Author's Note: Sorry for the longer wait! I haven't been sitting on my hands - this chapter ended up being a bear at 23K and life's been busy! I wanted this update to get you from point A to point B, but it only gets you to the half-way point. ;) I decided to split the chapter up for your reading ease, and I will post the rest soon since I originally planned for this to be one chapter. This way, though, you'll get to chew things over a bit because there is a lot of content.
After months and months of working on this story, and the sweat and tears I've poured into it, we are so close to the conclusion! And seeing things come full circle! Here's a hint in regards to Winona: I've used a canonical idea, tweaking TOS a little to connect it with Jim's past and also the incident on Re'an ...and if you are up on ST canon, you may be able to figure a few things out by the little clues I've left, especially in Winona's inner dialogue. ;)
Thanks so much for reading and reviewing - I really appreciate your encouraging comments, especially as we are nearing the end. Keep in mind, I'm planning a sequel. Also, I don't know what I'd do without Rubyhair, my beta! She's been incredibly helpful and supportive. I can't thank her enough!
Well, we're picking up right where we left off last time. I hope you enjoy the read!
Jim curled his hands into fists, the truth of what he'd just done hitting him like a powerful, unavoidable blow sinking deep into his gut and taking his breath away. It hardly seemed real that his first act as captain had been ordering his own mother off of the Enterprise. The last look she'd given him would have seared him had he not been capable of utilizing the bond he had with Spock, ultimately transforming his hurt into rage to protect himself. Now that Winona had been forced to turn away, he dug his nails into his skin as if the physical pain alone could ground him and level his thoughts. His rage had served a purpose but he couldn't allow it to cloud his thinking. He'd find a more permanent way to remind himself what she had done, something other than memory, because look what that had gotten him. A broken heart and, quite possibly, danger headed straight for his crew.
Now that his sight had returned, he had a ship to run and, with it, decisions to make that he'd never thought he'd ever have to face. He'd been stupid and foolish to allow his mother to come back into this life like he had, and he refused to use what the Re'an had done to him as an excuse for his mistakes. He was still Jim Kirk, wasn't he? Jim Kirk, who inherently had known better but, ironically, had turned a blind eye.
Jim's thoughts suddenly tumbled when Spock barred his view of his mother, the petite blond woman he wanted to see yet didn't want to see. Almost helpless to the urge, his eyes searched beyond the Vulcan's shoulder. It was a futile effort. Spock led his mother, whom he still loved in spite of his own good sense, out the doors of the lounge. She'd pleaded, behaving more like a mother than a spy. He'd stood firm, reacting more like a captain than a son. He refused to listen to her excuses because the more he thought about it, the more conflicted he became and the guiltier he felt. By ordering her off of the Enterprise, had he thrown the good that she'd done protecting him, including saving his life on that ship when he was a teen, right back in her face?
Spock? Had he?
No.
But...
No. You cannot equate the one incident with the other. Do not think of that again, Captain.
After Spock's adamant reply, the Vulcan replayed Winona's betrayal, the reminder echoing and crushing those feelings of guilt and doubt once more. So Jim stood like the captain he was, thanks to his CMO's signature and approval, with his feet permanently fixed to the floor and eyes opened wider than he really wanted them to be. This was big. This may be bigger than he could handle alone but he could handle his mother and his own ship, and that was where he was going to begin. He'd give her some time before heading out of the lounge himself. She'd first collect her things and then leave the Enterprise in an unhurried manner. He'd give her time in order to retain a sense normalcy on his ship when things were far, far from being normal at all.
Spock, she'll try to convince you that she needs to talk with me one last time. Jim paused. I won't. Not today.
Tomorrow was a different story. If things went as planned, he'd discover just where Winona Kirk drew the line. And if Jim's suspicions were correct, Commander Kirk was headed back into the belly of the very ship which held more of her secrets.
I will respond accordingly on your behalf, Captain.
The door to the lounge closed with finality but it was far from over. This was only the beginning, and they had to be ready. Eyes bored into him, but Jim stood for another wordless moment to collect both his thoughts and his wits. He expected Bones to begin his query at any minute but, frankly, Jim didn't have the time to spare to share his feelings about his mother. Another shitstorm had hit him right as he'd barely recovered from the first disaster. It was that which demanded his attention but he was driven more than he'd ever remembered himself being. He'd have no problem devoting himself to the task at hand for his nerves were on end and his instincts primed, perhaps even heightened as they pulsed at a rate he couldn't ignore.
The confrontation had simply pushed him over an edge. It was a cliff that Jim had seen from a distance, a dangerous, sharp drop off that had been calling to him for some time. He didn't have an explanation for it but he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that his passiveness was a thing of the past. There was no going back. Although he remained Re'an and still held onto an almost minuscule part of that peaceful, idyllic life, that idea been reduced to a distant dream. The burn Jim had for protecting his friends and crew kicked the passivity to the ground, and throwing his mother off of his ship had been the first step. Now realizing the full potential of his confidence and abilities, Jim's thinking changed. He could handle this, especially with the best damn crew by his side.
"How did you know that Captain Roark had already been his way, Jim?" McCoy asked, brushing his shoulders as he came beside him.
Jim stared straight ahead as he had for the past two minutes. Trying to ignore the sound of a tricorder checking his vitals, he said in a dead tone, "I didn't, it was a bluff."
His mother's subdued reaction had confirmed it, and Jim assumed that other crewmembers of the Isis weren't innocent in all of this, either.
"Let's hope they don't call you on it," McCoy muttered. "Or your other bluff, the one about Archer."
"They won't," Jim said with complete confidence. "Because at least one of them will know that it wasn't a bluff."
The one probably being his mother.
"You're really going to talk to Archer about your mom? This spy ring?"
Jim glanced sideways at Bones. "There are a few ways this could go if I tell Archer."
"And those are?"
"More than likely, Archer will do what I want to do and let this simmer awhile, making them uneasy as I go about this my way," Jim said. McCoy arched a questioning brow at 'my way.' Jim shrugged. He hadn't meant for it to seem as egotistical as it sounded. Far from it, actually, since he was going to call a meeting for his senior command crew. But, he believed that his way was the best way and he wanted to remain in control to make sure that nothing else was screwed up. "Or, he will inform a few trusted Admiral buddies and find that maybe they weren't so trusted after all."
"Shit," Bones said under his breath.
"Though unlikely, he could also choose to respond aggressively and gather us all for a..." Jim trailed off, feeling like he was creeping out of his own skin and looking back on Daystrom, Pike, and the warp core, and all the devastation that followed. Stomach nearly rolling, he forced himself to glance at Bones, and by the look on the doctor's face, it was a good thing that Jim had stopped talking when he did.
They were venturing into a place that was too damn familiar for the both of them, and there was no way in hell Jim would allow that to happen for a second time. He wouldn't take that kind of chance, all in the name of trying to find out if his mother was a terrorist or if she wasn't, any enemy within Starfleet that may find the time opportune to attack. At the very least, it would set Starfleet up for another fall, calling attention to these darker sides of the Federation that Jim, in his naivety, assumed had been decimated after and along with Marcus.
Jim headed for the exit. "Archer won't tell anyone else. At least, not right away," he tossed back to the doctor. "It's too precarious, Bones. This requires deliberation."
"So that's it, then," Bones said, following him. "You're going to assume that he's going to proceed with extreme caution after you tell him about your mother."
"No, that's not what I'm going to do. We're going to continue being explorers. That's what my crew signed up to do - it's why we are all here - and this isn't going to change things."
