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syredronningTitle: Third Chances
Author: syredronning aka Acidqueen
Series: ST:XII aka Star Trek into Darkness aka AOS
Codes: Kirk, Spock, Christopher Pike, Number One,
Rating: PG, gen, angst, tissue alert, SPOILERS
Word count: 4700
Thanks for the lovely beta go to imachar. All remaining flaws are solely mine.
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek, I own my brain.
The story is also available at AO3.
Author's Note: Brought to you courtesy of various discussions regarding Pike's dying scene and Spock's actions in it. This is one way it could go...
Summary: In the aftermath of Jim's resurrection, he needs to deal with some things he'd rather have left in the dark.
***
It's been a long day, the second since his release from medical to quarters of his own. Officially he's still in rehab – apparently, while Khan's blood had magically brought him back to life, it hasn't given him any superhuman abilities when it comes to his full physical recovery. A pity, as improved self-healing would surely keep him out of medbay more often in the future.
It also doesn't seem to have done a lot for his mood, which slowly but surely had taken a nose dive over the last couple of days. His inner emotional roller coaster settles on top of today's two rehab sessions that had left him far more exhausted him than he would've expected, and now he wants nothing more than to sleep for the next twenty hours. Once back in his apartment, he quickly strips out of his training clothes down to his boxers and heavily sits down on the bed to do just that.
Two weeks of coma will do that to you, Bones' voice rings in his ears. Take it easy.
Jim rubs his eyes. The only thing he wants is to go back to duty as soon as possible – hanging out in these temporary quarters is giving him way too much time to think about all the questions they'd asked him in his debrief, and whether he'd given the right answers. He's got no clue right now what Starfleet is going to do with him – or to him – and he doesn't trust the admiralty enough at this point to think that they would deal with Marcus' legacy adequately.
Once he'll be back on duty, at least he'll have a chance to find out how things stand.
The chime of the doorbell tears him out of his musing.
"Come in," he says. "Hello Spock," he add, surprised as he recognizes his First Officer (or whatever, now that the Enterprise is so badly damaged and Pike isn't here anymore to fight for him in case he's still up for being demoted).
"What brings you here?" With effort, he gets to his feet.
"Please remain seated, Captain," Spock says. "I was pleased to learn that you had been released from hospital, and decided to visit you. The doctor informed me that you are on the way to full recovery."
"Did he? Yes, I hope I will be." Jim sinks back onto the bed. "For now, moving around just feels like someone deflated my body, sucked all the energy out of me. I'm weak like a baby."
"Muscle tissue is the first to recede in a situation of prolonged bed rest," Spock says aptly.
"No shit," Jim agrees. His eyes meet Spock's. "So – what can I do for you?" There's something in Spock's posture that tells him that this isn't simply a friendly visit.
The way Spock briefly avoids his gaze confirms his suspicion.
"Come on, let it out," Jim says with a tired smile when nothing is forthcoming, leaning back onto his arms to support his body on the mattress. He's really quite done but also too curious for his own good right now.
"I do not really know how to proceed..." Spock starts, unusually hesitantly. "Maybe I should return at another time."
Jim raises his chin a little, adding just a touch of command to his voice. "Spock. Spit. It. Out."
He almost expects Spock to call him out for the wording, but Spock's concentration turns inwards, his gaze drifting away from Jim.
So very human.
"I want to apologize, and as my failure relates to Admiral Pike, I address you as his next of kin."
"Huh? I don't think I am." Jim frowns, a weird feeling settling in his stomach.
"Maybe not by blood, but clearly from the relationship that had formed between the two of you over the last few years." Spock's gaze settles back on him. "It is said that Vulcans do not apologize. In my capacity as being a member of both species, I accept that the issue cannot be resolved any other way, as it refers to the very core of what is human and humane."
Jim shakes his head again as the weird feeling condenses to a solid piece of ice in his guts. Truly too curious for his own good. "Spock..." he says pleadingly, but now that Spock had made that first step of confessing whatever he considers worth it, there's no stopping the Vulcan who gears up and starts.
"I already related to you that in the moment of the Admiral's death, I performed a mind meld. This is the first aspect I need to apologize for; melding with a dying human is a violation of Vulcan ethics. There was no katra to save, it was intrusive and utterly… reflexive. In analyzing my action later, I found that it was equally driven by the want to connect – and the wish to know what dying means. Only in retrospect I realized the deeply concerning aspect of what could be considered unacceptable emotional voyeurism. The only explanation I could give is that I wanted to know what my mother might have experienced in her last seconds." Spock bows his head and pauses, looking at Jim from hooded eyes.
Jim turns his head, suddenly hit by far too many memories that swamp his mind. He's back in the moment, the one that he'd tried so hard not to think about, and the smoke fills his nostrils and there's a coppery taste on his tongue from where he must've bitten his own lip.
Protectively drawing one arm around his chest, Jim looks up at Spock. "Spock, I understand why you think you need to tell me this, but – just don't."
But again, Spock doesn't seem to listen, so wrapped up in his emotions for once. A part of Jim wants back the man who doesn't want to feel, because this… this is more than he can take right now.
"I wanted to know, and I initiated the meld. Despite not having experienced his mind that closely before, we instantly connected. As I already told you, I felt confusion, loneliness, and fear. He was pleading for support, for relief. He mentally reached out for comfort… and I failed." Spock chokes up a little.
"I could not offer that support. I kept my distance and remained the observer where I should have been the one to ease his passing."
