plans ta make this ship more user-friendly for Jim…"
Jim's muscles hurt when he came to again. He was curled on the floor, a complete mess curled around the rabbit. It would have been sad and embarrassing if Jim could even bring himself to care about it. Slowly, he sat up, still leaning against the wall for support. Based on his internal clock, he had been asleep for a while now – probably around five or so hours. He was slightly surprised that no one had called on him or checked on him during that time, but then and again, he did initiate protocol JT5475, which was a program he had written into the computer system to allow complete and total lockdown of his quarters. No one, not even if Chekov, Spock, and Scotty teamed together could break it.
Sighing and breathing deeply, he started to build himself back up. After breaking down so far, there was nothing left to do except move on. Jim was nothing if not a survivor – it may not be living, as he did before this shit happened, but it would have to do for now. Bones did say that his blindness was temporary – Jim had to cling onto that, or he would never be able to recover from this – so there was still some hope.
He was never one to sit around and do nothing anyway. He wasn't the helpless type, and he never would be. If he couldn't see for the foreseeable future, then Jim would just have to adapt and build up all his shields again. This would not define him. This would not bring him down. Jim was far too smart and strong for that.
The rabbit was still clutched loosely in his hands, but he no longer had the need to hug it to death. (He wasn't quite ready to let it go either…) In the depths of the darkness, Jim started to walk forward. Even if he didn't know where he was going, he was at least moving – he refused to be defeated by this.
He wasn't optimistic enough to think that this would all be over in a day or two. His condition could last for weeks, or perhaps even longer than that, which meant that he would be completely vulnerable during that time. And he refused to be a burden to his friends and crew – he didn't want to drag them down with him.
Plans began to formulate in his mind. He may be limited now, but there were still things that he could do. Mind made up, he pushed himself to his feet, leaning for a brief moment against the wall as he gathered his courage. He knew that, by now, everyone onboard probably knew of his "problem" (he refused to call it a condition anymore), and despite the fact that he knew that they all would mean well, Jim simply just wasn't used to relying on anyone. But he just knew that his usual avoidance of asking for help wasn't going to cut it this time.
He was going to need help – big time – but he had to take the first step.
Taking in a deep breath, Jim straightened up, still holding the rabbit, and moved to sit down softly on his bed.
With more nerve than Jim actually had, he said quietly, "Computer, cancel protocol JT5475, and call Doctor McCoy."
He waited patiently for Bones to pick up – he knew that it wouldn't take very long.
Before the first ring even finished, Bones was already answering. "Jim?" The worry and concern was just dripping in that single word.
"Hiya, Bones," Jim said with a sheepish tone. He cringed when he heard the tinge of grief in his voice.
"I uh…" Bones didn't know how to start. Asking if Jim was okay was like throwing oil on the fire – Jim hated pity and hated that question.
Jim blurted out his question before he decided to bury himself into his sad little corner with a blanket over his head. "Can you help me?"
He could hear Bones already moving – presumably leaving the SickBay (he could hear the telltale beeping noises of the heart monitors). "Always. What do you need?"
"Just…uh…come here?"
"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."
Bones disconnected and Jim took the time to shift around a little bit so that he was more comfortable.
When Bones arrived, he knocked, which almost made Jim want to laugh. It showed how much Jim had scared him – Bones was rude and crass. He had had never had a sense of privacy, even barging into the bathroom when Jim was showering. (He would like to say that that changed after he became Captain, but that wasn't so. It wasn't just him either – Spock did it too, but he actually shared a bathroom with the Vulcan. Bones had no excuse whatsoever.)
"Come in," Jim called out.
Bones stepped in, his eyes instantly adjusting to the dark. He spotted Jim sitting cross-legged on his bed, towards the center, and holding a stuffed rabbit between his legs. Then, he saw the chaos that laid shattered around him – pieces of glass from a cup that Jim had reflected the slight light from the entrance; chunks of splintered remains of his wooden desk cluttered the floor. With how sparsely Jim's room was decorated before, Bones was honestly quite surprised at how much destruction Jim managed to bring about.
"Where'd you get the rabbit?" asked Bones, approaching Jim cautiously – mostly to avoid all the mess on the floor.
"Chekov. After the whole de-aging incident."
"Ah. Gotcha."
An awkward silence fell. Jim never liked awkward silences and was usually the first to break it. This time was no different.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you. And Spock," Jim added as an afterthought.
