#going to admit I find the bit about Spock being someone you can trust to the end for reasons that had no relation to the ordinary human ones

[lichqueenlibrarian]

1. Why are there still inkwells in the future?

2. Kirk that’s fucking sweet

3. Given adult Spock’s sassiness I don’t think that’s accurate.

[bisamwilson]

uno reverse star trek aos bc im curious

i love aos with my whole entire heart (to the point that i’ve unfollowed otherwise good trek blogs bc i got tired of seeing so many posts ragging on aos rip). aos got me into trek and i’ll be thankful for it for that forever

like first off the casting is fucking perfect. you can tell all of them love star trek so much. like pegg wrote beyond (which was the most “trek like” of the aos movies imo) and put so many cute little nudges towards the originals in there that i loved. quinto and nimoy were good friends and it was obvious quinto just wanted to do right by nimoy’s legacy. any time i see karl urban as bones i think about that story of how nimoy got teary eyed watching him bc of how much he acted like de. john cho is a badass sulu, anton was a major part of the heart and soul in those movies, and i love just how dedicated zoe saldana is to showing off uhura’s incredible competency.

i haven’t mentioned pine yet, for good reason, and that is because, despite how a lot of trekkies i know feel, i love aos kirk. i love just about everything about who he is as a character. i’d even venture to say i love him more than tos kirk (though i love tos kirk more than life too). pine pours so much life into him as a character. here’s a kirk that’s every bit of the genius he is in tos, but he’s at his youngest, most reckless, most cocky. he’s a twenty something who’s spent his entire life being left behind (by his hero father who follows him everywhere he goes, by his mother who is reminded of her lost love every time she sees him, by his piece of shit uncle, and perhaps most importantly, by sam. we’ll come back to sam later.) he decides it’s easier to throw up a facade, a cocky devil may care attitude supplemented by his pretty blue eyes and his frankly ridiculous aptitude scores, and spends his life pissing people off from the get go so he never has to feel the hurt when they leave.

which brings me back to sam kirk. (this bit gets negative @ jj specifically despite the ask prompt, fair warning.) as both a trekkie and a star wars fan, there are many things i will never forgive jj abrams for, but at the top of that list is deleting the scene where sam leaves jim behind. because that, in my i’ve-spent-way-too-much-time-thinking-about-jim-kirk opinion, is what defines jim, even more so than the dead dad who died on his birthday. that’s the final straw. his big brother, the one who was supposed to be with him no matter what, tells him he’s leaving bc jim’ll be fine. he’s a goody two shoes with perfect grades who always follows orders, but sam’s a kirk. so he can’t stay where his uncle is. up until this point, jim’s done what he’s supposed to do. he listens, he does his chores, he minds, he does well in school. he keeps quiet as much as he can. until his brother leaves and so he decides to steal a car and drive it off a cliff. he decides to become what sam says is a kirk, and fuck the consequences. being good and mindful got him a family who didn’t want him, so he’s gonna be a delinquent instead, bc then at least he doesn’t have to worry about getting left behind again.

and despite whatever womanizer image jj was going for, chris pine got /this/. you can see it written all over his face: the wonder at looking up at the enterprise in the iowa shipyard, the dedication to beat a test to prove people didn’t always have to die, the way he looks so shocked when spock prime treats him with such kindness, tells him how much of a great man he is and will be, that he was such a fantastic captain. even in stid (which isn’t my favorite by a long shot) you can see kirk struggling with his own self worth, see how much he feels like he was just living up to everyone else’s shoddy expectations when he lost his captaincy. see how much he feels like martyring himself is the only way even though he doesn’t want to die, bc if he doesn’t someone else would have to. and his crew means more to him than he does.

most importantly though, we get to see kirk work through it. he relies on bones, to the point that uhura is basically holding him up when it looks like he might die via missile explosion in stid and to the point he trusts bones to just be there on his birthday in beyond. he openly admits to spock in beyond that he wouldn’t know what to do without him (despite never letting himself need anyone at all since sam). he jokes around with uhura, saves sulu. trusts chekov to take care of things when scotty quits. assures scotty he’ll take the blame if things go wrong in beyond. he is close and in sync enough with his crew by beyond that his security on the bridge know exactly when to hand him a phaser when he rushes off. he’s dropped his cocksure attitude and grown into the captain he was always born to be, that spock prime told him he was. for the first time since he was like nine years old, he’s let people in.

and that, more than anything, is why i love aos so much. the cast is wonderful and the storylines are (mostly) entertaining to watch, but more than anything, aos jim’s journey is just so relatable to watch. it’s heartbreaking in its infancy and so incredibly satisfying by its end. tos kirk seemed louder than life to me always, which is maybe why i gravitate to aos jim more. he’s got so much in him that he has to find a way to let out. and he does

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Twenty Eight

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕

Sooo….. How are we doing…………….

Warnings: ....Less angst than last week? I think? I mean by my gauge anyway y’all might disagree

Also cursing and mentions of canon-typical violence Summary: “I don’t want to sound insensitive or glib, Kat, but this better be fucking good.” 

Can we talk? I had taken my time in answering Una’s message.

Maybe it was a little petty of me, but it was the first time she’d reached out to me in months, and I was tired. Despite the fact that the armistice between the Federation and the Klingons was in effect ahead of the Peace Accord in Paris, my work had yet to be completed. I’d been selected and summoned back to the Academy by Starfleet High Command to work closely with a number of other Comms specialists and the Klingons to draw up a treaty that would be beneficial to both sides, and would help to ensure that the armistice held. Are you going to hang up again? Was my answer, finally. Her response stunned me - but then, Una typically found a way to catch me off-guard. It would be difficult for me to hang up on you in person. 

-- I had this inexplicable urge to hug her, if only to ensure that we were both there, both real and solid, but I knew that Una was not a hugger. Instead I nodded to her as she slid into the booth seat across from mine. I’d taken up brief residence in one of the vacated mess hall spaces in the Academy while I’d waited for her. “How much time have you got?” She asked. “About an hour. It’s technically lunch break.” “We can get something to eat.” “I’m not hungry.” “...How are you?” She asked after a moment. “I’m not sure you deserve that answer.” I didn’t mean to snap, but— seeing Una in person, seemingly unchanged after what I had gone through - after Somonia, after the war, and after she had been so harsh to me, I was not in a mood to be warm and cuddly. Una nodded a little, unflinching. “I do deserve that,” She conceded, “I was...Processing. I should not have said that to you, it was a blatant disregard for your feelings. I’m sorry.” “...Well,” I bristled a little, “Thank you for that.” I glanced out of the window for a moment, gathering myself before asking, “So, why are you on Earth?” “There was a hitch in installing the new Holographic Communications System, it had to be brought in to space dock.” “Crew’s in one piece?” “Yes.” “Are you the only one down here?” “...Yes.” I lowered my gaze to my hands again. “Why did you want to meet with me?” I asked. Una stood and walked around to my side of the booth, sliding in to sit beside me. I didn’t turn to look at her, and she didn’t push for me to. “When...Spock told me that you were alive,” She said softly, “When he brought the timeline to me, the evidence… There was some little part of me that almost hoped he’d made it all up-- Not because I wanted you to be gone,” She hurried to explain, “But because I… Could not fathom the fact that we had left you behind. And seeing your medical file, reading the briefing that you gave Command-- the hell that you went through. If we’d turned back when Cornwell contacted us--” “You couldn’t have known--” “That shouldn’t have stopped us,” Una insisted, “We should’ve gone back, should’ve...Made sure.” I glanced over at Una to find her staring ahead of us, shoulders and jaw tight. “It was hard, watching the crew learn that you were gone. You were missed, you were needed, but seeing the news spread that you were alive, that you’d been drafted into service for the war so soon after you were found— And that we were constantly being told to stay out of the war on top of it … I was angry. I focused that anger in the wrong place when we spoke,” She admitted, turning to meet my eye, “I have regretted that every single day.” I felt tears prickling at my eyes and I lowered my eyes to the gold fabric of her uniform, clenching my jaw. “I’m not apologizing for not telling you,” I shook my head, "I’m sure Cornwell was monitoring my communications, and I don’t know what the repercussions would’ve been-- for either party.” “Considering the Admiral’s tendency to run a tight ship, as it were, I understand. I think you did the right thing...Commander,” Una tipped her head forward as she addressed me by my new rank. I rolled my eyes a little, a small smile creeping onto my face. It had been a battlefield promotion for the sake of my ability to command a small vessel during the Battle of Xisad, one of the last battles fought during the war. Cornwell had promoted me herself. “You know I had to take the Bridge Officer’s test when I got back?” I told Una, slouching down in my seat a little bit, “Just to make it official. They told me that if I didn’t, my rank would revert. I almost let it go.” “Why didn’t you?” “Durling.” “Eli Durling?” I nodded, humming, “Bastard goaded me, said I wouldn’t pass first try, so it wasn’t worth bothering.”

Una smiled. “Stubborn as stone,” She shook her head. “Don’t start,” I began to laugh, and it soon overtook the two of us. As it settled, I gathered my courage to ask the question that had been sitting on the tip of my tongue since Una had told me she was the only one on Earth. “Where is he?” “He’s on Starbase five at the moment. Visiting someone.” “Is he alright?” “Yes.” “And he...He knows?” Una frowned, nodding a little. “Of course he knows,” She confirmed, “You haven’t spoken to him?” “No. He hasn’t reached out and I...I didn’t, I wasn’t sure,” I admitted. I suddenly felt jittery-- sharp, and sensitive. It was like I’d taken a gulp of the worst kind of Koutovian tea. “So--” I cleared my throat, “When do you leave?” “In a few hours, most likely. Starfleet’s set us another mission. Do you know where you’ll be stationed next?” “No. I don’t know how long we’ll be working on the treaty and Command doesn’t want to set me to another post prematurely.” “I understand.” I could see the disappointment in Una’s eyes, but rather than say anything, she just tipped her chin up a little bit. “Do you think you’ll leave Communications for Helm now?” She prodded, and I snorted. We both knew the answer to that. 

-- Tilly and I nearly knocked one another over with the force of our embrace. I squeezed her as tight as I could, grinning from ear to ear, wholly uncaring that the transporter room crew and the Cornwell were nearby. “I have to check on where you’re staying, but um-- I’ll come and find you and show you and-- excuse me, Admiral,” Tilly ducked around Cornwell before hurting out of the transporter bay.

The Admiral arched a brow at the sight of me before gesturing for me to follow her. I fell into step beside her, glancing around. The Discovery hadn’t changed since my last stint on it, of course, but it was surreal to be back on the ship that I thought had been destroyed. But as nice as it was to be on a starship with no threat of war, I was not in the best mood. Treaty completed, peace talks aside, Peace Accord signed, I had been afforded leave. Shortly after that leave had been granted, I'd received a message from Admiral Cornwell. 

“I don’t want to sound insensitive or glib, Kat, but this better be fucking good.” “You’re not in uniform.” “No. I’m not, because technically, officially, I am not here,” I reminded Cornwell as I cast her a sidelong glance, “Were those not your exact words?” “They were.” “Well, then if I am still technically, officially on leave,” I gestured to my civvies, “Then why would I be in uniform?” “You’re in a fine mood.” “Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you pulled me off of leave for an assignment?” I retorted. “The Discovery has been tasked with chasing down signals that have appeared in varying points throughout the galaxy.” I frowned. “I thought that the Enterprise had been tasked with that directive.” “It had, but it experienced catastrophic system-wide failures. The Discovery took over the mission.” “And I’m here because…?” “There is a colony on the way to the next point that’s in need of monitoring. Starfleet is not interfering, but we’re keeping an eye on them. We need you--” “A Tag and Run?” I asked, stunned, “You’ve really pulled me off of leave for a Tag and Run? Why not pull Durling?” “I have. He’ll be here in a few hours to oversee the op. I’ve business to attend to elsewhere.” “Of course you do.” “Commander, I may’ve tolerated a certain amount of this disposition in the midst of the war, but please trust that I have no such patience for it right now.” I fought the urge to snap back and roll my eyes. “I thought that Tag and Runs were only sanctioned outside of the war in the most extreme cases.” “Trust when I tell you that this is extreme, and sanctioned by Starfleet.” Cornwell stopped at the turbolift, turning to face me. “There’s something else that I ought to make you aware of.” “Oh, there’s more?” “I need you to keep your head.” I looked over her face, at the slight grimace on her lips, and that sharp, jittery feeling bubbled back up in my stomach. “...Kat, what--” “Admiral, a question.” I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but turn at the sound of his voice-- my body was moving before I even fully registered it, half turned from Cornwell, half turned toward Pike. It almost didn’t register, at first, that it really was him. I hadn’t seen him anywhere but my mind’s eye, my dreams, for the longest time. He looked… Well. Almost just as I remembered. There were maybe a few more streaks of grey around his temples, but I didn’t get a good enough look. My brain finally caught up with my body, took in his bewildered expression - the narrowed eyes, his parted lips, the scrunch of his brow - and I turned my head away, eyes set on the turbolift panel. “...You couldn’t have mentioned this before I beamed aboard?” I asked Cornwell quietly. “I wasn’t sure if another ship would be in range. False hope would’ve been cruel,” Cornwell's voice was no louder than mine, her eyes set on the Captain.  I turned my head a little as the turbolift doors opened and Tilly stepped out. “Oh! Wow, just who I was looking for--” She glanced between the three of us, taking in the tense silence, “I...Am sorry to interrupt, but, um, your lodgings are ready, Commander.” “Thank you,” I mumbled. “Commander?” Pike’s repetition was hushed, almost awed. I turned my head toward him a little, unable to meet his eye. He’d missed so much-- and what the hell had I missed? “If you’ll excuse me,” I answered tightly, stepping onto the turbolift with Tilly. “See if you can find a uniform,” Cornwell watched me, “And try to give Durling less lip.” “No guarantees,” I retorted before the doors slid shut. -- 

“That seemed… Tense. Like cage-fight-with-a-Mugato-tense,” Tilly commented over the hum of the turbolift. She was right - it felt it, too. I couldn’t get that look Pike had given me out of my mind. It was buzzing through me; it was a stone in my stomach; it was behind my eyelids when I blinked. “Speaking from experience?” I tried to tease as we stepped off. “Ah-ha,” Tilly shook her head, “No.” I gave her a small shrug, following her down the hall, “Pike used to be Captain of the Enterprise.” “Right.” “And I haven’t seen him since…” “Since he thought you were dead,” It dawned on Tilly, “Oh… Oh that’s worse than a Mugato.” “It’s like two Mugatos.” “Well, here we go,” She stepped aside to let me in, “You’re gonna have a roomie, but it won’t be me.” “Who’s it going to be?” I asked as I stepped inside. “Well, it’ll be me, and if you don’t like that, you can sleep in the frickin’ cargo hold.” I froze again at the sound of that dry, almost raspy voice. “Jett?” I asked, stunned. “Is that a yes or a no to the cargo hold?” She added, standing from her bed, “I mean you don’t actually have a choice, but it only seems polite to ask.” I flexed my hands before I asked, “Can I-- Are you-- Can I hug you?” “Once,” Jett conceded, “But make it a quick one.” I didn’t approach her too fast, didn’t hug her too tightly, just patted her shoulder twice and took a step back. “What, um…” I asked lightly, throat growing tight, “What happened?” “It’s a long story-- And you haven’t even heard it yet,” Jett frowned, watching me step back to what would be my temporary bed and lower myself down onto it, putting my head in my hands. “Hey,” Tilly sat down beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder and rubbing it, “What is it?” I couldn’t answer. I just shook my head a little as I took deep breaths, trying to slow my pounding heart, trying to steady my breathing. “Are you mouthing ‘pie’? I should get her a snack?” I heard Jett ask Tilly-- which made me laugh through the few tears that were leaking from my eyes. “Pike,” I mumbled, “She’s mouthing Pike.” I could understand why the two were trying to be careful with me. I surely seemed panicked by what should’ve been amazing news. And it was amazing. I was overjoyed, relieved that Jett was alright, but-- between the mission, Tilly, Pike, and Jett, I was overwhelmed. And Pike had looked right at me -- Right at me. He’d seemed so startled, like I was a figure that had stepped out of a dream-- or a nightmare: unknowable, unplaceable, but strangely familiar and to be dissected. Maybe that was one small consolation. While Cornwell hadn’t warned me, she'd been remiss in warning him, too.

I tipped my chin up from my hands, looking between Jett and Tilly and giving them a weak, watery smile. “I won’t lie, though, pie sounds amazing right now.” "Sure! We can do that,” Tilly said quickly, more than happy to put a baked band-aid over this hurt, “Jett, you coming?” Reno shrugged, “I could eat.”

Tag list: @angels-pie​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​  ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know​ ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles​ ; @inmyowncorner​  ; @tardis-23​ ; @2manyfandoms-solittletime​ ; @paintballkid711​ ; @katrynec​​ ; @hypnobananaangelfish​​ ; @elen-aranel​ ; @blueeyesatnight​

[ponnearponfarponwhereveryouare]

negotiations of home

Pairing: TOS!McSpirk

Summary: Spock takes the time to examine his thoughts (and feelings) towards the Enterprise's captain and chief medical officer. He decides the most logical course of action is to address his findings.

Rating: G | Word Count: 1862 | also on ao3

Spock had long since learned not to say thoughts tied to emotion. Such ruminations had to be examined critically and in such a time and location so as to not interfere with his work. Only in this way could he put logic first, by making a habit of it. He was not sure if this was the process other Vulcans applied, but it was the one that worked best for him.

He knew he was successful when he was able to apply this method around members of his family; with positive emotions and negative. Only in absolute private he might tell his mother he loved her, tell his sister he missed her, or tell his brother that they were still, always, family.

It was best not to think about the emotions that came up involving his father. Or the feelings around the fact that his family was two and a half parts human and two and a half parts Vulcan. Of not being a whole.

Those walls had begun to slip, of late. And that was because he was faced with emotions that were not tangled up in his Vulcan upbringing. Feelings that included a sense of being held together, a chance at healing his two halves.

Which brought him to the matter at hand.

"You're you, Spock!" Leonard snapped, though the anger was not directed at Spock himself. The doctor was pacing about Jim's quarters, while Spock sat at the Captain's desk observing him. "You're not broken! All you have to do in this life is be honest with yourself."

Spock raised a brow. "Is this a time for the old anecdote, physician heal thyself?"

Leonard managed to scowl deeper. "Damn it, man, at least I'm trying. Talking about these sorts of things with someone you trust and care about is important."

"Is that not what I am attempting to do?" Spock asked. Before Jim had been called away to deal with a potential issue among the Enterprise's current guests, Spock had gathered both Jim and Leonard together with the purpose of working through a line of thought that had followed him around for the past 30 days.

Leonard deflated a bit, rubbing his hands together in a nervous manner. Spock attempted not to stare, as the emotions that evoked were ones he had not yet begun to speak of.

