Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! Glad you liked angry!Kirk of last chapter haha.
Sorry for the long time between updates - stupid homework - but also part of the trouble was that the change from prompt 11 to prompt 12 was too drastic without writing a transition piece to also clear some things up. And so, I present to you the following interlude, if you will, which features a rather vulnerable Kirk demonstrating what he's like when he's too tired and hurt to keep his masks up any longer. Be warned that he will probably seem OOC.
And this chapter has some major Pike/Kirk father/son hints, finally! :)
11.5 - Interlude
Christine Chapel honestly at this point would rather shoot herself than finish the stock requisition forms. They're a pain to begin with, because not only is the handwriting of every single doctor illegible in their reports - a normal problem on a normal starship - but also, the ship wasn't fully-equipped from the start due to the urgent nature of its maiden voyage. So really, all their stock has been out of sorts from the very beginning. Not to mention the fact that what with the being nearly sucked into a black hole, to having to eject the warp drive to avoid spaghettification, to a bunch of additional crazy crap that could only go down with James T. Kirk at the helm-
"Nurse. Status report. How is he?" a terse voice interrupts her train of thought.
She starts, a bit guiltily once she realizes who it is, before turning toward him -
I must have been thinking out loud again, she thinks, horrified, because there's no way otherwise that his expression could be so cold and yet his body appear so tired, fed-up, just done with everything.
After gaping openly at him for several moments, she hurriedly turns back to the set of screens showing Captain Pike's vitals and says quietly, "His nervous system is still giving him grief, understandably so. Sometimes he'll get pins and needles on one entire side of his body; other times, it's in one small concentrated area, like his left foot. Doctor McCoy didn't want to take any chances with his condition, especially because we have no records of the long-term effects of the Centaurian slug, so Captain Pike's still under sedation and being kept in the ICU for now." She frowns thoughtfully. "Though it looks like his medication might be wearing off soon... I'll have to tell Doctor McCoy..."
It's after she finishes her report that she realizes.
All that time when she was just staring - mouth wide open - at him, he didn't crack one joke about the attention he was getting or how his looks turned every female's head eventually.
The corners of his mouth didn't even turn up. Not in the slightest.
"That's a nice, succinct, accurate report, Nurse..." Now he steps closer, uncomfortably so, until she's forced to meet his flinty expression... "besides the fact that it oh so conveniently leaves out the news that he, oh, you know, had a seizure around 0300 today." Her gaze lowers to the floor. She's not surprised he got the information - this is Jim Kirk here, after all - but she is more than a little astonished at the ferocity of his reaction.
She turns to go tell Doctor McCoy in his office about the fact that he'd probably have one grumpy patient coming right up, but suddenly the Acting Captain's right in her face, eyes narrowed as he spits out the words venomously.
"Do not withhold information concerning Captain Pike's status from me ever again, Nurse. And do not circumvent the chain of command any longer or you'll be booted off this ship faster than you can say 'transfer'. He may be your direct supervisor, but last time I checked, I was the Acting Captain, not Doctor McCoy."
Somehow, she forces a "Yes sir" through her trembling lips, though the only coherent thought her mind can process at the moment seems to be He called him 'Doctor McCoy'... not 'Bones'!
He keeps up the emotionless façade until the door to the ICU ward Pike's being kept in is shut behind him. As soon as he's away from prying eyes and ears he almost collapses, sliding down the door into a sitting position, shoulders quivering with the effort not to succumb to either his exhaustion or high-strung emotions, or anything else considered ridiculous for a ship's Captain to do.
With nothing else to demand his attention in the silent room, their words bombard him, and he puts his head in his hands, trying to escape from it all, no, no, nononononono-
"...what you want doesn't matter. You're no one..."
"...would still be nothing... an outcast, a social reject who will never live up to his father's standards..."
"...just a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals..."
"...only got in thanks to his hotshot father... can't imagine what on earth Pike sees in him..."
"...what, in that waste of space? No idea..."
"...you of all people should know, a Captain cannot cheat death..."
"...congratulations, Jim. Now we've got no Captain and no frickin' First Officer to replace... you gotta be kidding me!"