"It's fine. We get it," McCoy said quickly, stepping fully into the room and shutting the door behind him. (Jim turned up the lights when the door did close – Bones, at least, still needed to be able to see). "Well, we don't, but we get that this is going to be hard for you. What can we do to help?"
Jim's grip on the rabbit tightened. "This is only temporary, right?" His voice sounded so young and raw.
McCoy made sure there was absolute no hesitation when replied. "Yes."
"Say it."
Confused, McCoy frowned. "What?"
"I need to hear it. Say it out loud, Bones."
"Your blindness is only temporary, Jim. You're going to be fine," McCoy obliged resolutely. He wasn't technically lying – until proven otherwise, McCoy was going to believe that this whole thing was temporary.
"How long?"
"I have no idea. A week, maybe? The same goes for my arm."
At that, Jim's head snapped up. "Your hand is still paralyzed?"
"Yeah. I'm off-duty until further notice."
"You mean 'we're' off-duty until further notice."
"Jim…"
"No, no. I get it. Can't have a blind Captain in charge. Can't even have a blind man wandering around." Jim couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.
McCoy winced, not that Jim could see it, but he felt it all the same.
"It's fine, Bones, but I need your help."
"Anything."
Jim grinned, though McCoy could see that some of it was forced. "Can you clean my room for me?"
Almost flabbergasted, McCoy found himself rolling his eyes and pushing his sleeves up. "Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a maid."
"You'd make a lovely maid, Bones," Jim joked.
"You keep that up and I'll hit you."
"But I'm blind!"
"I have no qualms with hitting a blind person if he's you. You're probably still more dangerous than Sulu."
A thoughtful look crossed Jim's face.
"Oh no, Jim. You are not allowed to go challenge Sulu to a match," Bones said in between picking things up and shoving them into the garbage can that he had picked up.
Jim just hummed thoughtfully, still holding that rabbit. Bones thought that Jim looked a little bit endearing like that – as if he was far younger than he was, than he ever was or could be. Here, despite being blind and being so absolutely vulnerable, Jim still allowed himself to relax in Bones' presence. To feel safe, even knowing that Bones only had one working hand.
It made Bones feel that everything they had ever gone through – every injury, every unfortunate circumstance, and every pain and hurt that they had ever experienced – was well worth it. Because they had finally found somewhere where they could feel safe and loved.
And Bones felt like Jim knew that too. Five years ago, before the Academy, before the Enterprise, Jim would've hidden himself away, letting the darkness consume him. He would never have shown his face – he would have run, finding some corner to hide in until he was able to suppress and bury everything so deep within himself that he wouldn't feel again. And then who knew what would have happened to him?
But here Jim was now, looking ever so innocent with a stuffed rabbit in his hands, and humming softly to himself as Bones picked up sharp pieces of glass that would easily be used against him.
Bones couldn't help but smile. It wasn't just Jim: they had all come a long way to reach this point – to feel safe and that they belonged somewhere.
"I'm okay, Bones," Jim said, seemingly out of nowhere and drawing Bones out of his thoughts. "Really."
"I believe it," Bones replied with no sarcasm, whatsoever.
"No, really," Jim continued, not yet processing what McCoy had said, "I mean, I wasn't okay before and I probably won't be one hundred percent okay until my sight gets back, but I'm not going to sit around moping. Can you even imagine me moping?"
"Yes. You do it every time someone proves you wrong."
"Beside the point…" Jim paused, Bones' words sinking in. "Wait. You believe me?"
The incredulity in his voice made Bones roll his eyes. "Took you long enough. I thought I had the patent on the long-winded rants."
"You do, which is why I'm confused why there isn't a rant about how I have to take care of myself and not being an idiot who hides in the dark all day long."
"If you were going to do that, I wouldn't be here, cleaning up this stuff for you."
"Oh." Jim fell silent.
Bones paused in his movements and straightened to stare directly at Jim. "Jim, if you need space, we're going to give it to you."
Jim didn't know if he heard correctly. "What?"
"It's because we know you, Jim. We know that this is going to be hard for you and that you have your own ways of dealing with things. If you need space and time, we're not going to suffocate you. Just…if that is what you need, promise me that you'll come out once in a while and show that you're still alive. I'd hate to come and clean up after your body stinks up the place. Think about the hobgoblin! He shares a bathroom with you! What about his delicate sensibilities?"
"Wow, I feel the love," mocked Jim.
