Chapter One- The Fork in the Road
Racing down the dirt road, the wind danced with my shoulder length black hair wildly. Going well over the required speed limit, I feel nothing of fear, but contentment. Manuvering my bike around a vehicle going too slow for my taste, I ignore the blaring horn of an oncoming vehicle, easing out of the way, missing the would have been fatal hit with practiced ease.
Dementia, a local bar, seems packed beyond the usual. Parking beside another bike, I exhale as the adrenaline leaves my body. Climbing off the bike, I run a hand through my wind-blown hair before making my way past the line of people standing at the front door. Ignoring the glares and shouts of protest as I stop before the heavily muscled man standing in front of the door.
"Hiya, Max," I greet, watching as the man uncrosses his arms from his chest, his stern brown eyes brightening.
"Ki-Ki! You're later than usual," Max says, cocking his head slightly at the thought of me being late.
Smiling softly and shrugging my shoulders, "What can I say? Oi, luv, did ye' see anyone worth mentionin' in there tonight?"
The air fills with a familiar scent. Arousal. It's a common scent that fills the air after people learn of my Irish accent. Humans have always been a strange breed, but there are a few, like Max, I can't help but find amusing. Men and women have always found my exotic appearance and my accent to be attractive and for as long as I can remember I've been on the receiving end of admirers.
"Well, I know Davvy-boy is lookin' for you. I think Jimmy's in there too," Max replies, sighing with exasperation at the former name.
Nodding, I hear automatic protests sound behind me as Max steps aside to allow me entrance to the building. Upon entering, I'm immediately met by the loud, rocking bass of the music, smoke filling the air, reflecting the random neon colors around the room. Making my way to the bar, I instantly find an empty seat by a blonde-haired man.
"Oi, Marty, get yer ass over 'ere an' pour me a double shot, would ya' luv?" I call out over the loud music, to which the bartender seemed to hear as I am again on the receiving end of a wink.
"Anyone ever tell you, you are loud as hell?" the blonde beside me states, taking a sip from his glass.
"If I gave a damn what everyone ever thought of me, I'd be you," I reply easily, downing the shot set before me with practiced ease, motioning for another.
"Your calm arrogance tends to piss a lot of people off," the man shoots back, his comment almost thrown out of his mouth without any difficulty.
Smirking as I down another shot, I glance over at the blonde who has yet to look at me, "An' your superiority arrogance tends to piss a lot of people off, but ye' don't see me complainin' about it, luv."
My comment received a chuckle in response as my gaze was met with a pair of impossibly beautiful blue eyes. James Tiberius Kirk. Jimmy, or Jim, to everyone at the bar. JT, he has always been to me. A soft smile forms on my lips as I look over the amused face of my closest and dearest friend. He's handsome, for a human, and like myself, he is often on the receiving end of admirers, mostly women, few men.
Jim grins widely as he calls for another round of drinks for the two of us, and while he chats with one of the other regulars, I am content in observing my friend. It's been over eight years since we met that fateful summer, the summer that changed both of our lives, and while we never speak of the horrors we faced, we still harbor the lessons learned while on Taurus IV.
"Hey, Kam," Jim's voice pulls me from my thoughts, my eyes moving from the glass of Jack and Coke, to the blue eyes of my best friend, "What do you make of all the unies here?"
Kam. A nickname used by Jim and Jim alone. My initials forming the short name. He's been calling me that since our time on Taurus IV. We never used each other's full names while on the planet, in the midst of the chaos and carnage.
The question itself was simple, but we both harbored some subconscious dislike toward the Federation, Starfleet and of course the Academy. The 'unies' being the many people filling the bar wearing the crimson uniform of the Academy.
"Maybe a last hoorah before the leave us in peace," I reply, shrugging my shoulders as I hear another voice, deeper than Jim's call my name.
"Ki-Ki!" Glancing over my shoulder, I see one of the regulars, David Wilson, making his way toward us.
"Hiya Davvy," I greet warmly, the wide grin on the brown-haired man's face causing me to smile softly at the man.
"You up for a game?" he asks, holding up a credit chip while motioning toward the area designated for the billard tables.
A smirk forms on my face as I pull out my own credit chip, winking at the chuckling Jim before following Davvy toward the billiard area. The brown-haired, grey-eyed man calls out to a waitress for a round of shot glasses and a bottle of Jameson. Being greeted by a few more regulars, Matthew being Davvy's older brother, I can't help but laugh at the antics while we made the terms of the game.
A crash causes me to look up from the black eight ball sinking into the corner pocket, my body straightening up from the pool table, and my eyes immediately landing on the sight of Jim fighting off four of the unies. Handing the cue stick to Matt as I catch sight of two more unies aiming to join the fight. Climbing onto the pool table, I leap over the heads of seated patrons and tackled the two men to the ground, breaking into a roll out and moving to my feet.
