Chapter 2

The End of the Road

James T. Kirk had a rule for everything. It was almost ridiculous how many rules he had. Randomly and seemingly without reason, Jim would spit one out like it was second nature. Most were mundane and harmless, like not eating an apple after two in the afternoon (rule number twenty-eight). Others were integrated into his Captaincy, such as never going anywhere without a knife (rule number 7). That particular rule had saved him and his crew several times. Some rules he picked up from various people, but most from experience, gathering in the years with Frank and under Kodos' reign.

Jim had so many rules that his friends had compiled a list just for entertainment. Jim would smile and give them more, but he never explained why he kept all these rules even when he was forced to pay attention to Starfleet's regulations. His rules, when he chose to revert to them, saved lives and often turned the tides on a mission that was rapidly failing.

Jim and his rules. It was just another enigma that no one could answer, but one thing his crew could say was that when Jim started quoting his rules, it meant that trouble was stirring. It meant that someone needed saving.

So when McCoy told the crew that Jim cited rule number thirty-four, all of them unconsciously began to prepare themselves for a battle. But nothing could have prepared them for what was in store for them.

In the three days it took for the Enterprise to reach the dock at San Francisco, Jim seemed to be all over the place. Their Captain spent some of his time hidden away in his quarters or training vigorously in the gym. Any time he was on the Bridge or merely walking through the halls, Jim's face was usually buried into a PADD. When inquired by passing crewmembers what he was doing, Jim would just grin and joke, saying that he had procrastinated a bit too much and he needed to get things finished before they docked.

His interactions with his command crew were no different though, oddly enough. Jim laughed and bantered like always. When seen in McCoy's company, he usually had an arm around the doctor's shoulders. With Chekov, the two often had their heads put together, whispering and scheming until Spock or McCoy ruined their fun. Sulu sparred with Jim, the former noting the intensity and vigor of Jim's workout, as if he was trying to become so much stronger in a short amount of time. Jim didn't dare to cross the line with Uhura, like always, but he still couldn't help his cheekiness. His shenanigans with Scotty were kept in secret (for obvious reasons. It was against regulations to have Romulan ale onboard the ship.) Spock and he talked about science, each picking the other's brain for their brilliance.

Despite how often Jim hid away to work, he made time for his friends, savoring each second like a decadent piece of chocolate that was rapidly disappearing. It was unprecedented, making it obvious that something had happened. The tension among the command crew was so high that it could cut the air. When they thought no one was looking, they would glance at Jim with such worry and such weariness that it made everyone else nervous.

But Jim never let on if he was nervous or perturbed about anything. That was until the Enterprise docked in San Francisco. Within seconds of parking, Jim's communicator was beeping. A hardened look spread across Jim's face. His jaws were grit tightly and his body subconsciously changed, making him seem more formidable and dangerous – frightening even, and that adjective was not usually placed in the same sentence as Jim Kirk's name, at least not in front of his crew.

Jim glanced at the message on his communicator and stood. A grey tint entered his usually vibrant blue eyes and suddenly, Jim wasn't their Captain anymore. He looked more like a man going to war, but Jim didn't even give them time to question him. He passed the conn to Spock as he turned and left, completely dropping off the grid for the next two weeks.

All that was left of Jim was his neatly folded gold Captain's uniform placed carefully on his bed and a small piece of paper with a single word scrawled on it:

Sorry.

But for what, the crew didn't know.

Dreyes' office was as dull and dreary as Jim had expected. Like Pike's, it was completely white with an entire wall composed of glass windows. There weren't any decorations; the room was armed with just the bare essentials: a desk, chair, and lamp. Most Admirals had bookshelves filled with theory, facts, philosophy. Achievements generally hung on the wall in frames – perfectly straight and perfectly kempt. Dreyes had none of that. Even his furniture was plain; there was nothing on Dreye's normal desk except organizers and documents. Everything was kept in an orderly fashion and kept so unusually, sparkling clean, as if Dreyes suffered from an obsessive compulsive disorder, but Jim could see past that.