Bones was quiet for a moment, then said, "You're confusing me, kid."
"Bones, I'm not going to tell Archer."
"Why the hell not? I think we need a friend in a high place right now, someone that knows what happened here, and Archer is a friend, Jim," the doctor said, a voice of reason Jim always appreciated but this was his territory. Jim wasn't sure how to explain it, but he felt it in his bones, that finally something in him had congealed into something that was altered from the sum of the parts that had gone in; a calmer, more confident person than he had ever been prior to the Re'an. He saw a new maturity in himself and felt more than ready to be the best Captain he could be.
The door of the lounge opened and, with it, the opportunity to deflect an answer to the question that Jim had no intention of answering at the present time. He strode down the corridor, the doctor on his tail as headed for the one place where he could think. "I'll be on the bridge, Bones. Expect a meeting for command staff as soon as I check on a few things."
Like what the hell the Isis has been doing the past two decades. His mother had spent a total of ten years under Roark's direct command as his first officer, and a few months ago she'd been transferred. Jim suspected that she may have come aboard the Isis unofficially for more than that ten years. And he wanted to know. All of it.
Gathering and reading that information would require more time than he could spare before the meeting, but it would be a start, and he would designate the rest of the work. He needed the names of the crew and the patterns of their missions. He wanted to know exactly who they were dealing with. He didn't believe all of them were in on it, but he could not ignore his gut feeling that the ship was being used as a tool. He only hoped the ship wasn't a weapon.
Jim picked up his pace.
"Jim, we need to talk about what just happened in the lounge with your mother," McCoy said, frustration evident in his voice.
"Bones, we can talk more later, but it's imperative that I speak with everyone before Captain Roark contacts us," Jim said quickly, knowing damn well the captain would comm him after Winona returned to the Isis. If not this very hour, then first thing tomorrow. "And the only way I can do that is to keep moving."
Planting numerous individuals of spy ring onto one single ship to run was bold, but Jim wouldn't put it past whoever had begun this thing to have done just that, because they were clever. They also weren't afraid to use Jim's emotions or that of one of their own. They were clever and wanting something from Jim, maybe even something beyond this knowledge about the Re'an's dilithium reserves.
Pitting his mother against him was a sure sign of it. Now on the other side of the confrontation, he began to think that their interaction had not been a coincidence or based solely on the mother and son dynamic. With that in mind, Jim didn't want to talk to Roark unless he had something else to use to bluff his way through the conversation.
A hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. "Jim," Bones said in a low voice. "Look at me."
Jim closed his eyes and suppressed a frustrated sigh. Bones was only trying to do his job, and Jim was making it harder for him to do so - but every second mattered. "Bones, I'm fine. I know you're worried, but I'm fine...and... " Jim hesitated. Why wouldn't he be? Just because his mother had used his love and forgiveness in her attempt to gain intel didn't mean that he wasn't fine.
It meant that he was irrevocably wrecked.
Something closer to hysteria threatened as he realized that Spock had pulled away even more from him, Jim assumed that Spock was initiating his shields while dealing with Winona, but need for the bond between them jolted through his mind. Jim rebelled against the emotional reaction. He was stronger than he had been even one day ago. He was resilient despite the Re'an. He could do this because he was captain of the Enterprise. If Spock needed to shield himself, then Jim wasn't going to whine about it. He curbed his emotions once more and clamped his own mouth shut.
"Look at me, Jim." Bones' hand rested on his shoulder, fixing him in place.
Jim glanced down the corridor Spock would have taken with his mother, tension filling his shoulders as he envisioned the blonde woman holding herself together with her own inner strength. Jim wanted to believe that his mother's turmoil was all an act, but Elise had confirmed that it wasn't. It left Jim even more enraged that his mother could both love and use him at the same time. It would've been far better - easier - had this been a ruse altogether. "I really can't stop right now, Bones."
"Yes, you can."
"Bones, I have to go."
Familiar hands halted his reply and guided him closer to the doctor, the pads of the other man's fingers pulling his chin up. "Jim, if you don't look at me, you will leave me no choice but to declare you unfit for command again. And, truth be told, I don't really want to do that. This is you, kid. This is who you're meant to be and after everything you've gone through, you're more than capable of handling this. We need you to be at your best and I need to see that you can manage with my own eyes. Look at me, Jim."
If it had been anything other than the plea of a Southern doctor, Jim told himself he wouldn't have listened. The soft drawl beckoned, and he lifted his eyes to find his best friend peering right at him - and straight at the hurt.
Bones' hazel eyes warmed. "There you are, captain. Fortunately, for you and everyone else on this ship, I am the only one who can determine if the captain of the Enterprise is actually as fine as he says or not."
"I know you don't believe me but I'm fine, Bones," Jim explained, hoping the doctor wouldn't hold him hostage until he talked about Winona's betrayal. He couldn't waste a single minute, especially one on himself. "You know this is big, and I don't have the luxury to put my personal issues first."
"I know your head is in the game but I also know that you're hurtin'. Your eyes are a window to your soul these days, pal."
His eyes. Jim winced. "I know," he said, when, of course, he really didn't know. He'd have to look into his own eyes and face to see what Bones saw.
That was something Jim had no intention of doing. Maybe not for a very long, long time.
Bones' expression softened, and it was just like his best friend when he continued as if Jim had said all of that aloud. "Just as long as you can admit that without trying to sweep it under the rug, Jim. You just let me know when you've decided to return to your quarters after the debriefing. I'll be right behind ya."
The unspoken crossed between them. Jim nodded and unconsciously lifted a hand to one of his eyes, his index finger rubbing along the ridged, pinked skin that the doctor wanted to heal.
Captain Roark was in the transporter room as she expected. Winona didn't say a word as she stepped off the platform and onto the Isis. Her heart had cracked. She didn't want to admit to its breaking, yet she followed the captain quietly to the ready room as if her time on the Enterprise had been a regular mission. He waited until the door closed behind them before turning slowly and sinking into the chair at the desk with ease. He indicated with his head towards the other chair in the room and Winona was more than happy to oblige. The confrontation with Jim had left her unsteady and it had taken all her control to leave with her head on straight.
"Captain Roark, I assume you heard from him," Winona asked, the knot in the pit of her stomach certainly not anxiety.
"Red Tail is not altogether too pleased with you. This small assignment almost ended in disaster."
Winona suppressed her anger although she had every right not to. In her opinion, it had ended in disaster. She regretted the broken connection she'd had with Jim and she wondered if she'd ever be able to try to rebuild that bridge between them. "He sent me to my son, Roark. My blind son, who obviously remembers nothing. You had to know it wouldn't end well."
"As I recall, your son is no longer blind, and you should have been more careful."
"I used all of my control but his healer is a Betazoid. It was impossible to suppress my thoughts entirely. Red Tail should have known this." She inhaled a sharp breath. Shooting him a dark look, her heart clenched so tightly she couldn't breathe. "He knew this would happen. He wanted Jim to know what I am ..." Her voice broke off as she found herself completely baffled that Red Tail had done this to her. To Jim. "Why?"
"You know I can't say. Red Tail prefers secrecy in this."
"Or, you yourself may not know," she gritted. "What do we do from here? Jim is not going to speak with me again. He washed his hands of me for now and because he doesn't know the truth about us, about Project Raptor, he's going to tell someone about this, more than likely Archer. We're in trouble."