"...gave command to him? Are ye joking? That boy's nae fit to be Captain o' anything! 'Sides mebbe the ol' dinghy I 'ave..."
"...crazy crap that could only go down with James T. Kirk at the helm..."
"...I dare you to do better."
He jerks back to reality, gasping and dangerously close to tears for the first time in years. Pike's words from three years ago...
It figures. Even sedated and in the ICU, the man knows how to get through to him, Jim reflects. In spite of himself, a wry smile twists up the corners of his mouth.
The smile fades as he shakily stands and walks over to Pike's bedside. He gazes sadly at the pale Captain for several moments, making sure of the rise and fall of his mentor's chest before sitting heavily in the chair next to him.
"How do you do it, sir?" Jim swallows and nervously glances around the room, which is kind of ridiculous because it's ICU; there shouldn't be anyone here, especially not someone wanting to eavesdrop on what's going on in Captain Pike's room.
Do what, Jim?
The Acting Captain jumps about a foot into the air, then chuckles nervously. "Um... sir... you're sedated. How can you be responding to my questions?"
The Captain Pike in his mind raises an eyebrow at him sarcastically, as if to say, 'Just go with it, kid.'
Jim throws his hands up in the air. "Fine, imaginary Captain Pike in my head! I have no clue how you manage it!" He leaps out of the chair and begins pacing back and forth, muttering as he does so, "Keeping up with the paperwork... checking in with the Admiralty seemingly every five seconds... sending out the condolence letters for people- no, friends you've known for years... making sure the ship's not going to fall apart after a battle that leaves an entire deck decimated and more than half the decks damaged in some way, shape, or form... comforting the crew and passengers without once hinting at your own grief, because after all, 'a Captain never lets his crew see him bleed'... giving orders to people who have no respect for you or even the chain of command whatsoever..."
On that last one, his voice catches, and he collapses back into the chair, shoulders slumped. "I can't even count on Bones anymore, sir. I mean, I totally get why he'd have qualms about me taking command of the ship. Everyone does. Heck, I still don't think I should be the one sitting in the Chair, even if you were the one who gave me that chance by making me First Officer under Spock!" He pauses to scratch his head. "To be honest, sir, I still don't know why you did that." Then he heaves a sigh and, if possible, shrinks farther into himself. An uneasy silence settles on the room like a suffocating blanket for a long time.
When he speaks again, his voice is smaller than anyone on the "senior" Bridge crew has heard (and hopefully will ever hear) it.
"But... friends aren't supposed to just say things like that in front of everybody else... right, sir?" Jim swallows as he remembers the deep hurt in the wake of his friend's outright dismissal of him in front of everyone currently holding a senior position on this ship:
"Pike made him First Officer." Jim feels like giving Sulu a medal at that point, because he's so sick and tired of it, all the skeptical, outright disbelief and unspoken but still apparent attitudes of "wait, he can actually think beyond the level of a twelve-year-old?" from everyone except for the Asian helmsman and Bo-
"You've gotta be kidding me!"
Jim's mouth turns sour, his entire body goes numb as his brain tries to comprehend the reasoning behind the words Bones - his best friend - frickin' Bones - just shouted out for the whole Bridge to hear.
"Thanks for the support."
He forces the words past his uncooperative lips, bland and lifeless instead of what he'd rather them be, angry and vindictive. Or accusatory. Or even disappointed. Anything's better than having to belittle the race whose planet just got wiped out with his failed attempts at remaining emotionless...
"And then he apparently told everyone under him - nurses, aides, the other doctors, didn't matter who, as long as they worked in Sickbay - not to tell me about... about..." Pull it together! "...about how we nearly lost you again, earlier today. Dang it, I know it could emotionally compromise me, but when I as Acting Captain specifically ordered updates on your condition as soon as they were available-!"
He draws in a deep, shuddering breath before plowing onward. "I... if all this - this crap is going to continue the entire rest of the way back to Earth..." a light exhale this time, rather than a sigh. "I know I can't let it continue any longer, sir, believe me! I know!" There's a slight pause, before Jim huffs and looks away. "Easy for you to say. You've been a Captain for... how long now, sir? Ten years? Fifteen? I don't know. Just... way longer than I have." He snorts. "Yeah, I know. I haven't even officially made Lieutenant rank yet."