Having nothing on the walls meant that Dreyes did not care for fame or glory; he cared about law and order and that he was doing what he thought was right, regardless of what anyone said or did. If Jim wanted to go one step further, he could even say that Dreyes never looked to the past – only forwards. The cleanliness of his office meant that Dreyes was thorough and never overlooked any detail, no matter how small. He was meticulous and careful – always thinking three or more steps ahead of anyone and never showing emotions easily. Feelings could be manipulated by others and used as a weapon – Dreyes understood that fully and kept up a front. Even Jim could not tell the depth of his barriers. While Jim hid behind smiles and sarcasm, Dreyes used coldness and intimidation to maintain a distance as he read and analyzed each and every single person he would ever meet.

He was just like a cynical and bitterer older version of Jim. Jim didn't quite know how he felt about that because for all that Jim disliked about Dreyes, Jim couldn't help but think that the Admiral was admirable. He wasn't swayed by politics or by greed. All that he did and all that he commanded was for the greater good. He knew how to balance the scales – to choose the lesser of two evils when there was no other choice, but he had a great capacity for compassion. No matter what was on the line – money, fame, or power – Dreyes would always choose the path that would save more lives. He was strong in his convictions and he had no doubt saved thousands, if not millions of lives.

Jim couldn't condone Dreye's actions, but it didn't mean that Jim had to be happy about being dragged back into Section 31. It was getting harder and harder for him to delve into the shadows without behind recognized now, which meant that the danger was increasing exponentially.

The thought of that sent a shiver of anger through him again and he straightened, showing no weaknesses as he stood before Dreyes.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Jim said, keeping his tone neutral.

Dreyes glanced up, his brown eyes piercing through Jim's soul. "Do you know why I called you here?"

"To review the Enterprise's mission and determine whether or not my leadership is questionable," Jim dutifully recited.

The Admiral just leveled a look at Jim. "I know you're smarter than you let on, Kirk. You know the real reason I asked you here."

At that, Jim leaned back, his mind turning. The changes were minute, but the harsh lines on Dreyes' face had softened and there was genuine interest in his wise eyes. Suddenly, Jim was reminded of his first encounter with Pike – he had the same initial and bitter impression of his father-figure, and look where he and Pike were now. Jim didn't know whether or not he felt angry that he had been stewing over nothing for three days or relieved that Dreyes didn't seem to be out for him. Maybe.

Jim let his posture become more relaxed – confident, even. He was still wary, but he wasn't willing to let it cloud his mind anymore. He shrugged as he answered Dreyes' question, keeping it short and vague. "I'm a wanted man."

"Yes, you are. I'm going to get straight to point Kirk. My time is valuable."

"As is mine," Jim shot back, unable to hold himself back.

There was a tightening in Dreyes' jaw as he bit back his rising irritation at the young Captain. "There's been a breach in Starfleet, Kirk."

"I'm aware. My step-father told me when he had me tied up and drugged," Jim retorted sarcastically. "I assume that's the reason for the overly threatening method that you used to ground me and my ship?"

"I don't know how far we've been compromised. Lines may not be secure anymore. We needed to meet face-to-face for this conversation."

It made sense. Dreyes had to come up with some bullshit to bring the Enterprise back on Earth, but in a way that didn't raise any flags to indicate that Jim and Dreyes were fully conscious of what was growing in the shadows deep within Starfleet. The fact that Dreyes had called Jim back meant that there was more that Jim hadn't been able to find on his own.

"So what do you know? You have eyes and ears everywhere, Dreyes. You should know something."

"It's nothing that you don't already know, Kirk. Don't think I haven't noticed your fingerprints in our system again. Keep them out."

"I will if you tell me what the hell is going on here."

Dreyes folded his hands onto the desk, giving Jim a hard and serious look. "There is a group within Starfleet that has risen out of hatred of you. We don't know who is a part of this, but they pose a great danger. One word, one wrong move, and Starfleet's reputation can be irreparably damaged. With all that has happened with Nero, Starfleet cannot afford any bad publicity anymore."

Jim crossed his arms defensively. "It's worse because this entire situation is revolved around me, am I right?"

Dreyes nodded slowly. "Your past is not exactly light reading, Kirk. Starfleet has buried most of it, at your request, but it is not lost. It can be found, even with your hacking skills, and I believe that it has been found."

That shocked Jim. "If someone can undo what I did years ago, that takes tremendous skill."

"Exactly. It means that the perpetrator has skills that are comparable to yours, and to Starfleet, that is terrifying."

"And you need me to deal with someone of that caliber," Jim filled in. "That's why you're pulling me back into Section 31."