"Do not worry, Leonard, I will not continue until Jim has returned," Spock said in a tone he hoped would be reassuring.

"How am I supposed to do that, with you calling us by our names?" Leonard protested, now tossing his hands up in the air.

"It is a personal matter, so it would be illogical to use your professional titles."

"And that's why I'm nervous! Last time you had a personal matter that you had to involve me and Jim in, you were dying or your father was dying." Leonard didn't return to pacing, instead, he crossed the room and kneeled beside Spock. His blue eyes were wide and filled with concern.

"My apologies. I did not mean to raise alarm," Spock said, reaching out towards Leonard. He wasn't sure what he'd do, but he needed such dramatics to end. It brought an uncomfortable warmth that was tempting to lean into. To drown in. “Please, stand.” Spock stopped himself before he actually could touch Leonard’s elbows.

Leonard seemed to take a long enough time pondering this request as to border on his usual teasing. He finally stood, pressing a hand against Spock’s knee as he did. He settled then into Jim’s other chair so that they were now directly across from each other. “So you’re not dying.”

“Not that I am aware of. Though as my doctor, I believe you are to give me such status updates.”

This returned Leonard to a... huffier state. “I’d be able to do that if you didn’t lie to me.”

“Vulcan’s do not lie,” Spock reminded him.

“Oh really? Then it seems like I’ll need a copy of whatever definition you’re using for the word.”

Jim returned to catch that last exchange. “Gentlemen. I see I haven’t missed anything.” He was smiling, coming to lean against the partition that divided his quarters.

Spock found himself calmed by Jim’s presence. “The Andorian ambassador is settled?”

“Yes, Scotty was able to change the climate control settings for her quarters to something comfortable,” Jim said, as he looked from Spock to Leonard and back. “Where were we?”

“Spock was telling us something that is a “personal matter",” Leonard provided. “I’ve got him to promise no one is dying.”

“Statistically in the breadth of the universe and even just among life as we know it, at this moment-”

“Shut it!” Leonard’s tone was supposed to be sharp, but it was too rounded by his own laughter.

“Very well,” Spock turned towards Leonard, both eyebrows raised, and remained silent.

“Jim, look what he’s doing now!” Leonard complained, leaning closer towards Spock, as close as he could get with the desk between them.

Jim’s laughter filled the silence, and he crossed the room to sit on the corner of his desk. “Spock, Bones, come now.” His face was in that easy grin of his, the one Spock associated with times when all was well. “Spock, what did you want to talk to us about?”

Yes, the mission at hand. One that he had set for himself because, given the nature of their work and luck, it seemed best to share his thoughts sooner than later. Spock had planned the words he would say carefully, trying to predict what response he might get. He would not call himself nervous, as that emotion tended to be one of the most illogical.

“Yeah Spock, sorry,” Leonard smiled kindly, leaning back again. His foot nudged Spock’s under the table in what must have been encouragement. Leonard rarely apologized for their mutual antagonization of the other, another sign he was taking this seriously.

“It has come to my attention that I hold you both in strong regard.” Spock thought that was as good a place to start as any, even as his practiced words seemed to fall away. He should have written them down... But that would have no doubt brought Leonard’s amusement and possibly ire. “I also know, while it is not the practice on Vulcan, for many cultures it is customary to let those you care about know of your regard towards them.”

Both Leonard and Jim were silent, which was not one of the responses Spock had anticipated. It was Leonard who finally spoke and said, “Are you sure you’re not dying? Because you just admitted to having an emotion. Several, in fact.”

“Indeed. It was our last away mission that brought me to further examine my feelings towards both Jim and yourself.” Spock had been the one, after 27.8 frantic hours, to find and rescue the captain and chief medical officer. Between coordinating the rescue effort, Spock found his thoughts consumed with things he wished to tell them both. “I... care for you both. My existence is greatly improved by your presence in it.”

He hoped that they could understand all he was not able to say. ‘Don’t leave me, I need you, I missed you, I-’

“Spock,” Jim’s voice was soft, and when Spock looked up at him, so was his expression. “I feel the same.” He then looked towards Leonard, and Spock followed his gaze.

Leonard looked between them both, and his blinking grew more rapid. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Damnit, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost either of you. You’ve both managed to pick up my pieces and put them back together. I can’t remember the last time I felt complete.”

Of course, Leonard, who was better with emotions than either Spock or Jim, would put the words to it: that there existed between them something that exceeded a friendship bond. They had become family. Partners. A tension settled then, the question -

“What do we do?” Jim voiced it. “It’s not as if we can stop going on dangerous missions. That’s not the life we signed up for.”

“I know neither of you could be happy sitting by,” Leonard agreed. “You’re explorers to your cores. And someone who asks you to change your very nature isn’t worth keeping.”

Keep. Spock turned the word over in his mind. “It seems that what is in our power to change is the parameters of our relationship.”

Jim let out a breath that sounded like ‘yes.’

“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, that’d be against regulation.” Leonard pointed at Spock. “Would you be okay with that?”

“Affirmative.” Spock had to focus to keep his tone even. This was not one of the outcomes he had let himself ponder. His desire for it would have become overwhelming.

“What about the ol’ needs of the many over the few?” Leonard said, and Spock knew he wasn’t arguing because he was against the possibility now hanging heavy in the room, more tangible than it had ever been before because it had been named. Leonard was making sure Spock was sure; that he was comfortable.

“You are both professionals, whom I trust not to let the personal adversely interfere with the running of the ship.” It was an easier answer than he thought. “I even theorize that such a change in our relationship could improve personal performance.”

“Now that is a theory that I want to test.” Jim moved to stand, so he could face them both fully. His smile was back and wider than Spock could recall seeing it. “I’d like to very much.”

Leonard was smiling now as well. “Why am I surprised that this has been the weirdest way I’ve ever been asked out?”

“Come on Bones, for science,” Jim’s eyes twinkled, and he reached out to catch one of Leonard’s hands. “But more importantly, for... love.”

Spock watched the way their fingers fit together, and almost missed that Jim had spoken the final unspoken word. He looked back towards their expressions, before standing himself and coming closer, to stand between them both.

“Of course I will,” Leonard said. “Spock?”

“Affirmative,” Spock said again, and added, while carefully watching Leonard’s expression. “It should prove fascinating.” Before Leonard could offer a retort to that, Spock held out his index and middle finger to him. A gesture he knew the good doctor had picked up the significance of.

Leonard’s eyes went wide once more, but he didn’t hesitate before reciprocating the gesture. Once he had, Spock felt a wave of affection he could not pinpoint as his own emotion or Leonard’s. Spock then offered the same to Jim, who looked like he had been given a gift to rival his captaincy of the Enterprise.

When Jim’s finger’s met Spock’s, the three of them stood visibly connected in a way Spock knew their lives had already long been. This, then, was proof that he would not lose them. At least, not without making sure they knew what they meant to him.

It spoke of a new beginning, a new adventure, shared between the three of them.

[elen-aranel]

Down from Uptown

The Engineer’s Adventures

1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4

For @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: Canon-typical violence; off-screen deaths of (young) adults WC: 6k Tag list: this isn’t the story I said I’d tag you for but it is Captain Pike X Reader @jusvibbbin ? does this count?? I can untag you! A/N: Me: it’s a one-shot Me: oh wait I can’t leave it there here’s a sequel @autumnleaves1991-blog​: here’s another amazing Writer Wednesday prompt Me: I guess it’s a series of one shots now?? Also this is super long for me having written it in one day. Not sure where all these words came from. Other writers write feelings; come to me for a healthy dose of plot. tl;dr: Elen saw the picture and thought, what if Captain Pike, but driving a speeder?

It is all his fault.

You shouldn’t even have been here in the first place: you are an engineer. Not a diplomat. Sure you had read the briefing the comms team had put together, but maybe if you’d been better at reading alien body language, they wouldn’t have got the jump on you?

Now you’re sitting in what feels like a cellar, no windows, one flickering light panel above you, leaning against the wall feeling sorry for yourself.

Still. You will admit – having checked Chris over and determined, to the best of your knowledge from your limited field medic training, that he was probably fine – that you would rather be here with him than on the Enterprise worrying, powerless.

While you wait for him to wake you take an inventory of what you have, and think back to how you had gotten into this predicament.

*

“Are you sure, Chris?” He likes when you call him that, even if you’re on duty, so long as you’re alone. “It’s a first contact, and not even with a society that needs help from us. There’s got to be someone better than me?”

“Of course I’m sure. The Eloma value couple bonds; it would be strange not to take you. Unless,” —he peers up at you under his eyelashes, mouth quirking slightly,—”you don’t think you’re up to it? I could bring—”

“No, I’m up to it all right.” You bristle at the obvious manipulation attempt. You may not be as confident over away missions as the crew who go on them regularly, and your minor meltdown in Earth’s past still has you nervous about how you may react if things go wrong off the ship, but the only way to overcome worries like that is to confront them. You know you can do this. “Louvier’s going to be mad, that’s all. I promised him I’d oversee the shuttle upgrades.”

“You let me handle Louvier,” he says with a small smile.

“Well if I end up on gamma for the next two weeks and you don’t see me at all, you only have yourself to blame,” you say with a shrug.

“Being the captain does have its perks, you know. I can change the duty rosters if I wish.” He grins back, blue eyes sparkling and dimples on display, knowing he’s won this one.

*

The first impression you get of Eloma is calm beauty. You beam down to a roof garden high on a sky-scraper, with Captain Pike at your side, and Lieutenant Spock and Ensign James from security.

The garden is gorgeous. You meet your hosts on a paved area, but there are trees and flowerbeds all around, a few little paths winding between them, and you can see three ornate stone fountains behind your hosts, the largest of which shoots a plume of water into the air as you watch. You think you’d like to sit on one of the benches with a book – you would enjoy being able to hear the sounds of traffic wafting up from below (something between hover cars and shuttles by the sound of the engines), the horns beeping, and the occasional distant peal of laughter – it would be nice to feel part of all that but also separate from it.

You don’t have too long to dwell on your surroundings, however, because the captain is stepping forward to greet your hosts.

There are two native humanoid species who collectively make up the Eloma: the Mraden who are tall, grey haired with skin shades varying from sky through to ultramarine blue, faces humanlike apart from ridges beneath each eye; and the smaller, black haired, ice-white skinned Ginera who could almost pass for human if their skin was warmer in colour and their dark eyes didn’t flash silver at certain angles. A pair of Mraden and a pair of Ginera step forward to meet you, all wearing long white robes. You wonder if this is normal dress or whether it’s ceremonial, and you resist the temptation to smooth down your red jacket. The Mraden guards standing at attention behind your hosts are dressed more like you, though; a more practical black style.

“Greetings Captain, honoured partner,”—the Mraden lady looks at you as she says this, and you nod slightly in acknowledgement—”I am Nera, first lady of Eloma. May I welcome you on behalf of the first and second couples.” She gestures to her partner first, then to the Ginera couple, who bow. “We are delighted to open contact with the esteemed united Federation of planets, contact which I trust will lead to our mutual benefit.”

“Thank you, Nera. Myself, my partner and officers are grateful for your kind hospitality.”

You try to pay attention to the formalities between Nera, the Captain, and Lakir the first man, but you aren’t a diplomat, and beyond trying to keep your expression pleasant and listen out for anyone addressing you directly, your mind wanders a little. You wonder about the vehicles you can hear. You’re on top of a tall building, possibly the tallest you’ve been on, and as you look around past the trees and flowers you can see other buildings of similar heights. You think the gravity here may be a tiny bit lower than Earth standard, but this culture really does seem to use its sky space a lot.

You’re also interested in your hosts; although your briefing said that the Mraden and Ginera were equals on the planet, all the guards are Mraden and you’ve barely heard your Genera host’s voices, never mind their names. You wonder whether they communicate telepathically, or whether first and second couples switch between the species periodically. That’s probably it, you reason, and probably the first couple is responsible for security. You turn your attention to the fountains – the middle one is in the shape of a tree, and you’re marvelling at the individually carved leaves, when Chris takes your hand.

“Still with us?” He murmurs into your ear, as you look up to see your hosts are leading everyone through the garden.

“Of course,” you reply quietly, before raising your voice a little. “It’s just so beautiful.” Nera overhears that and smiles over her shoulder, and Chris squeezes your hand, pleased.

You follow the group past the fountains and to a door you hadn’t noticed before. It appears to lead down to a stairway and some guards go through, followed by the second couple, Spock and Ensign James, the first couple, then you and the captain.

But as you approach the doorway you hear a vehicle get louder, and suddenly the guards grab you. Your combat training kicks in as you see Chris struggling – you lean back and stomp on the guard’s foot, eliciting a stream of profanities as you try to elbow him in the solar plexus. But he’s a lot larger than you and had the benefit of surprise, and his grip doesn’t loosen as someone else stuffs a cloth in front of you and you can’t help breathing in the fumes, and you try to hang on but everything goes dark.

*

It is all his fault.

But blame will have to wait until later.

You assess yourself – other than a mild headache, probably due to dehydration, and a slightly bruised left hip, you feel fine. And the bruising isn’t going to slow you down if you need to make a run for it.

You go through your pockets. Your pants pockets are empty, but you unzip your uniform jacket and the inner one hasn’t been found – the custom one you modified the standard jacket synthesiser program for, because you always need to carry more than the uniform designers planned on, and you didn’t want delicate tools getting damaged when you shoved a communicator or PADD into your pants pocket.

You always have some tools with you because wherever you go, whether you’re on duty or not, someone will say, “You’re an engineer, right? Can you just have a quick look at...” and you make a show of grumbling but actually part of the reason you became an engineer in the first place is that you like to get things working for people. You’re grateful today that that extends to away missions.

You’re surprised to find your communicator on the floor near you, but as you pick it up you realise why it was left: it’s damaged. It had been in your left pocket, and whatever happened to you happened to it first; the casing is all bent and when you try to raise the Enterprise, you get nothing, not even static.

Figures that this would happen again, you think as you examine your communicator, assessing the damage. The real reason you shouldn’t be taken on away missions is because of your terrible luck. This one isn’t totally fried, you discover as you pry it apart and examine the components, but while it will still function as a translator, the transmitter was crushed. The communicator will work again if you can find a compatible part, but there’s no chance of communicating with the ship, and they can’t even lock on to your signal. You pull out the broken transmitter parts and put the case back together, and as you bend the cover back into shape you hear a groan.

“Captain?” You get up and crouch by him. He is leaning against the wall of your windowless cellar, blue eyes squinting. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore, but fine. You?” He straightens, focusing on you, reaching out a hand to touch your cheek gently.

“I’m fine. A little bruised.” You lean into his touch, briefly, before sitting back down next to him.

“What happened? I remember following our hosts, then a fight, and now I’m here..?”

“Wherever here is. That’s all I remember too. I hope Spock and James are okay.” Now Chris is awake your brain is allowing itself to worry. You frown. You can’t panic again like last time.

“What’s going on in there?” Chris is looking at you, concerned.

“Just... making a decision. To be strong. It sounds silly when I say it out loud.”

He leans over and places a soft kiss on your lips, and for just a moment you forget where you are – it’s just you and him, and the special thing that you have between you. “That’s a decision we all have to make,” he says as he pulls away, thoughtful. “It becomes... less conscious. With time.”

You nod, and you take a moment to breathe. You’ve got this.

“Seems like they’ve been through our pockets,” Chris says, getting to his feet. “My communicator is gone.” He walks over to the door, which is locked. That was going to be your next project.

“I still have mine but unfortunately it won’t communicate,” you say, standing too. “The transmitter got broken at some point. The translation functions are still operational though and it has power.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I’m good, but not that good,” you say, pulling the pieces of the component out your pocket to show him.

“Ah. Any ideas? Other than waiting?”

“After I failed with the communicator I was going to try to pick the lock,” you say, heading toward the door.

“With what?”

“With this.” You pull out a tool with a hook on it which you use to lever broken components off boards when they’re too small for your fingers.

“How do you–”

Chris’s question is cut off by the door in question opening. You just have time to put your tool in your pants pocket before two Ginera appear, brandishing energy weapons. You raise your hands and back away.

“Sit down,” the lead one says, waving his weapon, and you both comply. The other, also male, steps round him and puts two bottles of water on the floor, and a plate of what looks to be food.

“I’m Captain Christopher Pike, of the United Federation of Planets. I promise if you let us go unharmed my people won’t seek punishment against you, or retribution. If not, though, they will come after us.”

The boy, and he is a boy, you realise, twenty at most, snickers. “We don’t intend to hurt you, but we’re not going to let the best chance the GLG has had to be taken seriously go just like that. Sorry.”

“The GLG?” Chris asks, voice gentle. Unthreatening.

“Ginera Liberation Group. And no, your ship knows we have you, but they’re not going to find you. We called them on your communicator, Captain, and told them we had you, and not to look. We weren’t stupid enough to call from here, either,” he adds, and a little spark of hope in you flares out. “And there are 60 million people in this city alone, they’re not going to be able to resolve the life signs of... whatever you are, among all of us.”

“And what is it that the... Ginera Liberation Group wants?”

“To wake people up. To tell the Mraden”—he spits out the word like it’s a curse—”that we won’t take being treated as second-class citizens anymore. And to give the Ginera hope – that we can take back what’s ours. We don’t need their skyscraper cities, where they force us to live in the dirt. We don’t need their language or their stupid pair bonds. We had our own society before and we can have it again.”

Chris sighs, and leans back, looking up at the boy. “Take it from someone who is old enough to be your dad: taking hostages is not the way. The Federation won’t pay a ransom for us. The Mraden won’t listen to you while you have us. But if you let me go, we can have Federation diplomats come, and—”

“We’ve had enough of diplomacy, Captain. We’re taking matters into our own hands now. Enjoy your food.” He turns abruptly and stalks out, his companion in tow.

Chris examines the food – there are four pre-packaged energy bars. He passes one to you, opening one himself. “Might as well do what the kid says.” He takes a bite, grimacing slightly.

You are not hungry, but you take a bite of yours anyway – you know you need to keep your strength up. You grimace too – the flavour is a weird combination of sweet citrus and something almost cheesy. In general you like salt and sweet but this is not it.

Still you force yourself to finish it; you both need to keep your strength up. Thankfully the drink is just water.

After you’ve finished eating Chris speaks again.

“So how about getting out of here? How do you still have that tool, anyway?”

“I have a pocket in my jacket. I have done for years. It’s reinforced so you don’t see it from the outside – as an ensign my commanding officer cared more about aesthetics than practicality – and that’s where I keep my more delicate tools.”

“Ever the engineer, huh?” Chris’s expression is fond and you smile back, warm inside despite your situation. “Come on.”

He stands, and puts his hand out for you. You grasp hold of it and pull yourself up, appreciating the contact. You go to the door, hook tool in hand, and listen at it first. When you’re sure you don’t hear anything from the other side you gingerly put the tool into the keyhole. It doesn’t shock you, which is a good start, but it still takes a few minutes to work out the structure. Chris is patient while you work, not breathing down your neck. You smile in satisfaction as the lock softly clicks open.