"He's bluffing," Roark tapped his fingers in staccato along the desk. "He won't tell your dear good friend Admiral Archer because he doesn't want to chance this thing getting as big as the fiasco with Marcus and see his mother going down with it."
"No, he's not bluffing," Winona shook her head adamantly. "He will contact Archer because the Jim Kirk who we used to know is gone. His moral compass has changed, even more than it did after Pike died."
And after Jim had died. Winona's heartache knew no limits and had she not wanted to know what Red Tail was up to, she would have yelled in Roark's face to leave her alone and then headed for her quarters to piteously dwell on her life, instead. Only she couldn't because Red Tail only spoke to two members of Project Raptor, their organization headed by Red Tail, himself. She wasn't one of them, but Roark was. As ridiculous as it sounded, she didn't even know Red Tail's true identity, yet she had trusted him until this very moment. He'd proved his trustworthiness to her a long time ago. But now? Could she still give her life for this? It was for Jim's sake, but it had hurt him just the same. But, how could she not continue?
Roark peered at her, his fingers forming a triangle as he leaned his elbows on the desk. "You said he's changed otherwise."
Winona tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled out her PADD, quickly finding the image she wanted. She pushed the device towards Roark hoping it would suffice and squelch the captain's curiosity.
Roark's right eye twitched as he stared at the screen and the holo of her son, a dark-haired, slightly thinner, scarred Captain Kirk that she'd taken when Jim had been unaware. "Fascinating. He's no longer the golden, poster boy of Starfleet." His words were flippant but nothing about the way his eyes perused her was casual. She realized he'd caught the pain she felt hearing that about her son. "He has been through a great deal of trauma. He is a different man beyond this altered moral compass, isn't he? Jaded, perhaps? Especially after his mother betrayed him?"
Her anger surged. She shot to her feet, grinding her teeth in her refusal to answer the loaded question. She was glad she'd been transferred from this ship. This little visit had shown her to count her blessings, and this was one of them. Being out from under Captain Roark's wing on the Isis for the past six months. She'd kiss Archer's feet the next time she saw him. She was that damn pleased that she would get to leave Roark behind. Roark, a man four years her junior who managed to somehow ignite a more youthful fire in her, was easy on the eyes but that wasn't what struck her nor what irritated her. It was his intelligence and charisma. His ability to blend in while doing exactly what Red Tail told him to do and with a cold, detached heart when needed. He also was very kind when he wanted to be kind, but when he wanted to be an ass, he was a complete son of a bitch. His temperament infuriated her at times. It was like ice and fire. It was why she never called attention to this ship while staying on the Enterprise, never mentioning it nor its captain. She'd wanted to distance herself from her reality as much as possible, which wasn't nearly enough distance at all in her opinion, and focus on the limited time she'd had with her son.
"At ease, Commander. This has affected you more than I expected," Roark frowned at her. "Be careful that the love you hold for your son does not cloud your judgement here."
"He won't want to see me." She opted to ignore Roark's timely admonishment.
"I'll give him time to cool off, because I imagine if he's anything like you, he will hold on to that affection even if it hurts him."
"What does Red Tail want from me?" She whispered. He'd promised her that he wouldn't drag Jim into Project Raptor. He'd kept to his promise so far. But, that was then, years before so many, many things had happened to Jim.
"Red Tail wants to know what happened. All of it," Roark stretched his legs out as he leaned back in his chair, putting more distance between them, she mused. It helped calm her and she returned to her own chair. "And in particular, James T. Kirk's transformation into this darker version of himself."
"He isn't who he once was." Winona swallowed, taking the device back in her hands. Her fingers traced her son's face. "He's beyond that. He's...he is more, Roark. He's more assured, more..." A fine young man who would have made his father proud. Soft-hearted because of the Re'an but somehow fiercer. Happy yet also sad. Determined and loyal but oblivious to many things about himself. "He's just more. I suppose you would say he's aged twenty years, if just to say that he gained the experience. He will stop at nothing to protect his crew as before. That much I do know."
He leaned forward. "And?"
Winona sighed and finally said the words he'd been waiting to hear. "Yes," she admitted. "Underneath the peaceful Re'an part of him is a will of steel and a level of passion that wasn't there before. He is darker."
"He did just throw you off his ship." Roark grinned, looking pleased with himself. "This news may satisfy Red Tail after all."
Her heart dropped as she caught the implication. "You're going to contact the Enterprise, aren't you?" She asked.
"Red Tail informed me that we must reveal the bare bones of Project Raptor to Kirk to stop him from telling anyone other than his senior command staff, and we shall be more forthright as he requested." Roark paused. "You'll come with me, of course. I'll request to be briefed on the current, shared mission within the Thriuna star system."
"The cover you chose works well," Winona said absently. "It's almost too perfect to be merely a coincidence."
"It does seem a little odd that Archer has given us a mission that the Enterprise is clearly capable of completing. I suppose the old man wanted to make sure no one would question his decision to allow you to see your son or begin to wonder about the other favors he's supplied for you over the years." Roark grinned again at her. "Perhaps he'll grant you your deepest desire and allow you to return to me. To the Isis where you belong."
"I wouldn't know," Winona clipped and checked the chronometer. It had been a long day, especially with that statement now ringing in her ears, and it wasn't even halfway over. "If that is all, sir, I will head for my quarters."
"Yes, that is all for now, Commander," Roark said in a cheerful tone. "Until I talk to Kirk."
"Very well, Captain Roark," Winona said. She turned to leave.
"Wait," Roark commanded. She hesitated with her back turned to him, her bottom lip wedged between her teeth, anxious to be alone in her quarters where she could lick her wounds. "Will you be following through as planned?"
Winona breathed a sigh of relief that this was all he wanted. Plotting revenge, she could handle. Discussing Jim's changes from the son she'd known to this new one was a different story. "If I can get word to him somehow, yes."
"Wait until after our little visit on the Enterprise," he said. She could just imagine his Cheshire-like grin. "I'm sure we can manage even better with the two of us."
"Yes, sir."
"Win, is your son's pet as magnificent as you really say it is?" Roark asked casually.
"It is," she said tightly.
"It better be," he murmured.
"Yes, sir," Winona said and strode from the room. She didn't look back.
Except for when she stepped into her quarters and leaned her back against the door behind her, wishing she had told Jim the entire truth, Red Tail be damned.
"If this gets any bigger," Jim said, looking at his senior command staff, one by one, "I will reconsider keeping the rest of the crew in the dark, especially if their safety is at risk. I will not keep that information to myself. I trust my crew completely, and if I didn't, I shouldn't be sitting in this chair. I also understand that I may need to regain their trust now...now that I'm different," Jim finished, almost in a murmur. His eyes flickered down to his hands, mulling over everything he said to them the past twenty minutes and the questions he'd answered for them. They'd been solemn as he'd expected but quiet as he designated various reports that required meticulous study before Roark contacted the Enterprise. Almost too quiet. "I believe this may be the best way to regain that trust."
"Your alteration does not give them any reason to distrust you, Captain," Spock said.
"I appreciate that, Mr. Spock, but if the changes I've undergone have bothered even my closest of friends," Jim explained, sparing a glance at Bones, "then I must expect a similar reaction from those who are under my command. I am not the same man that I was before Re'an V."
Not the same man...and it wasn't that just his personality that was different, as he would soon understand for himself. Jim fought a sigh. Other than for seeing Sam, he had no other reason to look forward to returning to his quarters. He also didn't know if he really wanted Bones to be there when he looked at himself for the first time since Re'an V. Even the thought of using the mirror felt self-serving and adding to his distress was the fact that this was an issue for him at all. Who gave a shit about his appearance when there was so much at stake. He glanced up when silence of the room finally hit him and saw all eyes locked on him. Jim cleared his throat.