"We need you to act as bait. You will go underground and start flushing out the rats until we get a name. You report to me and only me. I know you're close with Pike, but this is to be kept in utmost secrecy. The less people who know, the less of a chance that you will be discovered."

"What if I don't want to? My last mission didn't end well, remember?"

"I can understand that. I'm not quite as big of a bastard as you think I am, Kirk. I am giving you a choice. Just know that if you do not do this, sooner or later, it will catch up to you. When it does, it will not only be you in danger, but your crew as well. It is well known that you are extremely protective of your crew. Can you stand letting them come to harm?"

Jim fell silent, something caught in his throat. Dreyes knew exactly which pressure points to push; Jim couldn't say no when his crew was involved. Damn it, he had been so severely compromised by his useless and unnecessary attachment to his friends. And the worst part was that even though he knew the dangers of caring, he didn't regret anything at all.

"I will take that as an acceptance to this mission then," Dreyes said. "Don't worry, Kirk. I will do all that I can to make sure that your crew will be safe."

"How?" demanded Jim, his head jerking up. His eyes narrowed in anger. "You said that you didn't know who was involved. They are my crew. That alone puts them in great danger. How can you possibly keep them safer than if they were with me?"

"They cannot be in danger if they are away from the epicenter, can they?"

"What are you talking about?"

"If the Enterprise is off-planet, they cannot be involved in the battle revolved around you that is to come. I will be assigning a protégé of mine to your ship and he will be taking your crew to Zenobia where they will be cared for by his family in the government."

"Why not send Pike in my place? Why bring in someone entirely new?"

"Sending an Admiral out into the field when a Captain is readily available will raise red flags. We cannot risk that."

"Then I at least demand to meet this 'protégé' of yours first," Jim countered hotly. "I should get a say in who takes my place when I'm running for my life."

Dreyes' eyes flashed in anger. Clearly, the Admiral did not take well to disrespect, but Jim cared little about it. This was his family and crew that they were talking about. Jim had every right to be difficult.

"You don't get to dictate the terms here, Kirk. I'm already being lenient as it is," Dreyes warned carefully.

"You're the one forcing me into a corner, Dreyes," Jim snarled back. "It seems to me like I'm just dancing to your every command. I mean, why are you acting now? You knew about this shit for several months! Have you just been sitting on your ass waiting for me to screw up?"

"Do not forget that you're a Starfleet officer, Kirk!" Dreyes roared, standing to his full height. "You signed your life away to the Federation! What makes you think that you have a choice in anything anymore?!"

Jim leapt to his feet, feral. "Don't give me that shit, Dreyes. How much do you think Starfleet has taken from me?! I'm not here for you or the fucking Federation. I can leave whenever I want, and I'm your best operative. You think Starfleet's going to be pleased that you just let me walk out the fucking door?"

"Are you threatening me?!"

"Are you threatening me, Dreyes? Because you've read my files. I don't take well to threats, especially ones that will affect my people, my crew." Jim took a deep breath, calming his tone. "As you said, I'm a smart guy, Dreyes. I know how this has to pan out; I'm not refusing your orders. You know that I can't, not at this juncture, which is what I expect you were waiting for. All I'm asking for is that my crew be taken care of. I'm not letting them come to harm, Dreyes. If I have to break cover and tear apart the entire Federation to keep them safe, I will."

A strained silence fell as Dreyes considered Jim's words. Slowly, he sat back down. "Fine. You can choose your replacement."

Watching Dreyes carefully, Jim sat back down too, his back tense and straight. "There's no need for one. Spock is more than capable of leading my ship."

"That will be too obvious. We do not know how long your solo mission will take and having your First Officer take command for an extended period will raise suspicion. Having a substitute can deter any wandering eyes." Dreyes raised an eyebrow at Jim. "If you don't have any ideas, I can offer suggestions."

Jim glared at Dreyes. The damn bastard just knew that Jim didn't interact with any other officer except for his crew and the Admirals.

"My protégé, Commander Royce Wolff is due for a promotion. Leading the Enterprise will be a good test of his skills. If you wish, I can call him here now for you to meet him."

