Chapter Four: Between Reason and Passion
She immediately knew that she was on Earth; she could instantly feel the difference from waking up in space and waking up grounded. That, Emily thought with a slight grin, and the captain's bed back on the Enterprise was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the one in the Starfleet apartments were. And there was also the lack of concern of being walked in on at any given moment by Spock or McCoy or anyone else that might have needed the captain for one of his captain-y duties.
Rolling over on her side, Emily opened her eyes as her arm fell across a hard body, blinking up to see Jim looking down at her with a warm smile on his face, the kind that he always had when they were on shore leave. She liked him like this; as much as she adored Captain Kirk, she liked Just Jim even more.
"Hey," he greeted.
She smiled back at him. "Hey, yourself," she said as she pushed herself up into a sitting position so she could kiss him, which he eagerly returned, entwining her blonde locks in his fingers while she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer.
Only when she had to come up for air did she giggle slightly, lying back against the pillows. "I could get used to this," she sighed. "Much as I love exploring the galaxy, I wouldn't mind waking up every morning without worrying about someone walking in on us."
"It is nice to have some time besides hiding in the supply closet," Jim agreed with a chuckle.
"Jeez, you make us sound like a couple of teenagers," Emily complained, ruffling her hair, which she was sure was a complete mess from their previous activities. They were never this carefree on the ship, though she was sure most of the crew knew about the Captain and Chief Tactical Officer's illicit relationship, but if the admiralty found out, she would be transferred so fast that her head would be spinning.
And that was if they weren't kicked out of Starfleet first, she considered before her nose caught whiff of a particular scent.
"Is that coffee?"
Jim snorted. "Like I would get you back to Earth and not bring you some fresh coffee, knowing how much you complain about replicated coffee? That would truly be unjust," he joked as he reached behind him to grab the mug sitting on the table behind him, handing it over to Emily.
All but grabbing it from him, Emily inhaled the dark liquid, sipping it appreciatively, a small sigh of gratitude leaving her as she sank against the pillows. "This is pure heaven," she sighed, "you know how to make a mean cup of coffee."
"As per your instructions," Jim said wryly, "one bag of coffee per cup of water, is that right?"
"Perfect," she agreed with a giggle. "Oh, man, if we do get that five year mission, we have to clear some space to stock as many bags of coffee as we can get on the ship." She paused, looking at him. "Have you heard from Uncle Chris yet? The admiralty is supposed to decide who gets the mission any day now."
Shaking his head, Jim replied, "Not yet. I . . . haven't really thought about it. I've had . . . other things on my mind."
Emily frowned at him, completely bemused. "More important than a mission that includes exploring deep space and unknown worlds, where we might meet new and previously unheard of alien species? Come on, you've been talking about this mission ever since we heard about; I have never heard you so excited about anything before. So what could be more important than that?"
His blue eyes gleaming as he slid out of the bed, clad only in his boxers, making his way over to the dresser, Jim fumbled for something inside it. "Okay, you are not allowed to laugh or make fun," he told her without turning around.
Emily frowned at him as she sat up against the sheets, laying her bare arms against her knees. "Make fun about what?" she inquired, watching his movements. His shoulders were unusually tense and he seemed . . . nervous, almost. But that couldn't be right; this was Jim, he was never nervous about anything.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned around with something clutched in his hands, something that looked suspiciously like a black box. Emily stared at it before slowly lifting her gaze upward to her boyfriend.
"Jim . . . what are you . . .?"
"Don't," he said softly, returning to the bed and sitting down on the edge, looking at her with adoration. "Just . . . don't think about what's reasonable or logical or . . . any of that. I love you," he said softly and for once, the words didn't make Emily's heart flutter like it normally did, in her shell-shocked state. "I have always loved you. You remember, last year, when I told you that I'd rather have an Emily Conner from a different universe than live in one without you? That's still true, but now I can't imagine living in a universe without being married to you."
Her breath caught at his words and she opened her mouth to try and say something, but words wouldn't come.
"Marry me, Emily," he whispered, finally prying open the black box to reveal the ring nestled among the white. True to form, Jim knew her well enough to know that she didn't care for diamonds; instead of a traditional ring, the ring that was presented to her was white gold with a sapphire. "Marry me in front of all of our friends and our family."