"I'm serious. I ain't cleaning up after ya again."
Jim just smiled. "Thanks, Bones." He paused, trying to find the right words. "I…I am going to need my space, but I promise, I'll come find you once in a while."
"Not just me, Jim. The rest too. They all care for you."
Jim hesitated. Being like…this…was one thing before Bones – it was something entirely different from the rest. Sure, he trusted and cared about them all, but it was just different somehow. Jim couldn't put it into words.
Goddamn his freaking issues. He was stronger than this. He was not weak. No, he refused to be weak.
"I promise," Jim replied with harden resolve. He gave Bones a small, albeit genuine smile. "I'm not alone now, right?"
"That you aren't. Now, since you're just going to sit there, can I call the hobgoblin to come help? I've only got one working hand you know."
Jim chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so." He leaned his head back slightly. "Computer, call Spock for me."
Spock must've been waiting beside his communicator, because he answered faster than Bones did. "Captain," Spock greeted.
Jim could actually hear a weird echo through the walls – he was somewhat surprised at that. By the sounds of Bones continuing to clean up, it must've not heard Spock's voice through the wall. He had to smile at that – seemed like his already very sharp senses were picking up the slack for the lack of sight.
"Spock, can you stop by my quarters? And bring a garbage bag."
Though he was clearly confused, Spock merely responded, "Understood," and hung up. Bless his heart – he really was learning to not question Jim's insanity anymore.
A minute later, there was a knock at Jim's door. He didn't move a finger, knowing full well that McCoy would answer for him.
Spock raised an eyebrow at the mess around them, but didn't say anything and immediately set to work. Between the two of them, Jim's room was clean in ten minutes. The floor was left impeccably clean and all the broken furniture was shoved against a corner of the room where Jim couldn't run into it unless he was really trying.
"We will have someone come in and replace your furniture for you, Jim," Spock said as they finished.
Jim just waved his hand. "It's fine. I'll do it myself later. I don't want anyone coming in my room until this passes."
Spock nodded, understanding fully. Jim wouldn't let any stranger come near him until he was more confident (and honestly, less vulnerable). "Of course," Spock said out loud.
"Do you need anything else, Jim?" asked Bones.
Jim shook his head. "No, thanks."
"I've got to head back to Sickbay, but call me whenever you need me, Jim."
"Yeah, I will."
"And I know I don't need to tell you this but…"
Jim cut him off. "Yeah, I know. I won't leave my room unless one of you guys is with me. I got it."
"Okay. Call me, Jim. Anytime."
"You're stifling me, Bones," Jim quirked a smile.
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I get the hint. I'm going. See ya later, kid." And he left. (Jim heard the telltale sounds of his door whooshing open and closing.)
"I will retire as well," Spock informed Jim and turned to leave as well.
"Wait, Spock."
Spock turned and glanced at Jim. "Yes, Jim?"
Jim was biting his lip, looking extremely unsure of himself. "I uh…"
"We will not report you to the Admiralty, Jim, if that is what you are concerned about."
"What? Oh, no. I'm not worried about that. I just want to ask you a favor."
"If it is within my abilities, I will do my best."
"Can you spar with me?"
At that, Spock hesitated. "I am not sure that is wise, Jim."
"Yeah, I know I'm handicapped right now, but I can't sit around like this. I just can't." There was panic in Jim's voice now. It was well hidden, but Spock had trained himself to be able to detect even a hint of it.
Immediately, Spock changed tactics. "Jim, please explain your reasoning."
It wasn't a no, and Jim recognized that. Jim ran his fingers through his hair. He exhaled, clearly frustrated at figuring out the right words to describe his emotions. "You know me, Spock. You know I hate being idle more than anything."
Spock glanced at his friend. This was the first time Spock had ever seen Jim so frightened and upset. Though Jim hid it well, there were clear and obvious signs that made Spock feel so much more protective towards Jim. There was nothing Spock would do for his friend; it would not change now. "Alright."
For the second time, Jim wasn't sure if he heard correctly. "Wait, what? You're agreeing, just like that?"
"Yes."
"No rants or a lecture about how that's not a good idea?"
"No. Where would you like to practice?"
Clearly still confused, Jim sounded a bit hesitant when he responded. "Uh…I guess one of the observation decks? Number three is usually unused."
"Understood. Shall we go now?"
"Yeah, sure. Can you grab me a couple of my workout clothes from my closet?"