After the next pause, confusion is apparent on the twenty-five-year-old's face. "See, that's the thing, sir. I have no idea. They claim they hate this immature, arrogant act I put on (not that they know it's an act, but I think you're one of the less than five people who even suspect that it's an act)... and I really don't blame them; that's why I use it, after all... but... heh, I mean, they don't think that I have the mental capacity to even..." He scoffs and shakes his head to dispel the bitter taste of some of the parting sallies his crew has left him with after Alpha shift the past few weeks. "...and that's after the fire we went through together. After Nero. Vulcan becoming a black hole. Earth nearly doing the same. After all that happened, all of us working together to solve the problem because we had to, they still..."
Glancing down to blink away the dust that suddenly seems to be in his eye, he realizes his fists are clenched so hard his nails are digging into the soft flesh of his palms. Quickly, as if he's been whipped, he releases them and bites his lip at the impressions left behind.
"Well, they're all saying that what they want is someone mature, responsible, experienced, fit for the job - so basically, a synonym for not Jim Kirk." He laughs self-deprecatingly. "Hey, that's fine. They have the right to their own opinion of what their ideal commander should be like." Abruptly, he sobers and cocks his head to one side. "Huh. Never thought about it that way."
There's silence as he ponders something, then brightens and leaps out of the chair again, but this time it's to stand at attention. "Thank you for the advice, sir. I like it - give them what they want, then they have no right to complain!" He grins the first thousand-watt smile he's given in days."Thank you, sir. For everything."
For the barest moment, he hesitates, then continues much more quietly, "Right now, you're the only one on my side. I... I don't think I could handle it if you joined their side - but actually, you probably will once you wake up, I mean, I practically trashed the ship when you told us to be careful with her, plus there's all the crap I pulled to get command so that we could actually go back for you, but I still couldn't stop that frickin' bastard from imploding Vulcan anyway, then there's the -" he stops and grins ruefully - "Sorry sir, babbling again. I know, sir."
Jim finally relaxes his posture, though a troubled look darkens his face.
"What is it, son?" The concern in Captain Pike's expression is evident for a moment before it wavers in front of him, as if it's a reflection in a pond someone just threw a pebble into.
Son.
The word reverberates in his head the way his imaginary Christopher Pike said it, the exact same way he's heard the real Christopher Pike say it before - warm, with a dash of worry, a pinch of uncertainty, and the barest hint of- of- dare he think it?- pride-
The Acting Captain turns his head away from the stagnant occupant in the bed, furiously blinking away tears and struggling to speak through a suddenly thick throat. "Sir, I... god... just... please, get better soon. I need-" he inhales sharply. "The crew need you. The survivors need you. We all need you, your expertise, your understanding. And... I don't know that any of us will be able to take it if you don't recover."
His voice is the merest whisper on the last phrase: "Rest well, sir."
He then snaps off a salute even Admiral Barnett wouldn't be able to find fault with before turning smartly and exiting the room, posture exuding the aura of a once-again confident James Tiberius Kirk.
Five minutes later, Pike wakes up in a rush, drenched in sweat with the tears - tears? - still dripping slowly down his cheeks. Bewildered at the protective anger burning in and pained sorrow tugging at his chest, he succumbs again to Morpheus's influence (helped along by Doctor McCoy) while still trying to make sense of the jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions and words not his own threatening to overflow in his mind and heart.
When next he wakes, he remembers none of it.
And there we have it!
As for Jim's OOCness...the way I see it, Jim's running on fumes. He hasn't been getting enough sleep, he's extremely stressed, he's hurt that everyone's hung him out to dry (except Pike, but he's under sedation so he doesn't exactly count), and he's trying to deal with his own grief and anger over what Nero did. So yeah, even he'd be hard pressed to keep up the mask of arrogant frat boy-like chauvinist.
Anyway. Liked it, loved it, hated it? Let me know! (And there'll be a much quicker update than before... most of the next chapter is planned out now...) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed!