10-43:

The rest of the day was a blur to Jim. He had woken up from his nap and he had made it to his station, but it didn't really matter since he had slept till 6 in the afternoon and the station was closed anyway. After that, he'd trained a little more, read over the files Pike had sent him 10 to 20 more times, and simply sat quietly in the middle of the empty compound.

The information he was given (finally) settled into his mind and his head pounded for a good part of the night. It wasn't till his alarm rang that Jim realized he hadn't gone to sleep.

Changing out of his used clothes, Jim walked out of his room wearing his standard black short sleeved, black cargo pants, and combat boots. "Lights to 85%," Jim said as he stepped though the main hall. The large screen that he had pulled down earlier was still sitting black and lifeless on the wall, all ready for the video conference with the Ambassador.

For some reason, Jim had gotten it into his head that the Vulcan would appreciate his "natural charm" and had made up his mind not to talk during the whole ordeal. It wasn't like Jim was self-conscience or anything, in fact, he had enough confidence to go around, but he'd also never met an Ambassador before. It was intimidating.

Walking over to the side of the room, Jim typed in his access code into the main power grid. He knew Pike liked it when the compound was bright, and a couple of lights on here and there would probably not cut it as bright. Pressing his thumb into the grid's center button, Jim listened to the whine of gears rubbing together and suddenly the whole place lit up.

Jim nodded and locked the grid back up.

Slipping out of the room, Jim strolled down the compound with his hands buried in his pockets. His head was still stuffed to the brim but at least the throbbing had stopped. Now, his mind buzzed and whirled around the nearly endless amount of questions in his head: Are we going to have enough time to go over the walkthroughs? Yeah, of course we will…Who will be piloting? What if we crash? Shit, what if we get caught? I've heard Romulans don't take prisoners…What if…

Jim groaned. He normally didn't over-think things. Truthfully, he never thought about anything, he just went out and did it; Jim could still hear his mother's voice in his head telling him to "Stop and think." It was a shitty memory of the woman, but most of his memories were.

A sharp clicking sound from the overhead speakers made Jim stop in his tracks. "Shuttle 66936602 approaching. Docking Station 22 doors to begin opening in 3.3 minutes," a metallic voice echoed through the compound.

Jim's eyes widened. Fumbling with his comm., he called for a feed with the oncoming shuttle. "66936602, this is Alpha. Respond."

He waited then his comm. buzzed in his hand. "Alpha, this is shuttle 66936602. Transporting six persons to your area. Permission to board?" a tired voice spoke.

Jim scrunched up his face. Six? he thought. He hadn't known Pike called back nearly a quarter of Alpha back. "Ah, permission granted. Docking Station 22 ready for you." Jim flipped his comm. shut before the pilot could say anything more.

Sighing, Jim jogged down the remainder of the hall and hurried through the doorway to the docking stations. He edged carefully past the scanners, disarming them with his access code, and slipped onto a low walkway. At the end of the stretch was a drop-off that led down into the viewing area of Docking Station 10, twelve up from 22. Normally the opening was guarded by even more scanners and some FSOCs to guard those. It had been high priority around the compound to keep foreign objects from slipping in since two years previous, the compound housing Theta Team somehow managed to allow an Orion bacterium aboard and every FSOC on the team got genital warts.

That still caused a good laugh around the command.

"Shuttle 66936602 approaching. Docking Station 22 doors to begin opening in 1.4 minutes. Now locking docking platform entryways. All workers remain twenty feet from docking platform," the robotic voice called again, this time followed by a rattle that caused Jim to brace himself against the viewing room's railing.

The clear sliding doors on either side on the room slowly inched together, connecting with a loud Chu—unk.

"Entryways locked. Shuttle 66936602 approaching. Docking Station 22 doors to begin opening in 17 seconds. 16. 15. 14. 13…"

Leaning away from the railing, Jim listened intently to the countdown, never looking away from the station's doors.

4.

3.

2.

1.