"To be completely honest with you, I'm still figuring out who exactly that other captain was. But in order to move on, I can't dwell on him, especially with this situation at hand and your lives possibly at risk." Jim stopped when Sulu frowned. "Mr. Sulu? Is there something you wish to say?"
"Sir, if I may speak freely?" Sulu asked.
It was the first time that Sulu had spoken since stepping foot in the conference room, and knowing that, Jim was more than willing to hear what he had to say. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."
"With all due respect, sir, you are right. You are not the same man. You are not the captain we signed up to follow for the next five years," Sulu said. "But you've given us an opportunity to speak with you and to observe you, and it has been enough. Your CMO has approved you for duty and Mr. Spock has returned to his position as your first, and it is enough. You may not be the same man, but you never lost the qualities that made you captain. In fact, if I may be blunt, sir, I don't believe that I have ever witnessed this level of confidence in you before or the ease and control you have now in handling a complicated and precarious situation that would have otherwise overwhelmed anyone else in your shoes. For these reasons, captain, there is nothing else to prove. We trust you, and if you decide that it is best to keep us in the dark, we'll trust you then, too."
Sulu paused when Chekov grew a brilliant smile. "Mr. Sulu speaks for us all, keptin. Ve'll do vat you ask of us, no questions asked."
Jim sank back into his chair, almost dazed by Sulu's short but extremely significant speech and Chekov's eagerness. "I hardly know what to say."
"Ye dinnae have to say anything, sir," Scotty said. "And ye dinnae have any cause to worry, not even a wee bit about your place as cap'n."
Scotty's second and insightful comment caught Jim completely off guard. "I...Scotty..."
"Aye, cap'n," Scotty said. "I ken the wheels that are turnin' in your head. Ye think that if we doubt that ye can run your own ship as this new man you've become that ye will lose your sense of command. An' ye think that if that happens and ye cannae command her like ye used to, then ye may have to give up your Lady to someone else. Captain, I dinnae want to say it to ye, but I will. Ye cannae think that way, sir."
Uhura inhaled sharply. All eyes turned to her. "If I may also have a word, sir," she asked.
"Of course, lieutenant." Jim nodded.
"Mr. Scott's right, captain. You don't need to worry. We do understand," Uhura continued. "There's no question that you are capable of running this ship as before; you don't need to worry that we will become lax in our duties or have difficulty serving under you. We trust you, sir, and in turn, you can continue to have faith in us."
Jim narrowed his eyes. "You trust me...still?"
"Yes, sir," Uhura said. "There is no question."
Jim leaned forward as the worst possible scenario came to his mind, one where he was forced to make a single, harrowing choice on his own. A choice that would pull his crew into the mess Winona described as being a balance of powers. His gaze pierced them each to their seats but his eyes first rested on Spock. "Knowing all of that, it helps me come to a conclusion of my own. A question, actually, and one of extreme importance. If it comes to the point that I must tell you absolutely nothing of what I may learn about this spy ring, will you trust me?"
"Yes, captain," Spock nodded.
"Bones?" Jim asked. "You'll do what I ask?"
"You won't have to ask twice."
They all chimed in but when silence fell, an anxious energy coursed through Jim. He stood to his feet. "Then, let's get to work."
Sometime around the fourth hour, a cup of coffee miraculously appeared on the table beside his stack of PADDS. Jim stared at it dumbly, seeing an odd mixture of dates and places instead and hearing the words of his mother as she'd defended herself. Chekov sat beside him, helping him chart the patterns of those details, and Spock and Dr. Marcus shared a similar task at the opposite end of the table.
A rich aroma wafted right under his nose.
"Coffee?" Jim asked, voice rough from disuse. It smelled heavenly and pushed away everything else like a hand parting a heavy curtain. Jim blinked his eyes, then squinted as the lights above the doctor's head hit him at an odd angle. He lifted his hand and almost groaned when the beginnings of a headache pulsed right behind his eyes.
Bones' mouth turned down at him. "Computer. Lights at fifty percent. Jim, I think you may need to take a break soon. But, yes, it's coffee, but no one, not even you, can enjoy a cup of coffee just staring at it, kid. Drink up," Bones urged. "You need to eat, too."
The tray of food Bones placed on the table, steaming hot and looking more than satisfying even though he didn't know what the meat was. It was tempting, but Jim didn't think he could even spare five minutes to eat.
"I ordered a little while ago for you," Bones said. "I heard that you didn't take a break with the rest of your crew, a break that you yourself ordered them to take. You might as well take one now while the food is hot. Your eyes may be becoming strained at this point, and I don't think you want a headache or low blood sugar with all of this ahead of you."
"I will. Thanks, Bones." Jim immediately took the mug in his hand and paused for one bite to appease his doctor.
He was tempted to chug the entire cup of coffee down in a single gulp, since he had skipped lunch as Bones inferred, but decided to work at it slowly and ward off his own hunger. He just couldn't stop. Spock worked just as determinedly sorting through the first ten years Roark commanded the Isis, while Jim had begun with the ten years his mother served as Roark's first officer. He'd almost reached the halfway point, and while at this time he couldn't find anything in particular that was a red flag or some indicator of their shadow activities, he knew something was there. It had to be.
"Jim," Bones warned. "Eat."
Jim stabbed something off of his plate with his fork. "Chekov. Anything yet?" He asked before chewing.
"No, keptin."
"There's practically nothing on that fork, Jim," Bones said. "Stop eating like a chicken."
Jim swallowed. "Like a chicken?" Jim repeated, confused - and more than a little upset with himself. He was doing much better at recognizing things that sounded abnormal to his ears and figuring them out on his own, but this one confused the hell out of him. He'd heard the word 'chicken' once or twice before, but there'd been no context to help him out then, either, and he hadn't bothered to ask anyone or look it up himself. As he faced a moment of ignorance, he realized his stupidity in that decision. "What the hell does that even mean?'
"They eat very small pieces, Jim, with their beaks. They peck at their food," Bones crossed his arms. "Like you're doing now."
Jim twisted his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure how to tell Bones that it wasn't just that he didn't understand how chickens ate. He really didn't have a damn clue what Bones was talking about at all. Jim glanced down at the device in front of him, hoping Bones would forget about the chickens and move on.
Bones made a noncommittal sound in his throat. "Wait a minute..."
"Hmm?" Jim said, tapping his finger on the device.
"Chickens, Jim."
"What about them?" Jim winced. Bones really wasn't going to let this go.
"What are they, Jim?" Bones asked quietly.
"Bones, let's talk about this later."
"You don't know what they are," Bones stated, words void of any easy drawl. "You, farm boy from Iowa...and no damn chickens are running through your brain?"
Jim had no good answer for that one, and he shouldn't have looked up at his crew. Especially at Uhura, whose expression had cracked and eyes showed an unguarded sadness. "I...uh..." Jim coughed and twisted his gaze away from the five pairs of eyes inspecting him from around the table. "Uh...well...no?"
Bones exhaled a long, rough breath.
Jim dared a peek at his very concerned, very upset friend. "Don't feel bad about it, Bones. Please? Let's forget it and move on. We have work to do." He paused. "Things bigger than chickens, I imagine?"
"Indeed, Jim, the Isis is considerably larger than the diminutive, Terran farm animal known as the chicken," Spock said.