“Well done. I figure we sneak out of here then try to alert local law enforcement. Hopefully they can put us in touch with Nera’s people, who can get us back to the ship.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, stepping back to let him take the lead.

You follow him along a little corridor then up a flight of stairs, pausing when he motions you to stop. You can hear voices coming from your left and he eases the door open then gestures you to follow again. You catch a glimpse of the room your captors are in on the way past, but happily they have their back to you, looking at a display screen. Then you’re past them, to the front door. Chris opens it as carefully as he can but the last bolt is stiff and scrapes as it opens. You sense movement behind you but you’re through, slamming the door shut behind you, racing across the street and into an alleyway on the other side before they get out. You keep going behind the building opposite, and then Chris has you double back to face the street you were on. You peep round the edge of the building – your captors are standing in their doorway, the leader berating his companion, although you can’t hear what he’s saying.

You step back into the alley.

“Well, the—” Chris starts to say, but he’s interrupted by a loud bang. An explosion. People are screaming and you smell smoke, see orange light from flames.

You follow Chris back onto the street but the building you were in, small, apparently, just three stories amongst all the giant skyscrapers, is billowing flame and smoke from all its windows, on all floors. There’s a crowd of people standing, staring in disbelief, as the last window shatters, sprinkling glass over the crowd.

You turn to Chris. “We—we were—”

“I know,” he says, reaching for your hand. You take it, hearing sirens getting louder. You walk toward the building, knowing there was no way the boys could have survived. You stand at the edge of the crowd, looking at the smoke billowing out, as the authorities arrive.

First there are some Ginera on what looks like a fire appliance. They begin to set up hoses, faces grim. Then some Mraden swoop down in a vehicle painted white with a green logo on it. The crowd, who you notice is made up mostly of Ginera, back away slightly. Chris tows you forward, toward the Mraden who are wearing the same uniform as the guards were in the garden, who knows how long ago. They’re not the same people; their skin tones are both quite pale, but to your horror as soon as they see you they raise their weapons and fire.

You’re running again, keeping up with Chris who leads you straight into the smoke and through, round the corner of the block, down the street, into an alley, out onto another street, into yet another alley, until he’s certain you’re not being followed.

You breathe heavily, holding your hip – you were able to run, and could again, but it hurts.

“That was... unexpected,” Chris says, deadpan, and suddenly you find you have your arms around him, holding tight.

“Too close for comfort,” you say, pulling away a little, as he pats your back.

“I really did think this mission was going to be normal,” he shrugs a little as you step away. “Definitely not worse than last time.”

“I mean I know in theory that away missions are dangerous, but I—I didn’t expect someone I thought was going to help us to shoot.”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Seems like we were supposed to die in that fire...” he frowns as you both try to make sense of what just happened.

“What if it’s all a trick?” You muse aloud. “What if the Mraden are the ones who want us to die? Then they can blame the Ginera and crack down on them even further. And all they had to do was manipulate some kids...?”

Chris’s blue eyes are serious. “You’re right. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. We need to contact the ship. But we can’t trust anyone, and we need to get away from here.” He eyes you speculatively. “It’s an old-fashioned term, so I hope you’ve heard it before, but how do you feel about grand theft auto?”

*

“It’s called a speeder,” you say, frowning at the display. It hadn’t taken you long to find and break into a suitable vehicle. It was small, rust coloured and nondescript – not shiny and new, but not banged up either. You popped the doors up and open with ease; not that lock picking was anything you’d tried before today, not really, but you may have broken into a shuttle or two during your academy days.

Chris had got in on the drivers side, leaving you to puzzle out the on-board computer with the help of your communicator.

“I’ve hacked into the admin menu and changed the transceiver code; we need to use it to change lanes and stuff – to move up and down.” You scroll though the options in front of you, displaying in English now, rather than the the native Eloma language. Maybe the native Mraden language, you think wryly, as you find a setting which taps into the city’s store directory.

“There’s a hardware store in a block a couple of miles east of here. I know we can’t trust anyone but I think we may have to try. As far as I can tell it’s quite low down – only on the second level. I think it’s more likely to be Ginera than Mraden.”

Chris pauses from where he’s examining the controls. “We may be better off with the Ginera. I’m willing to bet our captors were a fringe group. I’m sure a lot of the Ginera agree with their goals, but probably not their means. They may be less inclined to report us to the authorities.” He nods. “All right. Strap in. Let’s get this show on the road,” he says, as he presses the ignition.

You look out the windshield at the street around you as Chris gets the speeder moving; with all your running away earlier you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings beyond wondering whether you could be seen. It’s grey, down here. Drab, even with all the colourful advertising signs. There’s a layer of grime, something dirty in the atmosphere.

You stare out the window as you drive, keeping an eye out for law enforcement, but you don’t see any. As you get further east the traffic gets a little lighter. You eye Chris sidelong; he seems relaxed as he navigates the unfamiliar city.

“Time to go up,” he says, pressing a control and pulling a lever. You see a flashing indicator to see you have permission to change level, and then you’re ascending.

You’ve spent lots of time in shuttles, piloted yourself in an out of orbit more than a few times, but it feels different in a speeder. More immediate, somehow.

Up here the traffic is moving faster, and you see many different speeders, in all colours and all designs. Some of the buildings have balconies with people, mainly Ginera, sitting reading, hanging out washing – a slice of daily life.

You pass a major junction, impressed with how Chris is handling the traffic signals, and the buildings change – the road is a bit wider, and the shops have speeder parks outside.

You wish your briefing notes had mentioned the local currency, not that knowing about it would do you any good.

“I think we’re here,” Chris says, as he slows the speeder down and sets it down in front of a shop. You look at the sign – you can’t read it but it has the same logo as in the store directory. “Will you be okay to go in alone? I think I should stay here...”

“In case we need to make a fast exit? Aye Captain.” You catch his eye and grin, unplugging the communicator and climbing out of the speeder.

Louvier would love this place, you think as you look around the dark interior. The aisles are narrow and full of parts, a few of which you recognise, and most of which you don’t. There are bins with various components like resistors and capacitors, and power supplies, regulator circuitry, almost anything you could want. Except, as far as you can see, the thing you need – a transmitter.

At the back of the store, sitting behind a counter, is an older Ginera female, hair greying a little, screwdriver tucked behind her ear as she focuses on soldering a circuit. You wait for her to put the iron down.

“Excuse me? I’m wondering if you can help.” She looks up and her eyes widen – she can’t see aliens too often, you think.

“You—” she frowns, shakes her head. “You’re from that starship. But the news net said you were dead. Murdered by those GLG kids.”

“You, um... can’t believe everything you see on the net?”

“They said that the legislature was going to be recalled. That your people are going to come and punish us.”

“That’s—that’s not who we are, at all. Even if some kids had killed us the Federation would never retaliate like that. They would try to find us, if they thought we were alive, and it might complicate negotiations between our peoples but there would be no punishment. But... how many did they say died?”

“The two of you who were abducted from the first couple’s garden.”

Spock and James were safe. The fist bit of good news you’d had today.

“I really need to call my ship, let them know that we’re alive. But my communicator is broken. Do you have a micro transmitter? Something like this?”

You lean down over the low counter to show her your broken component.

“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “Nothing I’ve got here would be able to take the power you’d need for orbital communications. We don’t need things like that down here.”

Your shoulders slump. “Thanks anyway,” you say, straightening up.

“Wait. My cousin works in a shop at the shipyards by the spaceport. He’ll have what you need.” She rummages under the counter and produces a business card. “That will show you the way. His name is Jima. Tell him Asba sent you, he’ll give it to you for free.”

“Thank you, so much,” you say, taking the card and putting it in your pocket. “You don’t know how grateful I am, truly.”

“You’re welcome, love.” She turns her soldering iron on again, and smiles at you before getting back to work. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“So am I,” you say, as you turn to leave the shop.

*

“I have good news and bad news,” you say, as you plug the communicator back into the speeder and put the card into a slot that’s clearly designed for such things: a route shows up on the screen.

“Bad news first,” Chris says with a wry smile, easing the speeder back into traffic. “Although I can guess what it is considering we’re not calling for a beam out right now.”

“ I should have said great, good, bad and worse. You’re right about the bad news – she didn’t have the part. The worse news is that she thinks we’re dead and the Federation is going to come and get revenge on the planet.”

“The Federation will what?” Chris almost swerves into another speeder as he takes the turn late, narrowly missing and causing the other speeder to honk its horn angrily. “Sorry about that,” he adds, a little sheepish.

“My fault for not warning you before dropping bombs. But the good news is Asba in the shop gave us the route you’re following to the shop where her cousin works near the spaceport. And the great news is that we were the only ones captured – Spock and James should be fine.”

“Oh thank god,” he says, fervent.

You access the speeder’s admin menu again as he drives and change the transceiver code again, mainly for something to do, but partly in case the driver of the speeder you nearly hit decides to call the authorities. Then you review your route. The shop you’re going to is several levels higher than you are now; you hope your speeder won’t stick out too much up there.

There are plenty of new things to see out the window, though. As you get higher the buildings are cleaner, windows larger. The shops you see have more elaborate displays with fancier goods, there are more Mraden around, and, as the light begins to turn golden, you pass your first park, full of Mraden children playing.

“The GLG had a point,” you say, almost to yourself.

“In what way?”

“The higher you get, the nicer it is, and the more Madren I’m seeing. Obviously their methods are wrong but... I kind of get it.”

“When we get out of here, I’m going to tell the Federation negotiators that we shouldn’t agree to anything without conditions of the Ginera being discussed. It feels a little like letting the bad guys get what they want in a way, but you can’t make an entire culture suffer because a couple of kids make a stupid choice.”

“And they were probably manipulated, too. That doesn’t excuse them, but—” you lock eyes with a Mraden enforcer as you pass a junction. She recognises you, even through the glass, and mutters into a communicator of some kind.

”But?”

“We’ve been spotted. Turn left! Now!”

Chris makes the turn, speeding up as he also changes up a level. He weaves in and out of traffic, trying to shake your tail, while you hold on for dear life, glad that you strapped in.

“Relax,” he says, as he takes another alarming turn, flying away from another chorus of horns. “My first assignment in Starfleet was as a test pilot.”

“That’s... um... good to know,” you say, weakly, as he brings you up another level and slows sharply. He takes the next turn at a much more sedate pace, before spotting an empty lane in front of you and speeding up again.

“Are we nearly there yet?” You ask, getting a laugh.

“Actually we are.” As you look around you realise you’re on the edge of the industrial district. Ahead you can just see some star ships, a large freighter and shuttles flying around it. “And hopefully we lost them.”

You reset the transceiver code for the third time, back to its factory default, as Chris makes a right between two tall buildings. You switch the transceiver off completely before he makes two more turns; hopefully it’s owner will be able to pick up the signal when it came on again and find it.

“I’ll come too this time.” Chris says, opening his door.

“Thank you for not crashing,” you say as you exit the speeder.

“Any time,” he says, and you both laugh as you enter the shop.

Where the last shop was cramped, this one is spacious. You recognise a lot more components here; they’re not Federation but they’re ship components and you understand what they do.

You and Chris find the small bin with the piece you need pretty quickly, but it’s locked, and you look around for help. You feel eyes on your back and you turn to see a Ginera male looking at you curiously.

“Excuse me,” you say, tone polite and not too eager, “do you know Jima? We’re looking for him.”

“I’m Jima,” he says, stepping closer. Chris puts his hand on your back; for your sake or his you can’t say.

“Asba sent us. She said you could help me get a component to fix my communicator?”

“Is this what you need?” He indicates the bin you were looking at. He pitches his voice quiet and you match it.

“Yes. This is the one I need.”

He unlocks the bin, takes a couple of transmitters out, and beckons you to follow, keeping an eye on the only other customer, a Mraden male. You pass between the aisles to the edge of the store, quietly following his lead, and go through a doorway.

“Asba called me, said you’d be coming. She also said to keep you out of sight. You should be safe here, to fix your tech. Call me if you need anything.” He steps back through the doorway as you hear some other customers enter the shop.

You put that out of mind though, as you hand Chris the communicator while you get your tools out. You can feel tension radiating off him as you take it back but you ignore that too. This is fixing things. It’s what you do. You open the cover and slot the component in, bending a couple of pins to fit and adjusting the power output to compensate for the non standard part.

“They were seen in this area. The speeder they stole is just out here.” Even though you’re concentrating, you can’t shut off your ears entirely. The people you thought were customers when they entered? Law enforcement.

You shut the cover again and hand it back to Chris.

“Didn’t I see them with you, Jima? They must be in the overflow storage.”

You hear loud footsteps as Chris says, “Pike to Enterprise! Get us out of here now!”

He reaches for your hand catching hold as the Mraden enforcement officers come through the door, and the gold light takes you, leaving them staring.

*

You thought you were glad to get back to Enterprise after you were on Earth. But that was nothing to how you feel now. You keep it together, however, in front of Number One, Spock, and the transporter technician.

“They said you were dead,”Number One says in greeting. “They showed us the burning building. They showed us your burnt communicator with the power cell removed. They said that was the only thing that survived.”

“What’s the quote? ‘The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated’?” Pike shrugs, giving her a half smile.

“ ‘The report of my death was an exaggeration.’ I’m glad you’re okay, Chris, but don’t do that to me again. At least not for another month.”

*

You shower in your own quarters, having got your bruise treated in sickbay, trying to calm down. Away missions are still a lot. Chris told you to take twenty four before reporting for duty again, and you will, but you get a report written first – you need to make sure that Jima and Asba are safe, and that the ship sends some compensation to the person whose speeder you stole. That done, you check with the computer, change into civvies and join Chris in his quarters.

“Hey,” he says as you walk in, standing from where he was sitting by the window and drawing you into a hug, then a soft kiss. You bring a hand up to his face, running you fingers over the stubble that’s there after a very long day, and kiss him back, heated, your lips moving across his, his tongue licking into your mouth. You pull apart, staring up into his blue eyes.

“You were right,” he says, drawing you across the room to sit next to him on the couch. “There was a Mraden plot. Nera and Lakir have resigned, although they claim they didn’t know what was going on, and Tura and Sama, the Ginera second couple, have taken power until they can hold new elections. It’s going to be a tough road for Eloma, if they’re going to properly confront their problems, but the Federation will help.”

“I’m glad,” you say, leaning into him, enjoying how safe you feel with his arm around you. “I—I hope those boys’ sacrifice turns out to be worth it.”

“Yeah,” he says, kissing your head, and you sit in silence for few minutes.

“Dinner?” He asks eventually.

“Yes if we can have your chilli again. I think we’ve earned it.”

“Oh you definitely did,” he replies, standing to go over to the synthesiser.

*

“Lieutenant?” It’s two days later and you’re on your way to Engineering from the mess hall. You turn in the corridor, to see Number One standing there, an amused expression on her face.

“Commander?”

“Next time he asks you to go on an away mission, just say no.”

[kinetic-elaboration]

February 26: 2x08 I, Mudd

Finally getting to this week's episode of TOS.

I remembered I, Mudd being basically fun but not exactly my favorite, and that's still my feeling.

This is the angriest I've ever seen Spock. "Labels do not make arguments." And then how McCoy realizes as soon as he gives his impression of the android how badly he's fucked up but he just has to keep digging that hole.

McCoy commits a micro-aggression lol.

And when Spock talks about McCoy's "beads and rattles"--that voice is 100% the tone Vulcans used to use before they killed someone.

That android looks so familiar. I guess he's not actually a common ST actor but he looks a lot like the common ST background actors.

"Scotty, the intruder's in your area" while Scotty's already on the floor. He got the memo.

"Tell security we found the intruder." We know the situation isn't that serious because Kirk still has a sense of humor.

I like that Spock appreciates that the android doesn't refer to Spock as part of "humanity." And he's definitely interested in the android.

I feel like it shouldn't be this easy to get control of a Federation star ship. Like Mudd is NOT that smart.

I can't believe Spock's first instinct is to try to meld with the machine. Stop being such a slut, Spock.

"He appears to have turned himself off."

Right there on the bridge!! Where he just stands in front of the doorway for 4 days, the least convenient spot.

Kirk is so relaxed about this mission. The ship's been captured and is rigged to blow but oh well! "We're going on a trip." "A gracious invitation." It's like he can already sense this episode is going to be nonsense all the way down.

JAMIE. How dare??

The last time we saw Mudd, Kirk was volunteering to be a character witness for him. Oh where did it all go wrong?

Spock is "ill equipped to appreciate" the ladies. Makes him sound gay.

How much do I LOVE that the VULCANS caught Mudd? He tried to steal Vulcan IP and they didn't like that. I want to know everything about Vulcan society tbqh.

So gross how obvious it is that Mudd is fucking the androids.

The irony of Mudd's situation: a prisoner who can have whatever he wants, but still a prisoner.

Kirk is not amused by the sexist wife android.

This is basically What Are Little Girls Made Of? but like.. not as good.

Kirk doesn't like androids, clearly.

This whole bit about how Uhura could live forever in an android body... First, her interest in the pretty girl androids is very Gay. Second, interesting that this is appealing to her? Third, so this is Dollhouse but with androids. And finally... I feel like this is very not in keeping with the rest of the universe. Like nothing else they can do is on the level of making people immortal. It's such an outlier skill/offering.

Replacing the Enterprise crew with androids--Kirk doesn't like that.

Better than Leningrad...

I am intrigued by the concept that the androids both want to serve and want to study people. Like it does make sense, they can't serve if they don't understand, but it has just that little bit of subtle creepiness to it, which I appreciate.

Kirk cannot be bought. I love episodes where everyone else is, to some extent, tempted by something, like utopia or soft animals or android servants, and Kirk is just like "I'm already living my best life as Captain of the Enterprise so thanks but no thanks."

Spock stepping in to this conversation just reads to me like the smart kid in class waving his hand to answer a question. Like he was not involved in this but he hears a question and he must answer it. "I know what human unhappiness is!! I know!"

THE ENTERPRISE IS A BEAUTIFUL LADY AND WE LOVE HER.

There is nothing tougher to overcome than a sense of purpose. Love that line. Honestly, among other things, I think it describes Kirk and his heroism well. He has a sense of purpose!! And he cannot be swayed.

And now the androids are becoming more like the threatening robots you expect: humans are imperfect/flawed/lacking in logic, can't be trusted to roam free, but are easily pacified with baubles and shiny things, so the robots will make everything better by simply distracting them with whatever they might want, thus saving them, and the universe, from themselves. “You species needs our help…We shall take care of them  You will be happy and controlled.”

I wonder a little bit if this is what happened to the Makers. Like, I know their official cause of death was Exploding Sun/old age…but as my mom pointed out, if the robots DO have the ability to grant immortality in the form of robot bodies, why didn’t the Makers take it? Because the robots made life boring?