The large metal doors across from Jim let out a shh—shee and began to creak apart. Towering from floor to ceiling, the doors soon spread far enough to create a large opening out into the darkness beyond it. Jim craned his neck forward as the black of space devoured his sight entirely.

Their relationship had always been that way; space, so open and full of the unthinkable, presenting itself to him with no remorse or shame while all Jim could do was stare until his eyes watered.

He blinked as the view of space was blocked out by the bulky shape of a Federation shuttle craft, its rotund body just barley passing through the doors. It moved painstakingly slow, gradually lowering eight sets of thick legs to rest on the floor and prop itself up. There was a hiss and orange clamps rose up from the floor and stapled around the legs on the shuttle, holding it.

"Shuttle secure. Now closing station doors."

Jim felt like pressing his hand up against the glass, as if that would keep the doors from taking off the dark away from him. Instead, he stood back and watched as the black void was slowly shield by two slabs of heavy metal. "Doors now closed. Oxygen levels at 21%...43%...77%...99%. 100%. Entryways to open—"

Jim stepped back slightly as the entryway to the station slid to the side abruptly. Taking a breath, Jim walked forward into the room. It smelled sterile and white and he felt somewhat out of place in his grungy attire. He strolled to the side of the shuttle in a few steps, making sure to stand behind the bright yellow line that was painted across the floor. Barely a second passed by when the side-door of the shuttle jolted and flapped open , its automatic catch stopping it from crashing to the ground completely. A set of stairs unfolded from the metal paneling of the door and gently lowered to the floor.

The sound of seats groaning and feet shuffling and voices talking came from the inside of the shuttle. Jim braced himself for the onslaught.

"Jesus my back hurts!"

"Anybody got food? I'm starving. And not any of those shitty-ass bars. The stuff goes right through me."

"Hey! Where the fuck's my bag!?"

"Brent's got it."

"The shit you doin' with my bag?"

"Oh, this is your bag? I thought it was Angela's."

A string of curse words and laughter hit Jim's ears like a hammer. He watched as the group untangled themselves from different bags and coats. One of them broke away from the group and jogged towards Jim.

"Hello, Lieutenant," Sulu smiled, placing the side on his fingers perfectly along his temple in a salute.

Jim mirrored the salute and both men dropped their arms. "Yeah, hey." Jim nodded over to the others. "What's with the surprise party, eh? I thought ya'll were coming separately."

Sulu scratched at the back of his hand. "We all met up at the same docking station. No one really went far for leave this time."

Jim nodded then sniffed. "Shut them up before I shoot all of you back into space."

Sulu's smiled stretched slightly. He turned his head and barked, "Attention!"

Five head swiveled over to look at the two lieutenants. Almost in unison, the group separated and lined up shoulder to shoulder. The first in the line raised his hand to his head, giving a salute, followed by the others. Jim let his eyes roam across each face in the line.

Pike had pulled back all the hard workers: Finney, Brent, Lemli, Farrell, and the only woman in Alpha, Angela Martine. They were all smartasses, yeah, but they got the job done. Simple as that.

Jim stepped forward slightly, letting his shoulder pass Sulu's. He gave the same salute to the lineup and they all lowered their arms. "Hello, Alpha. How was your leave?" A smile tugged at his mouth when his team let out groans. "Alright, shut up."

Before he could say anything more, a thin faced Farrell stuck up his hand sharply in the air. Jim nodded at him. "Is Captain Pike not meeting us? In the comm. he sent out, he said he'd be meeting us."

Jim wiped at his nose. Farrell had always been one to get to the point — he once told Jim that "small talk" made him nauseous. "Yes, Captain Pike will join us shortly. Any other questions you have," he glanced at Farrell, "will be answered by him, 'kay? Now until then, I want all of you in Station 4."

Without hesitation, the group hiked up their bags and began walking out of the station. Jim watched them then walked over to the shuttle and banged on its side. The pilot looked out of the side window. "How long you stayin'?" Jim yelled up at him.