Royce Wolff. Jim had heard that name before. He was in the Academy at the same time as Jim was. The young man was about two years ahead of Jim in the harsh Command track and six years older in age. He was ambitious and from what Jim gathered, a good man in general. Unlike Jim who had an infamous reputation, Wolff was always a gentleman. He wasn't quite as bright as Jim or as talented when it came to physical prowess, but he was efficient and obedient. A perfect soldier that Jim could never be.

"Even if I refuse him, you would still choose him, wouldn't you?" Jim said, forming his question into a statement.

"Unless you can call on another qualified individual, of course," Dreyes returned pointedly. "It shouldn't take long for him to arrive. We have an appointment in five minutes."

"I assume you're going to tell me the parameters of my mission in that time?"

"The premise of your mission is simple, Kirk." Dreyes slid a folder full of pictures and documents on the table towards Jim. "Find the traitors before they get you. I shouldn't have to tell you that discretion is of the utmost importance here, Kirk. The world cannot know that Starfleet has a cancer growing in them."

Jim quietly flipped through the documents, skimming through the words. "There's not much here to go off of, Dreyes."

"And that's why your skill set is needed. We tried deploying others before you, but all of them disappeared without a trace. What you have is what our agents traded their lives for, Kirk. Make good use of them."

There was a knock on the door and Dreyes waited until Jim slyly tucked the file into the back of his pants, pulling his golden uniform over it to shield it from sight, before he said, "Come in."

A young man wearing the standard, grey Starfleet uniform stepped in. He was of German descent and was just barely into his thirties. His brown hair was cropped short and gelled to a slight spike at his forehead. He had large, brown eyes and a small nose, making him seem slightly disproportional, even more so by his body. He was by no means short; he was of average height, but he clearly worked out often and the bulkiness of his arms and torso made the rest of his body small.

"I apologize, Admiral Dreyes. I didn't realize that you had company," he said politely.

"Commander Wolff, this is Captain James T. Kirk. Kirk, this is Royce Wolff," Dreyes introduced them.

A smile lit up on Wolff's face and he rushed forward to shake Jim's hand. "Captain Kirk! It is such an honor to meet you in person! I mean, I met you when we were in the Academy. I think we had a couple of classes together, but I haven't seen you since your graduation ceremony!"

Jim gritted his teeth and flashed a smile at Wolff. "It's nice to see you again, Wolff."

"Royce, please. Or Roy if you prefer."

Jim chuckled, trying to pull his hand away surreptitiously, but failing. "Eager fellow, aren't you?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Wolff stepped back so quickly, like he had been burned by Jim.

Jim shook his head as he stood, moving so that the file didn't make single sound. "Don't worry about it, Wolff."

"I just want to say that I'm so honored to be onboard the Enterprise. I hope to continue in your footsteps, Captain."

"So Dreyes already told you," said Jim, his smile becoming slightly strained as he glared at Dreyes. "Take care of my ship, Wolff. Don't scratch her."

"I won't. I promise to do my best."

Jim nodded before turning his attention back to Dreyes again. "Well then, Dreyes, I take my leave now. If you need me, I'm sure you can figure out how to contact me."

"Good luck, Kirk."

"Remember our agreement, Dreyes. I won't hesitate if anything happens." Jim didn't finish his threat and left with it hanging, but Dreyes knew full well what Jim was referring to.

If anything happened to the Enterprise, Jim would bring the world to its knees.

He glanced at Wolff who was excitedly talking to Dreyes about Kirk and how amazing the young Captain was in real life. Wolff kept rambling, like a star-struck fool.

He couldn't help but sigh. If he didn't want Kirk to go on a rampage, he had better make sure that Wolff was ready to do anything to protect Kirk's crew.

And who knew how long that was going to take?

More importantly, how long did they even have before shit hit the fan?

In the couple of years that Jim had commandeered the Enterprise, Jim never once thought that he would have to sneak onto her. It was a little disorienting and disheartening to say the least. With most of his crew already on shore, it was easy for Jim to navigate through the halls unnoticed, like the ghost he was about to become. He avoided the hallways that he knew had cameras and on those that he simply couldn't avoid, he stuck to the blind spots. Treading softly, he quietly made his way to his quarters and let the doors close behind him.

His eyes roamed over his room. He remembered how it was when he had just started on the Enterprise. All he had to his name was a few uniforms and a duffel bag full of his civvies. His quarters were empty except for what Starfleet had placed into his quarters and Jim never had the intention to decorate it.