It was like time had stopped completely and Emily felt as though every inch of her was spinning; she couldn't seem to stop it. All she could do was stare open mouthed in front of her, where Jim was looking at her with that adorable smile of his, and his hopeful blue eyes fastened upon her green ones.
For a moment that contained an eternity, all she could do was stare at Jim, the ring held out in front of her until Jim chuckled, shattering the time-stopping moment, and said weakly, "Don't leave a guy waiting here, Em . . ."
Swallowing, she tore her gaze away from his and uttered the words, "I can't . . ."
And as though the morning blissfulness had never happened, everything came crashing down in a shattered mess. Emily couldn't bring herself to look at her boyfriend, unable to look at the dismayed and broken gaze that she had created.
"What?"
"I'm sorry, Jim, I just—I can't," she whispered, guilt rising up through her as she turned away from him, pushing aside the covers and snagging her robe to pull it on, reluctantly turning to look at him.
Oh, gods; the hurt was rolling off of him in waves. Emily wanted nothing more than to run over and comfort him, the way that they always did whenever bad things happened in their lives, but at the same time, she couldn't take back her words.
No matter what he said about forgetting about all of that, she just couldn't be emotional right now. One of them had to think clearly about this.
He was the captain; he was her commanding officer. Sure, dating was one thing, but marriage was another thing altogether. They had been dating for almost a year now and things had been good—really good—but she wasn't stupid; she knew that if the admiralty ever got wind of their relationship . . . and there was no way that they could hide a marriage from them.
They were already risking the rules enough already; marriage would blow things completely out of the water.
"Why not? Emily, don't—don't worry about the rules, all right? We—we'll figure it out, all right? Chris will vouch for us . . ."
"Jim, we can't just keep going to Uncle Chris whenever things get complicated with us," Emily reasoned. "You want to talk about marriage? You want to talk about molding two lives into one? Then we have to be responsible and own up to the fact that we've been breaking the rules. You know what the first thing they'll do is? The first thing they'll do is yank me away from the Enterprise—and that's if they don't take away your captaincy first. We can't just act like the rules don't matter; they do matter. Sometimes, they are there for a reason. Believe me, I hate myself for saying these things, but we have to talk about them if you're really serious about this. I don't want things to change . . . I don't want to leave the Enterprise and . . . I'm happy there, Jim, with—with you and Leonard and even Spock . . . I don't want things to change. If we were to get married, that's what would happen."
"You know that after last year, Starfleet is in deep water; that's the reason why they made me captain to begin with. They might overlook—"
"They might have overlooked us dating, but marriage is another thing altogether," she said, leaving no room for argument. "They're not gonna bend the rules for us."
Jim just shook his head and gods, she could've sworn she saw a flicker of tears in his eyes but beyond that was the intense anger written in them; never once, in the entire year that she had known him, had he ever looked at her with such anger in his eyes. They never fought like this and she hated herself for being the one to orchestrate the argument, but she couldn't just leap into this. If Jim couldn't be the logical one here, then she had to be, even if logical wasn't her forte.
"Jim, I love you," she said softly, trying to ease the tension but at the same time knowing that things were already too far over the edge. "But you know as well as I do that it's not just a matter of boy meets girl, boy marries girl. There are rules and regulations; and I hate that I'm sounding like Spock right now, but logically, there's no way that we can keep things the same if we tie the knot."
"You're saying no."
"No, I am saying not yet," she tried to explain to him. "I'm saying 'not yet,' Jim. One day, maybe things will be different, but right now, things are just . . . so complicated and—"
Both of them started as the ringer on Jim's communicator went off and she looked over at it before looking at her boyfriend desperately, silently wishing he would just ignore it so they could finish this.
'Finish this' . . . gods, that sounded so final.
But instead, he walked over to his comm and picked it up. "Kirk here," he said crisply, taking on the captain-y tone that she both adored and hated, but this time, it only made her look away from him.
"Captain Kirk, Admiral Pike here; I need to discuss something with you and Commander Spock, if you're available."
"Of course, Admiral; we'll be right there," he replied flatly and closed the comm before making his way around the room, gathering up his formal attire while Emily fought down the tears that threatened to make an appearance.