"Not more than an hour," the pilot yelled back. "Gotta wait while the engines start up."

Jim nodded and pushed away from the shuttle. He began to walk away when the pilot called after him. "Hey."

"Yeah?" Jim stopped and tilted his head to the shuttle.

The pilot fingered his chin. "You George Kirk's kid?"

Jim froze. He felt his nails slowly dig into his palms as his hands clenched at his side. No, he thought. "Yeah," Jim called over his shoulder. I'm not good enough to be his kid— "He was my dad."

The pilot nodded his head gravely. "Met him once. Good guy. I was on the USS Titan when the Kelvin went down. Shitty what happened."

Jim felt his lips twist into a lopsided and very forced smile. What happened… Jim sniffed and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah. It was." He waved back at the pilot and walked quickly out of the station before he could ask any more questions, doors automatically locking tightly behind him.

Walking down to Station 4, Jim allowed himself to lean his back against one of the walls of the corridors. He stared at the floor while waiting for his heart to stop pounding. George Kirk— the name made Jim want to puke.

"You shouldn't be afraid, James."

Jim could hear his father's voice in the back on his mind. The morning it happened Jim had called him. He didn't know why he had (back then and even now) but he had. He'd told his father that he wanted him to come home, that he was scared.

His father had laughed and said he shouldn't be afraid because—

"There's nothing out here but stars."

Taking in a shaky breath, Jim straightened and began walking again. He didn't need to add the shit that happened sixteen years ago to his troubles right then. He let it go, like he always did. Because that's what he would have wanted him to do.

When he reached Station 4, Jim stopped near the doors. He hovered there, craning his neck and looking in. His teammates had taken their seats around the long black table that occupied the middle of the station. Finney had his boots propped up while leaning against Lemli, both examining the fresh tattoo that ran up Finney's forearm. Farrell sat with his arms crossed as Brent tried to talk to him and Sulu and Martine sat together in conversation, Martine glancing down at the locket hanging from her neck from time to time. Jim knew it held the picture of her fiancé, a young Federation worker named Tomlinson.

Jim felt his heart clench for a moment. He didn't want them to know about the mission. He wanted to keep them safe (and in a strange way, innocent, if that made any sense.) Jim shook his head, banishing the thought. They knew from the beginning, he thought. They knew what this job would throw at them.

Jim furrowed his brow and turning on his heels, walked away from the station.

"Access: 51152-45196," a metallic voice greeted Jim as he strode into the transporter room. He stopped in front of the beaming platform with his hands on his hips.

Pike wasn't supposed to beam aboard for another thirty minutes or so, but Jim didn't want to be with his team. Well, he did, but at the same time he couldn't bear to be in the same room as them. He was never good at holding back his "emotions"— or whatever the hell was boiling under his skin—everyone knew that, so he found it safer for him to just stay away till his captain showed.

Jim adjusted his feet and stared into the glass plates that encased the transporting platform. He felt like doing…something. Crying, maybe, but that was never going to happen. He hadn't cried in years and he wasn't going to start any time soon.

Besides, there was nothing to cry about.

0-0-0

When Pike beamed aboard, Jim was still standing were he'd been. Pike stopped mid-step and jerked back as he came face to face with his first. "Christ, Kirk," Pike grumbled, shoving Jim a pace or two back. "A little too close for comfort, eh?"

Jim blinked out of his daze and raised his chin, embarrassment flooding his stomach. "Sorry," he said stepping further away as Pike walked out of the transporter. His captain looked better than when they last talked, like he'd managed to sleep some. Lucky bastard, Jim thought.

"All here?" Pike asked as he walked out into the compound's hallway.

Jim jogged after the captain till they were shoulder to shoulder. "Yeah. They're waiting in Station 4." He refrained from asking why the mission needed seven (including himself and Pike) FSOCs appointed to it as Pike sniffed and pulled out a PADD from his small travel bag.

"Good," he said. He slipped the PADD into Jim's hands. "And what about you? You here?"

Jim blinked at the statement before nodding. "Yes, sir…" He looked down at the PADD in his hands and tapped it. A column of small-text popped up. Jim tried to read the page as he continued to walk down the corridor, mind grappling over words such as "full disclosure" and "restricted placement." At the bottom of the screen there was a blank line and the words SIGNED CONSENT. Jim shook his head as his eyes traveled over the UFP insignia that was printed at the end of the text. "What is this?"

"Federation paperwork," Pike nearly spat. He came to a stop as they reached the main room of the compound. He turned and tapped on the PADD, enlarging the line at the bottom. "Type you recognition number here."

Jim frowned and shook his head. "Wait. What's with this all of a sudden? UFP's never given us shitwork to fill out before."

Pike scratched at an eyebrow, his eyes shutting slightly. "We've never work this close with UFP before either. They love their formalities, I can tell you that. I filled out an entire packet last night that forbids me from putting this mission into FSOC records."

"Wait a second," Jim said again, his eyes roaming over the text again. He felt his stomach clench with anger. "This says we'll be under CODE 3-357! That's un-sponsored missions! So what, is UFP not sponsoring this anymore?!"

"Jim." Pike's voice came out solid and even. He swiped at the PADD again, the end of the page shooting up the screen. "Federation is sponsoring, but in all the documents it will say CODE 3-357."

"So, they're trying to hide this mission? Heh—okay. Are we getting credits?" Jim asked.

Pike hesitated. "No. CODE 3-357s aren't allowed to be connected to deposits."

"But it's not a CODE 3-357," Jim bristled. UFP was screwing them over big time. No credits for a mission that could kill them and no transfer of accomplishment to the records when it was all over. Fuckers, he thought. "So we are sponsored and UFP will just file this mission down under a pile of false information without giving us credits? What the fuck Chris?"

"This is a tricky, tricky stunt we're about pull here, Kirk. Sometimes everything needs to turn to shit before you can do something like this. We're heading into a war zone with limited knowledge and two pickups that I'm not willing to leave behind just because we're not getting credits." Jim felt his shoulders slump as Pike edged close to his face. The older man tapped on the PADD. "Now sign it," he hissed.

Jim blinked a few times, the image of the Ambassador's son flashing in his head. Yeah, credits don't matter, he thought. Spock matters. Saving Spock. Saving Amanda. Getting them home. That matters—

With a nod, Jim typed in his rec. number and pressed enter. The screen flashed: #51152-45196…Kirk, James T. The screen blinked white then the page was gone. Jim looked up at his captain and held the PADD out between them.

Pike took the PADD without missing a beat. "Alright then." He shoved the PADD into the pack and brushed by Jim's arm as he continued to walk.

Jim glared down at the ground for a moment before following with a heavy sigh.

Leading the way, Pike reached Station 4 before Jim could catch up. He marched into the small room without hesitation causing all the members of Alpha to jump in their seats. Jim watched from the doorway as his teammates all leaped from their seats to stand in salute and as Finney actually toppled out of his chair and onto the floor.

Scurrying to his feet, Finney stood at attention. "Captain," he said staunchly. Jim refrained from rolling his eyes.

Pike mirrored the salute. He sat his bag down next to the chair at the front of the table and sat. The others followed in taking their seats leaving Jim the only one standing. He caught the quick glance Pike threw at him and slowly walked into the room. He took up his seat to the right of Pike and across from Sulu who gave him a look.

"Hello Alpha," Pike said, folding his hands together on the tabletop. He looked from each face before starting. "I appreciate you all cutting your leaves short. Now, we need to discuss a new mission that we've been assigned."

Jim felt his body slide lower in his seat. He looked around and watched his teammates nod at Pike's words. He looked forward only to catch Sulu's eyes. The second was looking at him with cautious eyes, almost as if to ask if he was right about their conversation the other day. Jim shook his head at him then turned his attention to his captain.

