You guys are awesome. –flails- I've been feeling warm and fuzzy inside from all your wonderful reviews! Not to mention pretty darn motivated to keep the story going :)
Fantasia-chan: thanks so much dear, and you will! ^^
Lee Rion: Heehee, I'm glad you did! Spock's eyebrows are in a league of their own :D
Ann: Aye. It's got something in it. -ninja-
FallChild92: I will do my best!
R a a i n: Teehee, he is, isn't he?
~Aiji
Chapter 3
When Jim submitted his report, alongside Bones, he was smirking. The office assistant that took the reports gave him a queer look before hurrying away into the depths of the staffroom, throwing nervous glances behind her. They hovered a little at the front of the office. Jim wasn't driving Bones up the wall for once. There was simply nothing to do outside; it was raining. It had been, for the past three hours, due to what was apparently a sudden squall somewhere from out at sea. The grounds were sodden, and deserted.
"The canteen's packed," Jim grumbled. The Academy wasn't drafty, but the abundance of glass windows with rain slamming down and the pervasive aromas of freshly brewed coffee or hot chocolate were triggering cravings that he decided nobody had the business of having in spring. Even tea would have been welcome, along with a cushy seat in the canteen, wreathed in smells of hot food and hotter drinks. But anyone who had managed to wrest a seat was loath to relinquish it, and Jim knew he'd feel the same way, which wasn't helping at all. "There's nowhere to go. Lessons are over, or cancelled. The weather has a really bad sense of humour." A strong wave of rain swept against a nearby window with renewed vigour. "I might just go and write another report if this goes on."
"If you plan to continue whining, I don't see why not." Bones intoned.
"I wouldn't trust myself to write something ground-breaking. I have no mood."
A third voice sniggered from an adjacent corridor. Both Jim and Bones turned to follow the sound, and the wariness on Bones' face deepened, while Jim's expression shifted to thinly veiled dislike. "No mood, eh? Because you can't find something on two legs to flirt with?" There was a barely perceptible stiffening of Jim's shoulders. "I'd expect you to start hitting on the wall, Kirk. Or find something with four legs instead of two." A Cadet stepped out into view.
"How original, Cupcake." Jim countered in an affable tone. His blue eyes flashed. "While I might be concerned about your health, seeing as you can't count the number of legs of my good friend Bones here, I think I should congratulate you instead." He watched confusion flit briefly across Jason Smith's thick features. "That insult must have taken you hours to come up with. A new record!"
The Cadet's mouth pulled into a snarl; his fist curled and uncurled. "You need someone to beat you up again, Kirk. Just like last time. Do you remember that?"
"I remember you got called off like a dog," Jim replied. His voice was calm, but Bones, sensing impending doom, noted the small changes in him; the tight, controlled twitch in his fingers, the tensing in his muscles, the challenge in his eyes. He supposed he should intervene, though he held no great love for the man Jim called 'Cupcake'. "I'd say we take this outside, but it's raining, and you're not worth the visit to the laundry room."
Several things happened in quick succession. Bones inhaled sharply with the thought Too late, Cadet Smith roared and swung his fist, but Jim was already ducking low, grinning, satisfied with his taunts. He landed the first blow in Smith's abdomen, making him gasp, before a left hook connected with Jim's temple, knocking him sideways and off-balance, making him stagger-
There was an exclamation from somewhere, and suddenly hands were pulling him and 'Cupcake' apart, grabbing his forearms and trapping his wrists. He pulled against them momentarily, adrenaline pumping, wanting to land another blow, vent his boredom and frustration, show him what he thought… before relenting. His breaths came quick and he glared at his opponent, who had been similarly restrained by a trio of Cadets who, Jim vaguely remembered, specialised in Xenolinguistics.
Uh-oh.
"I can't believe this!"Uhura strode into view, face flushed and eyes flashing. "You're acting like children!"
"Hear hear," came a low voice from somewhere between Jim's shoulder blades, and he realised Bones was the one gripping his wrists. He gave his shoulders an irritable shake, still glaring at Smith.
"He started it," Jim ground out, sounding childish even to himself.
"He deserved it," Smith shot back. His eyes flicked to Jim's temple and he looked smug. Jim, to his dismay, realized the spot felt numb and uncomfortably sticky.
"Oh, will you both grow up!" Uhura cried. "Who cares who started it! Or what whoever deserves! You're not acting like Starfleet Cadets at all!"
"Hear that, Cupcake? Your sweetheart's not happy."
"Probably because you're still able to talk. I can fix that."
They glared at each other. Uhura threw her arms up in defeat.
"I give up. I give up. Go ahead and kill each other. There will be two less hot-tempered dunderheads in Starfleet, they'll probably thank me."
Behind Jim, Bones squeezed his wrists briefly. "Let it go, Jim. It's not worth the trouble." Jim felt him release his hands. He glanced towards Uhura, who was giving Cadet Jason Smith a pleading look.