Wordlessly, Spock did as asked and moved closer to Jim. Jim flinched when he realized that Spock was suddenly next to him, and Spock made a note to himself to make his footsteps more noticeable when approaching Jim.
"Thanks," Jim said, taking his clothes from Spock.
As he did, Jim's hand accidentally brushed Spock's and Spock was suddenly overwhelmed with the crushing feeling of desperation, frustration, and fear. There was so much fear trapped within Jim. Fear of being so helpless and weak and vulnerable to attacks – of not being able to protect himself or anyone he cared about. He feared that his condition would last forever and that he would no longer be able to see the stars that symbolized hope and a future for him. He was drowning, drowning, drowning, and the only way he could possibly even begin to figure out how to get his head above the water was to do something, to do anything. Calculations and plans filtered through and Spock could see the wonder that was Jim's mind: always turning, always thinking, always planning.
Then he finally understood. Jim wanted to hone his skills with sparring – to make sure that he wouldn't be a dead burden to anyone so that if the worst did happen, he could go off on his own and disappear. More importantly, he needed to feel strong. To be how he always was – to be confident in himself and his ability to fight, to struggle. He had always lived by clawing his way to the top; he didn't know how to carry on any other way. And if he couldn't carry on? Well, even Spock feared the answer to that.
Jim's voice came flittering through the swirling mess of emotion. "Spock?"
Spock snapped out immediately. "Jim."
Jim was looking at him curiously, but it was obvious that he hadn't realized that Spock had read his mind by accident. If he had, there was no way Jim would've stayed calm.
"Are we going?"
Spock glanced at Jim, surprised that Jim had already managed to change without Spock noticing. It only spoke to how turbulent Jim's emotions were, consuming Spock enough for him to get so distracted, but Spock shook it off. "Will you need me to guide you?"
Jim shook his head, already sliding off the bed and getting to his feet. "Just walk and talk and I can follow. But warn me if I'm going to run into a pole or something."
"What shall I talk about?" Spock said, leading the way to the door. It swished open and shut behind them both.
"Anything."
Spock started walking slowly down the hallway, watching Jim carefully. "It is difficult to speak about 'anything' due to the fact that 'anything' is not quantifiable."
Jim had a hand out, his fingers touching the wall, as he followed Spock. His eyes were wide open, which would have baffled Spock if he hadn't read Jim's mind earlier. Jim wanted to keep up the pretense that he was completely normal. Not for the crew, but for himself. He was going to fake it until he made it.
Still, at Spock's comment, Jim's concentrated look was slightly broken by his small smile. "Fine then. Tell me a story."
"What would you like to hear?"
"You choose. Something interesting."
Spock thought for a moment, still watching Jim walk a step behind him. Jim's brows were furrowed and he was 'looking' down at his feet. With sudden realization, Spock realized that Jim was counting his footsteps, making a mental map of his beloved ship. Instantly, he knew what story he was going to tell Jim.
"When I was a child," Spock started, slowing down his steps as they rounded a corner, "I was taunted by other children my age for being half-Vulcan."
"Pricks…" Jim muttered under his breath, and despite Spock not bothered by his past, he still appreciated Jim's comment.
He continued. "One day, several of the children and I were brought to the Catacombs. As a jest, the boys purposefully left me behind and I was lost in the dark. However, I had foreseen such an incident, and had carefully counted and memorized the number of steps it took to enter and exit the caves."
Jim smiled again. "You figured out what I was doing, didn't you?"
"It is a wise idea."
"So how did it end?"
"How did what end?"
They were a few feet from Jim's favorite observation deck.
"What happened after you got out of the cave?" Jim asked.
"My peers were fairly certain that I would never return and had already told the news to my father. When I appeared and recounted what had transpired, my father had them severely punished by public humiliation."
"That must've been awesome."
"It was very satisfying." Spock came to a stop near the end of dark room, his above-average eyes adjusting to the blackness. Jim, hearing Spock's footsteps end, followed suit. "How would you like to begin this, Jim?"
"I don't actually know. I'm kind of winging it."
"What do you hope to gain from this?"
"I hope to figure out what I can do without my goddamn eyes." Jim shifted, squaring his shoulders. "You know what? Just punch me."
Spock was floored. "Excuse me?"
"Just punch me, Spock." Jim raised both hands and made the "come hither" sign with his fingers. "Punch me."
"I do not think I will, Jim."