There's fog in front of Jim's eyes as he desperately tries to battle the image that rises inside of him, Pike dead on the ground, his sightless gaze resting on the ceiling. He'd been too late, just seconds but he'd been too late and he'd tried so hard to forget that scene, had sat the death watch for Pike all night in the Starfleet Mortuary. The man had been his mentor, his friend, the one who'd believed in him and trusted him and whom he'd let down so badly, so often. Even in his last minutes, he'd only cared about getting Khan and had ignored that Pike had been in danger. He could've saved him or at least, he could've held his hand and told him that he loved him, could've eased the pain, held him close, but he'd failed him so much, and knowing that Spock had failed Pike too and had left him to die truly alone and bereft of human support is so unthinkably terrible.
White noise drowns out Spock's voice for a moment, before the words reach him again.
"... It was only when I had to witness your death and you confessed your fear that I understood how important my emotional support would have been and –"
"Stop it." Jim says, blinking away the tears that threaten to break. It's like the initial shock is all coming back, Pike's face frozen in death all he that can see by now, the feeling of utter desperation and endless grief so intense that he can't breathe anymore.
"Captain, I offer my sincere –"
"No, you don't. You came here because of some Vulcan feeling of responsibility to tell me this, to ask for absolution for something that your analysis said was wrong but you didn't really regret it, did you? Now you know, and that was all you really wanted," Jim says tonelessly. "Get out."
Spock looks pained. "Captain – Jim, I only wished –"
"Get out. I mean it. I can't deal with it, not now, not like this." Deep inside of himself, Jim knows that he's lashing out because of his own failing, the regrets that suddenly burn him up from inside. But Spock could've done better, oh lord, he should've done better than that.
"Get out," Jim says a last time, then buries his face in his hands, a sob escaping from the back of his throat. The door opens and closes, and he's left alone.
***
"You look like shit," are Bones' first words when he meets him two days later for lunch.
"I'm fine," Jim outright denies, despite having faced his pale face and the dark shadows underneath his eyes that seem to steal all color in the mirror. He'd barely had any rest since Spock's visit – whenever he manages to sleep at all, his dreams are haunted by that moment, and just this morning he'd woken up with his hands clutching the pillow, his wet eyes pressed against white fabric. He'd sobbed harder than he'd cried back then because to live through it once is bad enough, but this is about to become his private purgatory.
Bones gives him the patented whatever shall I do with you look of playful desperation. Jim shrugs and lifts his head, unexpectedly finding Spock approaching them from the other side of the mess. His jaw tightens, and he pushes the fists his hands coil into deep in his pockets.
"Captain, Commander," Spock says flatly as they pass each other, and nothing else.
"Hello, Spock," Bones says friendly, his eyes widening as he takes in the cool atmosphere between Jim and Spock.
Once they are a few meters away from the Vulcan, Bones closes his hand around Jim's arm, pulling him closer. "What the hell happened, Jim?" he whispers sharply. "I thought you were getting along by now."
"I don't want to talk about it," Jim snaps. "You wanted to have lunch with me – fine. But stop asking." Pushing a tray into Bones' hands, he moves on to the buffet.
"Jim," Bones sighs behind him. Predictably, Bones tries to find out about the reason, but just as predictably, Jim successfully blocks every attempt, diverting their discussion towards their future.
"The admiralty wants me to attend some command classes, and then I'll get some turns as temporary first officer on other ships." Jim takes a bite. "Could be worse, I guess."
"And what about your own command?" Bones asks.
"The Enterprise is in for repairs, probably for many months." Jim shrugs. "They aren't promising me anything at this point. I'll survive it."
"Jim, we're talking about your command," Bones says with a deep frown. "Your ship. Our ship."
"We'll see," he says. He doesn't say what he really thinks, She should've been Pike's ship, he wanted to take me on despite it all because he trusted me, and then I failed him so why should do I care anymore? or She could've been mine and Spock's to fight for but when I see that unfeeling bastard I only want to punch him.
Which isn't actually true, because it's much, much worse; the second he sees Spock he can only think of that terrible picture, Pike's dead body shadowed by Spock who'd let him die without a goddamn feeling, and that Jim hadn't been there to make it better.
Jim wipes his face with one hand, trying to remove the ghostly feeling of a tear running down his cheek.
"Jim, please – what happened?" Bones asks softly. "Because whatever it was, it tears you up inside."
"I'm fine," Jim repeats again. "Okay, maybe I'm not, but I will be. Really. Just give me some time." As if time ever healed anything.
When they part, he can feel Bones' concerned gaze resting on his back all the way down to the stairways of Starfleet Academy.
***
Jim gets sent to a 'fleet shrink, but his many experiences with them in his troubled youth had taught him how to evade their questions. And of the people who really see through his shit, one is dead, the second is blocked by his professional medical knowledge, and the third... well, does catch up with him in one of the hallways four days later.
"Captain Kirk," Uhura calls after him, and while he would've liked to ignore it, there's no way he could escape her for eternity.
"Lieutenant?" he says with a nod as she draws close.
"Captain... Jim," she starts. "I'm sorry for what happened, but you know he only wanted to do the right thing."
"Did he run his idea of confessing across you?" he asks flatly.
Uhura falls silent. "No, he didn't," she says after a moment.
"Would you have advised him to see it through? Would you have considered it a sensible thing to do?"
"No," she states, regret in her eyes.
He only nods, a silent see, that's why.
"Is there any way for him to make it better?" Uhura asks.
"I don't know. Not right now. Give me some time."
She hangs her head a little but nods in understanding. "Just... take care," she says, surprising him by drawing him into a light embrace. He hugs her back, then is relieved to see her go.
***
Bones tries to call him, but he doesn't want to answer the comm. Consequently, it's too late when he finally listens to the message.