"You're right." he said loudly, and all eyes turned to him. Smith's were narrowed, expecting another insult, ready to throw another right back. "Don't know what got over me. Must be the weather. Let me go, please." The Cadets holding his shoulders paused, obviously surprised, but obliged, as he didn't seem to be bent on resuming the fight. Those holding Smith, who was still glaring, did likewise. "I apologise for causing you distress, Miss Uhura, as well as taking up your time. I hope you have a good day." They were staring at him as if he had just recited Klingon poetry. "Come, Bones." He gave a curt nod to the Xenolinguistics Cadets, a wry smile to Uhura, and a 'I-hope-you-rot-in-hell' glare at Smith, who was straightening up. Jim felt bitter satisfaction as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw him wince and put a hand tentatively against his abdomen.
He strode down a corridor, Bones hurrying after him. (Bones had half-smiled, half-shrugged apologetically at Uhura, who had answered with an exasperated roll of her eyes, and motioned him to follow Jim, allowing herself a small smile as she did so.)
"What the hell, Jim?"
"Don't talk to me, Bones. I might change my mind and beat the crap out of him."
"He's just baiting you, Jim. You're giving him the satisfaction of making you angry."
Jim considered reminding Bones that Smith had moved first, but thought better of it. He was starting to regret getting into the scuffle at all. "Uhura will never talk to me again," he said half-seriously. She had some sort of weird friendship going on with Smith, tolerating his over-protective tendencies, though it was quite clear how Smith felt about her. Jim could understand that. She was beautiful, smart, unreachable…
"For goodness' sake, Jim, sit down."
"I'm not tired."
"Of course you're not. Let me take a look at that head." Bones procured a small medical kit from somewhere, and shooed Jim onto a bench. He looked up at his friend with a bemused expression.
"If you ever fell naked into a radioactive swamp, you'd still be able to pull a serviceable med kit from somewhere, wouldn't you?" Jim winced slightly as Bones dabbed alcohol-soaked cotton wool onto his temple.
"There's no call for that. I'm just a doctor." Bones replied gruffly.
Jim submitted himself to Leonard McCoy's ministrations, noting just how bloody the cotton wool became. At times like this, he really was glad Bones McCoy was a doctor. They were bound to ask questions at the Academy's medical centre.
"I'll put two stitches on it, just in case."
"What? No!"
"I'll hypo you."
"Fine. Some friend you are."
"Sometimes I wonder why I bother."
"You'd be bored out of your mind without me." Jim replied, eyeing the needle that Bones was now threading.
"Don't tempt me."
When Bones was finished, he plastered a small white filmy something over the wound. "It will heal soon enough. Don't touch it." Jim's hand, raised halfway, dropped again. Bones repacked his kit.
"So what now?"
"What do you mean, what now?"
"It's 3pm. Still raining. I'm not trying to kill anybody." Jim swept his hand at the empty hallway generously. "What now?"
Bones understood. "Let's go to the library." he sighed.
"Alright."
Meanwhile
"Why are you so angry, Linda? As far as I can see, it's a brilliant report." Marc Brudeau said mildly.
"That's not the point! When I read it, I feel like I'm—like he's—"
"Insulting our intelligence?" he provided helpfully.
"Yes!"
"And yet one can't truly pinpoint it. It's not even the tone. Everything is so proper. He does everything; he ties in the objectives, he justifies everything logically, he uses Kholovsky. Perfectly, I might add." He settled deeper into the chair in the staff meeting room and regarded the unassuming PADD on the table, which contained James T. Kirk's report. "Brilliant."
"It's not brilliant! It's like he's giving us the report, just for the sake of giving us the report!"
"Every student does that, Miss Connor." Rotheford Ranchwell, Head of Physics, said gently. "From what I can see, he is just a highly intelligent young man who wants to test boundaries. It is not something we forbid." On the contrary, it was something they tried to encourage. The unspoken sentiment hung in the air.
"But-"
"Sit down, Miss Connor. Have some tea. Myself, I am quite curious as to what he will do with himself. He may prove invaluable to Starfleet. I find myself hoping he will outdo his father."
"George Kirk," someone breathed, and a respectful silence settled over the staff lounge. Everybody's thoughts turned to the heroic self-sacrifice of the man, during his brutally short time as Captain, many years earlier.
"Greatness is not genetic," Linda Connor said softly.
"Indeed not. But he has shown great talent and intelligence. His data is quite clear on the matter." The Head of Physics smiled. Then he turned to the one person who had remained silent throughout the debacle. "What is your opinion, Mr Spock? As a former student of this institution?"
"The report is sound. Captain Pike referred him." The Vulcan replied. "It would be logical to trust his judgment."
"I agree. I'm giving it an A. I find no flaw."
And so Jim Kirk ruffled some feathers with his simulation report, Mr Spock returned to the library, and it kept on raining.
