Chapter 12

Jim sat straight-backed on the bio-bed in his private room. He was dressed in a Starfleet standard issue long-sleeved black undershirt and gray uniform pants. He was alone in the silence. For the first time since he had awakened, the air was not filled with the low hum of the monitors that announced every heartbeat and breath he took. The medical equipment that had accompanied his arrival was gone. The room felt empty and unwelcoming.

He was leaving.

The door hissed open and McCoy walked in wearing the soft blue colors of the Science Division. He studied Kirk with an expression that was part pleasure, part concern.

"Ready to leave?" McCoy asked.

"I've been ready for a week." He eyed McCoy and frowned. "Why are you wearing blues?" He had become accustomed to seeing McCoy in the Medical Center's preferred white uniform. The familiar starship blues made him nostalgic.

"Command has ordered physicals on every crewmember of the Enterprise. I'm going to be busy this week." McCoy paused a moment, his eyes sharp and focused. "Do I need to go over the restrictions with you again?"

Kirk let out a frustrated breath. "I'm already on a monitor, Bones. What else do you want?"

"Compliance would be nice." McCoy's voice was stern. "Jim, you should be going into a step-down unit for another week. You still need to be monitored."

"That's what this is for," he said, holding up his left arm to reveal the medical monitoring band McCoy had secured to him early this morning. The band was thin and unobtrusive, but he hated it anyway. It had been a condition of his release, one about which McCoy had been completely unyielding.

"Jim, you're not strong enough to be on your own and you know it," McCoy said. He stood at the foot of Kirk's bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Bones, I—"

"You're still on medications that need to be monitored, and we don't know what effects this transfusion is going to have long-term."

"That's—"

"Not to mention that Medical still wants blood draws every week and updates and you've got several weeks of PT in front of you. Christ, Jim, walking down the hall without falling over doesn't mean you can be by yourself! If you pass out or have a reaction there's no one around to help you."

"I don't need help!" He fixed McCoy with an angry stare. "I'm not an invalid and I'm doing fine in PT."

"Oh, are you?"

He looked away from McCoy, his jaws clenched. He felt the heat of embarrassment color his cheeks. "One bad session doesn't mean I'm done. I need to get out of here, Bones."

McCoy drew a deep breath. "I'm not saying you can't leave. I'm saying that I need to monitor you and you need to follow some restrictions."

"You've been monitoring me for a month."

"And I'm going to keep on monitoring you until I release you for duty – which I haven't yet."

Jim felt his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. He needed to get out of this white, sterile room and out from under the constant scrutiny of doctors and nurses, just for a few moments of privacy and peace where every pulse throb and breath was not recorded and responded to, where he could feel bad or exhausted and not worry about someone checking on him and asking if he's all right … for one moment to be alone and simply feel. And now Bones wanted to tether him with another goddamned monitor. "I don't like being monitored."

"Then you're not leaving this hospital."

McCoy pointed to the medical band. "That doesn't tell me everything I need to know. I'll be making an in-person visit every other day for an assessment and compliance on the restrictions. I don't need you stomping around space dock and getting involved in the ship's repairs. You're not cleared for duty."

"You said that already."

"Well, obviously it warrants repeating," he said shortly. "You're going to tire a lot faster than you think, Jim, and your weight is well below normal. I know you-you don't set any limits on yourself. That's why all this is necessary now."

And there it was, the bone of contention between them: Jim's excursion into the warp core. They had spoken little of it, though he knew that Bones understood why he had risked his life. The responsibility of the ship aside, they would all be dead had he not acted. It wasn't really about rushing into a radiation filled warp core. It was about how Bones saw him: reckless and impetuous.

"Fine, I'll be compliant. Happy?"

"That remains to be seen."

The door slid open and Lieutenant Purcell entered. A tall brunette wearing dress grays and looking decidedly feminine and disciplined at the same time, she was Starfleet's public affairs officer. She had been by earlier to brief Kirk on what to expect on making his exit from the hospital.

"You've drawn quite a crowd, Captain," she said. "There are over a hundred reporters outside."