McCoy here. Looks like I can't reach you... I just wanted to tell you that Spock and I will join a relief team for a mission, we'll debark in four hours so you won't hear from the two of us for a while. Which you probably won't mind, given how things are... Please, take care of yourself, kid. All the best, talk to you hopefully soon – Bones.
Jim half-heartily checks the ship and route they'll be taking; apparently it's yet another Federation planet in need of support due to some natural disaster, and it's all in a day's job of making the universe a better place.
He drags himself to his first command school course, knowing the contents already by heart but at least invested enough to engage in a discussion about warp drives.
Next week, they're going to tackle the Prime Directive and it will be considerably less fun, he fears.
***
He starts running the second he receives the news, and he doesn't stop until he's in front of the room in Starfleet Medical, the door behind which his friend is recovering from his life-threatening injuries. A nurse looks ready to block his entry, but a nearby female doctor takes one look at him and winks.
"He already asked for you," she says and unlocks the door to him.
He almost tumbles over his own feet as he enters. "Bones..." he says, taking in the strangely fragile-looking form on the bed. "Looks like I can't let you go off your own for even ten days."
"Hey, Jim," Bones mutters, lifting one hand from the bed with effort. Jim catches it, a little shocked to find the fingers so cool.
"How are you?" he asks.
"How well as anyone could be who happened to get in the way of an exploding tank. At least I was lucky enough to avoid the burning fuel, but some metal piece ripped through me like shrapnel, tearing me half apart. I thought I'd die, there was fire all around and we couldn't get out... it was terrible." Bones sighs. "Though Spock was there... and I couldn't quite believe it, he was... fabulous."
"Fabulous?" Jim says dumbfounded and more than a little disbelieving.
"Yeah. Great bedside manners. Held my hand, calmed me down. Gave me hope." Bones' eyes drop close as exhaustion seems to take over. "Wouldn't have thought he had it in him."
Well, he hadn't back then, the words burn in the back of Jim's throat, but before he can say them, Bones looks at him with effort. "Jim... no matter what happened between the two of you, please fix it. He ain't perfect – none of us is – but he tries, he really tries. Give him another chance." Squeezing Jim's hand a last time, Bones' lids drop for good.
"I will, Bones. I will," Jim says quietly. "Rest for now, all will be well."
The words conjure a smile on Bones' face, an expression that lightens Jim's heart.
Not that it would make his next necessary step any easier.
***
He's been ready to visit Spock's quarters, but as it turns out, he spots the Vulcan in the assembly hall where the man seems to be fixing some broken equipment.
"Spock – would you have a minute for me?" Jim asks cautiously.
"Of course, Captain," Spock says stiffly but stops working on the technical problem and gives Jim his full attention.
"I don't really know what to say, so just... thank you." Jim swallows hard, trying to find better words and failing. "Thank you," he simply repeats, hoping that Spock understands all the nuances, both the thank you so much for having been there for Bones and the I still can't forgive you yet for what you did to Pike, but I hopefully will, over time.
Spock looks at him squarely. "It was my duty. One that I have not been able to fulfill adequately in the past, but I have learned."
"Yes." Possibly. Who knew how Spock might react when it's not about life and death.
He wants to find something nice to say, something uplifting, but he can't, not yet.
"See you around," Jim says, and leaves for his course.
***
There are always fresh flowers in front of the small plaque for the victims of Khan's terrorism.
Half of them are by him, brought in every day that he's here, which is most of them.
Today, he doesn't remain alone for long, though, as Bones settles down next to him, still moving a little gingerly after his release from medical. For a while, they sit together in silence.
"So now that the scapegoat's all gone, you only got yourself to deal with?" Bones asks at last.
Jim makes a non-committal grunt. He has no clue how Bones learned about the details.
"Now that you accepted Spock's apology, there's only your own feeling of guilt left."
"I didn't book a session with you, did I?" Jim eyes his friend from the side.
"You're lucky – you're getting a diagnosis for free from me." Bones eyes him back. "There's mourning, and there's a delayed onset of trauma. I'd say you have a case of the latter, although it didn't take you six months, which is good."
Jim sighs. "You're no fun lately. Cheer me up. How about some of your colorful metaphors?"
"None around for the moment," Bones says, shaking his head. Waving one hand towards the plaque, he says, "You know – it was Harrison who killed him, not you."
"Just because that's true doesn't make it any better," Jim says. Suddenly remembering something, he can't help smiling.
"What are you thinking of?" Bones asks with a light frown.
"I just..." He turns around, smirking at his friend. "When I died," he says, noticing how Bones flinches over the word – "while I was dying, I suddenly had that childish idea, you know, that when you die, you go to heaven and you meet everyone who's died before you... I would see my father and Pike and all the friends we lost over Vulcan, and then we could have a big party, with booze and fun for eternity." He chuckles for a second, and then all the funny feelings are suddenly swept away and he lowers his head, running shaky fingers through his hair.
"Only you could think of something like that in your last moments," Bones' voice rumbles in his ears. "But dammit, Jim – if we stick to the childish imagery, I'm damn sure that all those people would rather look down on you and wish you'd get your shit together here. You can have your party in a hundred years, Jim. Do you want to die so damn much?" he adds a little desperately.
"No," Jim says instantly, sitting up and reaching out for Bones. "No, not really."
In that moment, his comm gets off. They stare at each other for a moment; then Jim sighs and reluctantly gets it out of the pocket.
"My marching orders at last," he says after reading the subject line. "There weren't a lot of captains lining up to take this rabble rouser for a trip." He opens it, scrolling down.