Kirk admits to no longer be amused. Uh, yeah, this USED to be hilarious, but is it still hilarious? No.

Pointy-eared thinking machine. YOUR pointy-eared thinking machine, specifically.

Kirk and Spock are operating like a hive mind.

Spock would NEVER sell false patents to Amanda, she is awesome.

And now we’re officially in “Kirk versus the machine and Kirk wins” territory. I do like this type of narrative, so this isn’t a complaint.

Finally, he’s fully enjoying himself too.

I love the fake out with Uhura “betraying” them.

…Okay this is just wacky lol. That’s my only commentary.

Can you imagine the Vulcans seeing this? Not only are the humans acting strangely but SPOCK is too. He’s playing along with the fun and games! How weird of him.

And the head of the androids bites the dust, done in by the old “liar lies” conundrum.

The satisfaction Kirk gets from saying "I am not programmed to respond in that area."

And now he gets to listen to the soothing sounds of Bones and Spock gently mocking each other.

Some of Mudd’s androids have the same dresses as the women in Mudd’s Women.

Not super keen on Mudd's eternal punishment being having to live with many versions of his irritating wife.

And that was the ep. I don’t have much else to say about it. I think What Are Little Girls Made Of? did the androids who’ve outlived the civilization that made them concept a lot better, and overall, as far as sci fi narratives go, this ep didn’t contribute much of anything that hasn’t been said or done before. Not that every story has to be ground breaking, but I just mean, as a sci fi story, it wasn’t fantastic, and as a humorous story, it was… decent, but maybe not as much my thing? I don’t know. Surreal.

It does bother me that we never find out how Norman got on the Enterprise in the first place lol. Like, does Starfleet not have security measures? Can anyone with a uniform just beam right on?

Next ep is Metamorphosis, which, while it does have some uh problematic gender stuff, is also all about LOVE and has my favorite Kirk speech in it so it’s one of my faves. 

[marlinspirkhall]

Tomorrow Never Comes, Chapter 05: “Resolution”

CW: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Chapter Word Count: 2,298 words

[Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

 “Tell me everything you learned when my memory kept getting wiped,” Jim says.

 “There is not much to tell. Leland and I attempted everything you and I have-” seeing Jim’s face, he pauses. “It was not a waste of time. Failure on the first attempt does not preclude the possibility of success on the second”

 The news that he was murdered multiple times hasn’t sparked any grand realisation as of yet. Mostly, it’s just made him angry, but he tries not to show it. Despite the recent realisation that their dilithium crystals have begun to drain, noticeably- confirming that they will run out, eventually- they sit side by side in a tense silence as the shuttle whizzes through space. Jim taps his fingers on his side of the dashboard, and turns to Spock.

 “Stop here; I want to try something.”

They land on the same planet as their first outing; but on a different beach, with actual sand.

 “For variety’s sake,” Jim says, with a slight smile.

“Variety,” Spock says, dryly, as they approach the shoreline. “I must admit; I thought you brought me here to kill me.”

“You- what?!” Jim wheels on him. “And you just- got in the shuttle?”

Spock tilts his head. “At the time, the reaction did not seem disproportionate.”

“Right.” Jim sits down on the sand, and looks up at him. “And now that you’re about to be- ah- executed?” He squints as he leans back, temporarily blinded by the iridescent sand.

Spock says nothing, and sits on the sand, a short distance from him. A strong breeze picks at strands of his hair, and Jim sighs.

After a moment, the sun begins to descend, and Jim looks up. “This is what I like about space travel. Even the sunset isn’t a fixed phenomenon. Theoretically- if you wanted to- you could manipulate it. Park your spaceship in a different position on the planet’s surface, so you could view it as many times as you liked. It’s not always spontaneous. But, if you’re really lucky, you get to experience this, with someone you-” he stops.

 “What?” Spock asks, quietly.

“Care about,” Jim finishes, softly. He clears his throat. “I mean, how many other people do you think have got to witness this exact view?”

Spock considers for a moment. “The Klingons,” he says, firmly.

 Jim laughs. “Spock, I-”

��A twinkle catches his eye.

The purple sunset dissolves into the vast tapestry of night, and, as the sand twinkles out, the sky itself becomes a glittering canvas. At the last moment, Jim turns to him, as the last embers of sunlight illuminate his hair.

“So, what do you want to do?” Jim whispers. “Do you want to chase the sunset? Have another go?”

Spock rests his head against his shoulder, and almost smiles.

As the days pass- or, don’t pass- they continue their attempts to escape. Sometimes, it looks like they might be getting somewhere- as far as they can while still avoiding Klingon space- but, at some point every morning, no matter how far they go, the clock resets. Heirin pulls them backwards like an elastic band, and they wake up back on the planet.

 “How far did we make it this time?”

 “Five point nine light years further than our last attempt.”

 Jim grits his teeth. “Then we should try going in that direction. Maybe we’re onto something.”

*

For the most part, the Iclixi have remained neutral in the Klingon-Romulan-Federation conflict, and, as a result, not much is known about them. Still, one thing is clear: they don’t like visitors.

“So, that’s why Leland asked me about base ten,” Jim says, breathless, as an asteroid explodes behind them. Escaping death has lost its excitement in some ways, but fleeing missiles- that’s fairly new.

Spock nods stiffly, his eyes locked on the controls, and Jim begins to use his own console to hack into the Iclixian database.

“Base six,” Jim murmurs, as he surveys the structure of the numbers on his console. “If it’s true that that these guys have four arms, then they must only have two digits on each hand.”

Spock runs a hand through his hair. “Jim-”

“I know.” Jim begins entering numbers frantically, and looks up. “What happened the first time you were here-?” The shuttle veers to the left.

Spock’s eyes dart to him, then back to the viewscreen.

“- Right.” Jim types faster. “Well, if I’m right, this should make us blind to their sensors.” And, if he’s wrong, they’ll find themselves back on Heirin.

With no memory of this.

He slams a button down at the same moment Spock pulls the shuttle into a nosedive. Outside the back window, the two missiles continue on a straight path, directly ahead. Jim waits with baited breath, but no more missiles are deployed.

He collapses back in his chair with an exhausted whoop.

They make their way through the rest of the Iclixi system without further disturbance, and Jim’s eyelids begin to droop.

 “How long have we been awake?” He yawns.

 “Twenty seven hours and… thirteen minutes,” Spock replies.

 Jim pats him on the shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep first?”

“Negative. Vulcans-”

“Require less sleep than humans, I know.” Jim rises, and curls up at the back of the shuttle, with a tired smile. This time, he thinks, as he drifts off, we might actually make it.

 Jim rolls over, and snuggles into something soft. He feels well-rested.

 Which only means one thing.

 His eyes snap open, and he sits bolt upright. “Spock.”

He rushes to the main bedroom, and throws the door open. The room is much more orderly than it was before. Spock opens his eyes, and sits up suddenly,

“Jim?” He reaches for him, frowning. “I did not fall asleep-”

“I know,” Jim murmurs, “But what happened? What’s the last thing you remember?” He takes hold of Spock’s hands, and kneels on the edge of the bed, checking him over- although, of course; there isn’t a scratch on him.

“I… blinked,” Spock realises.

Jim slumps.

 They can’t take shifts blinking.

*

As they begin to search for alternate routes through Klingon space, Jim finds something which he’d previously overlooked.

 Boreth.

‘There’s a planet in the Klingon empire called ‘Boreth’ which is the only place in the known universe to contain a mineral known as ‘poH qut’. Translated to Standard, it means ‘time crystal’.’ Jim had never heard of them before, but the more he reads, the more familiar it sounds. For the most part, research on them is scarce, but there are isolated reports- mostly anecdotal- of users becoming trapped in time loops, triggered either intentionally or accidentally. In both instances, though, the loop is triggered by the spilling of innocent blood.

Jim cross-references it with any references to poH qut in the Klingon databases, only to come up short: the Klingons abandoned all experiments with time crystals centuries ago, and the ones which remain on Boreth are closely guarded by an order of monks. There is something, though. Rumours that one of the experiments resulted in a time crystal being hidden at the very core of a planet, before

“...But, even if there is a time crystal at the heart of this planet, that doesn’t help us,” Jim muses. “We don’t have the equipment to locate it or dig it up.”

Spock raises an eyebrow, and says nothing.

 Jim claps him on the shoulder. “We’ll find a way out.”

*

 Jim’s desperation only increases as things begin to break around the stronghold. For the moment, it’s mostly small, minor electrical errors- a wire needs reattaching on an upper wall, one of the consoles in the server room stops working, but there are plenty of backups- for now.

 They run into problems whenever something needs replacing. They salvage a couple of items from the basement, but the only replacement bulb they can find for the downstairs bathroom emits a bright, irradiated green. Spock begins to exclusively use the upstairs bathroom, explaining that such unrelenting green is every bit as unpalatable to Vulcan retinas as red would be to humans.

 Seeing as the shuttle has never been blown up before, the possibility limits the risks they can take, and the experiment is understandably one which they are reluctant to proceed with. If the shuttle doesn’t regenerate, they’ll be even more stuck than before, without a means of escape. Just as Lewis McAllister should have been. The report implies that McAllister simply omitted the miraculous tale of how his dead crew and ship were resurrected each morning before his miraculous escape… But, given the state that the shuttle and the stronghold are currently in, he doubts that was the case. He sighs, and goes over the information that they have once again, from day one to now.

 “I suspect,” Spock says, quietly, “The only reason Leland would have needed to learn the hacking procedure himself was if he was planning to kill me.”

 Jim holds his hand out, and, tentatively, Spock takes it.

*

 “Alright, new plan,” Jim says, as he steps out of the forest, his shirt spattered with blood. “We do what we came here to do.”

 Spock blinks at him, possibly confused by the blood stains.

 “I mean: I take the outpost down, then we travel out to meet whoever Section-31 is sending. I mean, what have we got to lose? If we get it wrong, won’t we just wake back up here again?”

 “With no memory of this,” Spock points out.

 Jim sighs. “I’ve thought of that. And- has it ever occurred to you that we

 Spock shakes his head. “The first day I remember, the stronghold was as it was the day before. And, we can tell

 “If we can work out some sort of back-up-plan, a way to send a message to ourselves in case our memories get erased again…” Jim glances at the shuttle, and heads towards the server room.

*

 As they fly through space, Jim turns to Spock with a nervous smile.

 “So. Who’s coming to meet us?”

 A shadow flickers across Spock’s face. “Agent Georgiou.”

 “Georgiou?” Jim frowns. “Phillipa Georgiou? Wasn’t she a Starfleet Captain? I thought she was killed in the battle at the binary stars?”

 Spock’s eyes flash. “She is not who she appears to be,” he says. “Whatever you think; you cannot trust her.” As usual, his expression is unreadable.

 The shuttle bleeps, as an unseen ship hails them. It pulls into view up ahead

 There’s a strange, unfamiliar weapon on the top of the ship, jutting out at the font. It’s twice as long as the hull of the shuttle, and looks as if it’s been compacted down. The front of it is coiled, like some sort of drill-bit. Before Jim can question it further, Spock answers the hail- audio only.

 “Agent Georgiou,” he murmurs.

 “Spock. I almost shot you out of the sky,” the voice purrs. “You’re early. A day early.”

 Spock straightens. “And yet, our mission is complete.”

 “Hm.” There’s a bleep as she, presumably, verifies that claim. “You work fast.”

 Spock exchanges a look with Jim. “Indeed.”

 There’s a pause.

 “Where’s Leland?” Her voice acquires a dangerous edge.

 “He is- on board.”

 “Hm. Unconscious, presumably; otherwise he would have answered me himself.”

 “We had a- trying day,” Spock says, haltingly.

 Jim’s heart hammers in his chest, and he squeezes Spock’s shoulder.

 “Scan us,” Spock says.

 “Oh, I did. There are two life-signs on your ship. One human, one half-Vulcan. I have no guarantee that Leland is one of them.”

 There’s a pause.

 “Unless you turn on your vidscreen, of course.”

 “It was damaged in our escape with The Klingons.”

 “How convenient. I assume Leland was injured, as well?”

 “Yes.”

 There’s a beat.

 “How do I know that the boy isn’t on board with you?”

 “Because we stuck to the plan,” Spock says.

 Jim breathes shallowly, and twists his hands together in his lap.

 Georgiou’s laugh is distorted. “Plans change. Still, I do not intend to deviate from mine. I was only instructed to meet you and Leland.”

 “You were never fond of Leland.”

 “That’s true. In many ways, you’ve done me a favour.”

 “Spock-” Jim whispers, as the computer readout flashes up red.

 “You can do me another favour.”

 “She’s locked on weapons-”

 The proximity alert bleeps. Spock’s hands find the controls the same time Jim’s do, and they slam the ship into a wild dive. A second later, something glances off the side of the ship, and they’re thrown sideways. Spock cries out. Jim crashes head first into the wall, and his vision goes double.

“Spock…” Jim says, as his eyes flutter shut.

*

 The hum of an engine. Jim’s head throbs.

 He sits up with a groan. The shuttle is adrift, and Spock is slouched over the controls, clutching his side and breathing heavily.

“Spock-”

 He crawls over to him, and pulls himself into the seat next to him. He touches Spock’s shoulder, and his eyelids flutter. He groans.

 “Come on, Spock.” He pulls Spock’s hand away, and it’s green with blood. Cursing, he pulls his jacket off, and winds it round his torso, but it soaks through quickly. Jim’s eyes widen.

 If he remembers correctly, Vulcan hearts are further down than humans’.

 Heart pounding, he runs to the back of the shuttle, and tears the medkit open. Though the bandages and the dermal regenerator have long since been depleted, he knows that he’s seen-

 A hypospray. He grabs it. With one last glance back at Spock, he fills it with a cartridge of anaesthetic. Enough to knock himself out, he hopes. He takes a deep breath. He sits down heavily, places it against his neck, and discharges it with a hiss.

[Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

[impishnature]

Doctor’s Orders

AO3 Fandom: Star Trek (TOS) Rating: G

Summary: Bones is so adamant to look after everyone, he needs to be reminded sometimes to look after himself. A/N: Thanks Anon! Hurt/comfort is something I do love to write. This is a softer one than I’ve done before but I hope you like it! And I’m doing OK! Thank you! Much more with it now we don’t have to completely self-isolate and can at least go out for a self distancing walk! 

.

He was exhausted.

But rest was a luxury he couldn't afford.

Bones scrubbed at his eyes, making sure he was alone in his office before letting the tiredness roll off of him in waves. He sunk into his chair, the only respite he felt able to give himself in that moment. 

It had been a heavy week, one of the heaviest he'd had in a long time. The away team had encountered a venomous creature unlike anything he'd ever seen before and he'd been working tirelessly to keep them all in a stable condition and find an antivenom all at the same time. Which had meant sending more people to the surface of the planet they were currently orbiting and risking more lives, a sure fire way to make his stomach clench and his heart ache. 

His fingers clenched in his hair, his elbows propped up on the desk as he thought back over the week.

He was meant to help people, not send them willingly into danger.

But then again, not one person had argued with the idea. Their captain and their second in command had both been fighting for their lives through fevers and fits and all of them were ready and prepared to help however they could.

That didn't mean it hadn't hurt to make the hard decisions. To watch them come and go, not all of them making it back in one piece as they grabbed the precious materials he required. Each new injured crew member an additional weight on his heart as if he had bitten them himself and caused the damage.

But he'd done it, because he had to. Because it was the best chance they had. Because no matter what he had to get them back. 

He hated it still, hated that it left a sour taste in his mouth. To struggle with the decision as he usually did and have no Spock to goad him about doing the most logical thing when it came down to it.

He was missing the arguments, missing Kirk's rolled eyes and compromising demeanour for them both.

He hated seeing them so silent and still and non-responsive. 

It didn't suit them.

Especially their exuberant captain. 

But it just meant that he'd had to take up their mantles for a while, that was all. His job was to get them healthy and back to themselves again.

So that's what he'd done.

He'd pushed through every sleepless night, drank more coffee than would ever be healthy but as long as he didn't admit to himself he didn't have to admit it to anyone else, and eaten only when someone had shoved something into his hand.

Frankly, he could feel himself slipping past the point of no return. If he wasn't careful, the next time he stood up, he might just crumble to the floor all over again like his strings had been cut.

It had been worth it though.

His efforts hadn't all been for nothing. 

His shoulders relaxed as he scrubbed at his eyes. Kirk had finally opened his eyes yesterday morning, his eyes still glazed with fever and his smile wobbly with weariness but alert and awake more than Bones had dared to hope. It had been a rough seven days but they'd finally cracked it. Sure the recovery process would take time, but with Spock opening his eyes later that same day, he couldn't help but rejoice in the fact that he'd succeeded, that they were OK.

His shoulders tensed again, his mind wandering through strange routes, twisting him in circles and back in loops.

It didn't mean his job was over, far from it. After all, there were still others that had yet to wake, though their vitals were improving, and though Kirk and Spock had awoken, that didn't mean they were out of the woods yet.

If only he could get rid of this blasted headache and close his eyes for a few moments, he could go back to pretending that the world didn't feel like it was crumbling directly on his shoulders.

This was his job, he had to continue.

He had to make sure the people he'd put in danger were safe and sound before he could let himself sleep.

He trusted his team, of course he did, but with blame and guilt thick and heavy in his gut, he couldn't bring himself to give the task over to them.

Just a few more days. A few more days and he was sure that he'd be allowed to rest.

It sounded so tantalising. Sleep. Funny really, when before the others had woken up it had sounded repulsive.

He was sure he'd be haunted by their faces, by their feverish nightmares and twisting movements.

Now, he was sure that once he let his body relent, there'd be nothing but dark oblivion.

And didn't that sound like heaven, right about now?

The door to his office made a beep, jolting him from his zoned out thoughts. He sat himself up straight, cursing whoever was outside his door as he rubbed the sleep once more from his eyes and tried to neaten himself up ever so slightly. "Come in."

The face that greeted him was more unexpected than he cared to admit.

Then again, it was so predictable, he was almost ashamed at himself for not expecting it.

"The hell you doing out of bed?"

Kirk cocked a grin at him, leaning heavily against the door. Bones narrowed his eyes as he saw Spock behind him, propped up against one of the empty beds so that he had a view into the room, though it was definitely not the bed he was meant to be in.

"Both of you? I thought Spock at least had some sense to him." Kirk's grin widened as Bones stood up, trying to usher him out of the room without wobbling on his feet. 

Kirk however refused to budge.

"You know, I've heard there's a few crew members pushing themselves past their limits." 

Bones stared at him in disbelief, oblivious to the obvious in his mentally exhausted state. "Yes. I'm looking at them. Now-"

"And what would your orders be, Doctor?"

Bones glared at him suspiciously, Spock's half smile all the more worrying than Kirk's grin. "To get to bed. Doctor's orders." He made a shooing motion at both of them, hating how they looked at each other like they'd won a prize before turning back to him.