"Terrific." For all his complaints about lack of privacy in the hospital, he had been nicely protected from the outside world. Even Command had more or less left him alone to recover. He hadn't quite fully understood the impact his actions had on the rest of the Federation until Purcell had briefed him. Somehow he had become a hero.

"They have your credentials and Starfleet's release, so they'll more than likely be asking questions off the sheet." She frowned and studied him. "Are you going to be okay to do this?"

Now's a great time to ask.

"Make a speech?" He couldn't keep the condescending tone out of his voice. "Yeah, I think I can handle that, Lieutenant."

"This is of significant importance, Captain. The entire Federation is listening to what you say. You may not fully realize, but you've caused quite a stir out there."

He did realize, at least some of it.

She continued. "My job is to enhance the public image of Starfleet and, no offense, but having you 'wing it' as you say, makes me very nervous. One poorly chosen word and I'm doing crisis management for the next two weeks. I want good sound bytes out of this – we need them."

He didn't get the public's interest in what he had done, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew Starfleet was using him to divert attention away from Marcus's crimes. Give the public a hero to cheer and forget about the other hundred dead. It was classic politics. He hated it.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he said. His back was beginning to ache from sitting up so long and the pain was making him irritable.

"Do you need a cue sheet?" she asked.

"You briefed me four hours ago, Lieutenant. I'm good." He knew his duty and what was expected of him.

She straightened herself slightly, ruffled by his dismissal. "It's important—"

"You can wait outside, Lieutenant," he said shortly and stood, feeling his back protest with a sharp stab.

She nodded coolly. "Yes, Captain."

Once the door slid shut, he swore softly under his breath. "This is going to be fun."

"Not too late to slip out the back door," McCoy said sympathetically.

"Don't tempt me." There was really no way out for him and they both knew it. Jim was a Starfleet Captain and he had been ordered to be available to the media. He looked at McCoy. "Are we good?"

McCoy had been studying him since walking into the room. Kirk didn't like the clinical expression on his friend's face – the mixture of concern and compassion. He knew he must look pale and unstable. The tremors still plagued him and he had difficulty with balance and coordination when he was tired. But he was still Jim Kirk.

McCoy nodded. "We're good."

Jim pulled the sleeve of his shirt down to cover the bio monitor. He took a breath and looked at McCoy. "Wish me luck."

McCoy's expression softened and a small smile played on the corners of his mouth. "Good luck."

Jim walked out of the room. Purcell stood just outside the door, nervous and rigid.

She gave him a final inspection and nodded. "Ready?"

"Let's do it," he said. He wasn't looking forward to this, and the sooner he did it the sooner it would be over. His back was already hurting.

He could see the media gathered as they approached the front of the Medical Center doors. The crowd was too big to have a press conference in the facility and too disruptive to a working hospital, so Starfleet had set up a podium just outside the doors with the Starfleet emblem emblazoned on the glass. It made a good backdrop for the press release.

And that's all it was, Jim reminded himself, just a press release. They didn't know him, or know anything that had happened. They didn't know Marcus and what had driven a career admiral to the brink of what could only be interpreted as insanity; Marcus who had a drawer full of medals and who had been considered a hero in his own right, now denounced and defamed. What did they know of the laws and rules that governed outer space, where a man had to make the best decision he could with the wits he had and hope it was good enough?

"Captain?" Purcell said with uncertainty.

He looked at her and realized he had stopped a few feet from the doors. He took a deep breath, focused on the doors, and with renewed determination, walked outside. He strode to the podium without delay, not looking at the reporters or cameras, trying to keep his breathing normal. He was a Starship captain and he'd be damned if he was going to apologize for what he'd done.

People were already calling his name, trying to get his attention. He stood tall behind the podium and looked up. The flash of lights blinded him….

…The force of it threw him across the warp core. His back smashed into something hard, sending shards of pain into him…

He blinked and took an involuntary step back from the podium, focusing on the Starfleet emblem engraved on the platform. Sweat rolled down his temple and he could feel his heart racing, the pain shooting up his spine….

Shit.

