Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jim took a breath in the quietness of the ready room. “Computer begin recording:

“Captain's Log, Stardate 2260.165

“Since we are between missions at the moment, I decided it was the perfect time to allow Scotty to play with the computers. By tomorrow, he will have worked his magic and the calibration that he's been running will be complete, giving the computers an increased efficiency of twenty-eight percent. Given that our ship took an unavoidable hit with the rare plasma storm last week, I look forward to the change. All of our departments have decided to award Scotty with one thing or another, but the one that takes the cake is the vow of daily sandwiches, hand-cut and hand-delivered by Chekov, who bore the brunt of our computers' sluggish behavior.

“We determined that the cloud-like sentinent being our long range scanners discovered yesterday is in fact, dead. Tomorrow, we will be able to perform more thorough scans. Uhura picked up an unusual transmission at the end of my shift yesterday. Unusual, because we could hear only a handful of unintelligible syllables through the static. Also unusual is that it appears to have come from the same place to which we are headed, the unexplored and rather large system called Danavus, but we can't be certain. Our long range scanners are unable to reach it yet, but we are all on edge due to the nature of the signal. The lack of words as well as the inconclusive coordinates give us very little to go on. But, I hesitate to ignore this seemingly solitary transmission. To our limited knowledge, the Danavus system is uninhabited. However, it's rumored that at least two planets in Danavus are habitable, the only planets that long-range scanners have ever been able to pick up the past decade. We'll continue at our current pace, but I'm holding my breath for answers.

End recording.”

Jim tapped his fingers on his desk. He'd crammed as much as he could into this half-shift but he wasn't quite finished. Jim picked up his communicator and headed down to engineering to help Scotty.

oOo

"Unable to locate Captain James T. Kirk."

"What do you mean you can't find him?" McCoy gritted, glaring at the computer.

If there was one thing that sent McCoy over the edge after a long, hard day, it was learning of an untraceable captain. That he was gone, as in vanished, lost in the depths of the ship. That he was purposefully not wanting to be found. Any one of these scenarios usually resulted with all computers very conveniently unable to find him, as was the case now. Jim's shift was over and as far as McCoy knew, Jim usually headed for only a handful of places afterwards: his quarters, the mess hall, the gym, or one of the pools. Make no doubt, Jim Kirk would be found. Until that moment, McCoy felt no shame that he was directing his fury at a mere machine.

"Computer, locate Captain James Tiberius Kirk." Several nurses' heads turned up at his voice practically thundering across sickbay. McCoy added, muttering under his breath, "Bane of my existence."

"Unable to locate Captain James Tiberius Kirk."

"My guess is that he's making his rounds," Christine said, coming up from behind him.

"Rounds you say? So sometime in between dying in the warp core, captaining this ship, and then getting his head screwed over, he earned a medical degree?" McCoy's own sarcasm pummeled him.

"That's not what...you didn't know...." Christine's eyes widened. "Oh."

McCoy eyed her suspiciously. "He's working, isn't he? And he turned his comm off, not to mention sabotaged the computer. After I said half-shifts only?" No wonder Jim hadn't complained about the shortened hours of work the past fourteen days. He was busy working.

Christine chewed her bottom lip, practically gnawing it in half with her teeth.

"Chris," McCoy warned.

"You didn't hear it from me, though I don't think there's anything wrong with what he's doing," Christine said, of course defending him. Jim had become Re'an, and it was like he was the Pied Piper with all of McCoy's nurses, especially Christine. Oh, and Garid. Everyone had succumbed. "He's...visiting. Getting to know his crew again."

"Working, visiting, it's all the same because he'll start over-exerting himself and you know it," McCoy's lips curled up into a snarl directed at his best nurse but he caught himself just in time. He blamed his short fuse on the double shift he'd had to take combined with a missing captain. He decided that once he found said captain and dealt with him accordingly, he was going back to his own quarters for the night and sleep for the next twelve hours, with said captain first chained to his bed if he had to in order to get him to take it easy. Hadn't Jim moved past all of these tricks? This elusiveness, this bending of the rules made by his personal physician? "Especially if he purposefully makes his whereabouts unknown."

"Officially, he's not working Len," Christine said. "When is it a good time to reconnect with his crew? He can't when he's on the bridge, not really."

"Officially, he's feeling guilty about this so-called visiting, thus why he has the need to hide himself."

"He's not hiding himself." Christine sighed. "I doubt he turned off his comm. I doubt he sabotaged the computer. Jim wouldn't do that. Something had to have happened to them, instead. Maybe...a calibration?"