Now, there were trinkets placed carefully throughout his room. There was a framed photo of him, Bones, and Joanna on his bedside dresser. The three of them had such warm smiles, especially Bones, who only ever flashed that sort of soft, happy smile around his daughter and Jim when they were alone. It was one of the fondest memories Jim had of his best friend and his unofficial goddaughter and it was the only picture Jim actually owned. It was the only picture Jim had ever kept in his entire life.

A worn-out stuffed rabbit sat in its own shelf on his bookshelf. Jim could still remember Chekov shoving the rabbit – a memento from his childhood – to Jim soon after the whole de-aging incident. He had been horrified when Jim accidentally let slip that he had never owned anything precious that he carried around with him through the years. The rabbit was Chekov's most prized possession and he still gave it to Jim because he said that Jim needed it more than he did now. Jim didn't quite know what to say to that, so he took it wordlessly with a touched smile and gently placed it into his room.

Beside the rabbit (Chekov had called it Yuri), was a first edition of The Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers, by J.R.R. Tolkien. That had been a gift from Sulu after the whole Shelob event. Days after, Jim and Sulu would still crack up about the giant spider and the origin of its name. Often, they would be seen having philosophical debates regarding the series, trying to see who was the nerdier of the two. Finally, Sulu admitted to having all four books in paperback – first edition – and won with a landslide. He gave the novel to Jim during a Christmas, knowing full well that Jim had a soft spot for paperbacks but still didn't own any. Jim refused at first, not wanting to break Sulu's set apart, but Sulu just smiled at him and said that he wasn't. As long as they were together, the set would still be complete. Jim had to run from Sulu after that, unable to take the emotion anymore, but not before thanking Sulu in a quiet and touched voice.

Sitting on a shelf below the rabbit and book was an old, well-played chess set that Spock had given him. The Vulcan had one day discovered that Jim played often when he was a kid. Curious, Spock had challenged Jim to a match and was shocked to discover that Jim was good. In fact, Jim barely won their first game. Spock had found Jim's unpredictability a delight and would often come over in the evenings to play. The two had bonded from the experience, each sharing bits of themselves until one day, they were almost as close as Jim was to Bones. It was in one of these games that Jim found out that this chess set was given to Spock by his mother – one of the few mementos Spock had left of her. When, one day, Spock refused to bring it back to his room, stating that it was more logical to keep it in one place so that it could be conveniently brought out, Jim couldn't do anything more than take good care of it. He understood the depths of Spock's intentions when he entrusted the chess set to Jim, and it made his chest tighten in a good way.

Jim brushed his fingers over the wooden bishop and came to a stop next to his guitar. Uhura had bought it for him when she found out that he could play. The sneaky girl had been hacking into the communication systems around the ship and heard him strumming his old guitar in an observation deck. (That guitar had sadly perished after a drunken night with Scotty.) She had never let on the inclination that she had heard him or that she even knew of this particular skill until one day, she just thrust a new guitar towards him and asked if he could play "The House of the Rising Sun" by the Animals. It was such an old song and one that Jim had loved when he was a kid in Iowa. He wasn't sure if he was more shocked at the fact that Uhura knew of that song or that she was giving him a guitar. He nodded and they settled into his quarters, Uhura sitting at his feet as he serenaded her. She smiled and kissed his cheek before she left, thanking him. She returned several more times, drowning herself into music that reminded her of the family she had left behind on Earth.

Reaching his desk, Jim touched the small wooden sculpture that was carefully place by his light. It was a small tree about six inches high with its branches stretching out from its trunk. Scotty had explained that it was the Celtic symbol for the Tree of Life. He had carved it for Jim, saying that he hoped that Jim would set his roots with them, even as his branches reached towards the heavens. Jim hadn't even had a single drop of alcohol in his system when Scotty gave it to him, so when his throat was thick with emotion, Jim had to blame something in the air. Scotty just gave him a knowing grin and walked off, whistling happily. For the Scot, it was more than enough that Jim had accepted the small token of friendship, even if Jim still hadn't figured out why he deserved such a thing.

For the first time in his life, Jim had things that were precious to him – he had things that he wanted to take with him. For the first time, he had something that he couldn't bear to leave behind. Even as he packed his belongings, he kept staring longingly at them, wishing that he could put even just one of them into his bag, but he couldn't touch them. Not now. Not with what he had to do. It had to be enough for him for all of these things to wait for him to return.