~o~
The Starfleet Academy library was a sleek marriage of form and function. It had access from four floors, a central spiral staircase connecting them like a giant spine; seventy-eight sections; and plenty of table space. The tables most often occupied were part of a honeycomb-like installation covering most of the western wall of the library which could be reached by the central staircase and a system of walkways and narrow stairways along the library's west flank. It was an immensely popular addition to the library, installed by the Academy particularly for cadets who were in need of even greater silence than the library at large provided. The partitioned sections, able to comfortably seat four cadets and stacks of work, were quiet, private, and had an excellent view. This inevitably led to a certain kind of misuse, and so each of the little study rooms (alternatively called cells) now also had a closed-circuit camera and stern warnings.
It was into one of these that Jim and Bones settled, each holding on to some discs of interest to while away the afternoon. The rain was still pouring down, but it seemed more bearable with a soft, warm, quiet place to sit. Even if there wasn't any hot chocolate to be had.
It was thus to the great surprise of Leonard McCoy that Jim dived under the table after barely 20 minutes. Bones, who had been reading about the different forms of space madness, eyed the listed symptoms warily. 'Disconnection from reality'…
"I'm not here," Jim hissed from under the table. "I never was, you hear? If you tell her otherwise I'll bite your kneecaps off."
Check. 'Hallucinations', 'violent tendencies', check, check. Bones frowned.
The cell door slid open. Bones looked up and saw green. Green skin, to be exact. Rather a lot of it.
"Hello, Mr McCoy. Is Jim here?"
Only an Orion could make an inquiry about another man sound like an invitation to bed.
Bones could almost hear the tense, pointed silence from under the table. "Is he?" he ventured. He had a sudden urge to scratch his knees. "I don't see him, do you?" Another favour Jim owed him.
"Well no, but he's your friend, I thought he might be with you. Maybe you are waiting for him? Are those his?"
Jim, biting down on his knuckle under the table, supposed she was talking about the stack of discs on his side of the table. "I picked them up for him," he heard Bones lie smoothly. "I'm not even sure if he's coming. Do you mind? I'm working."
"I don't mind at all," came an answering purr, and to Jim's horror, the well-heeled shoes he could only just see went in, not out. Then they disappeared entirely, Jim's stack of discs fell over and Bones grunted in surprise. "We could wait for him. You're a doctor… I could play nurse."
Don'tmakeasounddon'tmakeasounddon'tmakeaholycrapshe'sseducingBonesdon'tmakeasound—
Bones moved his foot, which found its resting place on Jim's unfortunate hand. He must have made a sound, because something shifted above him, green fingers curled around the edge of the table and a head of bright red hair appeared.
"Jim! You are here!" Gaila squealed, and giggled. "You weren't hiding from me, were you?"
"Dropped my stylus," he replied weakly, holding it up. In fact it had just remained clutched in his hand in his scramble to get out of sight, but that was an irrelevant detail.
"You could have said something!" she pouted. "Well, never mind that. We can just continue, it will be more fun." Jim had no illusions about what she meant, but oh sweet baby Jesus, someone please help.
At that very moment, the heavens finally opened up and smiled at James Kirk. In the form of an opening of the cell doors and an unsmiling Vulcan holding a PADD.
The three occupants of the cell stared at him in frozen silence. He regarded them. Leonard McCoy, looking relatively normal as he sat stiffly in his seat, sweating slightly. An Orion Cadet, Gaila, sitting none too modestly on top of the table. Under which was the third member of the party, James T. Kirk, with a strange expression on his face. If Spock had cared to expound on different emotions, he might have described it as horror mixed with guilt and hope.
"Mr Kirk," Spock said, and Jim gave a start. "Your simulation examiner has dropped off your report and expressed the wish that I pass it to you." He inclined his head slightly to the PADD in his hand. Jim's eyes slid to it momentarily, before being dragged back to the Vulcan's chocolate-brown ones. "I will not impeach on your time further, however, I must remind you of the rules and regulations involving the use of these premises." As he said this, Jim noticed his eyes went to Gaila. She drew in a breath, then scurried out of the small room as fast as her heels would allow.
Three pairs of eyes watched the retreating Orion, and only when she stepped onto the central staircase did Jim finally pull himself from under the table. He brushed some imaginary pieces of lint off his uniform, the sound of his hands against the red fabric solitary in the cell. He looked up at the Vulcan's expressionless face as he held up the PADD, meeting those brown eyes, which lingered briefly over his temple.
Déjà vu, he thought. He found himself wondering why the image of the Vulcan's long slim fingers holding out the PADD stayed at the front of his mind even as the tall, black-clad Vulcan returned to the counter. He wondered briefly at the unnaturally deep silence. The rain had stopped.
~o~
Oh my, the chapters are getting longer. I apologise for the lack of action between Jim and Spock, I need to get the premise down. I promise more stuff is going to happen soon! There might be some mistakes, I'm sorry for that too, it's wee hours of the morn here and I have to go sleep heh. I really wanted to put this chapter out today.
Regarding Cupcake, he's not actually named in ST… they just refer to him as Burly Cadet #1, poor guy. Jason Smith is the name of the actor who plays him in ST2009. :)
Thanks again for reading! 3
~Aiji