"So, where will you be going?" Bones asks curiously.
"The Yorktown," Jim says surprised.
"Wasn't that Pike's ship before...?"
"Yes."
Bones tilts his head in thoughts. "So, that's good news?"
"I don't know," Jim says frankly. "I really don't know. But I guess I'll know in two days."
"Good. You really need to get back on a ship," Bones says, slapping his shoulder. "Come on, let's get moving and find something for dinner."
"Great idea," Jim agrees, and leaves after a last gaze at the plaque.
***
The Yorktown is a far cry from the Enterprise – smaller, older, weathered from decades out in space. She's also still sleek and a deceptively powerful ship under a captain whose reputation is much larger than the woman he's facing now, although tall and regal are the first adjectives that come to mind when she gets up to exchange salutes, then offers her hand.
"Commander Kirk, welcome onboard. I'm Captain One. You may address me as sir," the middle-aged woman says.
"Yes, sir. Thank you for offering me this temporary posting."
"My First left for a three months advanced training, it seemed like a good opportunity to get to know you better," she says.
Behind Jim, a yeoman appears. "Mister Jom will show you to your quarters. You are expected in the mess hall in half an hour for a first meet and greet with my bridge crew. Dismissed."
He's almost out of the door when she calls him back.
"By the way, I've got something for you," One says, and hands him a data chip. He takes it with a frown.
"I was Christopher Pike's sequester of will, but this wasn't an official part of it. Which left it at my discretion how to handle the matter, and I think he would've wanted you to see this."
Tightly clutching the surprise gift, Jim follows the yeoman through the ship. His quarters are small but comfortable, a cup of hot coffee waiting on a table. Once he's alone, he can't hold back his curiosity; starting the console, he enters the chip. A text file opens automatically.
I always considered writing one's biography before a truly ripe age to be an endeavor mostly driven by the egotistical hunt for personal glory. But now that I'm laying here in the aftermath of one of the most disastrous events in the Federation's history, having escaped certain death only thanks to a man who shouldn't even have been onboard my ship, I decided that it might be worthwhile to write down the journey of my life while there are still lessons to be learned from it. Even if they might be that sometimes nothing else but sheer, insane luck will make you succeed...
Glued to the screen, Jim keeps reading into the first chapter of the draft, Pike's youth in Mojave, private pictures of a cute boy on much too large horses, a shot of young Chris' first day in the pre-Academy summer camp at age ten...
The sound of the doorbell escapes him, only noticing the intruder when she's already inside. He looks up from the screen, barely seeing One through the mist in front of his eyes.
"I wanted to make sure you would be on time," she says.
He looks at the screen, pulling himself together with sheer force. She must have known what this gift would do to him; why give it to him at all? "May I speak openly, Captain?"
"Permission granted."
"Why did you take me on?" Why don't you hate me?
She looks at him without saying a word, arms crossed in front of her.
The silence wrings the words out of Jim that have been circling in his head for far too many days already. "I failed him, far too often, and I failed him in the end. I didn't make sure that he was alright, I was too busy with my goddamn fist fight with Khan and when I finally looked after him, I came too late. He died without me being there. And worst, he died alone, in a way." He hangs his head, unable to bear One's gaze.
The captain uncurls her arms and puts one palm on the table, her gaze thoughtful but without accusation. "After he received the news of his re-institution, he sent me a text message. God help me, I'll take her out into the blue again, with the troubled kid as my first officer.. That's how we called you between us, Chris' troubled kid." She eyes him squarely. "It's true, you failed him a lot more than I liked to see, but he was always sure you'd be worth the trouble. He believed in you more than anyone else in this universe. And the way you brought down Harrison and Marcus – in a style befitting a Starfleet captain – finally proved to me his trust in you was well-placed. You would've made him proud."
He doesn't know what to say, the onslaught of emotions that rush over him – humiliation, pride, and pain all one strange mixture inside of him – stealing every possible reply from his tongue.
"All of the senior officers on this ship have served with or under Chris for some time, and they're all willing to support you in getting your ship back, because that's what he wanted. And we trust in him. But if you fail, if you fail because of your attitude and your ego and all those weaknesses that are unacceptable and that cost you the chair once already, they're just as willing to kick your ass from here to Andor, because he would've done the same. These are the terms of your posting here. Think you can live with that, Kirk?"
He looks up, mesmerized by the way she can both make him feel small and humbled as well as embraced and accepted. Her resemblance to Pike in this brings a strange, warm feeling of connection.
"Yes, Sir. I can." He gets to his feet, straightening his back. "Thank you." There's that stupid impulse of tearing up again, dammit, he hadn't been such a cry baby in the past – but this is like Pike keeping on being his guardian angel from out of the grave and it's so incredible that this ship, this family is ready to embrace him in as one of theirs because of Pike's belief in him.
The captain must have noticed his inner turmoil. "Glad to hear that. In this case – you have five minutes, then I expect you to join us for dinner."
"I'll be there. Thank you," he says, immensely grateful being giving a moment to collect himself.
"Admiral Pike will surely be one of the subjects of conversation."
"I know. I'll be able to handle it."
"Good." One nods and leaves him.
He stares at the closed door for a moment, then goes to the bathroom to wash his face.
Things will be okay, he tells himself in the mirror. For a second, he considers putting on his trademark smile, the one that's almost too bright and that the world at large expects from him. But then he leaves it be and remains just himself, the blue of his eyes not yet the usual bright light in his serious face.
These people here are different. These people are as much worth seeing his best, true self as his own crew is.
He leaves the console on – later, he'd write Bones... and Spock.
He'd have to apologize, and he would.