Pike swiveled in his chair and told the room's lights to fade to 2%. They did and the room was suddenly pitch black. "Projector, pull file 80," Pike commanded the compound. There was a click and then a square beam of light was projected onto the blank wall behind Jim's head. He turned, along with the others, to look.

"First slide," Pike ordered. On the wall, the picture of the map and coordinates Jim saw the previous day in his room popped up. "This is the south side of the city ShiKahr," Pike said, sitting back into his chair and tapping a finger on his armrest. "As most of you know, ShiKahr is the city on Vulcan. It is also one of the first cities affected by Cloud 9. I'm sorry to say, but this is our mission's landing zone."

Jims eyes clamped shut as Pike's words made his stomach clench. At this, the air in the room darkened till it hung heavy and low. Jim risked glancing around. Sulu sat with his jaw set and nodded his head up and down—Itoldyou Itoldyou Itoldyou pouring off of him in waves; Finney sat with his mouth open and his eyes distant; Martine, Brent, and Lamli all mouthed a "What?" while Farrell stayed the same.

Jim pushed down the bile that stuffed up his throat and looked away as Pike kept talking.

"This area of the city has been bombed by Cloud 9, meaning masks will be required during the course of this mission," Pike told the projector to slide and a picture of a gas mask replaced the map. It was a normal UFP issued mask with a long glass cover and straps that clamped around your head. A square pack with black tubes connected to the mask was picture to the side of the image.

Pike moved to the net slide. The map blinked back onto the wall, this time accompanied by a column of numbers and degrees. The picture automatically zoomed in on the map and suddenly little virtual buildings grew from the flat image. The picture zoomed into a rather tall building surrounded by a curved wall. "This is the pick-up area. UFP drones managed to locate and pin our pick-ups at these coordinates." Pike gestured to the numbers by the edge of the picture.

The next slide came up and Amanda Grayson and Spock's faces filled the wall. Jim felt his chest tighten. Pike nodded at the slide, "This is Lady Amanda Grayson and her son, Spock. They are the wife and child of the Vulcan Ambassador, Sarek. These are our pick-ups."

Jim stared forward at the picture of Spock as Pike continued to talk. Those human eyes stared back at him. For some reason, Jim felt slightly calmer seeing the kid's face. He made him determine, because he knew if he wasn't, those eyes might close and never open again and Jim couldn't take that. Suddenly, the picture of the young Vulcan vanished and the room's lights blared on.

Jim blinked and slowly turned back around in his seat. He eyed his captain. The rest of Alpha turned as well. Now with the light, Jim could see just how everyone took the news. Pale faces stared at the tabletop without blinking.

"UFP has arranged for us to beam aboard the USS Ulysses tomorrow at 0500. The ship will take us just outside Vulcan's orbit then we'll ride a rotorcraft in," Pike said standing from his seat. He tapped his fingers on the table. "The pick-up area has been "cleared" by the drones, but that could change without warning."

Pike paused to make sure everyone was paying attention. He pointed a finger at Sulu causing him to flinch. "Sulu, you and Martine will be piloting. I want you to look over the pathways to the area tonight. Memorize them." He turned his stare to Finney, Lamli, Brent, and Farrell. "You four will be on watch. Finney and Lamli'll take the sides, Farrell you'll take the rear. Brent front."

Jim clenched his jaw as Pike turned to him. "Kirk, you and I will drop down. The rotorcraft will not land on Vulcan. We will use extensions and preform lifts," Pike said. "It will just be us on the ground." He looked from Jim to the rest of the room. "I want to be in and out of that God damned place before anyone knows about, alright."

The room stayed silent.

"Alright?" Pike's voice bounced off the walls.

A collective, "Yes, sir!" shot through the air, making Jim cringe. He watched Pike nod and pick his pack off the table. "I sent you all files on the mission. Read them, all," he said. He glanced at Jim briefly before flicking his pointer and middle finger, gesturing for him to follow. "Get to it Alpha."