"Come on, Spock. I gotta be able to figure out if I'll be able to sense or hear something. Punch me."
"Jim, I do not feel comfortable…"
"Spock, your mother was a hamster and your father smells of elderberries!" Jim suddenly yelled.
Though Spock didn't get the reference, he was shocked by Jim's sudden loudness and threw out a quick jab.
Jim shifted slightly, but not enough to miss any of Spock's blow. There was a loud crunching noise and Jim went down, clutching his nose. "OW!" he gasped. But at least his nose was bruised, not broken. He knew the difference well.
"Jim, are you alright? I'm sorry."
But Jim was grinning at Spock. Even without his eyes, Jim knew the punch was coming. More specifically, he knew where it was going to land. There had been a shift in the atmosphere – a break in the air as Spock's hand traveled towards his face. Though he couldn't quite hear anything, he felt the wind of Spock's fist milliseconds before it hit, which meant that he could sense where the hits were going to come – he just needed to work on his reaction time.
Excited, Jim jumped to his feet, the pain already forgotten. "Again," he demanded, raising his fists in a defensive position.
"Jim, you should have Doctor McCoy examine your nose. I may have broken it."
"No blood, no foul. Besides, it's probably just bruised. I'll have Bones take a look at it when I've got this down. Come on, Spock. Punch me again."
"You are the singularly most exasperating individual I have ever met, Jim, did you know that?"
"Yes, which is why you're going to indulge me. Punch me!"
Spock did so again, but this time, he almost missed. Jim still got hit in the face, but not where Spock had originally intended. He was off his mark by an inch. His eyes widened as he realized that that wasn't a fluke. In one blow, Jim had found a pattern.
Jim was, without a doubt, a bonafide genius.
"Again!" Jim barked out, already recovered.
Spock threw more strength into this next punch, and this time, Jim dodged it.
Jim grinned toothily. "Aw yeah. That's what I'm talking about. Come at me, Spock. Give me your best shot."
The next half hour was composed of Spock and Jim actually sparring. At first, it was slow and Jim got hit more often than not. It took him a while to get a sense of the patterns in fighting and listening to his carefully honed instincts telling him where to move and how to react. If he concentrated hard, he could almost touch the break in air and the wind caused by limbs moving against gravity. He wasn't as strong or as quick as he once was, but he was still confident that he could hold his ground for a bit.
By the end of it, Jim was lying on the ground, sweaty, exhausted, and slightly in pain, but he was whole-heartedly exhilarated. Words couldn't describe the feeling, but if he had to choose one, it would be 'empowered'.
Spock would have smiled at the sight of Jim's happy expression if he wasn't Vulcan, despite the fact that Jim was literally covered in bruises. "Jim, I think you should go see Doctor McCoy now."
"Yeah…I don't think I can walk anymore," breathed Jim.
"Would you like me to call Doctor McCoy here?"
Jim sat up, wincing as he did. Yep. Those were some bruised ribs there. "No, it's okay."
"You cannot go untreated, Jim."
"I wasn't planning on it. Can you bring me back to my room? Bones can meet us there."
Spock reached out and gently guided one of Jim's hands (the wrist was swollen, and Spock felt a spark of guilt deep within him) to his shoulder. Jim gingerly climbed onto Spock's back, huffing as it caused him pain.
Slowly, Spock carried Jim through the halls and back to his room, setting him on his bed. He called McCoy and glanced at Jim, internally wincing at the bruises that marred Jim's face. The worst of them all was the blow to his nose – the first one that Spock had thrown. More than anything, he was afraid of what McCoy was going to do to him after this.
"Jim, I have some paperwork to complete, so if you will excuse me," Spock lied.
Jim chuckled. "Yeah, get out of here before Bones shows up. I promise I won't throw you under the bus."
Though Spock normally would have called Jim out on his use of the idiom, he didn't want to run into McCoy with Jim looking like he did. "Thank you," he said instead.
"Thank you, Spock, for tonight. I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome, Jim."
Spock turned to leave via their adjoined bathroom. He was just at the door when Jim called out for him again.
"Spock?"
"Yes?" he asked.
"Can you keep this a secret?"
"May I ask why?"
"I just…don't want people to know."
"Alright."
Jim smiled. "This whole blind thing is making you all so much more agreeable, isn't it?"
Spock's eyes softened. "I can neither confirm nor deny that."
"Same time tomorrow?"