Sadly and almost hesitantly, Jim peeled off his golden uniform, folding it and gently laid it down onto his bed. He lovingly placed his note onto it, brushing his fingers against his uniform one last time before snatching his hand away. He couldn't indulge himself anymore. Hardening his expressions, Jim shouldered his duffel bag that was filled with his civvies and left his home without a single look back.

It wouldn't be until the next morning when Bones discovered his note. Minutes after, the rest of his crew would be out combing San Francisco for him, but Jim was long gone, disappearing into a world of shadows and treachery.

Thirteen Days Later.

The cold rain pattered on the tin slanted roof of a tall building. Breath fogged with every exhale as Jim pressed himself lower onto the surface, his finger curled around the trigger of a sniper rifle. His hood of his black zip-up jacket had been pulled forward, shielding his eyes from the dripping water. A blue eye peered through the scope, zeroing in on a slender man with medium-long brown hair standing by the window of the building a hundred meters away from where Jim was positioned.

His target was shouting and waving angrily at another man – blonde and rotund. Jim steadied himself and exhaled. His finger pulled and a loud bang ricocheted through the silent air. The brunette fell to the ground, dead, with a bullet hole through the center of his forehead. The blonde's mouth was open in a scream that Jim couldn't hear and he frantically ran out of sight.

Jim wasted no time and grabbed his rifle, shoving it into long bag fully assembled. There was no time to take it apart. He shouldered it and sprinted to the right edge of the roof. He jumped, leaping the small gap to land light on his feet onto the adjacent building. Without pausing, he kept going until he ran out of room to run. He paused briefly to turn around and drop himself off the roof, grabbing the storm drain as he did. His gloved hands allowed swift descent into the alley below. The second his feet landed, he swiftly and quietly ran forward, his feet avoiding all the puddles to prevent a sound, as he neared the place where he knew his actual target was heading.

The sounds of shouting and panicked screams reached Jim's ears now and he came to a stop, hiding his body into the shadows of a fire escape and screwed on a silencer to his Beretta 92. As he predicted, the rotund blonde had just burst out of a side door and was running towards Jim, choosing to head deeper into the maze of alleys instead of onto the open street where he would be more vulnerable.

Behind the blonde were a few bodyguards that Jim easily took care of as they passed by him. The target panicked as he heard the pained grunts when his people were shot and killed, and he fell to the ground, splashing as he landed into a puddle.

Jim stepped closer to him, his gun threatening the man who had started to babble.

"Please, do not kill me! I have money. I can give you anything you desire!" he cried out, a slight Romanian accent to his Standard.

"You can't afford me," Jim growled back, keeping his face hidden by his hood. He knew how menacing he looked, dressed in all black. His gloved hand was steady as he held his gun – he was practiced and confident – terrifying in terms of his target.

Indignant even in the face of imminent death, the man shouted at Jim. "Do you know who I am? I can get you anything you want!"

Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why else would he be here pointing a fucking gun in his target's face if he didn't know who he was? "You're Iosif Alexandrescu, and you are the man who will give me the answers I want."

Jim didn't wait to hear anything else that Iosif was going to say and slammed the butt of his gun into the Romanian's temple.

Iosif went down like a bag of potatoes and Jim bent down to zip tie his legs and arms together before dragging the man down the alley to his get-away car that he had hid around the corner.

He left behind the bodies without a single care, and like a wisp of smoke, Jim was gone again – this time with a prize in tow.

Capturing Iosif had been the first time that Jim truly surfaced in thirteen days. In that time, Jim had traveled through most of Eastern Europe, listening and digging for answers. He had almost gotten desperate, living off pure adrenaline, until he managed to uncover a partial trace of Frank's phone call buried deep under bureaucrat bullshit somewhere in one of Starfleet's branch office in Romania. It wasn't accurate and Jim had to follow a few leads through the upper Eastern Europe before he discovered the caller to be Iosif Alexandrescu – an assistant to one of the previous Admirals before the Nero incident. He had been promoted in the following years, climbing the ranks as a secretary. But Jim still had difficulty locating the bastard. Iosif was extremely paranoid (three guesses why?) and was in hiding when he wasn't at his post in the Romanian office, which was almost always.