Positioning myself between the two men and the fight Jim was in, my body moves into a comfortable fighting stance. Their arrogance is shown in their eyes and I watch with a sense of satisfaction as the glints disappears from their eyes as I immediately catch their well aimed punches. With a fist caught in my hand, my leg lifts up in an arch as I turn swiftly, my foot colliding with the exposed mid-section of one of the men. Placing my foot on the ground, I shift my weight with practiced ease, and still using the momentum of my first kick, I follow through, lifting my other foot and slam it into the stomach of the second man.
Still using the same momentum, I drop down to the floor as my body turns, my extended leg connecting with the back of the first man's legs, his body toppling over. Using the opening as the falling body seems to slowly crash toward the ground, my right foot slams into his chest, forcing his body to fly into the opposing wall. Fingers digs into the hair on the back of my scalp, forcing me to my feet.
Without hesitation, I jab my elbow into the unprotected gut of the uni. In the process of turning to face the man, my hand grips a bottle of alcohol, before it connects with the side of the man's face. Feeling the grip release, I cock back my right arm, my fingers closing to form a fist before I let it fly.
A shrill whistle fills the bar, my fist stopping inches from his face. Releasing the man from my grip, I ignore as his body hits the ground as I make my way to Jim. Faintly hearing the man dressed in a solid black uniform, I move down to Jim's level as he rolls his body off of the table. Seeing him wince as I brush the blood from his bottom lip, I smile weakly at him in a silent apology, getting the same apologetic smile in return.
"Miss, I asked for everyone to leave," the man in black states, as if it mattered whether he did or did not.
Looking up at the man, his dark brown hair speckled with grey hairs, blue eyes not quite as beautiful as Jim's, but held a sense of superiority. Standing from Jim's side, I felt a calloused hand grip mine as I face the taller man.
"I'm not tryin' to sound disrespectful in any way, sir, but last time I checked, I'm not one of your students, nor am I inferior to ye' in any fuckin' way. An' I can definitely tell ye' that even if I was you're underling, I would never hesitate to undermine your authority when it came to the well being of my friend," I state, watching as the man seemed to not flinch from my blank gaze, but instead seemed to grown more curious.
"If you don't mind Miss..."
"Kyra McCloud," I infer as he trails off.
"Miss McCloud, I'd like to speak with your friend for a moment alone."
Glancing over at Jim, who currently sported two pieces of tissue in his nose, only to receive a blank stare. A barely perceptive nod causes me to sigh before I glance back at the man in black. Giving him a warning glance, I make my way toward the exit, handing the credit chip from my win to Max, telling him to give it to Marty for the damages. Climbing on my bike, I revved it loudly and did a peeling turn before lifting my leg and allowing the bike to fly down the dirt road.
I didn't bother going back to the apartment. The empty apartment isn't something I care for. Driving down the winding hills and rounded curves, I came to the field I claimed as mine. The tall grass and gentle breezes have always been calming. Climbing off my bike, I find a worn spot and lay down, the soft grass cushioning me as I gaze up at the stars.
Stars. Everytime I look up at them, I can't help but think about the obvious. 'What am I?' My hands lift from my side and I gaze at them, remembering the thirteen-year-old hands covered in blood. Even back then, it seemed like fighting came easily, the instinct to kill racing through my veins. It felt like something completely dormant released, taking over my body.
'At least I still have Jim.'
Jim. My JT. He never turned his back on me, even as I fought to keep everyone in a group alive. He always searched for food and I always stayed behind. I remember the looks upon the other children's faces, watching as I seemed to rip our attackers apart, with simple hunting knives and my bare hands.
Jim. He reacted differently. He seemed to just accept it as an instinct of survival. I'm glad I took care of the fighting in that time. Jim, while he can be a bit of a hard ass, I always felt that he didn't have the heart to be a killer, a murder. A monster. That's what their gazes screamed.
Even when we had been rescued, by Starfleet nonetheless, they kept as far away from me as they could. They never looked into my eyes. They feared me.
All except Jim. He never left my side. Even after the mess, when we were transported back to Earth. We stood there, both awaiting for the other to make their move. It seemed, back then, we were seeing which would be the first to sever the connection we had made on the planet. But Jim never moved. He stood there, even as his mother came forward, her brown eyes never even meeting the eyes of her fourteen-year-old son.
Remembering the urge to turn away, my own mother having died long ago, I wanted to leave the sight of Jim having the one thing I didn't. A family. The moment I moved to walk away, I was stopped by a firm, but gentle, hand gripping my wrist.
Stay with me.
The words he never said, but it was obvious in his blue eyes. He didn't want me to be alone.
"I thought I'd find you here."
The voice caused me to look up, my eyes meeting Jim's once more.
Silver-violet eyes glance up at me as the words leave my lips. I knew the moment I left the bar, Pike's words ringing in my ears, I needed to find my best friend. Her thick black hair haloed around her head as her hands drop to the grass, moving to rest behind her head. She's unlike anyone I've ever come across. Her pale skin, white enough to deem her dead, but her soulful silver-violet eyes always intrigued me.
Her blank gaze often has people stuttering over their words, or avoiding her gaze all-together, but no one ever bothered to speak to her, with the exception of the regulars at Marty's. Her intelligence seemed to be more on a philosophical level, than just book smarts. The endless torment and unyielding pain behind her blank gaze could always be known if people were willing to get past her calm, Irish-accented voice.
Sitting down beside her, I glance up at the stars, the silence between us calm and content as always. It's something I've always cherished. Next to unyeilding loyalty, she never pushed for answers to unasked questions. She never made the first move to a conversation, only because she always seemed to be conversing with her own mind half the time. Most find her ability to hold inward conversations with herself teetering on the edge of insanity, but I find it endearing.
"He dared me to best my father."
My father. I've always been seen in my father's shadow. I'm always referred to George Kirk's son, never just Jim Kirk. I've hated it, even though I admire my father for the sacrifice he made. Glancing at my silent companion, I smile inwardly. Kyra never saw me as anyone other than myself and it was something I cherished as well. She saw me as my own person, my own strengths, my own faults.
"He wants me to join Starfleet. He says my leaping-without-looking outlook in life is something Starfleet needs."
"You want to take the challenge don't ye'?" she questions.
There's no accusation. There's no sense of betrayal. It's said with such obvious statement that I feel like she can read my mind. Of course, she can't, but sometimes she knows me too well, better than myself half the time.
"He said the shuttle leaves at 0800 tomorrow. I...I want to do it, but..." I glance over at her once more, but her gaze never leaves the star-filled sky, "I don't want to leave you behind."
"JT," I inwardly shiver at the use of my nickname, the words coated by her accent, "Ye' never have to fear leavin' me behind. I'll always be behind ye' every step of the way. I'm not going to push ye' to do somethin' ye' don't want to do, but the decision is your own to make. Just, do me one thing."
"Anything," I reply automatically.
She finally looks up at me, her silver-violet eyes calm as always, "Never let anyone compare ye' to your father. I never met the man, but I doubt he would ever look down on ya' and see ye' as a failure." Her words cause my chest to tighten, "Ye' have never been a failure to me."
Before I can stop myself, I pull her from the grass and yank her into my chest. Wrapping my arms around her petite body, I still marvel at the idea that someone so tiny can be as deadly as she is. Never did I think it would come down to me leaving her behind, but Pike was right. I don't want to stay here, the memories of neglect around every corner.
Kissing the top of her head, I pull back and gaze down at her softly somber face. Tracing a thumb over her cheek, where most girls would already have tear streaks, I grace her with one of my smiles. I watch as her somber face settles back to calm, her silver-violet eyes brightening with a hidden smile. She always told me my smiles make her feel as though everything will work out.
"Just wait, you'll know me as Captain James Tiberius Kirk," I whispered.
"No I won't," she replies, her lips quirking in a small smirk, "Ye will always be my JT."
'My JT' Ownership. Possession. I smile softly once more at the woman before me. I know that she doesn't see me as some object to claim as her own, but the name itself is her's to own, and no one elses. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, I take a step back, pulling my hands away from her waist.
"You'll always be my first, Kam," I state.
She smiles, "You'll always be my last, JT."
Climbing onto my own bike, I speed down the dirt road, fighting the urge to turn back. If I turn back to her, I know I won't leave. I've never been without her and this is the first adventure I'll be going on that will take me away from the only person worthy of my devotion.
Pulling up to the shipyard in Riverside, I climb off the bike, shutting it down as I yank the key out. Tossing them to a man, who made some off handed comment, I walked up the steps before Pike.
"Four years? I'll do it in three," I say, my words causing him to smirk as I move into the shuttle.
I step forward, glancing at the man from last night, who seems surprised by my appearance, "Miss McCloud, I wasn't aware you were enlisting."
"I wasn't goin' to, but where ever he goes, I go to," I state, realizing he must have noticed my agitation at the idea of being a part of Starfleet.
"Your sense of loyalty is remarkable, Miss McCloud," he held out his hand, "My name is Captain Christopher Pike. Welcome to Starfleet, Miss McCloud."
Shaking his hand, I step aboard the shuttle instantly catching sight of Jim taking a flask from a dark haired man. I can tell he is introducing himself to the man, as he sips from the flask, handing it back.
"McCoy, Leonard McCoy," the gruff man said, his voice coated in a Southern-American accent.
"McCloud," I state, extending my hand from the seat I had taken across from them, watching as Jim looks up in shock, McCoy eyeing me with a strange look, "Kyra McCloud. It's nice to meet ye', McCoy."
"Kam, what are you doing here?" Jim asked, his eyes lighting up with confusion.
I allow a soft smile to form on my lips, "I told ye' I'd be behind ye' every step of the way."
My favorite wide grin breaks across Jim's face as the shuttle begins to take off, McCoy's face turning as pale as mine. I smirk as Jim lets out a chuckle, earning him a glare from McCoy.
Looks like everything is going to change.