***
Author: syredronning aka Acidqueen
Series: ST:XII aka Star Trek into Darkness aka AOS
Codes: Kirk, Spock, Christopher Pike, Number One,
Rating: PG, gen, angst, tissue alert, SPOILERS
Word count: 4700
Thanks for the lovely beta go to imachar. All remaining flaws are solely mine.
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek, I own my brain.
The story is also available at AO3.
Author's Note: Brought to you courtesy of various discussions regarding Pike's dying scene and Spock's actions in it. This is one way it could go...
Summary: In the aftermath of Jim's resurrection, he needs to deal with some things he'd rather have left in the dark.
***
It's been a long day, the second since his release from medical to quarters of his own. Officially he's still in rehab – apparently, while Khan's blood had magically brought him back to life, it hasn't given him any superhuman abilities when it comes to his full physical recovery. A pity, as improved self-healing would surely keep him out of medbay more often in the future.
It also doesn't seem to have done a lot for his mood, which slowly but surely had taken a nose dive over the last couple of days. His inner emotional roller coaster settles on top of today's two rehab sessions that had left him far more exhausted him than he would've expected, and now he wants nothing more than to sleep for the next twenty hours. Once back in his apartment, he quickly strips out of his training clothes down to his boxers and heavily sits down on the bed to do just that.
Two weeks of coma will do that to you, Bones' voice rings in his ears. Take it easy.
Jim rubs his eyes. The only thing he wants is to go back to duty as soon as possible – hanging out in these temporary quarters is giving him way too much time to think about all the questions they'd asked him in his debrief, and whether he'd given the right answers. He's got no clue right now what Starfleet is going to do with him – or to him – and he doesn't trust the admiralty enough at this point to think that they would deal with Marcus' legacy adequately.
Once he'll be back on duty, at least he'll have a chance to find out how things stand.
The chime of the doorbell tears him out of his musing.
"Come in," he says. "Hello Spock," he add, surprised as he recognizes his First Officer (or whatever, now that the Enterprise is so badly damaged and Pike isn't here anymore to fight for him in case he's still up for being demoted).
"What brings you here?" With effort, he gets to his feet.
"Please remain seated, Captain," Spock says. "I was pleased to learn that you had been released from hospital, and decided to visit you. The doctor informed me that you are on the way to full recovery."
"Did he? Yes, I hope I will be." Jim sinks back onto the bed. "For now, moving around just feels like someone deflated my body, sucked all the energy out of me. I'm weak like a baby."
"Muscle tissue is the first to recede in a situation of prolonged bed rest," Spock says aptly.
"No shit," Jim agrees. His eyes meet Spock's. "So – what can I do for you?" There's something in Spock's posture that tells him that this isn't simply a friendly visit.
The way Spock briefly avoids his gaze confirms his suspicion.
"Come on, let it out," Jim says with a tired smile when nothing is forthcoming, leaning back onto his arms to support his body on the mattress. He's really quite done but also too curious for his own good right now.
"I do not really know how to proceed..." Spock starts, unusually hesitantly. "Maybe I should return at another time."
Jim raises his chin a little, adding just a touch of command to his voice. "Spock. Spit. It. Out."
He almost expects Spock to call him out for the wording, but Spock's concentration turns inwards, his gaze drifting away from Jim.
So very human.
"I want to apologize, and as my failure relates to Admiral Pike, I address you as his next of kin."
"Huh? I don't think I am." Jim frowns, a weird feeling settling in his stomach.
"Maybe not by blood, but clearly from the relationship that had formed between the two of you over the last few years." Spock's gaze settles back on him. "It is said that Vulcans do not apologize. In my capacity as being a member of both species, I accept that the issue cannot be resolved any other way, as it refers to the very core of what is human and humane."
Jim shakes his head again as the weird feeling condenses to a solid piece of ice in his guts. Truly too curious for his own good. "Spock..." he says pleadingly, but now that Spock had made that first step of confessing whatever he considers worth it, there's no stopping the Vulcan who gears up and starts.
"I already related to you that in the moment of the Admiral's death, I performed a mind meld. This is the first aspect I need to apologize for; melding with a dying human is a violation of Vulcan ethics. There was no katra to save, it was intrusive and utterly… reflexive. In analyzing my action later, I found that it was equally driven by the want to connect – and the wish to know what dying means. Only in retrospect I realized the deeply concerning aspect of what could be considered unacceptable emotional voyeurism. The only explanation I could give is that I wanted to know what my mother might have experienced in her last seconds." Spock bows his head and pauses, looking at Jim from hooded eyes.
Jim turns his head, suddenly hit by far too many memories that swamp his mind. He's back in the moment, the one that he'd tried so hard not to think about, and the smoke fills his nostrils and there's a coppery taste on his tongue from where he must've bitten his own lip.
Protectively drawing one arm around his chest, Jim looks up at Spock. "Spock, I understand why you think you need to tell me this, but – just don't."
But again, Spock doesn't seem to listen, so wrapped up in his emotions for once. A part of Jim wants back the man who doesn't want to feel, because this… this is more than he can take right now.
"I wanted to know, and I initiated the meld. Despite not having experienced his mind that closely before, we instantly connected. As I already told you, I felt confusion, loneliness, and fear. He was pleading for support, for relief. He mentally reached out for comfort… and I failed." Spock chokes up a little.
"I could not offer that support. I kept my distance and remained the observer where I should have been the one to ease his passing."