Jim had to lure him out. To do so, he had to break into Iosif's office to check his files for his closest business partner, which was no easy feat. The building had been heavily guarded by loyal and unsuspecting Starfleet officers that Jim wanted to avoid at all costs – he didn't want to raise any alarms (as far as he knew, the people that were after Jim didn't know that he was after them) and he didn't want to have to kill the soldiers. But he had to maintain his cover. If any of them had seen him, Jim would have to ensure their silence forever. Luckily, he was able to slip into Iosif's office unnoticed and find a name that led him to Serbia.

The place was so cold that it made Jim number than he had already felt, but he kept up his surveillance on Iosif's partner in embezzlement, knowing full well that Iosif was on his way. Jim knew because he had hacked into Iosif's computers and tweaked the numbers in his accounts, making it seem that he was getting played by his partner.

Jim had to wait for two days before Iosif showed up in Serbia, but even then, Jim couldn't get Iosif alone. The man was always followed by his bodyguards – people that Jim didn't want to bring into this entire mess. So Jim chose to set a metaphorical fire to smoke him out, shooting Iosif's partner and leading Iosif straight into his trap like a mouse in a psychology experiment.

Now, the man was slumped unconscious in a chair in a dark room that Jim had set up as his bolt-hole. The room itself was barren; not even a bed was placed in there. Jim didn't sleep much nowadays, seeing how he was always on the run, trying not to be discovered. It was much harder than he could make it sound – the famous James T. Kirk was recognizable throughout the entire universe, particularly on his own home planet. He had to take drastic measures to hide his noticeable features, even donning on colored contacts to make his irises pitch black and rubbing his hair with mud to make it temporarily dark brown. At one point, Jim had even drawn in ugly scars to mar his features, but maintaining it proved to be too difficult so he just let it be. Still, all his efforts had worked until now. No one knew that James Kirk was in the shadows again, tearing through the underground in his mission, which was coming to an end soon, hopefully.

Grabbing a pail of cold water, Jim threw it mercilessly at Iosif, jolting the man awake in seconds.

"Morning, Iosif," Jim taunted as he cast the metal bucket aside. It clunked onto the ground with a loud sound.

Iosif flinched, but he couldn't move much with the rope wrapping tightly around his torso, arms, and legs. He would have to tip the chair if he wanted to move anything more than a couple of centimeters.

Frantically, Iosif looked at his captor, noticing that the hood no longer covered his face. Jim hadn't bothered with the colored contacts that day – it messed with his sniping accuracy – and his hair had returned back to its normal dirty blonde color. Without any extra disguises, it was obvious who it was that stood before Iosif.

Instantly, Iosif's expressions twisted, turning angry and venomous. "Captain Kirk," spat Iosif.

Jim pulled out a knife from one of his pockets in response, touching the sharp blade in a very threatening manner. "Iosif, I have a few questions for you and I would very much like you to answer them." Jim's tone was lighthearted, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made a shiver run down Iosif's spine. "I know that you're not working alone and we'll get to that. For now, why the hell are you trying kill me?"

Jim snarled the last bit and lunged forward, stabbing his knife into the back of Iosif's chair, nicking the Romanian's earlobe.

To Iosif's credit, he didn't flinch in fear as he did back in the alley. He actually had the nerve to chuckle. "We do not want to kill you, Captain Kirk. We merely want you gone."

"And why's that? You jealous of my Captaincy? You want to take it from me?"

Iosif's teeth gnashed in contempt. "You've gotten too big, Captain Kirk. You pose a threat to the rest of the universe."

"How so?"

"You are the Captain Kirk. Your very existence threatens the peace that Starfleet keeps. While you are alive, while you are free to do what you please, nations and species become more angered. With the drop of your name, fear spreads, and we cannot have that. We cannot have a revolution simply because your influence has grown too strong."

Jim smirked, backing up again, but keeping his knife in full view. "So in other words, you're afraid of me and of what I can do."

"We are not fools. We know to fear when there is a monster in our midst."

"What stories have you heard that led you to this ridiculous notion?"

"Everything. From your childhood to your time building the Enterprise to your present. We know of the missions you carried out for Admiral Komack. We know of your involvement in Tarsus IV. We know of the blood that follows you. Even you cannot deny that mayhem and misery trail behind you."

