Last one. Thanks for staying with me.

Cruise To The Edge

VI Falling

I don't make a dinner reservation this time.

When he finally comes to my apartment it's way past midnight, and I've been spending hours pacing. My legs and back hurt like hell, but I'm too wound up to sit down, or even sleep.

I need to talk to him about this.

Immediately.

He realizes that something's wrong the second he sees me. Still he takes the time to put his stuff away and hug me before he asks. (We've decided to spare the no-questions-rule. It doesn't really work in a relationship.)

I look at him, and his simple presence makes me calm down a little.

Then I drop the bombshell.

"They know."

His eyes widen, and obviously he's understood what I'm talking about, despite the fact that he asks: "Who knows what?"

"Komack found out about me… being gay. I'm resigning as soon as you leave again."

He sits down heavily. "But… are you sure?"

"Yes." I nod, everything about me being serious. "I… I really did try to read his message any way differently, but it's just not possible. Also, he won't tell anyone, but he sent a message. Which means that at least Starfleet Intelligence know. And since it's not exactly highly secret information everyone will have heard soon."

"You're just going to give up? Won't there be a hearing?"

"Well, yes, probabl-"

"I'm going to plead for you!" he interrupts me, voice high-pitched. He jumps up again. "I'm not going to leave you alone, not with this, not with anything!"

"Don't," I try to calm him down. "You can't plead for gay rights. That'll cost you your post, too!"

"I don't care," he says heatedly. Convinced. I kinda feel warm and fuzzy that someone's standing up for me like that. Offering to throw everything away just for me.

"Yes," I say for that reason. "Yes. You do care. Imagine giving it all up. The Enterprise, your crew, the stars… you'd be miserable, and I definitely don't want that. I can't be responsible for that."

"I'd be miserable without you, too!" he argues, staring at me with those oh-so-blue eyes of his. I want to drown in them, and never come back up for air. It'd be a nice place, really. Any place with Jim would be a good place.

I take that one step that separates us, letting the cane I still need (and should've used when I was pacing) fall to the floor. Immediately his arms are on my shoulders, trying to support me.

I don't even mind it.

"You won't be without me," I say. "Just because I'm out of Starfleet… doesn't mean I won't be waiting for you somewhere else. Not much will change, really. Except that meeting will be easier, and less dangerous."

He snorts. "Less dangerous! What we were afraid about already happened!"

I try to smile, which probably looks rather pathetic. "No. What I was afraid about happened. They know about me, Jim. Not about you. Not about us. You – you've still got something to lose. And I won't just sacrifice that. I know how much the Enterprise means to you. I'm not going to let you give her up, give everything up because I was busted. You're going to return to your ship, and do what you studied yourself through the Academy for, and I'll be waiting for you."

"Like a damn house wife," he mutters and sits down again, this time pulling me with him so that I end up on his lap.

The next smile is not exactly convincing either. "Yes. Like a damn house wife. But that's okay. I've had my fair share of stars and faraway worlds and glory. It's your turn now. Also, if I resign and avoid the hearing – at least it won't be all over the papers. If Intel keeps quiet maybe only the admiralty will know."

He's silent after that.

We sit in that chair for a long time, both of us dwelling on our own thoughts. Which are probably the same ones anyway.

I can't help but ask myself: Can I really do it? Can I really leave and go to play house wife?

The answer is as simple as it's painful.

Yes, I can.

For Jim.

"Where will you go?" he finally asks.

I sigh. "Mojave, probably. For the time being at least. I'll let you know."

We're quiet again after that.

It's well past sunrise when we make it to bed.

This time Jim's only got six days of shore leave, so I push that matter to the back of my mind and make the best of his stay. I'll have to deal with it anyway the second he's gone.

We enjoy each other's company just like the last time, and having to let him go is worse than ever.

I hand my resignation in within an hour of his departure.

It's hard.

Harder than it sounds.

This is my life I'm just quitting.

Still, I know that I've got no choice.

I decide to finish my sessions before I move, but already begin to look for houses in Mojave, as well as potential buyers for my apartment. It won't be hard to find the latter, this is a good place in a perfect spot. Pretty expensive, too.

I'm almost done planning when my doorbell chimes.

It's 23 hours after Jim has left.

I couldn't have been more surprised than I am when I find Admiral Komack standing in front of me. Fuck.

"Can I come in?" he asks.

I greet him and step to aside. Offer him a seat, ask him what he wants to drink. All the while I'm terribly confused. And nervous. And close to panicking, actually.

His smile is sad when he interrupts my recital of the drinks I can offer. "Chris," he says. "Please sit down. You make me go crazy."