Jim offered his smiling crew a lopsided grin before glancing back up at Bones. "Bones, I'll be fine, especially since everyone can laugh about it, even me. But, I really do have to get back to work."
"I know that there are pressing matters at hand, Jim, and I'll forget about it for now," Bones said quietly. "I have to stop in sickbay now and I can't worry about you not eating, alright? Will you promise me that you'll eat?"
Jim rubbed at an eye, already in the midst a yawn that came out of nowhere.
"Yeah, there's something else that I have to worry about, too," Bones said with a scowl. "I think everything that happened since this morning is finally catching up to you."
"It's fine," Jim said, words muffled behind his hand. "There's nothing to worry about, either. It's just a yawn."
"Did you even hear what I said?"
"Bones, I'm fine," Jim repeated honestly. "It's nothing."
Bones expelled a long breath. "Jim, you played an intense game of chess while blind, regaining your sight in the process through a strenuous meld. You discovered that your mother was using you and the love you have for her to gain intel about the Re'an. You confronted her, also discovering that there's a secret organization within Starfleet that may be after you and your crew. Not to mention that you kicked your own mother off of your ship and are now preparing yourself for even more conflict when you haven't been on duty in two months!" Bones argued. His eyes glazed over with worry. "And you're telling me that it's nothing?"
"Bones, it's o-"
"There's something coming, Jim, and you know it," Bones insisted. "But you're hungry and exhausted, two things that will limit you in every way when that something is finally here. Not to mention that you're somehow holding your hurt at arm's length. You can't act like it's nothing, Jim!"
By the end of Bones' rant, the tension in the room was so thick that Jim found it difficult to swallow or move, for that matter. He'd have to say exactly the right thing to Bones to stop this from escalating any further. The good news was that, although Jim was different, he still understood Dr. Leonard Horatio McCoy.
"Yes, I am telling you that it's nothing," Jim said slowly. "Bones, I know this thing with the chickens has upset you, and rightly so. If it were you forgetting about some damn farm animal after all we've been through, I think I'd go punch a wall and then make a poster of a chicken for you and stick it on the wall of your quarters, covering the hole, well, holes, actually, that I had punched."
Bones flinched.
Jim sighed, choosing his next words even more carefully. "Listen. Bones, you're angry right now, but you're only angry that I can't remember anything about chickens because it reminds you of everything the Re'an did to me and the rest of the stuff you're yelling at me about just came along for the ride because you know these things happen around here. Challenges. And right now there are a lot of them, but I'm okay and I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure that my crew is okay," Jim peered up at his friend, speaking quietly, "Bones, I am tired. I'm a tired farm boy from Iowa who doesn't remember chickens but I do remember how to be a captain. I was trained to be a captain, and I can handle these things because I am your captain. I will also listen to you because your concerns are valid. Bones, I promise that as soon as Roark contacts the Enterprise I will make my best effort to return to my quarters."
Bones stared at him for a moment. Jim stared back, waiting for his best friend to come to his senses. If there was anything telling him that Bones needed a break, that the doctor had reached his own limits, it was this struggle he had with the damn chickens. Jim would do whatever he could to stop it from getting worse. He'd do absolutely anything Bones asked him to do just to make it easier on the doctor.
"As soon as you hear from Roark, you're going to your quarters to sleep?" Bones finally said.
"Yes," Jim nodded, and although he wasn't sure he really wanted anyone accompanying him, he gave Bones the option. "You can come with me if you really want."
"And will you also eat?" Bones asked, voice strained.
"Yes, I will," Jim assured him but saw that his words failed miserably in actually reassuring the doctor.
"I'd feel better staying."
"Dr. McCoy, I will contact you when I see that the captain is finished partaking of his meal," Spock said. "I am also aware of his limited stamina and will direct him to his quarters once we receive the expected communication from Captain Roark."
To Jim's surprise, the Vulcan's statement reached Bones in a way that Jim couldn't.
"Alright," Bones' voice softened.
"Go to sickbay. That's an order, Dr. McCoy," Jim said firmly. "You have your duties. I have mine... and I also have Spock watching out for me today. I'll be fine."
"I know you will be," Bones replied. He stepped closer to Jim, looking uneasy for a split second before his hand reached and gripped Jim's shoulder. "I'll go. Let me know if you need anything, but I will send Christine with something for that headache."
Jim didn't think he'd ever get tired of the way Bones comforted him with a squeeze on the shoulder or a ruffling of his hair. Those touches meant more to him than a million spoken words, but they also told Jim more about Bones' state of mind than anything else. To Jim's relief, the scowl had also disappeared from Bones' face, replaced with a solemn look that he gave Jim before he left. Although it wasn't a smile, it wasn't the frown as before and much better than seeing his friend angry at the world. Still, Jim had a feeling that once he returned to his quarters, the two of them would have to talk.
As soon as the door closed after Bones, Jim caught Spock's attention. "Thank you," he said simply. Not knowing what else to say about the friend who clearly needed a break from his duties, Jim fell silent.
Your sight returning today is quite timely, Jim. I believe it is what relieves the doctor of his greatest worry but he continues to bear the burdens of your health. It would be wise to follow his request to partake of sustenance and also to return to your quarters to rest as soon as possible.
Okay, okay, I'm eating, he told Spock, already picking up his next bite. As soon as he realized he was actually hungry, he couldn't stop shoveling the food into his mouth. What had he been thinking putting this off?
Jim, the food will not walk off of your plate.
Jim barely restrained a snort.
It is wise of the doctor to continue to be concerned about your eating habits, Jim.
Jim frowned, fork pausing mid-air. It wasn't anything he did on purpose but it was something he did need to learn to control himself. Somehow. It was a strain on Bones and no matter how hard Jim tried to reassure the doctor, McCoy sometimes just wouldn't let it go. Jim couldn't help but think that Bones would continue to exchange one thing to worry about in regards to Jim with another. Maybe it wasn't even about eating. Maybe it was about...
It is not my intentions to distress you or cause you to illogically analyze the doctor's ministrations at this precarious time, Jim. I see that you are in need of Dr. McCoy's assistance on a daily basis. I, too, would be able to assist you for your difficulty is a valid medical concern
Jim chewed his next bite slowly, savoring it as also savored Spock's offer. It filled him with unexpected warmth from head to toe that what Spock suggested would ultimately benefit Bones, as well. Could we start tomorrow? If you have a plan, that is?
Indeed, we can.
Jim finished his food within minutes and soon lost himself again in the research. He leaned his chin on his hand, determined to look at the Isis' missions in a different light, especially at those which occurred during the months leading up to the Vengeance's devastation upon San Francisco. There had to be something he could connect, something he could use when he talked with Roark. Minutes went by swiftly as Jim read the logs and conversed with the crew at various intervals. He gulped down the remainder of his coffee and nearly choked when he saw it in Captain Roark's logs.
We are ahead of schedule, which may have drawn Admiral Marcus' attention. He has requested that the Isis alter its route and pick up four scientists stationed at Starbase 5. We are to provide them transport to the base nearest Jupiter, which, to my knowledge, has been recently renovated and opened for operation this past month.
Sitting on the edge of his seat, Jim cleared his throat. "There," Jim said to Chekov. He pointed and the Russian quickly pulled up any related reports. The Isis provided transport a number of times, but this is the only one with any connection to Marcus. The base they took the scientists to had not been the main site for the Vengeance, but it didn't matter; it was close enough.
"I see nothing else, sir," Chekov apologized.