Jim stilled, shock flashing across his blue eyes. "And how do you know that?" he demanded.

"You may have excellent hacking skills and removed all traces of your past, but did you not think that leaving your history so unusually blank would not raise red flags? I, among others, was chosen to discover what you have been hiding."

"So you decided to hack into the most secure archives within Starfleet, which happens to be the Admirals' personnel files."

"Correct. Our duty is to maintain the peace and safety within the Federation, and you are a threat that must be eliminated."

"Short of killing me, there isn't much that you can do, and you have just made it clear that you are not in the business of murder. How are you going to get rid of me? I will never willingly leave Starfleet, as I'm sure you all know."

"We shall make you fall from grace, Captain."

Realization dawned on Jim. "You're going to frame me for something…something huge," he breathed out.

There was no response from Iosif and Jim knew that he had hit the bulls-eye.

Despite the ominous feeling that was growing within him, Jim just smirked and flicked his left wrist, pointing his knife at the traitor. "Good luck. That's going to be hard to do when I bring you in for treason."

Iosif grinned wickedly. "Too bad you will not have the luxury."

His jaw worked oddly and Jim realized far too late that Iosif had bit into a cyanide capsule that had been hidden in one of his back molars. Death took seconds, taking any evidence that Jim might have had with it.

Frustration poured out of Jim as he ran his hair. Goddamn! After days of scrounging around like a dog with the lowest of scum, this was where it all ended. Iosif was the last lead Jim had. The only lead Jim had. There were no more whispers, no more trails. Iosif was literally Jim's last resort, and now that he was dead, this was the end of the road for Jim. He didn't even know who the hell Iosif was working.

With nothing tangible except for Iosif's body, Jim highly doubted that Starfleet would just take his word on Iosif's treason. Even if Dreyes believed him, Jim's word meant nothing to the Federation without any proof.

He literally had nothing now. God fucking damn!

And if Iosif had already set his plans to bring Jim down in motion, there was absolutely nothing Jim could do to stop it.

Yeah. There was no doubt about it.

Jim was thoroughly screwed.

He turned, cursing under his breath as he rummaged through his duffel bag and pulled out a communicator. There was only one number plugged into it and with a single press, Jim could hear it dialing out on a secure line.

"Is it done?" The voice was muffled with static, but the words were clear.

"Dreyes, everything's gone cold," Jim said, his tone livid. "Iosif's dead."

"Did you kill him?"

"Does it make a difference if I did? The point is, he died before he could tell me who else he was working with."

"Then you know what has to happen. Where is your current location?"

"Fucking Serbia."

"In that case, I will see you back in San Francisco in two days."

Jim's fingers tightened around the communicator as dread filled his heart. Out of all of his contingency plans, Jim had to fall back on the one with the worst outcome, just because he failed to keep Iosif alive. Fuck. He had no choice now. "Three days, Dreyes. I need to stop by somewhere first. Need to clean up some loose ends."

"Fine. Be careful. There is no telling what will happen now, Kirk."

There was a click as Dreyes hung up on Jim.

Fucking Dreyes. As if Jim didn't know that shit was going to hit the fan so very soon.

Angrily, Jim threw the communicator back into his bag and packed everything in a few movements. Throwing up his hood, Jim walked out, leaving Iosif behind for others to find.

After thirteen grueling days, it was time to go home.

And for once, Jim was dreading it.

To be continued...

So I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I realize that there are some references in here that are from my other story Ingenious Idiot, but I'm really too lazy to go through it and point them out. If you're really confused, either PM/review me or read that story. It should help clarify a few things.

Also, this story, though written out in my head (not on paper!), may be updated slowly from this point on. I will try for at least one update per month, but I recently failed an exam - and by fail, I mean like fail fail (not just a B or C) and I kind of had a massive freak out. So I've decided to focus more on my studies and write whenever I get the free time - at least until I bring up my horrible grade. Sorry! BUT I promise that I will NOT abandon this story or Ingenious Idiot. It will just take a bit of time to get the next chapters up, so I hope you guys still stick around and support this story!

Hmm. I think that's about it. As always, please review! It always makes my day, especially with how crappy things have been lately with school and life in general. Your reviews seriously keep me writing and doing the things I enjoy, so for that, I thank you all so much for your kind words and encouragement.

Thanks!

Cheers,

Kanae Yuna