"Jim, don't . . . let's just . . . don't leave things like this," she pleaded, trying to make him see reason, but he refused to so much as look at Emily as he donned the uniform, yanking on his boots so hard that she was sure he would tear into them. "We need to talk about this—we need to—"
"We don't need to do anything, Lieutenant," he said sharply and coldly. The formality felt like a whiplash and she found herself flinching from it.
"The hell we don't," she snapped. "Jim—please, let's just talk about this. I don't want this to be—"
"Goodbye," he replied as he snatched up his hat and stalked out the door.
How long she sat there, the guilt pounding over her mixed with self-loathing, Emily had no idea but after what felt like an eternity, she finally yanked on her formal attire and left the apartment, making her way outside into the San Francisco bay. She didn't even know, really, where she was going but eventually, she found herself at the familiar walkway of Starfleet Headquarters, looking up at the building. Her green gaze fastened on it, knowing that Jim was inside, but she couldn't make herself go in.
How could she? After what had happened this morning, Jim wasn't going to want to see her, let alone talk to her anytime soon. And she hated that; less than an hour ago, they were laughing blissfully together and now, here she was, unable to even step in the place where she knew he was going to be.
She had wanted to say yes; hell, she'd almost been tempted to, but she wasn't stupid. As soon as she said yes, they would start making arrangements and then the admiralty would find out and then . . .
Gods, was she selfish for wanting to stay on the Enterprise, with Jim, and all of her friends, and the only place that had felt like home here? If she and Jim had known each other, back in the Other World, and they were just a couple of regular people, then things would be different, but here, they were Starfleet officers and while officers married, it was never their commanding officer.
Maybe she was selfish for wanting both Jim and the Enterprise, but she didn't want to lose either one.
Emily hadn't noticed that she had started walking into headquarters, and had almost made it to Pike's office until she heard someone say, "Lieutenant."
Starting, she whipped her head around to see Spock standing just outside of Pike's office, regarding her with the same stoic expression he always wore, but if she wasn't mistaken, she could've sworn she saw a flicker of concern flash through his brown eyes.
"Are you . . . well, Lieutenant?"
The question caught Emily off guard and she realized just how much like crap she must look if Spock was asking her if she was all right. Wishing she'd had the foresight to take a look in the mirror before she left the apartment, she just put on her best smile and, forcing as much brightness into her tone, said, "Yeah, I—I'm fine. I was just looking for the captain; have you seen him?"
"Captain Kirk is still talking with Admiral Pike," Spock reported as he approached her, "was there something I may assist you with?"
She bit back the laugh that threatened to expel itself from her as the image of Spock helping her with her romantic problems with Jim popped into her head. Rather than say that, she shook her head.
"No, Commander. I appreciate the offer, but it's . . . not business related."
"Something of a personal nature, I would presume?"
"You would presume correctly," Emily said quietly just as the doors of Pike's office opened up and Jim appeared, looking happy about something but almost as soon as his gaze landed on Emily, his bright blue eyes darkened and his jaw became tense. He regarded her momentarily before he turned away.
"Jim, wait," Emily pleaded. "Can we talk?"
"I'm busy right now, Lieutenant," he said shortly and gruffly, not even stopping as he walked away from her.
Shoulders sagging, she watched him go before she turned away, realizing at once that Spock had noted this exchange with a raised eyebrow.
"Things with yourself and the captain seem unusually strained," he observed and she glanced over her shoulders, where Jim had disappeared.
"That's one way to put it," she sighed, running a hand through her blonde hair, realizing she had forgotten to put it up into a ponytail. Yet another mark for her haggard appearance right now. She looked at Spock. "I don't want to talk about it."
"If you insist," he said, dropping the subject as she knew that he would. He wouldn't bug her about her relationship problems the way that Leonard would have, which she gratefully appreciated right now. "But if you have a moment, Lieutenant, there is something I wish to discuss with you."
She frowned; why would he want to discuss something with her? While they were friends and she enjoyed his company for her lessons in the Vulcan language, they generally didn't discuss things outside of her progress with Vulcan or Starfleet.
"Is it something about what Uncle Chris called you and the captain in for?" she inquired as she fell into step next to him as they headed—in the opposite way Jim had gone, she was glad—out of headquarters.
"No," Spock replied, calm despite the worried look in his brown eyes, "but it's nothing to concern yourself with, Lieutenant. Admiral Pike was merely giving us our new mission. It seems that the captain's intuition was correct; the Enterprise will be receiving the five year mission."
"We are?"
"Indeed."
Emily felt floored; she'd been sure that they would be passed over. Sure, it was something she'd love to go on, but considering that the Enterprise compromised almost entirely of new officers, only a year outside of their graduation from cadets, she hadn't really thought it was possible.
"Wow . . . that's—that's incredible," she said with a laugh. "When Uncle Chris called, I thought for sure that Jim was in some kind of trouble. I thought maybe you . . . you . . ."
"You thought that perhaps I decided to file a report for what occurred on Niribu?" Spock considered. "It would be untruthful if I said that it did not occur to me, but . . ." He trailed off, his gaze hardening. "My sister was transferred because of what she put in her report following the Narada incident. Incidentally," he added, "Joni is what I wished to speak to you about, Emily."
The switch from the formality to her first name made Emily realized at once that this was serious.
"Joni is on Earth," he revealed, making Emily's mouth open slightly in surprise. She hadn't thought that Joni was anywhere near here. "I can sense her, but I cannot hear her thoughts; she is closed off to me, perhaps as a result of being away from each other for so long."
"She's here?! But why hasn't she contacted any of us? Surely if she on Earth, then she could see us . . . wherever it is that she's working at surely could give her some leave . . ."
"No doubt the past year of working has granted her some, but I am . . ." He trailed off, his eyebrow knitting together. "Vulcans do not use the word 'concerned,' but that is what I am. I was able to witness a dream of hers; our proximity to each other was able to grant me that much, but she was much changed. Her appearance and . . ." He trailed off again, his gaze hardening slightly. "And there was someone else, in the dream; someone who she claimed taught her how to defend herself."
Emily frowned, deeply concerned about her friend. "Who?"
"Of that, I am uncertain; he is not someone I recognize, but there is something about him that . . ." Spock trailed off. "You've been receiving regular communication from Joni, have you not?"
Nodding immediately, Emily replied, "Yeah, I have, but the way you're describing Joni—it doesn't sound at all like the way she's been sounding in her messages to me. If anything, the messages have made her sound more . . . Vulcan," she said, not knowing how else to phrase it. "Why do you ask?"
"You are the only person that Joni has been in contact with since she left the Enterprise," Spock informed her, surprising her. She had assumed—incorrectly, it seemed—that Joni would be writing messages to her brother, if no one else. "That she is on the planet and has made the decision not to speak with anyone is disquieting. Any and all information regarding her whereabouts is classified."
"That's worrisome," Emily remarked, twisting a strand of her blonde hair between her fingers absently.
"Indeed," Spock agreed. "Emily . . . if you should hear from her, please tell her to contact my mother or myself. Our mother is deeply concerned for my sister."
Emily nodded; she would do that, even if he hadn't asked.
"Of course," she promised as he nodded in appreciation before walking away from her, returning to headquarters. "And Spock?" He paused, looking back at her. "If you should happen to hear from her . . ." She tapped her head pointedly, "ask Joni something for me? Ask her if the messages that I'm getting are actually coming from her . . . or if they're coming from a third party."
Surprise filtered in through his brown eyes—something she was sure was rarely seen there—but he nodded crisply.
"I will endeavor to do so, Lieutenant."
And then he was gone.
With her head propped up against her head, Emily glumly swiveled her drink in her hand, absently tilting it back and forth, wondering just how many drinks it would take before she would start to feel its effects. She'd never really drank enough to know just how high her tolerance was; she'd already had three of these and really didn't feel anything.
Except, she thought as an afterthought, she was starting to get to the point where the music in the background wasn't nearly as annoying as it had been when she walked in, but she still wasn't to the point where she wasn't angry at herself.
"Refill?"
"Yeah," she grumbled, pushing her class towards the bartender, who poured the liquid into it, returning it to her before walking away to take care of some other customers looking to get themselves hammered.
Twirling the liquid around in its glass, Emily doused it in one gulp before she sensed someone coming up behind him.
"So—"
"If the next words that come out of your mouth are 'what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this' or 'did it hurt when you fell' or anything along the lines, then let me warn you that you will be walking away from here with a broken nose and that is if you're lucky," Emily said without even so much as turning around.
"You heard the lady," a familiar voice said as the person paused, "off with you now."
Turning around, Emily found a guy almost right behind her—clearly about to give her some lame pick-up line—but looking between her and Chris, who gave him a sharp look, he wisely decided that she wasn't worth it, slinking back to his friend, leaving Emily to look at her uncle wearily.
"How'd you find me?" she wanted to know.
"You forget I pretty much raised you," Chris reminded her as he joined her at the bar, signaling the bartender. "You and Jim were in a dive just like this when I found you, remember that? You were working as a bartender there and Jim was getting his ass handed to him."
Emily regarded him; though the events of what had happened when Chris had recruited the two of them for Starfleet had been relayed to her, she still didn't have the memory of what had happened before she woke in this world, despite Jim and Joni's belief that she would remember her life here. But her uncle didn't know that.
"I don't remember that," she said honestly.
"You don't?"
"No, I don't think that it's as bad as you're describing it," she insisted.
"You had bruises all over your face the size of Iowa," he replied with a slight chuckle and despite herself, Emily smiled at the idea.
"Did Jim tell you what happened?"
Chris sighed as the bartender delivered him a drink, refilling Emily's as well.
"He did," he admitted, "as well as your reasons for saying no." He held up his hand against Emily's protest. "I know, you didn't really say no, but you didn't say yes, Em. And let me tell you something; anything other than yes is a hard blow, even when it's for the right reasons. And they were for the right reasons," he added more gently. She looked at him, his grey eyes kind.
"You think I made the right decision?"
"It's not about what I think; this is between you and Jim. But you're not exactly wrong; you two being romantically involved was one thing. Marriage is another thing entirely. At the very least, one or both of you would have been transferred." He patted Emily's arm. "Give it time; Jim will understand that, eventually."
"I don't know about that; we both know what he's like when he gets stubborn."
Chris burst out laughing, getting the attention of several patrons. "Oh, I do know that; it's the reason why I always thought you were good for him. You mellowed him out, made him easier to deal with." Emily smiled faintly and he patted her on the arm. "It's going to be okay, Em; things will work out in the end, even though they seem dim now."
"He can't even stand to look at me, let alone be in the same room with me," Emily mumbled, shaking her head.
"Jim is hurt right now, but give him some time to cool down; he might be more willing to talk tomorrow." Chris stopped her as she moved to take another drink. "And I think you've had quite enough of that, don't you?"
"Will it matter if I say no?"
"Not particularly," Chris replied as pried the glass out of her hand. "Besides, you'll be thanking me tomorrow morning for stopping you."
She doubted that.
"Now come with me, young lady," her uncle told her. She debated for a minute whether or not to just ignore the order—after all, she was a grown woman and if she wanted to get dead drunk on her off hours, then that was her business—but the look that he gave her pushed that thought out of her head and she reluctantly got to her feet, swaying as soon as her feet found level.
"Whoa . . ."
While the room began to spin, Emily found herself steadied as her uncle gripped her by her forehead and guided her out of the bar.
"I can get myself to the door, Uncle Chris," Emily tried to insist, but he had already parked the hover car.
"Not so long as I'm your uncle," he said gruffly. She groaned, but it was probably a good idea he was overprotective; she wasn't actually sure she could make it to the door. "Let's get you upstairs . . ."
Groaning again, Emily stumbled out of the car and was herded up into the apartment complex, trying to remember which one was hers and Jim's—all the while wondering if he was going to be there when she got there. Half of her hoped that he would while the other half hoped he wasn't.
When she finally found hers—well, Chris found it, actually; she just kind of followed him inside—she winced as the lights turned on and she blinked as she realized that while Jim wasn't here, they weren't alone in the apartment.
"Joni?"
AN: Hey, guys, Lady Dawson here! Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, because I really have fun writing it, and am really looking forward to your feedback! So you know the drill: read and review!
Lady Dawson