"Then I believe, Doctor-" God, Bones hated him. Hated how relieved he was for Spock to argue with him all over again. "That you should get yourself to bed."

"Excuse me?"

"Well as you just said, Doctor's orders. If a crew member is pushing themselves past their limits, they really should get to bed." Spock tapped the bed he was sat on. "Otherwise they might find themselves in the infirmary."

Bones' eye twitched. "I'm fine. It's you two that-"

"I've had a report of how hard you've been working." Kirk tried to stand up straight though the motion was rather lessened by the hand still clutching the door frame. "You need a break, Bones, otherwise you won't be able to look after anyone."

Bones' heart sank at the concern. He wasn't used to Kirk looking at him like that, nor Spock, more the other way around. He glanced around the other beds in the room to get away from the worried expression, the still silent crew members waiting for the treatment to take affect. What would he do if he couldn't help them? What happened when his body gave in and someone else took over? Would the guilt ever leave him for letting them get hurt and not being able to help?

"McCoy?" 

Bones sighed at Spock's words, wondering what else he was about to add. Funnily enough after everything, he wasn't actually ready for one of their arguments. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Bones' blinked, staring at him like he'd grown an extra head. "It's my job."

"Yes."

"You're obviously still sick."

"Perhaps." Spock shrugged. "But thank you none the less."

A hand clapped him on the shoulder. "From the sounds of it, you haven't only done your job. Everyone looked to you on what to do, while me and Spock were out of action. I'd say that's far from your job." The hand squeezed. "You did good, Bones, now it's time for you to let someone else take over for a little while."

Bones huffed, raising a tired eyebrow. "What, you? You're in no fit state to be commanding a ship yet, you can hardly stand."

"Look who's talking." Kirk gave him a mock challenging look, daring him to argue. "But no, I meant your team can take over now. You've done your bit- more than your bit- so now you need to take a break."

"Before you die on us."

"I'm not dying, you-" Bones' glared at Spock, his brain short-circuiting. 

"Considering there's no added insult there, I must say you are in dire need of a nap."

"Oh for crying out- Will you two get back to bed if I rest for a bit?"

"Yep." Kirk popped the 'p' like a small child, smiling at Bones' scowl.

"Fine. I guess if it's the only way for my patients to do as they're told, I'll have to."

"It is the most logical outcome."

"Shut up, Spock."

[readingbooksinisrael]

Poetry, Short stories and Articles Read This Month

Articles

How anti-Semitism led Shatner and Nimoy to Boldly Go to Hollywood/Nathan Abrams-Probably because I read a whole thesis which included this small topic in it before I read this but it felt very unsatisfactory. It did talk about what of his Jewishness Nimoy put into the character of Spock but mostly it seemed to mourn that Shatner didn’t seem to do that with Kirk. Probably a good read if you’re looking to read something quick on Jews putting their Jewishness into a character (not necessarily Nimoy’s into Spock).

Heinlein’s Juveniles vs. Andre Norton Young Adult Novels/James Davis Nicoll-This was a nice overview of where the two authors differed and how we see them in the modern day. I think I’ll check out an Andre Norton sci fi book despite not liking her prose in the one (non-sci fi) book of hers I read.

Did We ALL Write a Book About Space Elevators? Why Unfortunate Coincidences Happen In Science Fiction/James Davis Nicoll-Too short. It didn’t really explore it’s premise. 

Poems

The Immortal/Robert Sanders Shaw-no link available. It’s really bad. It sounds immature.

Short Stories

On Venus, Have We Got a Rabbi/William Tenn-I’m going to admit that despite hearing of this over and over it took a few tries for me to read it. It has a rambling style that was hard for me to get into, especially when I saw how long it was for a short story. What I recommend is listening to the audio as it really gets you in the atmosphere-since the story is written with a very characterized narrator. All that said, after the real story started I got pulled in and I really liked it. 3.5/5 stars

For He Can Creep/Siobhan Carroll-TW: self harm, suicide mention, 18th c. mental hospitals. This was a lot of fun. I really enjoyed the style it was written in-from the POV to the dialogue to the descriptions.

The Thames Valley Catastrophe/Grant Allen-I liked this one. I enjoyed the writing style. TW: body horror 4.2/5 stars

The Doom of London/Robert Barr-I thought I would like this one less than the other because I don’t like the style of breaking up a short story into sections, but after the first section I got pulled in enough to enjoy it. The concept was really cool and the invention concept was also really cool. TW: death, gore?, body horror 4/5 stars

The Tilting Island/Thomas J. Vivian and Grena J. Bennett-I can’t find a link for this one. The beginning started out good but then the authors weren’t able to uphold the suspense in a way that the end was satisfactory. 2.7/5 stars

Finis/Frank Lillie Pollock-I did not like this one. Partially it was because the blurb I read about it was wrong and so I expected the wrong things out of it, but it is also because that while the story centers on the characters the characters don’t have any personalities. 2/5 stars

An Express of the Future/Jules Verne-The blurb for this said that it went missing for many years. I am not surprised because it is not well written at all. It ends with it all being a dream which every kid knows is a bad plot device unless you have a very good excuse. 2/5 stars

The Ray of Displacement/Harriet Prescott Spofford-I would have enjoyed this even with the paragraphs of jumbled science language if it hadn’t been for St. Angel. He appears out of nowhere and it isn’t clear who he is or what he is doing or even how he gets to where the main character is. Unfortunately, the end is centered around him. Other than him I enjoyed the character of Judge Brant and there were some really funny sentences. 2/5 stars

Congealing the Ice Trust/Capt. H.G. Bishop-Again, I can’t find a link. That’s disappointing because this one was fun even if the plot was a bit hard to follow (with the addendum that I was in pain while reading it). 4/5

Lord Beden’s Motor/J.B. Harris-Burland-I’m starting to think that I shouldn’t try to review stories I read while I was woozy with pain (even though I’m reviewing them while in pain too). I think all I can say is that it’s a ghost story and ghost stories just aren’t to my personal taste so it didn’t interest me.

The Death-Trap/George Daulton-no link again. It has that thing of trusting someone immediately cause they seem gentle which I don’t like for many reasons. I wish it concentrated more on the search for the monster and finding it because the monster itself was pretty cool. TW: gore 2.5/5 stars

The Air Serpent/Will A. Page-no link. It’s really cool that this concept existed because with our modern day knowledge it’s impossible outside of high fantasy. Unfortunately for the story, our modern day knowledge of how prey animals work sort of ruined it for me. 3/5 stars

The Monster of Lake LaMetrie/Wardon Allan Curtis-Gotta love the sharp turn into eugenics. It’s a pity because before that the story was really cool. 1/5 stars

The Voice in the Night/William Hope Hodgeson-This was pretty cool. I’m not sure if you shouldn’t read it if you love or hate mushrooms though. Personally, I belong to the second camp, so maybe it’s don’t read it if you’re disgusted by fungi. 3/5 stars

The Land Ironclads/H.G. Wells-It’s definitely interesting to read from a modern perspective. I liked the character of the mc and that the story didn’t wash over the deaths but didn’t describe them in detail either.

The Dam/Hugh S. Johnson-The plot twist is very clever but the building up to it took too long, and the two captains and their rivalry was confusing to me. 2.5/5 stars

Submarined/Walter Wood-I liked it, and I feel like I shouldn’t because it ended pretty violently but I did. Daring and sacrifice and all that is very feel-good, and it was well-written. 5/5 stars

The Purple Terror/Fred M. White-Could we have this without the racism please? It was good except for the underlying racism all throughout. 2/5 stars

Professor Jonkin’s Cannibal Plant/Howard R. Garis-This was definitely a change from the other stories. They were all adult fiction and this is MG fiction. It was okay, nothing special. 3/5 stars

An Experiment in Gyro Hats/Ellis Parker Butler-This continues the sort of humor that’s in the last story but it’s back to adult fiction which, personally, I enjoy more when it comes to this kind of humor. I liked the narrator’s voice. 3.5/5 stars

The Hybrid Hyperborean Ant/Roy L. McCardell-The idea was nice but it could have been better executed. I felt like I was told the story rather than experiencing it. 2/5 stars

Where the Air Quivered/L.T. Meade and Robert Eustace-Pretty cool, but nothing special. 4/5 stars

In Re State vs Forbes/Warren Earle-This was less science fiction and more ghost story. Again, ghost stories don’t really interest me so I can’t review it properly but I found the ending to be far too unrealistic with no explanation for my taste.

Old Dr. Rutherford/D.F. Hannigan-Ugh. The writing itself was fine but I absolutely hated the main character; usually that doesn’t bother me but I hated him so much that it did here. I think it would have been much more interesting if it had been written from Hafiz’s POV instead of an omniscient one. 2/5 stars

Itself/Edgar Mayhew Bacon-This was a really good one. I loved the storytelling. I might try to find more stories by the same author to read. 4.5/5 stars

Citizen 504/Charles H. Palmer-This is interesting in that it’s an early dystopian story. Less interesting in that because it’s an earlier one it has the same plot points of every modern one and wraps up everything neatly with a bow. I wish he’d taken the time to explore the world more. 3/5 stars

The Mansion of Forgetfulness/Don Mark Lemon-Finally a story with a link. It’s a good story to choose to end an anthology on as it’s short and wraps up well but not too nicely (with a bow). Although it’s short and the ending is expected the execution is done well in my opinion. 3.5/5

[janeykath318]

Trouble In Paradise

Kirk x Reader

Requested by @slitherin-in-a-half

There was a storm raging in the Captain’s quarters. Jim had finally been released from Medbay, but he was about to be in the doghouse big time.

You’d tried to keep it in for as long as possible, but the fear and anger and disappointment over his lack of trust and communication finally found release in the fight of fights.

“I can’t believe you risked your life like that and then LIED to me about it!” You yelled, eyes blazing with rage. You’d only found out the truth when Leonard had pulled you aside and explained. Jim had sounded very nonchalant on the Comm, so you’d thought he wasn’t badly hurt. Turns out, he’d been trying to cover up what he’d done to save the mission, a.k.a. Volunteer for single combat: fight-to-the-death style.

“You have highly trained officers who could have done that. Spock’s three times as strong, for pity’s sake!”

“You know I couldn’t let that happen. It’s my responsibility to keep them safe,” Jim explained, not helping his case.

“You don’t have to do that by getting yourself killed,” you protested. “You’ve already done that once.”

Jim winced at the hurt in your tone. He knew he’d messed up big time and kept his mouth wisely shut as you went on.

“The worst part was the lying,” you bit out. “As your wife, I deserve to know the truth and since I work in Medbay, you should know better than to sugarcoat your condition to me. I see you still haven’t learned even after all this time.”

You pulled your blue uniform on and went to prepare for your shift. Leonard had said you didn’t need to come in, but you needed to get away for awhile. You were upset with Jim in a way you had never yet been in your ten months of marriage.

“I wasn’t allowed to say anything about it,” Jim sighed.

“When have rules stopped you before?” You snorted. “Listen, I’m going to work. If you want to have any kind of chance of being forgiven, you’ll keep your sorry ass in bed and follow ALL the instructions on this note. Trust me, you do NOT want me dragging Leonard down here to enforce your bed rest.”

Jim very meekly laid down, and watched you go with a heavy heart. He’d really stepped in it this time.

Leonard was surprised to see you, but quickly put two and two together and didn’t try to persuade you against working. You worked your shift as normally as possible, trying to keep a smile on your face.Leonard finally ordered you to take a break, seeing you were working yourself to exhaustion.

“Hey, Y/N, rest a minute. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, avoiding his eyes.

“No, you’re not. Come with me.”

Not having the guts to argue, you followed him into his office and sat down in the chair he pointed you to.

“Jim isn’t giving you crap is he? Because if so, I’ll find a few more hypos with his name on them as I bawl him out,” Leonard stated, eyes boring into yours.

“He wasn’t when I left him this morning, but dangit, Len, I’m so angry with him right now I can hardly see straight.” Your eyes blazed as you confided your emotions to the Doctor. “He straight up lied to me about the severity of his injuries after he got back from that suicide combat that he also kept a secret! I’m his wife! I deserved some sort of message at least before he fought that thing that nearly killed him. And he should now not to pull that crap with me any more than he would with you. Right now I can’t decide whether I love him or hate him!!”

Tears filled your eyes as you finished your rant and your composure crumbled.

Leonard looked pained and Came around to pull you into a hug, letting you cry on his blue shirt.

“I’m sorry my best friend is such an idiot,” he consoled. “Even for him this is s new low: Pulling his stupid martyr act and not even leavin’ so much as a goodbye. He’s gotta realize he’s got more than just the consequences to himself to consider now. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m assuming you two had a fight?”

“Knock down drag out,” you admitted, sniffling and wiping at your eyes. “He keeps harping on his captain’s duties and not wanting anyone to try and keep him from doing them; thus the secrecy.”

“Hmm, well if he hasn’t come around tonight, I’ll be glad to give him a talking to,” Len offered. “Goodness knows I don’t want the kid to ruin the best thing that ever happened to him.” He nodded to you.

You smiled weakly at him.

“You’re sweet, Len. I bet Carol’s a very happy woman.”

“I have my moments,” he said ruefully. “But I’ve learned a thing or two from my mistakes. If you need a place to crash for a couple nights, feel free to ask Christine. I know she enjoys your girls nights.”

“Thanks, Len,” you said gratefully. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jim, meanwhile, was lying in solitude, trying to watch a favorite holovid and unable to give it attention because of his inner turmoil and regret. He knew he’d screwed up and he was feeling horrible for causing you such hurt. He’d been so focused on Spock not finding out and stopping him, that he’d been extremely secretive, to the point of lying and he realized just how large a mistake he’d made.

The lingering pain of his healing wounds was nothing compared to the pain of knowing what he’d done to you.

All he could hope for was that you would eventually comeback and hear his apology. He’d willingly sleep on the couch for the next year, Eat nothing but salads, and take his hypos willingly as penance if necessary.

Glumly, he did the few things he was allowed to do (paperwork) and spent the day resting. He was jolted out of his nap when he felt the pain in his abdomen return. He’d had major surgery there and it was obvious he was due for more pain meds, but he couldn’t move and get more as he was hurting to much.

He thought about calling Bones, but before he got his comm open, you were at his side.

“What’s wrong, Jim?”

“Need pain meds,” He gritted out. “Please?”

“Of course,” you nodded brusquely and went to get another hypo. You certainly weren’t going to let your husband suffer, no matter how mad at him you were. Jim watched from afar, trying to gauge your mood. The anger seemed to have dissipated, leaving behind sadness and exhaustion. He held his neck perfectly still for the hypo and sighed gratefully.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart,” he said. “You’d have every right to leave me writhing in agony after what I did. I’m deeply sorry for my lying and thoughtlessness. If I’d have been in your shoes, I’d have been every bit as hurt. I love you with all my heart and I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.”

You looked at Jim, bruised and scarred, eyes showing just how contrite he really was and you sighed, annoyed at how easily he could melt hearts.

“Dang you and those puppy eyes!” You muttered.

“Jim, you know there’s no way I won’t forgive you, but I’m gonna be annoyed with you for a few days at least,” you sighed, placing the empty hypo on the bedside tray. You’ve got to start trusting people not to try to interfere. If you’ve got to fight someone way bigger than yourself to save the crew, I prefer to have some knowledge of what’s going down, even though it terrifies me.”

“I’ll remember that,” he promised, taking one of your hands in his and caressing it. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Just.....don’t do it again, okay?” You implored, leaning down to lightly kiss his lips.

“The nearly dying part, I can’t promise, but the lying, I never will do again,” he said. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too, Jim,” you returned. “Now rest up because Len’s gonna be here soon to check up on you and I’d better tidy up so he doesn’t make cracks about this place being a pigsty. You’ve given us a bad reputation.”

Jim’s smile returned “who me?” He joked.

“Yes, you, you adorable knucklehead.” You shot back.

Yeah, there were still issues to work out, but you felt sure Jim meant what he’d said and would be willing to have a plan in place to prevent such miscommunication from happening again. Despite his rash decision making and annoying Martyr tendencies, he really was willing to make amends and do better.

@goingknowherewastaken @wickedsingularity @thefanficfaerie @musikat18

[nix-writes]

Thominho Week Day Two: Crossover AU

@thominho-week

Minho stared at their new Captain. He was young, but they said he was a genius. And Alby had promoted him from Science Officer to First Officer, demoting Minho and leaving Thomas as their Captain.

"Mr. Park."

"Captain."

"Please, call me Thomas. If we're to be working closely together as I intend, then it's only fair we are familiar." Minho only nodded. "I'd like to ask you to be my First Officer, Mr. Park, as you were for Alby." Of course, the boy knew Alby well enough to call him by his first name.

"I would be honored," Minho said. "But are you sure the role of Captain is one you want to take? You don't have to, you know. Newt and I are willing enough to be Captain, and you're so young." Not that Minho had much to say anything. He was only twenty-one himself.

"I know. I don't get much of a choice, though. Admiral Paige has informed me that I am to serve as Captain at least five years on this ship, if not more." So he did not want to be Captain? Minho knew for most children it was a dream- it had been for him- and his new Captain was only sixteen.

"If you wish, you can serve as Captain in name only. You could continue your work as a science officer and I could do most of the Captain's work for you." Minho offered. Thomas shook his head, looking exhausted.

"If only it was that easy. Admiral Paige is going to be checking in every now and then, with no warning. I have no choice."

"Well, she can't expect you to start working today. You look exhausted and half-ill."

"Thanks, that's exactly how I feel." Thomas chuckled. "Yeah, I should go see Gally, but I haven't gotten around to it yet."

"I'll walk you there. We can't have our new Captain collapsing in the halls and scaring everyone to death."

Minho had had his doubts about Captain Murphy, in the beginning, but he had quickly proved himself to be adept at adapting to whatever situation might arise. He had, in those first few years, often asked his bridge crew their opinion and for advice. Minho was proud to say he no longer needed their advice as much as he once had.

“Welcome home, Captain Murphy." Admiral Paige said. "And this is your bridge crew?" She indicated that she would like to be introduced to them as if she didn't already know.

"Yes; my first officer, Commander Minho Park." Minho nodded shortly at her. "Commander Harriet Grey, my communications officer, Commander Newton Isaacs, my navigator, Lieutenant Commander Sonya Isaacs, my helmsman and astrophysicist, Dr. Galileo Farrone, my chief medical officer, and Lieutenant Brenda Despain, my chief engineer."

"I trust you've had a fine five years together?" Admiral Paige asked.

"Yes, of course. We've got a good Captain and a tight-knit crew." Brenda answered.

"I see. Captain, the admirals and I want to speak with you. The rest of you can get settled into your rooms here." She led Thomas away, and the rest of the bridge crew walked together to their rooms.

"I assume the admirals will want to speak with all of us," Minho said.

"We'll be ready. The Captain will admit to his failings, and if they ask about him, I'll say that at first, he was young and unsure, but he has grown past that and now is confident in his decisions," Newt said.