Pike left and Jim stood up. He looked down at his seated team and swallowed. They all had their heads down and hands folded. Sulu was the only one to look back at him, but even then his look was far off and strange. Jim knew they were scared, but he also knew they would never admit to it—they were stronger than that—and as long as he was brave they would be brave. That was his job as first, to keep his team's heads up.

"It's just another mission," he said before walking out of the station, though they all knew he was lying.

0-0-0

Jim walked into the main hall and stopped. Pike was seated in front of the holoscreen that he had set up that morning with his legs crossed. He barely glanced at Jim as he walked in—he was too busy greeting a very stern looking Vulcan across the screen.

"It's very nice to meet you, Ambassador Sarek," Pike said, sparing a moment to gesture for Jim to sit in the empty chair next to him. "My name is Captain Christopher Pike and this is my first, Lieutenant James Kirk."

The Vulcan on the screen let his dark eyes scan over them both. "Greetings, Captain Pike. Lieutenant Kirk." He nodded at both of them, his dull, lulling voice filling the room and sending a shiver down Jim's spine.

Jim had been right; the Ambassador was an intimidating man. He was broad, with square shoulders and a large chest, yet his ego seemed small and tamed. Black cropped hair sat neatly atop a (what Jim guessed) leveled head, not a single strand out of place. His eyes were like his son's, dark and strict and full of depth, yet they weren't human. Purely Vulcan.

Purely alien.

Pike adjusted his shoulders to rest more comfortably against his seat. "Hopefully UFP has walked you through the plans for tomorrow pertaining the rescue of your wife and son, Ambassador."

Jim's ears pricked as the Ambassador's voice hummed out of the holoscreen's speakers. "They have. I wish to express my thanks to all of your team, Captain, for accepting this mission."

Like we could refuse, Jim thought. "No thanks are necessary. Alpha Team is here to assist where and when needed," Pike said. He turned slightly and pulled out of his pack the PADD from earlier.

Jim watched absently as his captain tapped on it the PADD. He let his eyes cautiously look up to the screen in front of him. The Ambassador stared back at him unblinking. Jim fought the urge to blanch and looked away. "Now, before we move on to the details," Pike continued, "I would like to hear what happened on the last day you saw your family."

The Ambassador looked thoughtful for a moment. "Of course. Approximately eight days ago I was requested to observe a hearing being held in Vulcan Regard. My wife and son remained at our home in ShiKahr, as the hearing was only to last a part of a day. However, the hearing abruptly ended near midafternoon, as I and my fellow members of the council were forced to evacuate from Vulcan."

"You say "midafternoon," can you give me an estimated time?" Pike asked, typing on the PADD.

"I can give you an exact time, Captain," the Ambassador replied. "1429 hours."

"It stated that Romulan forces attack at 1600 hours," Pike said, typing some more. "Am I correct in saying that you, and some others, evacuated Vulcan nearly an hour and a half before the initial attack?"

"You are," the Ambassador nodded.

At this, Jim frowned. Two and a half hours—

"Why did you and your colleagues opt to leave before the attack even began?" Pike asked, not looking away from his PADD.

Jim looked up at the holoscreen when the Ambassador paused. He watched the Vulcan's eyes glance briefly downwards. "Members of the council were informed by an anonymous communication dispatch of the Romulan attack at 1400 hours. At 1429 hours, we evacuated Vulcan, as I have said already."

"An "anonymous communication dispatch?" You're saying someone gave you a heads up?" Pike stopped typing and looked up at the Ambassador, eyebrows raised.

Jim felt his jaw drop slightly as the Vulcan nodded. "Precisely."

He left them…

"Was this dispatch only sent to your location in Vulcan Regard?"

He fucking left them… He left Spock…

"To my knowledge, it was."

"You just left them there?"

The room went silent. Pike wiped his head around to stare at Jim and the Ambassador sat motionless. Jim looked at both of them before settling his glare on the Vulcan. His hands shook as he swallowed. "You left them," he repeated.