"Of course, Jim. I will see you tomorrow."
There was a knock on Jim's door and in a flash, Spock was gone, leaving Jim in a mess of chuckles and bruises.
That was how Bones found him and though Bones did scold Jim for being so reckless during the entirety of healing all Jim's bruises, Jim could hear the pleased tone in his words. It was obvious that Bones was glad that Jim was in a better mood.
"So, how did this happen again, Jim?"
"I ran into a table."
McCoy snorted. "Right, and I'm a pretty little fairy."
Jim just smiled more. "That's my story and I'm sticking to it."
"Fine, don't tell me. Just don't do it again, or I'll just let you feel the pain like you deserve."
"You're too much a softy to actually do that, Bones, and you know it."
"Yeah, yeah." Bones reached up and ruffled Jim's hair with his one working hand (the other was still paralyzed, like Jim's eyes). "Get some sleep, okay? It's late. Do you need a sedative?"
Jim thought about it and shook his head. "I think I'll be okay."
"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Jim."
"See ya, Bones."
Bones left without another word. Jim waited for the sound of the door closing before he was on the move again.
Time for step two of his plan.
With more determination imbedded in his nerves, Jim opened the door somberly. He felt a whoosh of air that was slightly cooler in temperature than what was in his room, and stepped out. Even after his door closed behind him, Jim stayed still, listening intently.
There were a couple of voices that were coming closer and closer – both female. They were probably of light build – their steps weren't loud – and it seemed like they were shorter than Jim was – their voices were coming from a couple of inches below Jim's full height. Based on their voices and Jim's relative unfamiliarity with them (he would know his Command crew's voices in his dreams), he guessed that they were probably Ensigns.
Whether or not his predictions were correct, Jim still froze when he realized that they were approaching him quickly. Subconsciously, he opened his eyes, trying to seem as normal as possible. He wasn't sure how they were going to react to him or worse, how he was going to react to them.
Despite gathering his confidence and courage, this was different than being in the company of Spock or Bones – people that he knew and implicitly trusted. He could already feel every single hair on his body raise, his muscles tensing. Without his sight, he was far more on guard than he would ever be – ready to fight and defend himself when needed.
"Captain Kirk?" he heard one of the girls call out his name. (Young, his brain supplied. Probably early to mid-twenties, like he was). She sounded confused and concerned at the same time.
Instantly, Jim felt his body stiffening even further – that sort of tone always put him on the defensive. He remained silent, but it didn't last long. The girl was already speaking again.
"Captain, where are you heading off to?" she asked. This time, her tone was completely different – as if she was talking to a familiar friend. There was no tinge of pity, worry, or fear. It was lighthearted and warm.
"Uh…Engineering…" Caught off guard, Jim answered truthfully without really thinking about it. He should've made up something else – there was no way she was going to let him go to a place where there was so much danger at every turn. He was all ready for her to deny him and drag him to McCoy. His entire body language was shrinking, making himself smaller, like a child about to be scolded.
"Oh! We were heading there too. Would you like to accompany us, Captain?"
Jim's eyes narrowed as he tried to detect any false note in her words, but all he could hear was genuine curiosity and hope.
"Calm on, Captain," the other girl pleaded (by her voice, she seemed to be the same age as her companion. Maybe younger – she did have a slightly higher frequency, which always made it hard to tell age), "I promise that you won't regret it. Right, Penelope?"
Was she flirting with him? Jim was baffled. What the hell was going on? But if she really was flirting with him, he was more than comfortable to respond similarly. After all, being absolutely charming was second nature to him. He knew it as well as breathing.
He smiled brightly at both of them. "Why, it would be my genuine pleasure," he responded with a slight Southern drawl to it.
They giggled. "You imitating Dr. McCoy now?" the first girl, Penelope, laughed.
"Don't tell Bones," Jim replied back.
"Well then, Captain," the second girl said, "Lead the way."
At that, Jim hesitated. He knew that he was supposed to turn left, but he had no idea how to get to Engineering without his vision.
One of the girls – Jim wanted to think it was Penelope, the first girl – grabbed his right arm and started leading him down the hallway, chattering loudly. Immediately, in the back of his head, he started counting his steps again. The path to his observation deck took him on the opposite path than where he was going to now.
"So Captain, Charlene here and I were talking about our time in the Academy," (Jim was right about who it was on his arm) Penelope said brightly, "You were always a hot topic. Is it true that you proved Professor Lee's mathematical theory on advanced theoretical physics wrong? The one on the Schwarzschild wormhole?"