"He really does know what he's doing," Gally admitted. "Even if we can never get him to take a break."

"He's in the role of both Chief Science Officer and Captain, what do you expect?" Sonya said. "Besides, if he stays on as Captain, he's going to hire a couple of ensigns and promote Fry to Chief Science Officer."

"Why couldn't he do that before?" Harriet frowned.

"Paige refused to allow it," Minho said. "When he asked me if I would stay on as his first officer, he said he'd give up the captaincy if Paige would let him. Maybe now she will."

"Commander Park?" They weren't even halfway across the building yet. "The admirals want to speak with you alongside your Captain. Someone will deliver your bags to your room." Minho nodded.

"The Captain and I will join you as soon as possible." Minho followed the messenger to the admirals' conference room.

"Commander Park is here, Admirals." The boy said, then he hurried away. Minho knew the feeling well.

"It's nice to see you, Admirals," Minho scanned the room. "And it's good to see you're all in good health."

"Same to you, Commander. Your Captain tells us you've done an excellent job of guiding him through his first troubling years of captaincy." Admiral Janson said.

"I'd have to say he did well to ask for guidance when he needed it and working off instinct." Minho kept his tone even.

"Of course he did. And so young, too. Younger than Captain Kirk, even. But what we're worried about are the few incidents in his first year of commanding The USS Valhalla." Of course they would go after something like that.

"Those incidents were all handled as quickly as possible; For one Captain Murphy was in a coma most of the time. Might I remind the council that he was also sixteen years old?"

"Are you saying sixteen-year-olds are incompetent?" Another admiral threw at him.

"Not at all, ma'am. I'm saying that Captain Murphy was thrown into a captaincy at a very young age- too young, some might say- from being the second to the Chief Science Officer. The late captain Einstein promoted him to first officer based on his merit. I don't doubt his decision- it has brought about some of the best five years of my life- but I do wonder at the decision of the Federation to leave a sixteen-year-old with no guidance but that of his bridge crew."

"Well said, Commander." Admiral Paige said. "The decision, mostly my own, is something we have puzzled over for several years. But Captain Murphy has proved himself time and time again."

"Indeed." Minho didn't like the look in Janson's eye. "We'll be hearing from the rest of your crew shortly, but Commander Park, Captain Murphy, you are free to go. You have a week or more of shore leave, depending on how look deliberations take. Enjoy it."

"Thank you, Admiral." Minho turned and left. Thomas followed a minute later. Minho waited until they were far enough away from the conference room to speak.

"What are they talking about? What are they going to do?"

"They're wondering if, perhaps, I shouldn't have a ship at all. Some want to make me an admiral, but most want me to go back the academy."

"You started advanced courses the same year I did, at twelve. You graduated at sixteen. Like, I'm pretty smart, but that's impressive. They can't send you back."

"They totally can. They can say my grades aren't what a Captain needs."

"You had straight A's and a 7.9 GPA from testing out of a dozen classes."

"I didn't know you kept track of my grades, Minho."

"When I was told you were joining the ship, I did some research." They hadn't been in the same circles; Thomas had kept to himself and most everyone had avoided him anyway, being so young, and Minho had been swamped with work. Newt, of course, was someone they had had in common, and his younger sister, Sonya, was only three years older than Thomas opposed to the five for the rest of them. Thomas laughed. "It's cool, Minho. I did the same thing, had a bit of a crush on you for a few years." Minho had known. Teenage Thomas was not nearly as subtle as he meant to be, and the first time he realized he couldn't read Thomas's face had really been a curveball.

"What if I told you I have a bit of a crush on you now?" Minho blurted, then immediately wished he hadn't. He was five years older, Thomas was his superior officer, it would never work.

"Well, I wished you'd waited to say that." Thomas frowned. "At least until we were on The Valhalla again. If the admirals get wind of it-"

"Captain Kirk and Commander Spock had a relationship and it worked out just fine," Minho told him. "But it can wait, trust me. We've got bigger things to worry about. Everyone should be in their rooms by now if they haven't been summoned. Let's get settled in."

"I've never been here long enough to take a good look around," Thomas began. "Maybe we can find some nice restaurants and take the crew out for dinner and then sightseeing."

"That would be fun," Minho agreed. "But we've got a week of shore leave, let's not do everything in one day." They reached their rooms.

"I think I'm going to take a nap. The admirals are tough." Thomas said.

"Okay. I'll find out where the rest of our crew is." Minho couldn't say he wasn't worried for his Captain; twenty one was still too young for all of this, and he had been sick for a week before they landed. Thomas wasn't often ill, but when he was, it hit him hard. If he fell ill again, here, the admirals wouldn't permit him a ship anytime soon.

"Commander, Captain." Gally stepped outside his room. "I heard you talking. I'm the only one who hasn't been summoned yet, but I'm sure I will be soon. Captain, are you ill? You look pale."

"I'm only tired, Doctor," Thomas reassured him. "I'll be fine after a nap."

"Of course, Captain," Gally agreed quickly. "Minho and I had best let you go in and rest, then."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll see you both later." Thomas opened his door and stepped into his room.

"You better unpack, Minho, you didn't get the chance to yet. And I believe I have to leave." Gally nodded at the pageboy hurrying towards them. Gally went to meet him, leaving Minho alone in the hall.

They met at Sapphire Sisters, one of many of a family-run chain established centuries ago. The building, brightly lit and up-to-date, still held touches of its origin century.

"This is a nice place," Harriet said. "I came here a lot when I was younger. It's passed down the female line. It never goes to a son- always to a daughter, a niece, a sister."

Minho had to agree- it had an old-style feel to it while being modern. He wondered if the entire twenty-first century had been like that.

"The admirals seemed impressed with you, Thomas. They didn't speak more than a two dozen words to me, but they seem to like you."

"They didn't seem to like him when I was there," Minho said.

"Maybe because they called for you before they finished speaking with me," Thomas said. "From what I've heard, the admirals never give out direct praise, not unless they're firing or promoting you."

"I've heard the same. Thomas, are you sure you're alright?" Sonya asked.

"I'm fine, Sonya. Besides, I was sick last week; we all know that means I'll be fine for at least a year." Thomas smiled, eyes and tone teasing, and Minho was relieved. Thomas didn't often joke, and never when he was sick. He might be deflecting, but he'd said earlier he was only tired. So Minho laughed with everyone else.

Thomas's head was throbbing. He laughed and joked and acted as he often did- he would eat, and then this headache would go away. He knew, soon enough, he and Minho would have to deal with the mutual affection on both sides, but if they could wait until they were away from the admirals, that would be best.

"So, who wants to go see a movie tomorrow?" Gally asked as they finished eating. "We could see something new instead of rewatching old movies all the time."

"That sounds fun. Maybe they have a horror film playing." Sonya grinned, and Thomas held up his hand for a high five as everyone groaned.

"Don't tell me you like horror, Tommy. Sonya's made me watch some truly terrifying things." Newt said.

"I do indeed like horror. In fact, since none of you will watch horror movies on our movie night, Sonya and I, along with a few others, created a club dedicated solely to horror movies."

"There's an entire club of you?!" Newt gasped.

"Yeah, and about half the people here are in it." Harriet grinned. "I'm in it, Newt. As is Brenda."

"We might have to split up, then, go see two different movies," Minho said.

"Nah, we'll agree on a movie. We always do." Brenda said. It was true.

"Right now we need to get to bed. We have to get used to being on Earth again, including the typical sleep schedule." Gally glared at them all as they left.

"I'm not sure San Francisco has a regular sleep schedule, Gally," Newt said. "But you're the doc, you know best." Everyone returned to their room at a decent time- the admirals couldn't complain they stayed out all night. They knew they were being watched. They were one of the youngest Alpha shift crews in the history of the Federation.

"Captain Murphy!" They had just left the movie theater after seeing a twenty-first-century movie, Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, and a messenger is already hunting them down. Minho sighed.

"Captain Murphy, the admirals are done discussing your situation. They'd like you all to meet them in their conference room."

"Thank you," Thomas said.

"I'll let them know you'll be with them soon." The kid ran off, leaving them to wander back to the council chambers as they pleased.

"Admirals, how good to see you all again," Thomas said, entering the room first.

"And you, Captain." Admiral Paige said... warmly? Minho had thought that she disliked Thomas. Everyone else murmured the pleasantries.

"You all may sit, we'll not keep you standing today." They sat.

"Now, over the past few days, both before your arrival and after speaking with you, we've been discussing the matter of leaving such a young crew without much guidance." Admiral Paige began.

"You've done extraordinarily well without our guidance, however, and that's why we'd like to ask you to take a new ship. The Valhalla is ten years old this year, and Captain Murphy, we want to offer you and your crew a chance to design and oversee the building of your own starship. The basic plans are drawn up, but the rest is for you to decide." Admiral Janson finished. "Captain, I understand you have a background in engineering and architecture. Lieutenant Despain, I assume you would be overseeing most of the engineering issues?" Brenda nodded. "You will be allowed to name this ship, of course."

"And, Captain Murphy, you will be allowed your choice of applicants to your ship. I think you will find it much bigger than the Valkyrie." Another admiral said. It was true that the Valkyrie was much smaller than most ships.

"Thank you, Admirals, for this honor," Thomas said.

"It is our pleasure, Captain," Admiral Paige said. "You and your crew are dismissed." So they'd all been called here for what was, at most, a five-minute conversation? They said their goodbyes and left the admirals chatting.

Minho grinned. The first officer's quarters were perfect. Of course, they still had the shared bathroom with the Captain's quarters, but Minho didn't mind that at all.

"Captain, if I may?" He knocked on Thomas's door.

"Come in, Mr. Park." Minho opened the door. "It's been a long year, hasn't it?" They'd spent a year on Earth. It was longest any of them had gone without seeing space in several years.

"It has. But I can't say good things haven't come of it." They'd moved that talk up when they knew they weren't getting back on the Valhalla. Minho sat on the bed next to Thomas. "What are you thinking about?" Thomas shrugged.

"Everything, really. We've got more people now than ever, and I don't know how I'll command a ship this big."

"Well, you'll delegate. Brenda has engineering down, Gally's got the doctors and nurses, and Fry's got all the sciencey people."

"Did you really just say 'sciencey'?" Thomas laughed.

"I did. Now, Captain, let's go greet the stars."

"If you insist, Mr. Park." They headed to the bridge, Minho's arm wrapped around Thomas's waist.

"Captain, it's good to see you. And you, of course, Minho." Newt said. "Come to say goodbye to Earth?"

"They've come to greet the stars, Newt, they're like me," Harriet said. "Looking ahead of us, not behind." Everyone laughed. "Come up here, lovebirds." They did, and as the stars came into clearer view, Minho kissed Thomas lightly. Yes, this mission would go well. He was sure of it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313356

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

Gentics

Request: Request for reader being Pike's daughter? Any pairing. :)

A/N: I wrote this three separate times. This last time ended up being closer to home than I intended. It’s also not quite a pairing. It’s not super couplely, but I hope you enjoy regardless. 

You glared into your cup of coffee, desperately trying to ignore your com going off every fifteen minutes. Your jaw tightened with each notification. When it couldn’t tighten anymore, you grabbed your com, switched it off, and slammed it back on the small, four sided table.

“Ex?” a man asked, nodding to your com and taking a seat across from you. He was in the same red uniform that most of the cafe's patrons wore. His tone was upbeat, his posture confident, and you weren’t in the mood for any of it.

“Sure, you can sit there,” you grumbled.

“Thanks.” He looked pointedly at the device on the table. “So?”

“No offence, but I’m not really in the mood to share my issues with some chipper cadet.”

“It’s chipper Cadet Kirk,” he said.

You snorted causing him to raise an eyebrow.

“Sorry, you’re not what I was expecting from the infamous Jim Kirk.” You leaned back in your chair.

“Didn’t realize my reputation had reached the civilians.”

“Only the civilians with connections.” You offered him your hand. “(Y/N) Pike.”

“Pike as in-”

You cut him off, taking your hand back, “Yeah, Pike as in.”

“The image you have of me must be wonderful.”

“It’s not the most flattering, no,” you punctuated your sentence with a sip of coffee.

Jim took a moment to take you in before speaking again. His blue eyes scrutinized everything about you, trying to size you up in a moment.

“I would have thought Captain Pike would’ve had his kid in the academy right out of high school.”

“Oh, he tried.” You tilted your head. “And his friends tried. And his coworkers tried. And people I had never met before tried.”

“And you refused out of a point of pride?” he guessed.

“I refused because I’m my own person. Trying to be him is no way to make a name for myself.” You looked at him. “But I’m sure you’ll do fine. It’s not like you’ve got big shoes to fill.”

“I’m not trying to be my father.”

“No, you’re trying to be better than him.” You took a drink of your coffee.

“And you’re not?”

“I’m already the better Pike.”

He leaned forward in his chair so he could rest his forearms on the table top. “So tell me the Better Pike, what’s a pretty face like yours doing in what might be the worst diner in San Fran if you don’t work for Starfleet.”

“I never said I didn’t work for Starfleet.” You couldn’t help the small smirk that formed on your face as you watched him think through all the Starfleet jobs you could have without actually being Starfleet. You pitied him enough to put him out of his misery before he was resigned to guessing. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say you pitied yourself. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love telling people what it was you did. “You ever hear of Enterprise?”

“No, I’ve been living under a rock.”

“Fair point,” you said. “Well, the new one-”

“NCC-1701. Yeah, I’ve seen her. She’s a beautiful ship.”

“Thank you,” you smiled.

Jim’s jaw dropped. “You designed it?”

“Not all of it. I work with a team of uptight officers.” You moved closer to him, excitement and pride radiating from you. “But the subspace field generators? That’s all me.”

“So when it fails to go into warp, we’ll have you to blame?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “And when it goes to warp 8 more efficiently than any other constitution-class starship to date, you’ll have me to thank.”

-

“You broke my ship!” you shouted, storming through the shuttlebay and waving a PADD around violently. You stopped when you saw your dad being wheeled towards the exit to take in the scene before you. Then you rounded on Jim. “You broke my ship and my father!”

“I didn’t break your father!” Jim defended.

“And my ship?” You threw out your hand, and subsequently your PADD as well.

“I didn’t break your father,” he repeated.

You huffed angrily, scrunching up your face and collecting your thoughts into your next action. Jim stood tall, readying himself. He had learned over the past two years that once you got riled up the only thing that would stop you from yelling was you tiring yourself out. But at the last moment you diverted your attention back to your father, the anger plastered on your face being replaced with concern. Your raised shoulders slumped. Picking up on the change, Jim took a careful step forward.

“What happened?” You stared at the door your dad had just been pushed through. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s going to be fine. I promise.” He put a hand on each of your arms, getting you to look at him. “He’s in good hands. Bones is the best.”

You nodded, feeling slightly reassured. You hadn’t actually met Bones, but you had familiarized yourself with your father’s crew enough to know you could trust him. Jim’s glowing opinion of him didn’t hurt either.

“Do you want to head to the hospital?” His thumbs traced circular patterns through your shirt. His blue eyes held yours. “You can yell at me on the way. I know that soothes you.”

“Yeah.”

You slammed your PADD into the chest of a passing engineer.

“I want a diagnostic on my desk by morning,” you ordered. “And tell Larry if I get a single call for anything less than three dead engineers within the next 24 hours, I go back to Station 75 and he loses his theoretical physicist.”

“Yes, sir,” the engineer responded nervously, wrapping his hands around the device.

“Yes, Doctor,” Jim corrected for you.

He forced out a frantic apology and rushed off to convey your message.

You shook your head. “Uniforms’ll call anything that moves ‘sir’.”

“You certainly command a room like your father. But you could be a little nicer,” Jim offered, falling into step next to you as you left the bay. It was a serious suggestion, but his tone held amusement. Part of him truly enjoyed the fear you could invoke in your subordinates. “I think that kid almost peed his pants.”

“I’ll bake him a pie when the job’s done.”

You looked back over your shoulder at the small sliver of Enterprise you could still see between the wall and the door as it slid closed.

“Spock wouldn’t have broken my ship,” you grumbled, crossing your arms.

“No, he was too busy breaking my face.”

You barked out a laugh. “He did that? Good for him.”

Your reaction didn’t even come close to surprising him. You have never been one to fuss over him. Even if you were worried about him, you showed it in the roughest way you could. In a lot of ways he appreciated it.

“You know I memorized the names of every crew member assigned to Enterprise, but here’s the weird thing, your name wasn’t on that list.”

“You memorized the names of 430 people?” Jim asked, dodging your accusation.

“You have all of III Communications memorized and that’s 32 songs,” you said dismissively. “Why were you on my ship?”

“Technically it's the Federation’s ship.”

“Jim.”

“They didn’t assign me anywhere so Bones medical loophole’d me in,” he explained

“Are they reprimanding you?” you asked as you stepped through the exterior door in the hot sun.

He scrunched up his face like he honestly hadn’t thought about it until that moment. “No, I think they’re promoting me.”

“I hate Starfleet,” you grumbled.

“I know.”

“And I hate you.”

“I know that too.”

“If it makes you feel better I was banished to an icy hell for a little while,” he offered.

“It does, thanks.” You turned your torso towards him so you could see him as you walked. “You know this isn’t how it works for anybody else, right? Things don’t just magically workout for other people because the have good intentions and enchanting eyes.”

“You think I have enchanting eyes?”

“That’s not the point.”

“I think that’s exactly the point.”

Part of you knew he was being extra egotistical to give you something to be irritated with. To distract you from why you were walking into the hospital, why you were asking the receptionist where Christopher Pike was, why you were walking through a hall that smelled like chemicals and death. It worked. At least on some level, but as soon as you reached the door to his room all your irritation went out the door, replaced by fear of what you would find on the other side.

“I was in Riverside,” you said quietly, staring at the door. “When I got the call. I was working on a new ship, and someone - I don’t remember who - called me, told me what had happened, or at least some of it. I ran for the transporter. There isn’t one in the shipyard. I ran all the way to town. I didn’t tell anybody  where I was going or even that I was leaving. I just left. I was so,” you bit down on your lip for a moment, unsure if you were ready to admit it, “so scared. I’ve never been that scared in my life.” You looked back at Jim. “Thank you. I don’t know the whole story. I don’t have to. I know that he’s here because of you. Thank you. If he,” the words caught in your throat. You faced the door and tried again, “If you hadn’t,” again you couldn’t get the full sentence out. You skipped to the end this time, “I don’t know what I would do.”

“You don’t have to find out.” Jim put his hand reassuringly on your shoulder. “Why don’t you go in. I’ll go get you some coffee.”

Your gaze moved away from the door to meet his eyes. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just your dad that you were worried about when you got the call. That you were worried about him. But instead you nodded and knocked on the door. He stayed with you in the hall until you made your way into the room.