The Ambassador merely blinked. "I do not understand you statement, Lieutenant."

The veins in Jim's neck throbbed. "You knew, but you left them." By then, Jim couldn't register what was coming out of his mouth. The picture of Spock and Amanda Grayson burned behind his eyes. His mind was a mess. "You fucking left your wife and kid on that planet and you knew."

"Jim." Pike was staring at him with wide eyes.

"I did. The evacuation was unexpected and I did not possess adequate time to return and prepare my family," the Ambassador said evenly, making the fire in Jim's stomach burn hotter.

"You had two hours! That's not enough time?!" Jim shouted, gripping his chair's armrests.

"Two hours that were needed to board transportation out of Vulcan air space, Lieutenant," the Ambassador replied.

"And you did this without even trying to get to your family?!"

"Kirk," Pike hissed, leaning into Jim's side and baring his teeth. "Leave!"

The Ambassador eyed the two FSOCs, a flash of something darting across his brown irises. "Your emotional outburst is unnecessary, Lieutenant," he directed at Jim. "I am fully aware that my wife and son are still on Vulcan and that the circumstances stated forced me to leave them there. You do not need to inform me on this matter further."

Jim glared up at the screen yet felt his chest deflate.

"You need to leave, Lieutenant," Pike growled, holding up a hand to any of the objections Jim could come up with. "Now."

This time, Jim listened and jerked from his seat. He stood in front of the Ambassador's stonewall gaze with his jaw clenched. He glanced at Pike before nodding and striding out of the room.

Bam—Bam—Bam.

Jim's heartbeat rang in his ears as he sped down the hallway. Fire still licked its way up and down his insides, tearing his stomach apart. He reached his room and jabbed in his code. His door swished open and Jim stomped in.

He fled to his bathroom. "Water on," he instructed his sink hoarsely and watched as a stream of freezing water drained out of the faucet. He dipped his hands under the water then slapped them to his face. Jim let his face hang and the water drip.

"Fuck," he coughed and wiped a shaky hand over his forehead. He'd never lost it like that before. He hadn't felt that emotional since then—

"You shouldn't be afraid, James."

He wasn't afraid. He was angry. Angry that that poor kid was stuck in the middle of some idiotic pissing fight and that he'd lost his cool and that Pike would probably demote him the first chance he got and that his fucking head was on fire.

"You shouldn't be afraid..."

Jim breathed in and out through his nose. He punched his fists into the sides of the sink he leaned over, metal connecting with skin, knuckles bruising. He could see Spock's face every time he blinked, and the pale, shaken faces of his team. They were all depending on him.

"…James…"

Beep.

Jim blinked and looked around before ripping his comm. out of his pocket. He flipped it open and held it timidly up to his ear.

"Pull another hissy fit like that, Kirk, and I'll send you right back into the fishing pool before you can take your head out of your ass," Pike's voice flooded Jim's ear. "You got that, Lieutenant?"

Jim felt his head spin. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

Pike scoffed, "That don't cut, Jim. You get yourself into this or I will drop you."

Jim nodded and closed his eyes. "Yes. I understand."

There was a pause. "Luckily, the Ambassador did as well. He asked me to tell you that he hopes you feel better."

How fuckin' sweet, Jim thought but shook his head. "That won't happen again, Chris, I swear."

Another pause then Pike's voice came out distant, "It better not—"

Jim's comm. beeped again and the call ended. Jim flipped the comm. shut and slid it away across the counter. He instructed the water off and stepped away from the sink. He sat on his the rim around his shower.

He wasn't ready, he could feel it. Tomorrow would take him by storm. He was finally snapping under it all—the years of missions, years of death and sleepless nights wrapped around a beer can.

"You shouldn't…"

Jim let his ass slide off its seat and connect with the tiled floor. He curled up and placed his head in the barriers of his arms. He figure sleeping on the floor would do as much for him as sleeping in his bed.

"…be afraid, James."

Chapter 2! R&R is lovely!