He woke up in medbay, back in his regulation undersuit and feeling surprisingly well rested. The rings were sitting on a small tray set up next to his bed, which also held a glass of water. They'd put him in one of the privacy corners with the curtain drawn shut, which did nothing to muffle the sounds of medbay but did allow him some idea of personal space.

Gaila was getting up from her seat on a chair by the bed. Her stiff movements suggested she'd been there for some time. She came to stand next to him, looking aloof and angry in a way he knew all too well. It occurred to him that she might well decide she was done with his bullshit, and he regretted that he hadn't taken that into consideration before agreeing to pilot the ship.

"I'm sorry," he said, making sure he held her eyes when he said it. That was one of the things she thought was important, looking someone in the eye when making such statements. "I couldn't run the risk of McCoy and Uhura being stranded in there when there was a chance at getting them out."

She made him wait a full half a minute before her expression broke. She reached down and took one of his hands, holding it tight. "We need to work on this deathwish of yours."

He smiled at her, feeling giddy with relief. "I really don't want to die, it's just this kind of thing keeps happening to me."

"Uhura calls you the galaxy's insanity magnet."

He laughed. "Really? What does she call Spock?"

"Mmm, you're gonna have to work for that one."

He cursed the fact that they were in medbay. "I'll get started as soon as they let me out of here."

She ran a hand through his hair, giving him a languid look, then let go of his hand and stepped back. Before Jim could say anything else, she slipped away through one corner of the screen a handful of seconds before McCoy shoved the opposite end of it aside. "Oh, good, you're awake." He didn't seem to notice Gaila exiting the medbay (or maybe he just didn't care).

Jim refused to let himself wish McCoy would go away, but it was a near thing. "How long was I out?"

"Two days."

"Two days?"

"It would've been longer, but M'Benga convinced me to let you wake up."

From somewhere over by a lab bench M'Benga called, "You can thank me by not proving me wrong."

Jim blew out a breath. "So you've been drugging me this whole time."

"It was the best way to keep you in here while you recovered." McCoy ran a tri-corder over him. "How do you feel?"

"Pretty good, actually." He reached over and took the rings, rolling each one between his fingers in turn. "What do I have to do to get you to let me out of here?"

"Have good test results." McCoy sent the data to his tablet and began paging through it. Jim leaned over, trying to see, and McCoy snorted at him and offered it.

Nothing looked off to him, but of course, he wasn't a doctor. He looked up at McCoy, who admitted, "You're fine, but don't expect Spock to agree to you taking a shift until tomorrow."

"Thanks." Jim tried to make his sincerity clear by holding McCoy's gaze. After a second McCoy accepted by sighing and taking his tablet back.

"I promise you, the next time, the sedatives come before you try to execute any brilliant plans."

"Got it."

"Don't let me catch you on the bridge until tomorrow."

He slipped off the bed and reached for his boots. "You won't."

He knew exactly where he was going to go.

The galley was quiet, with only a few crew scattered around. Despite being quick about getting his food, no less than a half-dozen of them said hello or came over to ask him a question. Unlike the last time he'd come back, it felt good to talk to the crew, and he didn't try to avoid them. It felt good to be back on the ship.

The rear observation deck was deserted. He took a corner table that was flush to the glass and worked through his meal in small bites, staring out at the stars as the Enterprise raced to its next destination.

When he'd been losing time, he'd often come to one of the two decks (though mostly the forward deck, which didn't have a partial view of the nacelles). Once he'd even had his hands on the glass. (Gaila had found him that time.)

He worried that his desire to eat there now was indicative of a stronger influence from the Pilot than he might otherwise be comfortable with, then dismissed the concern just as quickly. If there was more Pilot than Jim Kirk, he'd have asked for the General to keep him in service. He hadn't.

"Can I assume this will be a new habit of yours?"

Though he hadn't heard Spock come in, Jim had hoped he would show up sooner or later.

He smiled and nodded at the table's other seat. "Tradition. Habit makes it sound like it's a bad thing."

Spock took it and settled himself. "Habits are not inherently bad or good; the habit itself defines whether or not it will be beneficial or detrimental."

"Tradition also sounds more important."

Spock nodded, allowing him that much. "Is this tradition meant to honor or celebrate something?"

He nodded. "That everything we experience out here changes us, and we shouldn't let that keep us from exploring further." He swirled his glass of water, wishing it was beer. (McCoy had told him no alcohol for at least three more days, and he figured the least he could do after everything else was stick to that.)

"Some of us more so than others."

Spock was giving him a measured look. He held it long enough to covey his understanding, then took a sip of water. "Some of us have a lot of changing to do."

"So long as it is change you wish to make."

After some false starts, he said, "I didn't want this, it just happened. But everyone survived, and now I can probably live with it."

Spock nodded. "Overcoming a dire situation and recovering to health are certainly things to celebrate."

Jim smiled at him and looked back out over the stars and the ship's stern painted blue in the light of the nacelles.

"Yeah," he agreed. "They are."

Previous: Beneath the Enormous Sky

Sequel: Heaven's Alchemy