"You know about that? I thought that Professor Lee was determined to bury that under mounds of bureaucracy."
Charlene spoke (she was walking alongside his left side). "Of course we know about that. We're under Lieutenant Commander Scott – every chance he gets, he always talks about it."
Jim chuckled. "That doesn't surprise me. Scotty doesn't like Lee very much."
The girls' footsteps slowed. Jim's subconsciously mimicked it, and he felt a minuscule tug on his right arm. His brain instantly supplied that they were turning right. (Fifty-three steps from his room).
"Were you even in the Advance Theoretical Physics course?" Penelope asked.
"Uh…no. I was sort of bored and decided to sit in to see what it was like. Lee happened to be lecturing and speaking about his theory about wormholes that day. We ended up getting into a huge debate on whether or not wormholes could be crossed in both directions."
Awe and interest was in her tone now. "Is it?"
"Yeah, but only if it's stabilized by negative energy density exotic matter. Or if you happen to have red matter handy, but I didn't know about that stuff until after the whole Nero situation."
The pace slowed again, this time coming to a complete stop. He heard Charlene to his left reach forward and press the button to the turbolift. He only knew that because he heard the familiar whirl start up before him. (Forty-seven steps.)
The doors whooshed and Jim was already stepping in before he even had a chance to think about it. Charlene pressed for the proper floor and he felt the lift begin to descend.
"Do you know why Lieutenant Commander Scott doesn't like Lee?" asked Penelope.
"I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think it was Lee that convinced Scotty to experiment on Archer's beagle. The rest, I'm sure you know."
While they were speaking, the turbolift reached the Engineering floor. There was another whoosh and suddenly, Jim wasn't too sure anymore. There was definitely going to be more people there – he was pretty sure that gamma shift was already halfway through, if not more, but that was usually when the Engineers came out. Scotty and his people always did keep odd hours.
Even with his eyes wide open, he was sure that everyone was going to be able to read the uncertainty in his steps and movements. There was no possible way that Jim was going to be able to hide the fact that he was blind.
Charlene (it had to be her because Penelope wasn't in the position to do what she did) stepped around to face Jim (he could feel that by the location of where her voice came from). Lightly, she touched Jim's cheek.
"Captain, everything's going to be fine. You'll see. You're our Captain – that will never change. We won't let it," she said softly. Then her voice became stronger and had a tinge of amusement in it. "I think Lieutenant Commander Scott has some new toys for you."
At that, Jim perked up. Scotty always had the best innovations and things for Jim – he still adored that fermentation station Scotty had built in the back of Engineering. Caught up with the prospect of something fun and interesting, Jim let Penelope subtly guide him out of the turbolift and towards Engineering. (Thirty-nine steps).
When the doors opened, Charlene was already rushing through, shouting, "Lieutenant Commander Scott! The Captain's here to see your toys!"
Though the chatter and clanking (some of which Jim recognized to be machinery) didn't change in volume or tone, he was sure that Charlene made such a huge scene at their arrival so that the crew knew and could keep an eye on him. He wasn't sure if he was mortified or extremely touched at how much they cared about him. If it was only a few years ago, he definitely would have leaned towards the former, but not anymore.
A small smile crept onto Jim's face and he willingly followed Charlene, letting her footsteps lead him and Penelope's hold guide him, but this was also Engineering. He knew this place just as well as his own room. He could feel more confidence enter him – the level wasn't anywhere close to how he would feel with his sight – but it was more than what he had started with after this whole fiasco started. And that made a world of difference for him.
"Jim!" he heard Scotty call out for him.
"Hey there, Scotty," Jim smiled. Scotty's booted footsteps came nearer and nearer until he felt Scotty's callused hands on his arm.
"How are ya doin', Jim?" Scotty turned to the two girls. "Penelope, Charlene, whatcha doin'? Doncha all got some work to do?" There was absolutely no heat in his words – only warmth and gratefulness. "Git out of here. And thank ya kindly, girls, fer fetchin' our Captain fer me."
"Yes, thank you so much, Penelope, Charlene. I appreciate it," Jim said sincerely.
"No, thank you, Captain," Penelope replied, leaning forward to kiss Jim lightly on the cheek. He felt Charlene do the same (two sets of lips). And then he heard them walking away – back towards the front of Engineering.