Jim wasn't going to allow the trail to stop cold. They were close. He could smell it. He quickly checked the database again for more information about the transport, but there was no mention of another transport or the scientists in any other report or log after this date. It was as if the scientists no longer even existed. "This is it," he muttered under his breath. He glanced at Chekov. "Let's run a check on just the names."
Chekov refined his search. Jim held his breath as the computer came back with inconclusive information about the four men and women. "Damn," Jim ran a hand over his face as he stared at the word, 'Classified.' He'd never let that stop him before and he wouldn't let it now. Without a second thought, he pulled out a device of his own that he kept under lock and key. It wouldn't do for anyone to discover this particular law-breaking program he'd created.
Chekov's eyes widened. "Keptin..."
Jim continued the all-too familiar process of hacking into Starfleet. "Chekov, it's untraceable. It won't come back to me or any of you. It'll be fine."
"You have done zis before, keptin?"
"Many times, Chekov," Jim admitted.
It took a few more minutes but soon they were both taking in the continued trail on a classified level. Jim sank back in his seat and blew out a slow breath. Chekov cursed under his breath in Russian. Three of the four scientists had died or gone missing within a period of twelve months. The first scientist succumbed to work related injuries, the second died of natural causes, and the third scientist was missing. A brief case had been opened for each scientist, all of which were then closed by Admiral Marcus himself. Interestingly, Archer also closed the cases of these three scientists after they were reopened briefly after Marcus' death.
"Dr. Marcus," Jim said. He selected the names only, copied them, and sent them to her directly.
"Yes, Captain."
"Look at the list I sent you and see if any jog your memory." Jim said, watching as she glanced down at her PADD. "You saw the blueprints for the Vengeance, and I imagine that you got a glimpse of a few names, maybe of the scientists who worked with your father."
Her eyes already flickered with acknowledgement. "I managed to see a few names, yes."
"Do any ring a bell?"
"Three," she said, eyes boring into the PADD. "Only three of the four."
Jim was certain he knew which three. "Avi, S'reske, and Hewett?"
"Yes," she said.
"Can you tell me a little about them?"
"Although all three generally keep to themselves, immersing themselves in their work, I actually met Dr. S'reske once at a conference. He's a fine man. No family. I know he holds Dr. Hewett in high regard, having worked with her for well over a decade. I don't think she has family, either. Dr. Avi is much the same, but is known to be even less cordial while he works on any of his projects."
"Wasn't known," Jim murmured.
"Sir?" Carol's brow furrowed.
"All three were either dead or missing within twelve months of that supposed transport." Jim said with finality, believing that Marcus then delivered the scientists directly to the site of the Vengeance secretly.
"That explains why they've been so quiet in the field," Carol murmured.
A crack in Jim's heart began to repair at the very real possibility that his mother was actually working on behalf of Starfleet. "Spock, any good possibility that at least one of them were moles? Or were talked into being one during their transport? I bet my next cup of coffee that Marcus somehow got wind of a traitor."
"If I base my calculation on Commander Kirk's initial description of this organization, yes," Spock said. "It is logical to believe that Roark knew of Marcus' endeavors with the Vengeance and other projects, including weaponry, and attempted to recruit one or all of these three scientists during their transport to the base. It is also logical that at least one of them was already working on behalf of the organization. Captain, at this time we cannot determine the depths of this organization secrets, but it has already been determined they use tactics that Starfleet does not necessarily condone. We must remain aware of this as we proceed."
In other words, they did what they had to do to further their cause, as Jim himself would do anything to protect his ship and crew. It also meant that they were dangerous. "Duly noted, Mr. Spock." Jim nodded in agreement.
"Bridge to Captain Kirk."
"Kirk here." Jim exchanged a look with Spock.
"Sir, we've received a transmission from Captain Roark of the Isis, requesting to speak with you."
"Patch him through," Jim said without hesitation.
McCoy rubbed both of his hands on his face. He'd finally caught up with the last of his paperwork and also managed to see his own patients today instead of M'Benga covering for him. Jim had pushed McCoy away from him with good reason. Time mostly spent on his own turf had served him well today. He'd needed to cool off about the chickens, not that he was ready to admit his ranting had been about farm animals, but Jim had been right again. McCoy's anger went deeper than farm animals. The two chickens, Miss Hoshi and Buster, had merely been the catalysts, the ugly reminders of what McCoy wanted them all - especially Jim - to forget.
"Doctor McCoy, may I have a moment of your time?"
McCoy glanced up sharply to see Spock in the doorway to his office. He'd not even realized the knock on the door. "You're here, aren't you? Might as well come in all the way."
Spock entered and clasped his hands behind his back. "I wanted to inform you that the captain to spoke to Captain Roark approximately one hour ago."
McCoy frowned. He should've heard from Jim, then, and accompanied him to his quarters. "And?"
"The conversation went as our captain expected."
McCoy felt an instant sense of pride that Jim, this Jim, had called it correctly. "Roark's coming aboard the Enterprise, then, to tell him about this spy business," McCoy said. "And let me guess. Jim's mother's coming too."
"Indeed," Spock nodded. "I would also like to inform you of another development."
"I don't have all day, commander, and I need to check on Jim."
"He's in his quarters."
"He is?" McCoy asked. He had half-expected Jim to give a little more fight about it than that.
"I escorted him to his quarters and came here directly. It would be wise to give him more time to look over the logs of the Isis." Spock paused. "The captain discovered a connection between the Isis and Admiral Marcus."
"Of course he did," McCoy said, fully aware of the goofy smile growing on his face. "He's impassioned and that's when his instincts work best."
Spock stared at him. "You are smiling, doctor."
McCoy gave a short laugh. "I'm just glad to hear things are going as Jim expected them to go."
"Do you wish to know the connection that he found?"
McCoy exhaled a slow breath. "I do, and I expect it to be a doozy if it involves Marcus."
"Indeed, it is a remarkable connection. It is one which offers a significant probability that his mother was being truthful about the nature of the organization."
"As long as Jim doesn't get his hopes up, Spock," McCoy warned.
"He is fully aware that it is speculation until he speaks with Captain Roark."
"Our captain is back," McCoy said, shaking his head in relief that Jim was stepping up to the plate. "He's different, but he's back."
"You must be the one to help him through the next step, Leonard," Spock said.
"The next step?"
"I anticipate that Jim will have some difficulty seeing himself for the first time," Spock said.
McCoy winced. The damn mirror. He got up from his chair, berating himself for stupidly forgetting that it would be an issue for Jim. "I have to get to his quarters. It may not have been a good idea to leave him alone, Spock."
"Elise suggested that Jim focus on Samantha until your arrival, and he is following her suggestion."
McCoy relaxed only a little but rolled his eyes at Spock's formality with Jim's snake. "Maybe you should come along, too," he offered.
"I will be available if he needs assistance but Elise recognizes a strength in Jim that has not been there before. He may experience some amount of distress, but he will ultimately react as a Re'an. He will not require nor does he desire an audience as he views his reflection."
"In other words, we should be relieved that he'll be dealing with this like a Re'an," McCoy muttered under his breath. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of being even remotely thankful towards the mind-sucking species.
"That is one way to consider it, yes," Spock said. "However, your presence will also be necessary to calm him, as you are the one for whom he will be most concerned."
"What do you mean, he'll be most concerned about me?" McCoy frowned. The concern from Jim was nice but also unnerving. Very unnerving.
"Once he sees that his features have changed, he will understand your grief on a deeper level, Leonard."