He looked up again, making an effort to appear as if everything were normal, wondering if they had seen the fear and pain on his face. He glanced at Purcell who appeared to be holding her breath. She took a step toward him.

He clenched his jaws and straightened his spine, ignoring the sharp pinch. He pushed down the fear and the memory and returned to his position, resting his hands on the podium. Looking up at the reporters, he let his expression soften, his shoulders relax and gave them a charming smile, letting them know he was ready. He nodded to the first reporter who had her hand raised.

"How does it feel to be finally released, Captain Kirk?"

"I think I can speak for both Starfleet Medical and myself when I say that it's a relief I'm leaving."

They laughed.

He nodded to another reporter.

"They say you went above and beyond the call of duty and risked your life to save the lives of your crew. Do you consider yourself a hero?"

He realized he was gripping the edge of the podium and forced himself to relax, meeting the eyes of the reporter who had asked the one question to which he had no answer. "My duty as a Starfleet Captain is first to the safety of the Federation and then to my crew. There are no degrees to that duty. It is absolute and inarguable. Every crewmember on board the Enterprise acted heroically in the face of insurmountable odds. And they did so at the risk of their own lives for no other reason than it was the oath they took when they joined Starfleet."

He quickly went on to another question.

"This is the second time Earth's been attacked in two years. Do you think Earth is vulnerable to hostile penetration?"

"That is a question best directed to Starfleet Command." He smiled easily. "I'm only a Starship Captain."

He continued to answer their questions. By the end of the fifteen minute press conference, Jim Kirk had every reporter eating out of his hand. It was Purcell who smoothly inserted herself, ending the conference with an apology that Kirk was still recuperating and needed rest. With his back throbbing painfully, Kirk skillfully retreated as Purcell continued to field questions.

Jim moved away from the media gathering – tired and empty. He walked toward the street and saw Spock standing next to a hover car. The Vulcan was in uniform, straight-backed and relaxed as only he could be while patiently waiting. He tilted his head just slightly as Jim approached.

"Chauffeuring, Spock?"

"I thought perhaps that you would appreciate a speedy exit."

He smiled wearily. "I would. Thank you."

Spock opened the door on the passenger side and he slid into the waiting car, leaving the media frenzy and the hospital behind.

McCoy watched Jim get into the car and breathed a strained sigh of relief. He stood hidden among other medical personnel who had gathered to watch the young captain exit the hospital. In the month Jim had been at the Medical Center, he had caused quite a stir among the staff and they were happy to see him leave under his own power – healed and healthy.

Well, almost healed…not quite healthy.

McCoy had watched the press conference with concern. Jim's bio monitor was fed into his PADD and he had established alerts to certain vital parameters. An alert had already sounded before Jim had even begun speaking. But McCoy didn't need the alert to know that Jim had experienced a flashback due to something in the crowd.

He had cursed when he had seen the pain and confusion flash across Jim's pale face. He'd held his breath with everyone else as Jim faltered slightly. He'd even taken a step out of the crowd, intent on calling a halt to the press conference that resembled nothing more than a circus. He hated the proceedings, hated what they were doing to Jim. Couldn't they just let the man be? Wasn't saving his ship and crew enough? Anger rose within him as he focused on Jim – pale and unstable. Then, as quickly as Jim had lapsed, he'd recovered. True to form, he had won the crowd as only he could.

The flashback worried McCoy, but did not surprise him. Jim was by no means recovered, but the Medical Center had only focused on his physical recovery. McCoy knew that Jim had not even begun to recover emotionally.

The crowd had begun to disperse, murmuring among themselves and drifting back to their duties. The medical personnel had other patients to attend. Something else would capture their attention or they'd fill their day with the routines and tasks of patient care. Slowly, the press conference disbanded and the grounds emptied. It would be in the news tonight on all the broadcasts, the sound bytes Purcell was so hoping for: Youngest Starship Captain leaves hospital a hero. Tomorrow there would be other news and different distractions.

For today it was over.

McCoy waited alone with the sun warming his skin and felt a sorrow deep within.

It was just beginning for Jim.