Your father was sitting on the biobed, talking with the doctor. His expression and tone of voice, was the same as it always was, strong and sure, but laying there, looking tired in a way you couldn’t recognise, he seemed fragile. For the first time you were forced to realise that the great Captain Pike, your father, the man whose expectations you had spent a lifetime trying to live up to, was just that, a man. He was just easily broken as anyone else. You had expected him to look small, but instead you felt small.

“Dad?”

“There’s my little genius,” he smiled.

As you walked closer to his bed, you tried to return it, but failed. You took his hand in yours. Looking up at the doctor you tried to place him in the stories Jim had told you.

“You’re Bones, right?” you asked, keeping a firm hold on your father’s hand.

“I prefer Doctor McCoy or Leonard.” He turned his attention from the vitals displayed on the wall to you. “But yes, that’s me.”

“Give me a timeline, Doctor.”

“I want to keep him overnight for observation. Recovery after that is going to be a long road. I want him in physical therapy as soon as possible.”

Your jaw clenched as you nodded in understanding.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“You’re gonna be. I want you by seen by Doctor Murphy tomorrow. And you’re going to every appointment. I don’t care what you think is more important,” you told him.

“You remember that I’m the parent, don't you?” he chuckled.

“I don’t trust the judgment of anyone who puts Jim Kirk in charge.”

-

“To the youngest captain in history!” Christopher raised his glass.

“Here, here!” you beamed at Jim. As much crap as gave him about… well, everything, you were insanely proud of him. You’d known since the day you’d met him, that he was destined to be a captain.

“I hope this won’t affect how you feel about your real child,” Jim grinned, clinking his glass against Christopher’s and your own.

“How could it?” Your dad looked at you, sitting on the stool next to him. “Kiddo, move over. I want Jim to sit next to me.”

You shook your head. “I’m comfortable. You can love him more than me from a slight distance.”

Christopher wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him and laughing, “I could never love anyone more than you.”

“Who could?” Jim asked. “You are the better Pike.”

“I’m sorry. What was that? You’re the what?”

“You heard him,” you said over the brim of your drink.

Your dad sighed, “It’s really too bad you never grew into that head of yours.”

Pulling back from him, you patted him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid it’s genetic.”

-

Jim stood with his back pressed to the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. He held a hard, steady glare directed a landing shuttle. When the door slid open to reveal you tossing a bag over your shoulder, he pushed off the wall and fell in step next to you as you walked towards your apartment.

“Your dad yelled at me,” he pouted.

“‘Hi, (Y/N). How was Mars?’” you asked for him, “Just fine, Jim. Thanks for asking. How was space?”

“It was great, but then I got yelled at for it.”

“Did you deserve it?”

He grumbled something under his breath and changed the subject. “So Mars was good?”

“I didn’t get a lot of free time. Work kept me held up in the drafting room all month.”  You walked quickly along the sidewalk, anxious to get back to your apartment and out of your travel clothes.

“Sounds like your perfect trip.”

“Are you calling me a workaholic?”

“You could use a break every now and then.”

“I’ll take a break when I’m satisfied with the propulsion system,” you told him, struggling to keep the strap of your bag securely on your shoulder. When it slipped again, Jim took it and draped it over his own shoulder.

“So you’re going to keep splitting your time between San Francisco, Iowa, and the Mars station ‘til you die?”

“That’s the plan.” You looked up at him. “Are you gonna keep traversing the galaxy with Commander Pointy and Doctor Grumpy until you die?”

“I won’t get that option, if your dad has his way,” he said, returning to his original rant.

“He’ll ease up once he’s calmed down. We both know he’s got a soft spot for you.”

“Seems to be a Pike family trait,” he mused.

“It’s because you’re just so modest.” You reached up and pinched his cheek.

“It is one of my best qualities.” He rubbed his cheek. “Want to go out tonight and celebrate our mutual homecoming?”

“Swap ‘go out’ with sit on the couch in sweatpants, eating pizza and you’ve got yourself a date.”

“I’m game.” He draped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a sideways hug.

“I wanna hear all about how you pissed my dad off.”

[sarah-wants-to-write]

I Dare You to Love; Part Two (Star Trek AOS)

Shari has settled into her role on the Enterprise, and her friendship with Jim continues to grow. Days settle into routine, though it's thrown for a loop when she finds her friend in need of help. Help Jim didn't even know he needed and in the end, a truth comes to light that could change everything.

(A/N: feel free to ignore the subtitle in the gif. It’s the look he’s giving that matters~)

        It had been a few months since the Enterprise left Yorktown, and Shari wasn’t at all surprised to find herself busy. Day in and out, studying the records of previous planetary surveys that the Enterprise had done, along with her work with Asha, and the occasional away mission. Being the only high-ranking zoologist, she had been on plenty of missions. It didn’t hurt that most were with her new friend, Jim Kirk.

        Being friends with the captain definitely had its positives, both personally and professionally. Professionally, it meant that he trusted her judgment and actions even more than if he’d just based it off her work. Personally, it meant that she’d been introduced to and became friends with many people on the bridge. Spock found her work with Asha rather fascinating, discussing his old childhood pet I-Chaya with her in confidence. Shari gladly honored his request to not speak publicly, and expressed her sympathy at the loss of a beloved pet. Uhura was a perfect friend for fun talk, along with Sulu, and Chekov was like a little brother to her. Constant conversations in Russian, with Shari switching to Ukrainian or Polish when he was getting too…enthusiastic about something, just to get the kid re-focused.

        Of course, the rare occasion happened where someone found their soul mate, and shifted.

        It was the strangest part of human physiology, according to Spock, and Shari couldn’t help agreeing. Every human, and potentially half-human, had either an animal sleeping within their soul, or a song in their heart for their fated one’s animal. When someone was trying to find their soul mate, those with the animal within would hear from them, telling them yes or no. Some were more cooperative than others, from what she had heard.

        When a pair finally met, and the shifter’s fated one was in danger, the shifter would turn into that animal. Mostly predators, though some were larger prey animals that were scary when angry. Size also depended on the age at which it happened. When the shift happened, though, the shifter wouldn’t be able to change back without the help of their mate. For that person, they had to sing or hum the song in their heart, which usually ended up being a song that both in the pair knew, which fit the two perfectly. After that, the shifter would be able to change back and forth at will, to protect their mate.

        When Spock asked what determined which in the pair would be the shifter, Shari could only shrug. It was honestly something humans had speculated on for years. Sometimes only one person was the shifter, sometimes both were, and there were many theories about it.

        Each time a person shifted, Shari was immediately called in, just in case the person was injured and wasn’t changing back any time soon. Her gentle nature and firm hand had earned the lieutenant a reputation as one of the better medics on the ship, and most crew who were able to shift came to her for help on how to take care of themselves in animal form.

        The process of shifting what something that Shari talked about with Jim quite a bit whenever he came by her lab and office. They spent so much time together that he insisted she could call him Jim when they weren't on official business. Stuck there with her work most of the time, her dear friend came by to talk quite a bit when he could. Though mostly, he came by to say hello to Asha and spoil the levytsya with attention. Shari often teased that he only liked her for her lioness.

        “Well, not only.” Jim would shoot back, smiling as they both laughed. Most of the time, they did reports together, especially those concerning away missions they’d both been on. It was nice, having company, and always good for a laugh when one of her Ensigns came by with paperwork and jumped upon seeing their Captain on the floor with Asha’s head in his lap, just tapping away at his PADD like it was the most normal thing in the universe.

        However, today was somehow…different. Normally, Shari would have seen Jim at lunch, or just around in the halls, but she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man. Working in her lab, her back to the door, she smiled when she heard the tell-tale jingle and whoosh of the door opening.

        “It’s about time you showed up, sir.” She teased, keeping her back to the door.

        “Didn’t know you were expecting me.” Okay, that southern accent distinctly wasn’t Jim.

        Turning around, Shari was surprised to see Doctor McCoy standing there, with a slight smirk on his face.

        “Sorry, commander,” she smiled sheepishly “thought you were the Captain.”

        “Then I take it you haven’t seen him,” McCoy responded, more of a statement than a question “everywhere I’ve looked on this damn ship, I can’t seem to find the man. He’s either not been there or had just left.”

        “Is everything okay, sir?” she asked, concerned that their CMO was looking for the captain so thoroughly.

        “Our fearless leader’s dodging his annual physical again,” McCoy sighed “his usual antics, which he drags most of his friends into. If you see him, please try and send him my way.”

         “I’ll shoot you a message if he stops by here,” Shari agreed “and try to keep him here so you can actually find him.”

        “Even better,” the doctor nodded “thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll see you around.”

        “Of course,” Shari smiled, nodding back as he left “happy hunting, Doctor.”

        She could hear McCoy laugh a bit as the door closed, and chuckled a bit herself, before going back to her work. Though she couldn’t help her worry now. Jim seemed fit, so why would he avoid his physical? Sure, medical anxiety wasn’t uncommon-she dealt with it herself-but he seemed like the type who would do something he didn’t like right away just to get it over with.

        Not too long later, her door opened again, and this time it indeed was Jim.

        “Afternoon, Captain,” she greeted, smiling “busy day?”

        “Just making my rounds,” Jim replied, smiling back “how’s your work going?”

        “As interesting as ever, since it’s survey study day,” Shari declared, holding up her PADD to show the report “haven’t had many visitors, so it’s been quiet.”

        Watching as Jim greeted Asha, before settling into his usual spot so she could rest her head on his lap, Shari was even more worried. Jim may have been smiling and upbeat, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Was it just a long day?

        “Doctor McCoy came by earlier,” she spoke up, watching Jim’s head shoot up to look at her with guarded curiosity “asked if I had seen you, said you had an appointment and he’d been looking for you.”

        “What did you tell him?”

        “The truth; I hadn’t seen you yet today. Wished him happy hunting.”

        Jim chuckled a small bit at the snark, though his shoulders were almost as heavy as the near-silence in the room. The only sound was the occasional computer beep or chirp as both of them returned to their work.

        “Not curious about why?” Jim asked, not looking from his PADD. Shari glanced at him, and saw that Asha was watching him too, with a twitchier tail.

        “I am,” she replied, looking back down at her own PADD “but your reasons are your own, Jim. I’m curious, but I won’t pry.”

        Jim hummed in response, and it was quite for a good while. Shari had decided not to message McCoy, deciding that her friend needed time to sit and relax. The question of why he was avoiding the doctor had almost slipped her mind, if she was being honest.

        “It started with doctor’s exams. Said that it was to make sure people were okay during the famine.”

        Shari looked up at Jim’s sudden, quiet declaration. He was looking down at Asha, petting her head, and pointedly not looking anywhere else.

        “Most think it was sudden,” he continued “a jump from coup to…but it wasn’t. That’s why he could get as far as he did.”

        As he spoke, Shari got up from her seat to sit on the floor near Jim, heart breaking as she put two and two together. She knew that Jim was a survivor of Tarsus IV, but she hadn’t expected to ever hear about it from him.

        “And after, I was in and out of hospitals for a long time,” he concluded, shoulders tense as he finally looked up at her “so….”

        “You’ve got more reason than most, then.” Was all Shari said, hesitating before reaching and putting her hand on his.

        “You don’t seem surprised,” Jim declared, eyebrows furrowing “I’ve never talked about it, so how did you…”

        “I did my homework, when I found out about my assignment here,” Shari admitted, smiling sheepishly when his eyebrows shot up towards his hairline “I’d always admired and looked up to you, and wanted to know more. When I read about what happened on…well, my heart broke, and I now really understand why you don’t like appointments or physicals.”

        The look in Jim’s eyes was strange, but Shari didn’t squirm under his stare. It was more that she felt…seen. Like he was seeing the real her.

        “Though you should probably go and get it over with,” she suggested, watching his eyes lose a small bit of the twinkle that had come back “the Enterprise needs her Captain in top form. Would it help if Asha was there?”

        “I honestly don’t know.” Jim replied, looking down at the lioness, who seemed to have the same concerned look as Shari.

        “Would it hurt?” Shari continued, watching him think it over.

        “No.” he declared.

        “Then I don’t see why she shouldn’t go with you,” she replied, shrugging a bit “I’ll go as well, say I have to talk to M’Benga, so Doctor McCoy doesn’t question it too much. Could say it’s part of my work with Asha, as a potential comfort animal in the Med Bay.”

        Seeing she was offering him the choice, and a good-not to mention truthful-cover story for the situation, Jim was surprised to find himself agreeing.

“Okay, let’s go.”

~

        To say that Bones looked surprised when Jim walked into the Med Bay was an understatement. Shari walked in right behind him, and Jim watched as she went straight to M’Benga to talk. Asha stayed right by his side, though, clearly as dedicated to helping him as Shari was.

        “Alright, Bones, let’s get this over with,” he told his friend, nodding over to a bio bed “want me over there?”

        Bones could only nod, getting his PADD and equipment together as Jim went over to the bed, Asha sitting on the floor right next to his knee.

        “Lieutenant Neilson’s work?” Bones asked, nodding down to Asha as he got set up.

        “You could say that.” Jim nodded, hand going to Asha’s head to help ground his mind. This was one of his closest friends, nothing bad was going to happen. Asha was here, too, as was Shari.

       Nothing bad was going to happen.

       That became Jim’s mantra, helped by the rhythmic scratching and petting of Asha’s head during the whole appointment. Once things were done, and Bones stepped away to log everything, Shari approached with a smile on her face.

        “How did she do?” she asked quietly, gesturing to Asha, who had plopped her head on Jim’s lap in contentment from all the scritches and pets.

        “She helped,” Jim admitted, just as quiet as he gave a small smile that finally reached his eyes “draft up the paperwork, and I’ll make sure Bones gives the green light on this part of your experiment.”

        “I’ll head to my office and get started,” she nodded, smiling for him “I’m glad she could help. I hope you don’t hesitate to talk to me about things, if you need to. I promise I’ll listen. It’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

        Jim’s smile grew, putting his hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze as he nodded, before Shari woke Asha up. She bid Jim and Bones farewell before she left the Med Bay, Asha by her side. Jim watched as she left, heart feeling lighter than it had all day.

        Shari was a good and loyal friend, a highly intelligent scientist, and an incredibly beautiful woman in Jim’s eyes. She’d won his loyalty and fierce friendship, especially with what happened that day. Jim would rain hell on anyone who tried to hurt her.

        Deep inside, the wolf in his soul had fully woken up, and couldn’t agree more. 

[if-weshadows-haveoffended]

Strela Amura- Chekov x Reader

A/N: So sorry about how late this is, I’ve just been really busy at Uni. Anyway, She’s Kirk’s sister but also not Kirk’s sister. It’ll make sense, trust me. ut my favourite thing about the OS has always been the time-travel episodes, like???? What a gift to Humanity. So here’s me playing with that space time continuum.

Also. It’s Eurovision time!!!! Sorry not sorry for nearly winning last year btw. Anyway, you know what that means? Time to listen to my Eurovision husband’s entire discography. Like it’s such a cute Chekov-y song, bless.

Also key word: Chekov tries to save her

Title: Strela Amura (Cupid’s Arrow) Inspiration: here (x) Tags: Fluff, kinda-kirk’s-sister-but-kinda-not, pre-romanov decline russia, TIME TRAVEL MOTHERFRICKERS, ridiculous bustle skirts are my aesthetic Words: 1500+ Masterpost: here (x) Prompt List: here (x) Mixtape Archive: here (x) Original Request: (x) - Could you do a thing where reader is Kirk’s younger sister (or other relative), that isn’t part of Starfleet, and gets taken by the big bad, and Chekov saves her? Then fluff?

Стрела Амура

Most senior students at the Starfleet Academy dreaded the ‘Little Sibling’ program; in which a senior, slowly struggling and watching their very soul leave their bodies were forced to pair up with some innocent, optimistic first year who had yet to see their life force choked from them due to obscene assignment due dates.

You were rather surprised to have found yourself partnered with a one James Tiberius Kirk, as he had introduced himself, a coffee in hand and dark circles under his eyes. You were a little intimidated, admittedly, but he was as supportive as you could have hoped for and Jim was genuinely wonderful. He would always remember your exam dates and check up on your actual dates and was always there to hold your hair back and cover for you if a party got too wild. Or there to ruffle your hair in pride as you passed that one maths class you always seemed to flunk exams for. He even kept in contact as he graduated, sending you updates as he traversed the expansive galaxy, promising that if you did well, you would score a place on the prestigious Enterprise crew.

He somehow convinced your parents that a certain trip-that-shall-not-be-named was actually a Scientific Field trip. You didn’t want to know exactly how he did it, but your mother was still singing the praises of ‘Darling James’ and considering adopting him.

But things went to hell part-way through your study. You left, much to your parents’ disappointment, hoping that you’d be better than the rest of your family, hoping you could be their chance to one-up your cousins that the grandparents always seemed to favour. But it was simply… you simply couldn’t deal with the reality of the Khan incident, it had hit far too close to home and you had lost far too many friends who had graduated. Space seemed far too cold, too brutal and too cruel to your tastes and while you still adored the endless possibilities, you weren’t sure what to do if you’d lost-

No matter. Perhaps what was most important that Jim had said it was the bravest thing you’d ever done, to know what was important and what was best for you. And he still updated you, sending over photographs on your PADD, every message ended with a little smiley.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY BABY SISTER’S ON THAT TEAM!?” Chekov was genuinely confused, no scratch that, the entire Bridge seemed confused at the Captain’s outburst.

There had been a temporal anomaly, the ship caught in it comprised of a small team of archaeologists and historians off to some far-flung planet in order to do some first-hand investigations for a company that Uhura had briefly mentioned before Kirk began to shit his pants.

“Captain, you do not biologically have a younger-“

“You know Spock, the Little Sibling program back at Starfleet?” The Captain clarified with a little embarrassment colouring his tone, “I was assigned to Y/L/N, she left after a couple of years, but we’re still in contact.”

“So I assume that means we’re going in?” Sulu hazarded, making worried eye-contact with Chekov. Chekov gulped a little, before turning back to face his station, his hands already finding the familiar grip on the controls, already awaiting the inevitable words,

“Fucking punch it.”

No one had warned you that 1880s St Petersburg was freezing in winter. Or perhaps, no one had warned you that it was perhaps to the best to piss off a Prince who (you assumed) thought you were flaming hot (from what your French could discern) only to find yourself in a dungeon in the bowels of the city, heavy with the scent of pungent sewers and stale sweat. On the upside, the gown was very pretty.

But that wasn’t much help at the moment. With your tired arms bound behind you with chafing rope, it was impossible to reach anything. You knew you still had a comm somewhere in the voluminous folds of midnight satin and a tri-corder smuggled in near your stockings. But with absolutely no waves, not even radio, there was no way the comms were going to work.

Oh and your legs were definitely out of the question, they’d bound those too after you tried escaping for a fourth time.

You could always flirt your way out of the situation? That was what Jim would do. Actually that was a lie, he would start a female insurrection on ideology against the Prince and manage to have half the women in the Aristocracy storming on the Duma and the Tsar demanding equality. Fascinating notion though. And definitely entertaining.

“Who the hell are you?” You suddenly found yourself being forced to move over as a young man was thrown into the freezing dungeon along with you. He certainly seemed from the far-flung past, with a perfectly knotted cravat and hair rakishly curly. He only seemed about your age, perhaps a year or two older, but about your age.

That was an idea. Flirt with the cute guy who just got chucked into your cell and hope he can get you out, because if you get invited to a Romanov Prince’s party, he’s definitely rich.

Only problem was the only Russian you knew was most likely just going to offend the poor guy.

“You speak English?” He tilted his head in confusion as he attempted to sit up, his hands bound behind him too. “You’re Keptin Kirk’s leetle sister?”

“You’re with Jim!?” You felt your heart fall out of your arse in complete and utter relief. He’d be able to find you, and the rest of the team. Hopefully.

“I’m Ensign Pavel Andreivich Chekov.” He introduced quickly, “Yes, well… there were some complications.” He admitted, a bashful grin gracing his face and his dimples casting charming shadows against the guttering candlelight of the cell. “I theenk we haff most of your team. Sulu and I were in the area after we got these…” He tried gesturing as best as he could to his stylish suit.

“How did you end up in here then?” Your flustered mind only now making the link between the cute boy (okay, he was cute, you were allowed to think that. He may be the last by you ever see. Maybe you’d have to spend the rest of eternity… together… in this piss-poor excuse for a cell) and his accent. “They’d be able to understand you…”

“Oh, well…” He made a bit of an ‘eek’ expression on his face, and you already dreaded what he was going to say next.

“Don’t tell me you challenged the Prince,” You said, flatly.

“Look, I may haff graduated Starfleet at sewenteen, but they don’t teach us fencing-“

“Isn’t there someone on your crew who does? Specialise in fencing, I mean?” You jolted at the memory of one of Jim’s early messages.

“We don’t talk about Sulu.” He muttered darkly, though his expression quickly passed into what could only be described as ‘overly-excited puppy’. “Put your heels on my shoulders,”

“Hm?”

“Zat way I can try to untie your ankles, zat leetle bit of rope is loose…” He continued on.

“Hm?” You repeated, your mind most definitely not turning to a certain golden retriever tying you to one of the grand beds three floors above…

“Here… shuffle over, no… no please put your heels on my shoulder.” You did as he instructed, nearly taking out his eye with your heeled boot. “Okay,”

“You sure this is a good idea?” You raised a brow as he placed the narrow strip of rope between his teeth, and began to tug a little. Slowly, but with relative ease, he managed to undo the loose knot and un-lopp the rope from your boots. “Wait, check up my skirt, my comm,” You added quickly.

“Yes, that might be a bit difficult,” He titled his curly head in the direction of his bound hands. Time was of the essence and the party raging upstairs sounded far too lethargic now, even through the dulling stone floors.

“It’s only above my knee. One of them, not sure,” You added with haste. “If you can activate the switch, you might be able to get a signal out before the Prince comes back in here to interrogate the pair of us,”

Biting hard on your lip, and hoping that the nearly-extinguished candle would hide your blushes, you watched as Chekov shuffled as best as he could, nestling between your ankles and your skirt that had ridden up a fair bit. Your heard drummed tight against your corseted bodice now, hearing distant footsteps. You guessed that Chekov decided it was all or nothing and attempted to reach the miniscule button of your comm with his nose.

For second there, you thought that it was all over, the door swinging open. There would be no hope of escape and that you would die with a (hot) stranger, centuries before you were ever born.

Your parents? What would they think? Would they care? Would they keep on reprimanding you? Saying that it would have been better if you’d stayed in Starfleet, for at least they’d have a body to bury.

What about what remained of your friends?

What about Jim?

“Chekov, what the hell do you think you’re doing to my sister!?” Chekov’s head immediately bobbed up from your upper thigh, immediately missing the warmth, his face surely as red as your own and his curls an endearing mess.

So that’s what Jim thought.

[captainsbabysitter-blog]

Uncertainty Blooms Ch1

So I’m going to be working on a multi-chapter fic series for my gal Jaylah and I just finished the first installment.

So, uh... This is going to get angsty pretty quick, but I wanted to set it up a bit first. This first chapter is just a bit of what goes on between Jaylah and the crew hanging around on Yorktown and them parting ways when she leaves for the academy and they go back to the black.

I absolutely have no even done a cursory read-through for errors and I regret nothing.

Tag list: @thevalesofanduin @mccoymostly @emmkolenn (feel free to let me know if you want to be added in future stuff)

Repair the ship, protect her home from outsiders, hide, run, hunt, sleep, and when it was all done repeat. Survive. That was Jaylah’s entire life beginning the day her father helped her escaped Manas and his attempts to aid Krall. And then Montgomery Scott stumbled into her little world of solitude and flipped it all upside down in an instant.

Everything flew by in a whirlwind from the second Jaylah met the Enterprise crew. Her whole world went from isolated survival to watching, consumed in anxiety, as Jim risked his life to save the lives of everyone on Yorktown. In that moment, she had pushed away the thought that she might lose someone else she cared for because if he failed? They were all dead. Nothing would matter if they were all too dead to know the difference.

She’d never admit it, but there was still a piece of her that wanted him to make it.

When all was said and done, she still didn’t have time to do anything other than eat, sleep, and attend meetings; Starfleet had so many questions. When Starfleet didn’t have questions, she was being dragged around by the crew.

According to them, she was part of the family now. That knowledge struck a chord somewhere inside her that she chose to ignore in favor of trying to think her way through her next steps. Jim’s party came and with it her decision was made for her. The opportunity to rejoin her newfound friends in a few years is more than enough to make up for the fact that she’ll need to wear one of those uniforms; at least she would be able to wear the pants and not be forced into the dress.

Questions, questions, questions, and even more questions followed that day. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why had Starfleet never heard of her planet? Who, where, why, how?

It frustrated her that the only answers she could give them were what she remembered from her days as a child. She was so young when they took to space, and she suspected that her parents hadn’t told her everything about why they even left.

With each new day of questions, Jaylah found herself increasingly jealous of her friends who seemed able to ‘take the edge off’ with the alcohol they were all fond of. She was looking forward to the day she could leave for San Francisco and get to studying, but that wasn’t for another month.

“Ah, lassie… Y’might wannae just find somethin’ else t’distract you,” Scotty suggested one night a few weeks into their stay. He motioned for her to follow him and brought her to the workshop he was given to work in while the new ship was built. “I can teach ya some things. Makin’ distracts me when I’m bothered.”

That was how she decided to take on the engineering track. The equations she learned were easy enough to learn, and it meant that if she ever found herself stuck on a planet she should be able to fix it herself and go back home. The way the bits and bobs pieced together to make functioning equipment had always fascinated her. Scotty watched on with extreme pride as she picked everything up so quickly he had flashbacks to his first days discovering a love of machines and what makes them go.

This new distraction was a blessing. Jaylah no longer noticed that tug at the edge of her mind that tried to steer her toward thoughts of the past. She didn’t want to think about the past. All she wanted was to focus on her future on the Enterprise (because no one, not one single person, could convince her that she was going anywhere else after graduation).

It worked for quite a while. She spent as much time as possible learning everything Scotty would teach her. When she wasn’t doing that, she was spending time with the rest of the crew; drinking with Sulu and Chekov, shopping with Nyota (she now had more clothing than she really knew what do with, but she learned that purple apparently suits her- whatever that means), quizzing Spock about the workings of his experiments in the labs, practicing her combat maneuvers with Jim and Leonard, or even just going out with the group as a whole.

Then the new Enterprise was finished. Everyone except Bones seemed eager to be back among the stars, but Jaylah found herself longing to follow them instead of stepping onto the shuttle set to bring her to Earth.

“We’ll check in whenever we can,” Jim assured her with a smile.

“Aye,” Scotty agreed. “I’ve got plans te com ye weekly when I can.”

Uhura stepped in to give her a tight hug that she reluctantly returned. “And we’ll see you whenever we visit Earth. Promise.”

“How often are you visiting Earth?” She hated the uncertainty in her voice, but after spending so much time alone she wasn’t looking forward to diving back into an unknown place with unknown people.

Jim sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck a bit. She noticed immediately that he was avoiding eye contact as he spoke, “Not a lot, honestly… But we’ll try to stop in when we can okay?”

She knew that would be the case, but it still sent strange and unfamiliar feelings out to every corner of her being. Instead of acknowledging them, she just nodded and accepted hugs from everyone.

Before she stepped onto the shuttle, Scotty snagged her by the forearm and handed her a smallish box. “Jus’ a gift from th’ lot’ve us for your room.”

The bright paper tempted her to tear into it immediately, and she obliged that desire. The bridge crew, McCoy, and Scotty watched on with varying shades of amusement as she pulled out a framed photo of the group from Jim’s birthday. Everyone had crowded together with Jim at the center; each had a smile on their face ranging from Spock’s subtle upturn curve of the lips to Jim’s full-blown, brighter than a sun smile.

Jaylah easily recalled that moment. They were all battered, bruised, and still reeling from the events on Altamid, but they were glad to be alive. She remembered the deep bruises on her arms, legs, and torso aching until McCoy had time to heal them for her; she hadn’t been able to trust anyone else to do it.

Her fingers traced across the frame and she couldn’t help but smile. For the first time, she felt with a keen clarity that this group of people really had become more than just friends of necessity.

[thesoundofnat]

Different

Jim, Bones

Summary: Bones is discovering in what ways Jim is different after having died, and in what ways he’s still the same.

A/N: This is my first Star Trek fic on here, and I can only hope you’ll like it! Thank you to @heartsalotofstuff for reading it and assuring me I hadn’t just thrown together a bunch of bullshit.

Words: 2 013

Dying, albeit briefly, had changed Jim. Bones could tell. When it came to Jim, Bones could always tell.

It was a painful realization, he had to admit. It had been bad enough to see his best friend lie there, as if frozen, with no pulse to find despite how much Bones tried. It had been bad enough to believe he would live the rest of his life without him. It had all been bad enough. But to think they would come out of this unscathed was wistful thinking.

Jim was different. He wasn’t the only one, of course. They had all changed a little bit. Spock seemed more distant. Scotty more emotional. Uhura became softer. Sulu all but danced around the Captain. Chekov was more quiet than ever, as if unsure of what to say. And Bones? Well, let’s just say that he panicked as soon as the kid was out of his sight. Jim called him overprotective, but Bones didn’t care. He wouldn’t be able to lose him again.

Jim was the one to change the most. Bones shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was over that fact. He wasn’t as naive anymore, nor as cheerful. The latter saddened the doctor, who had gotten so used to his friend’s easy smiles. Jim aged way too quickly due to that experience. Due to the new blood in his system. It was horrifying to watch, once Bones realized what was going on. It was as if Jim was changing every day; morphing into a new version right before his very eyes.

It was safe to say Bones didn’t like it.

At all.

He started observing his Captain and friend, and while he knew Jim’s scowl and dismissing waves would be endless if he noticed, Bones couldn’t stop. He had to keep watching him or he was afraid the kid would change so much he would be unrecognizable.

And so Bones started desperately looking for signs of the old Jim. Any little trace of the enthusiastic guy he knew. Just the smallest of signs would be enough. The vaguest of aspects.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked one day as he entered Jim’s quarters. The man in question was sitting on the couch with a plate full of untouched fruit on the coffee table in front of him. Had he not been staring at it somewhat skeptically Bones would’ve guessed he’d forgotten about it completely.

“I don’t know,” Jim replied and caught his gaze. Well, at least he was being honest.

Bones plopped down beside him. “I would ask if it’s the wrong kind of fruit, but I know for a fact that not only are you crazy about all of that, but it’s also the only types you’re not allergic to.”

Jim barked out an almost sheepish laugh, and Bones mentally ticked it off as a sign. “Maybe I don’t believe they won’t kill me.”

“Oh, trust me. Whatever you’ve been through can’t alter allergies. Only nature can do that, and that wasn’t natural.”

“I guess.” Jim picked up an apple slice, but he only turned it around in his hand. “My apetite is different. It’s like…”

“Like?”

“Like going hungry isn’t as big of a fear of mine anymore.”

Bones tilted his head. There was more to that story, but he wasn’t going to pry. “Just take a few bites. Do I have to say please? Because I will if it’s enough to get some nutrition into your system.”

Jim’s smile wasn’t as bright as it used to, but it still made Bones feel calm whenever he saw it. “Nah, I’m not a sadist.” He took a bite out of his slice. “There. Happy?”

“Immensely so,” Bones replied dryly. To see the kid who used to devour whatever you put in front of him practically force himself to eat was alarming to say the least.

Jim chewed slowly, but he ate the whole slice, and even went for a second one before pushing the plate away from him. Bones decided not to nag and let it be, though if the kid kept it up he’d have to change strategies. Jim wasn’t going to self destruct on his watch, whether it was consciously or not.

***

Jim’s temper was worse than ever. While he could be impatient in his personal life, Jim was usually a very level headed man who was willing to listen to other people whose opinions he valued, and he was prepared to alter his own plans if he realized their ideas could contribute to a better result. Now he just seemed tired, glowering in ways that even scared Bones if someone tried to go against his orders. His patient was thinner, but not enough for Bones to be able to pull him aside and chastise him about his new way of acting since it didn’t endanger the ship or crew. Jim was as impeccable of a Captain as ever, but the atmosphere on the bridge had never been this bad, and Bones didn’t even spend that much time there.

Seeing as Jim had never been very bothered about showing Bones when he was unhappy outside of work, Bones would expect it to get ten times worse and was utterly surprised to realize the exact opposite was happening.

Rather than let his emotions run amok behind closed doors, Jim seemed to shut them off completely, his body going slack and his face becoming a blank canvas with no expression. It terrified Bones too much to keep quiet about it.

“If I told you you’re being an idiot, would you yell at me?”

Jim glanced up. At least he could still express confusion. “Sorry, what?”

“I’m just trying to see if you can get angry, s’all.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You used to be very good at snapping at me, but lately you just give me a tired look and move on with your life.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“Sure, if you spared the rest of the crew your angry looks.”

“I don’t look angry.”

“Oh yes, you do. I’m pretty sure Chekov is terrified of you now.”

Jim frowned. “Why would he be scared? I’d never yell for no reason.”

“I know that. They’re probably not very sure anymore.”

His words weren’t well received, but Jim didn’t stand up in rage to ask him to take it back or clarify. Instead he just looked exhausted. Jim was never one to give into exhaustion.

Jim rubbed his temples with a sigh. “I’m sure they know better than to think I’d hurt them or something.”

“You used to be so patient, but lately it’s like you don’t even want to listen to them.”

Something flickered over Jim’s face, and the next second his expression had changed, though Bones couldn’t entirely identify what it was he was feeling. “Do I really come off like that?”

“More often than not, yes.”

“Shit.”

They didn’t say anything more about it, but Jim sank back into his expressionless exhaustion and Bones never stopped worrying. He could only hope their talk would change things. It had to.

***

Jim slept less. Bones only knew that because he’d accidentally - or not so accidentally - fallen asleep on Jim’s couch, which resulted in him waking up to find Jim pacing around the dark room restlessly and scaring the crap out of Bones in the progress.

“Dammit, Jim!” he exclaimed only seconds after he’d opened his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Jim didn’t pause in his stride, but basically flew into the air instead. “Bones! Holy crap, I had forgotten you were here.”

Bones sat up, his eyes still trying to properly make out Jim’s features in the dark. “Light at 50 percent.”

The room lit up, and Bones’ eyes landed on Jim’s face instantly. He looked like death himself.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jim said before Bones could ask. “Whenever I can’t sleep I walk around in an attempt to tire myself out. You’re usually not in this room.”

“Jim, if you’re having trouble sleeping I can always get you something for it.”

“Drugs, you mean?” Jim’s smile was joyless. “I’d rather not have to rely on substances.”

“Says the guy who almost drinks himself unconscious every other night.”

That was another discovery Bones had made, but seeing as both he and Jim had liked drinking for a long time he couldn’t exactly call him out on it. The difference was vague enough for Jim to be able to deny it.

Jim’s laugh matched his smile. “In my own defense, it’s not as frequent as that.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not abusing it-”

“I know, I know.” Bones sat up properly. “But you know how easy it can be to cross that line, right?”

Jim didn’t reply, but Bones hadn’t expected him to.

“Tell me about why you can’t sleep.”

“I just can’t. My mind is too active. My body can’t sit still.”

“How often does this happen?”

“Probably too often.”

“When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?”

“I honestly can’t remember.”

“Dammit, Jim,” Bones mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. “Stop keeping things from me.”

“And what, exactly, are you supposed to do about this other than give me pills?”

“I’m not just a doctor, you know. I have other methods of helping a friend.”

“It’s all right, Bones. I’m all right.”

“That’s the biggest lie you’ve told, kid,” Bones replied softly. “Come here.”

Jim hesitated for just a second before he walked over and dropped down onto the space beside him. Bones reached over to place a hand on his chest, choosing not to comment on how he tensed up under the touch.

“Take deep, steady breaths,” he said instead. “That way you will calm your body down enough to stop its restless fidgeting.”

Jim did as he was told, and with each breath Bones felt his hand rise where it was resting on his chest. He only removed it once Jim’s breathing felt naturally calm, and he took a hold of Jim’s wrist instead.

“Now, try to relax your body. Let your shoulders drop and get rid of all the tension you’ve built up.”

Jim obliged once more, and Bones made a mental note of how the kid still trusted him enough to know what he was doing, thank god.

“Good. Now close your eyes.”

Jim’s gaze flickered to him briefly before he followed his request, and for a moment Bones didn’t say anything but let him sit there in silence.

“Do you feel relaxed?”

“I do,” Jim mumbled back, his eyelids twitching.

“The body is easier to control than the mind. Whenever you can’t sleep you have to make sure to relax your body as much as possible and your mind won’t be far behind.”

Jim hummed sleepily now, cracking one eye open to look at him. “Thank you, Bones. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Bones’ heart broke into a million pieces at his dejected tone. “Don’t think I’ll ever let you find that out.”

Jim let out a laugh and Bones made one more mental note. Beneath all those changes Jim was still a scared guy with big dreams. Life had just beaten him a little too much this time. Bones could only hope Jim would be able to fully recover.

***

Bones slept badly that night, but that was only because Jim’s elbow was digging into his gut in a rather painful way. Bones didn’t dare try to move away though out of fear of disturbing him. Jim was finally sleeping deeply enough to not even stir, and Bones wasn’t about to ruin that. The couch wasn’t necessarily the comfiest sleeping place either, but Jim must’ve been so exhausted that he barely noticed.

Bones smiled slightly to himself as he made one last mental note. Jim still snuggled closer to him in his sleep, and Bones was happy to discover that his friend still felt safe enough around him to do so. Bones vowed to always be Jim’s safe space for as long as he needed him to be.