"It's a good thing we talked yesterday," McCoy sighed. As difficult as it had been to tell Jim the depth of his grief, it had cleared the air between them.
"It is," Spock said in a soft voice. "It will also be prudent for you to keep an open mind in regards to his scars, as you have been doing. As he makes his own decisions, he displays and also embodies the characteristics of the James T. Kirk we once knew."
"You know that I'll do whatever I can."
"Indeed, you already are, Leonard." Spock said warmly. "We all aspire to your example."
"I am far from being a perfect friend to Jim Kirk, Spock," McCoy gave a short laugh.
"You are correct in saying you are not perfect, as it is an impossibility for us all, but you are what he needs above all else," Spock said.
"Don't sell yourself short, commander," McCoy replied.
"Indeed, doctor, I will not discredit my own involvement, as I have realized the alteration of our camaraderie as of late." Spock paused, expression softening.
"It has been a bit of a ride," McCoy confirmed. "But, I see the changes, too. Quite frankly, I never was much for friends and here I have two that know me better than I know myself, sometimes. I admit, I also can't believe I've been agreeing with you so much, but I think I sorta like it. Don't think it'll last, but I like it."
"Indeed. I must convey my own unfortunate, paradoxical statement as I concur, doctor. I, too, do not believe we shall always find ourselves in agreement."
McCoy wagged his brows. "You are quite the character, Mr. Spock."
"However, I am gratified that our camaraderie is mutually acceptable amongst the three of us." Spock said.
McCoy crossed his arms and watched the smart-ass Vulcan. Jim could use some of this humor.
"Dr. McCoy, you are stalling," Spock observed.
"I wish you'd agree to accompany me to Jim's quarters."
"I have other duties to perform. You may inform Jim that I am preparing the crew for our two guests tomorrow," Spock replied.
"If you change your mind..." McCoy hesitated.
"Our captain may have experienced great change to his person, but his friend, Doctor Leonard McCoy, has not changed. Indeed, if there has been any change at all, it has been a strengthening of friendship. Thus, if I may use a common colloquialism, whether it is the former Jim Kirk or the one who is currently in command, he, the captain, has always been in good hands." A faint but genuine smile crossed Spock's face. "Yours."
Jim was very, very pleased. So far, things were progressing just as he'd expected. Tomorrow, he'd welcome Captain Roark and Commander Kirk aboard the Enterprise. Nothing about Captain Roark's voice or expression revealed the underlying issue between them. He'd also been quite amicable. Jim, in turn, didn't hesitate when Roark suggested that his mother accompany him for their briefing. Jim was ready. Having manipulated the events accordingly, and if Jim were to be honest, having also manipulated his mother, Jim had dangled the carrot, leading Roark straight to the Enterprise where Jim would soon get some answers.
"So, I heard that you found what you were looking for," Bones said. He appeared about four meters away from Jim, who stood with his snake draped over his arm.
"I did," Jim said, transfixed by the Re'an snake he called his own. There was no question about it. The creature sharing his living space was beautiful. The rich blues, golds and greens of her skin followed a bold, striped pattern. The camouflage would work best in the wilderness on Re'an V, but here, under Jim's care, her colorful pattern would be admired, not used as a protection. And now that Jim could see her as she truly was, the connection between them had deepened. Her scent affected his mind with a strength it hadn't before, and there wasn't any other reasonable explanation for it except that his vision was working alongside his other senses. Jim welcomed the invasion because as Elise had discovered, this connection made him feel like the person he was meant to be, the man who could captain the Enterprise.
"You got to your quarters quicker than I expected," Bones added.
Jim lifted his eyes to the doctor. "Like you said, I found what I needed. Now I can sleep instead of upsetting my cranky doctor," Jim offered him a crooked grin.
"Just as as long as you do sleep," Bones said. "I'm giving you a sedative to make sure."
"I realize this could be a long shot, but even Spock thinks there's a chance that they were trying to stop Marcus," Jim said, watching his friend's reaction carefully.
He didn't disappoint. Bones frowned. "Be careful, Jim. You may find out something that you wished you didn't know."
"I have learned to expect about anything when it comes to my mother," Jim said. He walked back to the case, placing Sam back in her home for the night. He smiled as she slid off his hand and nestled herself in a corner of her case. "Thanks for not telling me about Sam, Bones."
"Yeah, figured it would be best for you to see with your own eyes what you got yourself into."
"I feel better," Jim said bluntly. "As soon as I stepped into my quarters. And it's because of her."
"I know she's good for ya," Bones said. "By the way, I think you should have the last exam with Sheffield before Captain Roark and your mom come aboard."
Jim dropped his hands. He really should call it a night. "Probably would be best."
"You're sure you can handle seeing her again?"
"It won't be easy," Jim said. "But, it's the only way we'll get anywhere with them. Roark was adamant that she accompany him. I wasn't in a position to say no, not when so much is at stake."
"According to Spock, he's quite the dynamic individual."
"I can handle him," Jim said.
Bones looked at him carefully. "I know ya can, captain, especially with what you found out today. I admit I was impressed."
"Chekov deserves some of the credit, Bones," Jim clarified and walked to his bedroom. "Actually, they all do." Jim stopped short of his bed and looked at it with longing.
"They performed their duties, just as they told you they would." Bones said, coming up from behind him. "What are you waiting for? For me to tuck you in?"
"Would you read to me? Give me a kiss like you give Jo?" Jim sniggered. "Then, yes."
Bones grunted. "You're incorrigible."
Jim grinned. "You're the one who offered, Bones." Jim then frowned. "But, if I do stretch out on that comfortable, soft bed, nothing, not even chocolate or your mother's pies, would make me crawl out of it."
Bones threw him a look. "Jim..."
"I know. I know." Jim raised his hands in surrender. "I was overzealous today."
"You had no choice, Jim," Bones said. Jim glanced sideways at the doctor. A guilty expression slipped over McCoy's face. "About before..."
"You don't have to explain."
"I do. I overreacted earlier," Bones admitted. "You were right. I was upset that you didn't remember Miss Hoshi. Or Buster. It doesn't make sense to me that the Re'an took away your chickens, Jim."
Jim looked to the floor. The Re'an had taken a lot of things. It didn't stop at chickens.
"I named the chickens Miss Hoshi and Buster?" Jim asked, hoping to find some good in the walk down memory lane. They sounded like pets. Especially Miss Hoshi. Not some random chickens on a farm. "How old was I, again?"
"You were eight, Jim, and naming them may have not been a good idea because you got too attached to those two when you were a kid." Bones paused. "If you catch my drift."
So much for spreading good cheer. "Oh," Jim frowned, easily imagining child-him being upset that his pet chickens named Miss Hoshi and Buster had been slaughtered. "I didn't eat them, did I?"
"Hell, no, Jim." Bones shook his head. "Apparently, as you told it, you grabbed their carcasses from Frank and buried them before he could sink his teeth into them."
Jim fell quiet. He'd rescued the dead chickens from Frank? That sounded like big trouble for child-him. "I should probably take a shower," Jim muttered before any memory of Frank punishing child-Jim happened to return. Or more happened to return. A shiver traveled up his spine. He could already feel his step-father's foul breath along his cheek.
"And forgo your pretty bubbles?" Bones said amusedly. Jim soaked up the Southern drawl.
"Hey, those bubbles do fulfill some purpose other than looking pretty in the tub." Jim said in defense. "I like to pop them."