Scotty chuckled, patting Jim on the arm. "Yer still the lady talker, aren't ya?"
"Hey, I can't help it!" Jim joked.
"Whatcha doin' down here anyway, Jim?" Scotty asked, leading Jim subtly by the arm deeper into Engineering.
"I was going to ask you to make me some toys, but Charlene and Penelope said that you have some ready for me already?"
"That I do, laddie. Let me show you."
"And that's why you're my favorite, Scotty." Jim paused. "So, do you want to tell me why no one's pointing out the obvious? Those girls went really out of their way to make everything seem normal."
"That'll be the crew's love for ya, Jim. When they all heard wha' happened, they all kinda just decided to let you go on like nothin' was different."
Jim was honestly baffled. "Why?"
"Because we all know how difficult this is gonna be for ya until you get yer sight back, and it wouldn't help ya if we walked around on eggshells. You've said somethin' like tha before, haven't ya?" Scotty pushed Jim down into a chair. "Besides, knowing you, yer probably gonna find a way ta make this turn out ta be an advantage ta ya, am I right?"
Jim quirked a small smile in Scotty's general direction (it was sort of hard to pinpoint Scotty's exact location unless he was touching Jim. There were many sounds and noises in Engineering that it made Scotty's voice bounce a bit). "I'm working on it. What do you have for me?"
Jim felt Scotty gently put something small into his ear. "This works like echolocation – it'll scan the path in front of ya using sonar waves and beep if yer 'bout ta run inta somethin'. Wanna test it out?"
Jim shook his head. He was sure that he was going to get confused in Engineering – there were always so many things lying cluttered around, "Naw, I trust you. Is it obvious?"
"Not unless ya turn yer head."
"Thanks, Scotty."
"Thank Chekov too. He helped design it." There was a clanking sound as Scotty brought something over again.
Jim grimaced, realizing what it probably was. "If that's a cane, you can keep it. Even if it is decked out."
"McCoy told us that you'd need somethin' like this," Scotty began protesting. "And this has some good stuff on it!"
Standing, Jim reached out (fumbling a bit) and patted Scotty on the shoulder. "He would. Thanks, but no thanks, Scotty. I'm good with this earpiece."
"Are ya sure?"
Jim didn't have to see to know that Scotty was frowning a bit. He smiled reassuringly. "Yeah, this earpiece is great. Thanks."
"It was my pleasure, Jim."
"I should get back to my room now," Jim said, standing.
"Do ya need me to walk ya back?"
"I think I'm going to be alright, Scotty," Jim replied with a small smile.
His phrasing had double meaning to it, and Scotty caught on to it quickly, but he still had to be certain.
Scotty probed a bit more. "Ya sure?"
There was no hesitation in Jim now. The determination and confidence was evident on his calm expressions. Jim grinned. "Yeah, I really am. I'm going to be alright. Promise."
And he really believed it.
That was, until Bones messed up.
Because that was when it all fell apart.
To be continued.
First of all, I realize that it's been ages since the idea of stabilization of transverse wormholes with negative energy density exotic matter was proven and that such a theory would definitely have been known by the time the Academy was around. Any real professor of theoretical physics that's hired by Starfleet would know that, so I do realize that this little portion in my story doesn't quite meet logical reasoning. I just needed some small talk that made Jim look smart, so I just arbitrarily chose something I thought was interesting. Don't yell at me for it…
Also, I want you guys all to know, that after I have put up the second part of this story, I'm going to put this story as "complete". But don't worry, my dears, I will continue to update this story when I have the time. The problem is, I'm currently in school and I'm literally so busy that I'm living off granola bars. It's a bit ridiculous, but what can you do? I don't know when I'll get the chance to update this story again. I do have several ideas in the works and I promise, sooner or later I'll update this story. I just have to focus on my studies right now.
BUT! When I do get the time, seeing how #2 and #3 prompts were so popular, I'll end up writing those next. This time, you guys get to choose between those two: Jim loses his memory to pre-Academy days or the crew can read Jim's mind. Obviously, I'll put my own little twists around those prompts, but whichever one gets written first depends on you guys.
I want to thank you all for being so amazingly supportive and I hope you still continue to read and review my stories! You guys are awesome and I live for your reviews! Thank you all so much for getting me to reach over 1,000 reviews! Thank you!
As always, I hope you enjoyed my chapter and please review!
~ Kanae Yuna