There's fog in front of Jim's eyes as he desperately tries to battle the image that rises inside of him, Pike dead on the ground, his sightless gaze resting on the ceiling. He'd been too late, just seconds but he'd been too late and he'd tried so hard to forget that scene, had sat the death watch for Pike all night in the Starfleet Mortuary. The man had been his mentor, his friend, the one who'd believed in him and trusted him and whom he'd let down so badly, so often. Even in his last minutes, he'd only cared about getting Khan and had ignored that Pike had been in danger. He could've saved him or at least, he could've held his hand and told him that he loved him, could've eased the pain, held him close, but he'd failed him so much, and knowing that Spock had failed Pike too and had left him to die truly alone and bereft of human support is so unthinkably terrible.
White noise drowns out Spock's voice for a moment, before the words reach him again.
"... It was only when I had to witness your death and you confessed your fear that I understood how important my emotional support would have been and –"
"Stop it." Jim says, blinking away the tears that threaten to break. It's like the initial shock is all coming back, Pike's face frozen in death all he that can see by now, the feeling of utter desperation and endless grief so intense that he can't breathe anymore.
"Captain, I offer my sincere –"
"No, you don't. You came here because of some Vulcan feeling of responsibility to tell me this, to ask for absolution for something that your analysis said was wrong but you didn't really regret it, did you? Now you know, and that was all you really wanted," Jim says tonelessly. "Get out."
Spock looks pained. "Captain – Jim, I only wished –"
"Get out. I mean it. I can't deal with it, not now, not like this." Deep inside of himself, Jim knows that he's lashing out because of his own failing, the regrets that suddenly burn him up from inside. But Spock could've done better, oh lord, he should've done better than that.
"Get out," Jim says a last time, then buries his face in his hands, a sob escaping from the back of his throat. The door opens and closes, and he's left alone.
***
"You look like shit," are Bones' first words when he meets him two days later for lunch.
"I'm fine," Jim outright denies, despite having faced his pale face and the dark shadows underneath his eyes that seem to steal all color in the mirror. He'd barely had any rest since Spock's visit – whenever he manages to sleep at all, his dreams are haunted by that moment, and just this morning he'd woken up with his hands clutching the pillow, his wet eyes pressed against white fabric. He'd sobbed harder than he'd cried back then because to live through it once is bad enough, but this is about to become his private purgatory.
Bones gives him the patented whatever shall I do with you look of playful desperation. Jim shrugs and lifts his head, unexpectedly finding Spock approaching them from the other side of the mess. His jaw tightens, and he pushes the fists his hands coil into deep in his pockets.
"Captain, Commander," Spock says flatly as they pass each other, and nothing else.
"Hello, Spock," Bones says friendly, his eyes widening as he takes in the cool atmosphere between Jim and Spock.
Once they are a few meters away from the Vulcan, Bones closes his hand around Jim's arm, pulling him closer. "What the hell happened, Jim?" he whispers sharply. "I thought you were getting along by now."
"I don't want to talk about it," Jim snaps. "You wanted to have lunch with me – fine. But stop asking." Pushing a tray into Bones' hands, he moves on to the buffet.
"Jim," Bones sighs behind him. Predictably, Bones tries to find out about the reason, but just as predictably, Jim successfully blocks every attempt, diverting their discussion towards their future.
"The admiralty wants me to attend some command classes, and then I'll get some turns as temporary first officer on other ships." Jim takes a bite. "Could be worse, I guess."
"And what about your own command?" Bones asks.
"The Enterprise is in for repairs, probably for many months." Jim shrugs. "They aren't promising me anything at this point. I'll survive it."
"Jim, we're talking about your command," Bones says with a deep frown. "Your ship. Our ship."
"We'll see," he says. He doesn't say what he really thinks, She should've been Pike's ship, he wanted to take me on despite it all because he trusted me, and then I failed him so why should do I care anymore? or She could've been mine and Spock's to fight for but when I see that unfeeling bastard I only want to punch him.
Which isn't actually true, because it's much, much worse; the second he sees Spock he can only think of that terrible picture, Pike's dead body shadowed by Spock who'd let him die without a goddamn feeling, and that Jim hadn't been there to make it better.
Jim wipes his face with one hand, trying to remove the ghostly feeling of a tear running down his cheek.
"Jim, please – what happened?" Bones asks softly. "Because whatever it was, it tears you up inside."
"I'm fine," Jim repeats again. "Okay, maybe I'm not, but I will be. Really. Just give me some time." As if time ever healed anything.
When they part, he can feel Bones' concerned gaze resting on his back all the way down to the stairways of Starfleet Academy.
***
Jim gets sent to a 'fleet shrink, but his many experiences with them in his troubled youth had taught him how to evade their questions. And of the people who really see through his shit, one is dead, the second is blocked by his professional medical knowledge, and the third... well, does catch up with him in one of the hallways four days later.
"Captain Kirk," Uhura calls after him, and while he would've liked to ignore it, there's no way he could escape her for eternity.
"Lieutenant?" he says with a nod as she draws close.
"Captain... Jim," she starts. "I'm sorry for what happened, but you know he only wanted to do the right thing."
"Did he run his idea of confessing across you?" he asks flatly.
Uhura falls silent. "No, he didn't," she says after a moment.
"Would you have advised him to see it through? Would you have considered it a sensible thing to do?"
"No," she states, regret in her eyes.
He only nods, a silent see, that's why.
"Is there any way for him to make it better?" Uhura asks.
"I don't know. Not right now. Give me some time."
She hangs her head a little but nods in understanding. "Just... take care," she says, surprising him by drawing him into a light embrace. He hugs her back, then is relieved to see her go.
***
Bones tries to call him, but he doesn't want to answer the comm. Consequently, it's too late when he finally listens to the message.