"How'd they let you graduate from the Academy, anyway?" Bones muttered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jim said, pulling off his command shirt.
"You're an incorrigible bubble popper."
"So?" Jim dropped the shirt in the laundry. "I'm practically a professional at it by now. Just ask Garig. He started it, by the way."
"Don't go blamin' my staff for your fetishes." Bones complained. "Kids pop bath bubbles. Jim, you're twenty-seven years old."
Jim smiled to himself and sank to the edge of his bed. He reached for his boots, his muscles screaming for him to forget talking and go to sleep. With painfully slow movements, he tugged one boot off. He regretted not at least taking a short nap mid-day. "Haven't you heard? So do twenty-seven year old Starfleet captains," he quipped, finishing with the second boot.
"Starfleet captains who are still kids," Bones threw back.
He was most definitely not a kid, Jim mused as he rubbed the stubble along his jaw. He needed to shave, not as badly as Bones did, but it was something he should take care of right away. He got up with some effort and headed for his bathroom.
"I like to enjoy myself more than other people. You have to live a little when you're on a starship, Bones," Jim said, stopping in the doorway to the bathroom. He grabbed the frame and turned to grin at Bones. "You should try it sometime. I'll even let you borrow my bubble bath."
Jim stepped into the bathroom, the door closing immediately behind him. Bones didn't reply, and Jim wondered about that but he pulled out his powered razor. He'd forgo the use of shaving cream and his more primitive razor, although he actually preferred them; he wanted that shower so he could get to his bed as quickly as possible. He held the razor up to his face, but as he looked into the glass, Jim found himself staring at a stranger.
The reflection in the mirror wasn't the Captain James T. Kirk in his memories nor was it the man in his imagination, the one he thought he'd been a mere few months ago. It wasn't the man who'd sat next to Leonard McCoy on the shuttle. It wasn't the man who'd set off for the black. This person was a stranger, an alien, even. Gone was the blonde hair and the smooth skin around his eyes. This man was thinner, his cheeks a little sunken and his jaw more defined, like chiseled bone. Scars and experience wreathed his eyes like danger and lies accompanied his life, leaving broken paths and rigid paths of skin. His dark, ash brown hair, a shade more black than blonde, hit him the hardest. It reflected his most recent past with the Re'an, with his mom, and now with himself, the culminating effect giving him an almost sinister appearance.
Jim's razor clattered on top of the counter. He gripped the edges of the sink, holding himself up by the last of his tenacity. His stomach took a violent turn, the nausea already welling up his throat as he fixated on the stranger staring back at him.
The truth hit him like a knife in his back. This entire time, ever since the Re'an, since he was blind, Jim Kirk had been missing. He was still missing. Without a doubt, he'd disappeared and this stranger had taken over his life. No wonder Jim sensed a continuous hesitance from Bones. No wonder he'd caught Bones looking at him warily today. No wonder Bones had grieved - was still grieving - the death of James T. Kirk, his best friend, who wasn't this dark reflection in the mirror. That James T. Kirk really had disappeared and in place of him was this...this thing.
"Jim?" Bones' worried voice bled through the door.
Jim? That man was a stranger. Not only to himself, but to every other person on this ship.
"Jim? I imagine that by now you looked in the mirror and that's why you're not answering. Will you open the door?" Bones asked.
Nausea stole into his throat. He couldn't clasp his hand over his mouth fast enough.
"Jim?"
Jim shivered. The name clashed with the image in the mirror. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling suffocated as the truth pressed in all around him.
"Jim. Please, answer me, buddy," Bones pleaded.
Jim gagged again. He hunched pathetically over the sink and spewed what filled his mouth, unable to move his body to the commode. Already, a fine sheen of sweat covered his skin but he ignored it as nausea traveled forcibly up his throat.
"Jim? I hear you..."
He shivered a second time as he caught another glimpse of the dark hair, the ridges of skin surrounding his eyes and the implants. He gagged again, his body helpless to his physical reaction. He pounded a fist on the counter as it began, the heaving attacking him in strong waves, over and over.
"Shit," Bones' fist beat against the door. "Jim, the nanotech...I can see what's going on. I have to come in to help you but I can't get through this particular door with my override. Ya gotta let me in, Jim."
Jim's groan covered the doctor's words. He heard only snatches as his sickness came to a rolling, twisted stop, his breath now coming out in short, ragged bursts. How the hell would Starfleet even explain this to the media? To everyone following the captain of the flagship and his crew? What sort of impact would it make on his crew when word got out that Captain Kirk was another person - this alien - altogether?
A grunt sounded behind the door. Jim cringed, envisioning Bones repeatedly crashing into the door with his shoulder to get to him. "Jim, please let me in."
Jim took a ragged breath. He wasn't ready for that. "Just give...give me a...a minute, Bones," Jim called out hoarsely, hunching more so his head dangled between his shoulders.
"Can't do that, pal," Bones said with another grunt. "Open the door, or I'll get security to do it for you."
Security? Jim groaned and closed his eyes, reaching up with one hand to knead the taut muscles of his neck. "Okay, okay. Just...hold on." Grimacing, he pulled himself up as straight as he could, using the counter to support himself. The nausea was far from subsiding but involving security wasn't an option. Jim wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and gave the command to open the door, body sagging.
Bones' hands were instantly on Jim's shoulders, holding him up. Bones' lips pressed flat as he peered at Jim. "Ya alright?"
"Just needed a minute. 'm fine now," he muffled.
"You're not fine, Jim," Bones said quietly, wiping a cloth along Jim's forehead.
Jim dropped his hand from his mouth and miserably stared back. "How can you stand it?"
"Jim Kirk came into my sickbay in a body bag once," Bones said. "That's how I can stand it. You're here, Jim. Talking. Being captain. Breathing."
"Do I have to have a mirror? I don't want a mirror."
"No, you don't have to have one," Bones said slowly, letting go of Jim. He reached in his medbag. "But you do know that getting rid of it won't make it any easier on you."
Jim gripped the edge of the counter with both hands. "I'm going to bed."
"Okay," Bones said softly, as if it had been a normal day, a normal stop in Jim's quarters. Bones gave him hypo of something, and then another. Maybe a sedative, Jim thought vaguely. A slow working sedative. Or a drug to combat his nausea, as it was now dissipating.
"I'm going to bed. I'm tired, Bones." Jim made no effort to move. "I don't even want to talk about it tomorrow or the next day or...I don't want to care about what...what I..." Jim said haltingly. "It doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter, Bones."
"That's fine, Jim. It's your decision."
"It is what it is, and I can't change it," Jim said.
"You need to do what makes you comfortable," Bones said.
Jim knew exactly what would make him comfortable. Dealing with this the Re'an way. "I don't want to change it, because...that's not what I do. The scars stay."
Bones nodded. "I know and I understand, Jim, but only if you're sure. You know if you ever change your mind, I can take care of it."
"They stay," Jim repeated. He squared his shoulders and dared his friend - anyone - to challenge him. "They stay because I want them to remind me."
"Of what?" Bones asked, but Jim could see in his friend's sorrowful eyes that he already knew.
"Of absolutely everything the Re'an and my mother have done to me," Jim replied.
So he wouldn't make the same mistake twice and forget what he'd learned in life ever again. Keeping his scars was a small sacrifice. Especially when the lives of his crew depended upon it.
A/N: I'm feeling generous, especially since I had to split this chapter into two parts, making you wait even longer for the end! Here's hint #2: I'm bringing in some guys I haven't written about...ever...hehe! See you soon with the next update!