This is a rather short one, sorry for that

Cruise To The Edge

III Walking

Of course I can't stop.

Jim Kirk is like a drug.

Whatever he gives you, suddenly receiving any less is like withdrawal.

I hate it, that he's got me wrapped around his little finger, but I fucking can't stop.

We're actually friends now. On first name basis whenever we're not advisor and advisee. We go for drinks together, we badmouth some of the admirals together, hell, we even tell each other stories about our lives. Like in a frigging movie.

Knowing that I'll never get what I really want hurts, but not enough to keep me from enjoying this wonderful friendship. It's been ages since I've allowed myself to indulge in any emotional dependency, and now that I do it's like rain after years of drought. It's beautiful.

It's also really scary.

I swore myself never to do this again – never to do friendship, and emotional dependency, and love again – and yet I'm enjoying it so incredibly.

So much about self-control.

Still.

It feels good, and I'm not going to give it up.

I know lots of things about Jim Kirk by now. He hasn't told me everything, far from it, but that's okay. I don't probe when he doesn't want me to, and neither does he when I'm unwilling to talk. It works impressively well.

It feels like we're either being two different people with each other. Like we're having different relationships. An official one, and a personal one.

After he actually makes it through the Kobayashi Maru at the third attempt I tell him that he cheated, and that cheating is wrong. That this won't be it, that Spock won't leave it be. Later, when we're both out of our uniforms, wearing comfortable clothing, we both roll our eyes at the tantrum that half-Vulcan is likely to throw.

"I give him till Saturday," I say.

Jim laughs. "The day after tomorrow," he retorts.

I raise an eyebrow. "You're betting on it?"

"How much?"

"Uh…" I do a quick mental calculation. "Fifteen credits?"

He grins. "I'm in."

Of course Jim wins. Spock has organized a hearing within a day, and before lunchtime Jim is standing before the assembly, trying to argue his point. A point I can see, other than Spock. Which is not because I've got the hots for him. It's because I think like him. We talk the same language. Did I mention that he was the one I'd been waiting for my whole life?

Suddenly there's a distress call coming in, and on a moment's notice I'm informed that I have to take the barely finished flagship out. And leave Jim behind.

Let's talk about ironic.

Isn't this exactly what I've been waiting for? A chance to get out, away? Away from Jim? Now that this chance is coming in flashing and shining and goddamn cheerleading I don't want it anymore. Because now I've got a friend. A friend I'm still planning to give my ship to when I retire. A friend who's suspended.

Awesome.

I fly up to the starbase in a shuttle that the other six captains are taking, too. We gripe about having to take mostly cadets with us. And that we'll be late for lunch. And that the latest law the Andorians released is pretty ridiculous. And that it's terribly hard to find proper pilots these days.

When I step out of the shuttle my crew is already being beamed aboard my ship. I get in line, refusing to be interjected, and make for the bridge the second I materialize in the transporter room.

My senior staff is already complete, awaiting any last minute orders.

I sink into my chair, and, damn, this feels good. Everything's just like it should be. Except for Jim's absence, of course, but I'll get used to that. Eventually. I suppose.

Oh I should've stayed abstinent.

We're at warp not much later, my new pilot having had slight initial difficulties (I can't help but think about that conversation in the shuttle) and suddenly Jim is on my bridge, looking likes he's been in a damn bar brawl again. And McCoy and Spock aren't exactly making my attempts to find out what Jim's so wound up about any easier.

But then I get it, and I feel my heart drop.

I think about disaster waiting to happen and bad luck and punishment, and the responsibility, the knowledge that the blood of all these people will be on my hands if I fail, is so terribly heavy again, I can barely bear it.

Then we're amidst chaos and I'm occupied doing the deciding and quick thinking and coming up with ingenious solutions we captains are trained for.

And when we're out of immediate danger – namely crashing into a piece of wreckage – I see it. The ship that brought me my first real disaster. That brought me my dissertation. That brought me my fame.

I hate her.

Although it's not the ship's fault, I suppose.

It's the captain's. The captain who just prompted me to come aboard his own vessel.

Awesome.

Just awesome.

Jim is with me on the way to the shuttle, after he has tried to talk me out of going, and we get to exchange a few last official words on the plan. Also, we exchange a few last unofficial messages. Be careful and Please come back and I need you. We're both thinking the same things, and I give him a last, barely visible smile, before I slide into the cockpit.

Not much later I'm bound to a rack, getting a damn fucking slug jammed into my mouth, thinking about punishment again. Is this what I get for befriending a cadet? For letting my guards down? For falling in love with him?

Oh, I hate fate.

The frigging slug makes short work of my resistance and I'm almost glad that I'm asked about the frequencies, not my personal dark secret.

Because I would spill it now.

And that's something I wouldn't be able to live with.