McCoy here. Looks like I can't reach you... I just wanted to tell you that Spock and I will join a relief team for a mission, we'll debark in four hours so you won't hear from the two of us for a while. Which you probably won't mind, given how things are... Please, take care of yourself, kid. All the best, talk to you hopefully soon – Bones.
Jim half-heartily checks the ship and route they'll be taking; apparently it's yet another Federation planet in need of support due to some natural disaster, and it's all in a day's job of making the universe a better place.
He drags himself to his first command school course, knowing the contents already by heart but at least invested enough to engage in a discussion about warp drives.
Next week, they're going to tackle the Prime Directive and it will be considerably less fun, he fears.
***
He starts running the second he receives the news, and he doesn't stop until he's in front of the room in Starfleet Medical, the door behind which his friend is recovering from his life-threatening injuries. A nurse looks ready to block his entry, but a nearby female doctor takes one look at him and winks.
"He already asked for you," she says and unlocks the door to him.
He almost tumbles over his own feet as he enters. "Bones..." he says, taking in the strangely fragile-looking form on the bed. "Looks like I can't let you go off your own for even ten days."
"Hey, Jim," Bones mutters, lifting one hand from the bed with effort. Jim catches it, a little shocked to find the fingers so cool.
"How are you?" he asks.
"How well as anyone could be who happened to get in the way of an exploding tank. At least I was lucky enough to avoid the burning fuel, but some metal piece ripped through me like shrapnel, tearing me half apart. I thought I'd die, there was fire all around and we couldn't get out... it was terrible." Bones sighs. "Though Spock was there... and I couldn't quite believe it, he was... fabulous."
"Fabulous?" Jim says dumbfounded and more than a little disbelieving.
"Yeah. Great bedside manners. Held my hand, calmed me down. Gave me hope." Bones' eyes drop close as exhaustion seems to take over. "Wouldn't have thought he had it in him."
Well, he hadn't back then, the words burn in the back of Jim's throat, but before he can say them, Bones looks at him with effort. "Jim... no matter what happened between the two of you, please fix it. He ain't perfect – none of us is – but he tries, he really tries. Give him another chance." Squeezing Jim's hand a last time, Bones' lids drop for good.
"I will, Bones. I will," Jim says quietly. "Rest for now, all will be well."
The words conjure a smile on Bones' face, an expression that lightens Jim's heart.
Not that it would make his next necessary step any easier.
***
He's been ready to visit Spock's quarters, but as it turns out, he spots the Vulcan in the assembly hall where the man seems to be fixing some broken equipment.
"Spock – would you have a minute for me?" Jim asks cautiously.
"Of course, Captain," Spock says stiffly but stops working on the technical problem and gives Jim his full attention.
"I don't really know what to say, so just... thank you." Jim swallows hard, trying to find better words and failing. "Thank you," he simply repeats, hoping that Spock understands all the nuances, both the thank you so much for having been there for Bones and the I still can't forgive you yet for what you did to Pike, but I hopefully will, over time.
Spock looks at him squarely. "It was my duty. One that I have not been able to fulfill adequately in the past, but I have learned."
"Yes." Possibly. Who knew how Spock might react when it's not about life and death.
He wants to find something nice to say, something uplifting, but he can't, not yet.
"See you around," Jim says, and leaves for his course.
***
There are always fresh flowers in front of the small plaque for the victims of Khan's terrorism.
Half of them are by him, brought in every day that he's here, which is most of them.
Today, he doesn't remain alone for long, though, as Bones settles down next to him, still moving a little gingerly after his release from medical. For a while, they sit together in silence.
"So now that the scapegoat's all gone, you only got yourself to deal with?" Bones asks at last.
Jim makes a non-committal grunt. He has no clue how Bones learned about the details.
"Now that you accepted Spock's apology, there's only your own feeling of guilt left."
"I didn't book a session with you, did I?" Jim eyes his friend from the side.
"You're lucky – you're getting a diagnosis for free from me." Bones eyes him back. "There's mourning, and there's a delayed onset of trauma. I'd say you have a case of the latter, although it didn't take you six months, which is good."
Jim sighs. "You're no fun lately. Cheer me up. How about some of your colorful metaphors?"
"None around for the moment," Bones says, shaking his head. Waving one hand towards the plaque, he says, "You know – it was Harrison who killed him, not you."
"Just because that's true doesn't make it any better," Jim says. Suddenly remembering something, he can't help smiling.
"What are you thinking of?" Bones asks with a light frown.
"I just..." He turns around, smirking at his friend. "When I died," he says, noticing how Bones flinches over the word – "while I was dying, I suddenly had that childish idea, you know, that when you die, you go to heaven and you meet everyone who's died before you... I would see my father and Pike and all the friends we lost over Vulcan, and then we could have a big party, with booze and fun for eternity." He chuckles for a second, and then all the funny feelings are suddenly swept away and he lowers his head, running shaky fingers through his hair.
"Only you could think of something like that in your last moments," Bones' voice rumbles in his ears. "But dammit, Jim – if we stick to the childish imagery, I'm damn sure that all those people would rather look down on you and wish you'd get your shit together here. You can have your party in a hundred years, Jim. Do you want to die so damn much?" he adds a little desperately.
"No," Jim says instantly, sitting up and reaching out for Bones. "No, not really."
In that moment, his comm gets off. They stare at each other for a moment; then Jim sighs and reluctantly gets it out of the pocket.
"My marching orders at last," he says after reading the subject line. "There weren't a lot of captains lining up to take this rabble rouser for a trip." He opens it, scrolling down.