I do as I'm told. Then-

"This – your resignation that is – is not what I wanted when I sent you that message. I just wanted to let you know that I found out, so that you'd be more careful again. I wasn't ever planning on telling anyone. I just wanted to warn you," he offers, wringing his hands.

I'm out of words.

"Can I… make you revoke your… retirement?"

I still don't know what to say.

He's sweating now. "There won't be any hearing or anything, really, I promise. I… I'm not like most people, Chris. I like women, but I also like men," he admits. "It's easy for me to be happy with a wife, and to hide the fact that I'm not averse to same-sex relationships. It's not that easy for you." He closes his eyes for a moment. "So. I told you, and I trust that you won't spread it. A secret for a secret. Now… can we talk?"

"Of-" I clear my throat. "Of course, … James."

And talk we do.

For hours, actually.

When we depart we're both happy with the agreements we've made. He's assured me that Intel won't spill a thing, and that my secrets safe with him, too. I won't return to Starfleet, at least not as an admiral. I kinda hated it. We agreed that, instead, I'd teach more of the Academy classes. That he'll let me know whatever he's told about the Enterprise, and in turn I'll help him with whatever he might need ex-captains-who-aren't-admirals for. Which is a lot of things, really. Starfleet regulations are bitches, but not that hard to elude if you know how.

I almost cry with relief.

Also, my opinion of James has done a U-turn. For the better.

So has my life.

Frankly, not being an admiral is awesome. I've got enough time for my therapy sessions after classes, and I get to knock my not exactly plain vanilla views into lots of students' heads. I love it.

Also, someone else gets to scream at Jim whenever he steps over regulations like over a chewing gum on the sidewalk. Which happens quite often, actually. (Both of it.) I appreciate it, more than I'd ever day say aloud. He's gotten rebuked and reprimanded more than any other captain (he's also saved more lives than any other captain,) the latest time being after the Nibiru incident. That the person chosen to give him a slap on the wrist isn't me is for the better, really. I wouldn't have wanted to argue with him. Not that I'd been able to do it convincingly, I feel with him far too much. As I said, we think alike.

Fortunately I'm no longer the admiral who knows him best, the person who always gets jobs like that.

Instead I get to tattle with him afterwards, and we enjoy being together again.

He's ridiculously relieved that I stayed with Starfleet, and in my apartment. He likes it, he says.

So, we spend most of the evening savouring its perks. I really like it, too. Especially after that evening.

Suddenly, without any warning, he's called in to a meeting, and has to leave me behind. One of the negative sides of giving up the admiral badges is that I'm no longer well informed, but, really, apart from moments like those I don't regret it.

Also, I'm one of the first to get the news.

Fortunately Komack's not among those who don't make it out of the meeting alive, for he's the one who tells me about it. He also tells me that Marcus sent Jim off in order to find Khan. On Q'onoS. And that he's made him leave without giving him the chance to say goodbye to me.

I have to suppress the strong need to strangle Marcus. With my bare hands.

Well. I suppose that I'll see Jim again at Khan's trial. I just hope he makes it out of Klingon territory without too many injuries. Knowing him, he'll bring at least some.

I hate waiting.

It's basically not being in control.

Which I hate even more.

I teach a few classes, write a report, go to therapy, try to occupy myself with reading some of my twenty-first century literature. I go to have a chat with James. I return to my apartment, which is decidedly too empty. Jim should be here. He shouldn't be off on a non-permitted mission. Because that's what it is.

His stuff is still here, too.

I'm lying in my bed, but not exactly asleep, when I receive James' message.

It's the same message he's received the moment the ship had her power back, along with a personal note.

Enterprise: J. T. Kirk, Captain, reported as dead; confirmed by L. McCoy, CMO. Cause of death: radiation.

The official part stops there, and admiral Komack's personal message begins:

Apparently he climbed into the warp core and realigned it. Otherwise they'd never have made it, and would've crushed into SF. He saved hundreds of lives. He got to exchange a few last words with Spock. I'm really sorry, Chris. If you need something, just say so.

Apparently he knows more than he's let on, I think. My brain feels like all my neurons are covered in cotton wool, blocking all those spikes and trans-synaptic signals. I don't really understand what I've read. Well. Jim's dead. I've understood that. However, I don't really get what it means for me. Absentmindedly I think that I should be sad. Why?

I imagine what Spock must've felt like. Losing a person you were close to is never easy. That also counts for captains and their first officers. Getting the chance to exchange some last words… is a blessing and a curse at the same time. Been there, done that.

Tiredly I try to push the memory away.

Then, suddenly, reality comes rushing in, entraining me like a powerful stream.

A river of desperation.

I break down when I finally realize what this means.

Jim's gone.

What am I supposed to do without him?