"So, where will you be going?" Bones asks curiously.
"The Yorktown," Jim says surprised.
"Wasn't that Pike's ship before...?"
"Yes."
Bones tilts his head in thoughts. "So, that's good news?"
"I don't know," Jim says frankly. "I really don't know. But I guess I'll know in two days."
"Good. You really need to get back on a ship," Bones says, slapping his shoulder. "Come on, let's get moving and find something for dinner."
"Great idea," Jim agrees, and leaves after a last gaze at the plaque.
***
The Yorktown is a far cry from the Enterprise – smaller, older, weathered from decades out in space. She's also still sleek and a deceptively powerful ship under a captain whose reputation is much larger than the woman he's facing now, although tall and regal are the first adjectives that come to mind when she gets up to exchange salutes, then offers her hand.
"Commander Kirk, welcome onboard. I'm Captain One. You may address me as sir," the middle-aged woman says.
"Yes, sir. Thank you for offering me this temporary posting."
"My First left for a three months advanced training, it seemed like a good opportunity to get to know you better," she says.
Behind Jim, a yeoman appears. "Mister Jom will show you to your quarters. You are expected in the mess hall in half an hour for a first meet and greet with my bridge crew. Dismissed."
He's almost out of the door when she calls him back.
"By the way, I've got something for you," One says, and hands him a data chip. He takes it with a frown.
"I was Christopher Pike's sequester of will, but this wasn't an official part of it. Which left it at my discretion how to handle the matter, and I think he would've wanted you to see this."
Tightly clutching the surprise gift, Jim follows the yeoman through the ship. His quarters are small but comfortable, a cup of hot coffee waiting on a table. Once he's alone, he can't hold back his curiosity; starting the console, he enters the chip. A text file opens automatically.
I always considered writing one's biography before a truly ripe age to be an endeavor mostly driven by the egotistical hunt for personal glory. But now that I'm laying here in the aftermath of one of the most disastrous events in the Federation's history, having escaped certain death only thanks to a man who shouldn't even have been onboard my ship, I decided that it might be worthwhile to write down the journey of my life while there are still lessons to be learned from it. Even if they might be that sometimes nothing else but sheer, insane luck will make you succeed...
Glued to the screen, Jim keeps reading into the first chapter of the draft, Pike's youth in Mojave, private pictures of a cute boy on much too large horses, a shot of young Chris' first day in the pre-Academy summer camp at age ten...
The sound of the doorbell escapes him, only noticing the intruder when she's already inside. He looks up from the screen, barely seeing One through the mist in front of his eyes.
"I wanted to make sure you would be on time," she says.
He looks at the screen, pulling himself together with sheer force. She must have known what this gift would do to him; why give it to him at all? "May I speak openly, Captain?"
"Permission granted."
"Why did you take me on?" Why don't you hate me?
She looks at him without saying a word, arms crossed in front of her.
The silence wrings the words out of Jim that have been circling in his head for far too many days already. "I failed him, far too often, and I failed him in the end. I didn't make sure that he was alright, I was too busy with my goddamn fist fight with Khan and when I finally looked after him, I came too late. He died without me being there. And worst, he died alone, in a way." He hangs his head, unable to bear One's gaze.
The captain uncurls her arms and puts one palm on the table, her gaze thoughtful but without accusation. "After he received the news of his re-institution, he sent me a text message. God help me, I'll take her out into the blue again, with the troubled kid as my first officer.. That's how we called you between us, Chris' troubled kid." She eyes him squarely. "It's true, you failed him a lot more than I liked to see, but he was always sure you'd be worth the trouble. He believed in you more than anyone else in this universe. And the way you brought down Harrison and Marcus – in a style befitting a Starfleet captain – finally proved to me his trust in you was well-placed. You would've made him proud."
He doesn't know what to say, the onslaught of emotions that rush over him – humiliation, pride, and pain all one strange mixture inside of him – stealing every possible reply from his tongue.
"All of the senior officers on this ship have served with or under Chris for some time, and they're all willing to support you in getting your ship back, because that's what he wanted. And we trust in him. But if you fail, if you fail because of your attitude and your ego and all those weaknesses that are unacceptable and that cost you the chair once already, they're just as willing to kick your ass from here to Andor, because he would've done the same. These are the terms of your posting here. Think you can live with that, Kirk?"
He looks up, mesmerized by the way she can both make him feel small and humbled as well as embraced and accepted. Her resemblance to Pike in this brings a strange, warm feeling of connection.
"Yes, Sir. I can." He gets to his feet, straightening his back. "Thank you." There's that stupid impulse of tearing up again, dammit, he hadn't been such a cry baby in the past – but this is like Pike keeping on being his guardian angel from out of the grave and it's so incredible that this ship, this family is ready to embrace him in as one of theirs because of Pike's belief in him.
The captain must have noticed his inner turmoil. "Glad to hear that. In this case – you have five minutes, then I expect you to join us for dinner."
"I'll be there. Thank you," he says, immensely grateful being giving a moment to collect himself.
"Admiral Pike will surely be one of the subjects of conversation."
"I know. I'll be able to handle it."
"Good." One nods and leaves him.
He stares at the closed door for a moment, then goes to the bathroom to wash his face.
Things will be okay, he tells himself in the mirror. For a second, he considers putting on his trademark smile, the one that's almost too bright and that the world at large expects from him. But then he leaves it be and remains just himself, the blue of his eyes not yet the usual bright light in his serious face.
These people here are different. These people are as much worth seeing his best, true self as his own crew is.
He leaves the console on – later, he'd write Bones... and Spock.
He'd have to apologize, and he would.
***