McCoy's thoughts stopped in their tracks. She was right. Four months ago, before any of this had happened, she wouldn't have been right, but now? Jim would not hide from McCoy. He would not sabotage the computer so he would not be found. It would be the last thing on Jim's mind. And McCoy had forgotten Scotty had a few more kinks to work out with the computers. "He's been visiting crewmembers every day, for two weeks, hasn't he?"

"Surely you've noticed something about his new routine," Christine remarked.

McCoy said nothing. After Captain Roark's visit to the Enterprise, McCoy had taken several days off, giving in to Jim's insistence that he take a break. That had must have been when Jim first began this new routine of his. That, at least, could account for his lack of knowledge in the beginning. And maybe...now that he thought about it, Jim had always told him where he was when he'd asked. If it hadn't been on the bridge, McCoy must have caught him always at the gym, or the pool, or mess, or his quarters. It was all a coincidence, a coincidence that had made him oblivious to the very man he wanted to track.

"Seriously?" Christine frowned.

"He's fallen into his duties like he'd never left...and then some," McCoy observed, finally putting it all together.

"Have you had any time to talk to him beyond the normal duties the past two weeks?" She asked, eyes warming.

McCoy sank into a chair, sighing. "Hardly, and now I know why." McCoy gave a small smile in spite of himself. "I'm used to Jim making all of these excuses when he didn't want to listen to my orders, which just meant I was onto him even more. But this? Hiding in plain sight? This is new."

Christine laughed. "Don't look so disappointed. It's like you wanted to chase him down."

McCoy scoffed. "The thrill of the chase?"

She nodded.

McCoy had accepted these new ways of his best friend. He'd come to terms and made his peace, but he still forgot. He was still used to the ways of the old Jim, and he chose a different excuse to explain himself rather than continuing to appear like a teenaged boy. "I don't have the energy to do that." He glanced at the chronometer. He'd promised Jocelyn the comm would be made within the hour. "I need to find him."

"You look worried."

"He's going to talk with Jo tonight, as soon as Uhura gets the go ahead for the transmission," McCoy explained, getting up from his chair. He'd begin his search in one of the observation lounges or the rec room.

"You've prepared Joanna," she said. "It may be a shock at first, but I imagine she'll bounce back. Kids are resilient."

"She loves Jim too much to let anything get in the way," he said without thinking.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Christine remarked, passing him as she went back to her duties.

But it wasn't his own daughter that McCoy was worried about. It was the man who could be keeping himself so busy that he didn't have to think on anything else but his ship and crew.

oOo

Jim closed one eye and peered across the cue stick at the balls scattered on the table, taking his time as he lined up his shot. The engineers, a group which included Scotty and three others, were saints to have put up with Jim's faulty memory. But, they all needed a break from the occasional humdrum of life on a starship. Especially Scotty, the hard-working engineer who was quickly becoming everyone's favorite lately. Jim himself hadn't spent too much time in the rec room the past two weeks because he'd been so busy. But when he had found a few moments to spare, it'd been purposeful and not just for sport.

Take this game for example. Of all things, he hadn't remembered how to play pool. The Re'an had found some reason for taking that away, too. This was the third game they'd played but he felt like his skill was returning with the speed of an Andorian slug. Not to mention that his eye-hand coordination was still a little off while engaging in this tedious of an activity. Shaky, too. He was taking his time because he had to. It was ridiculously slow, but the men standing and leaning on their own cue sticks watching him didn't seem to mind. If anything, he was providing them with some form of grand entertainment, a Starfleet captain fumbling with his shots. If this wasn't a great sacrifice playing billiards with him, all for the sake of camaraderie, he didn't know what was.

"Jim," Scotty whispered close to him. His concentration broken, Jim glanced up to see a bemused glint in the engineer's eyes. "The good doctor must be lookin' to speak with you,"

Jim slowly straightened his back, now completely sidetracked from the shot he was planning. The cue stick loosely gripped in his hand, he arched a brow and tried to look as nonchalant as he could as his eyes swept across the rec room and landed on one particular disgruntled looking doctor. He was leaning against a far wall, probably having watched Jim play pool with Scotty and a few engineers for who knows how long. With his arms crossed. With that scowl on his face. And with... Oh. Jim glanced at the chronometer on the wall for the first time since he arrived. He'd a call to make to one particular eight year old and he was cutting it a little damn close. Not only that, but he'd accidentally left his comm in engineering somewhere and that meant Bones couldn't have reached him. It may have even fallen out of his pocket when he was helping Scotty with a repair just before his shift ended. No wonder Bones wasn't happy.

"Looks like my time is up," Jim said, remorsefully setting aside his cue stick.

"Aye, laddie, may be for the best," Scotty's voice filled with mock pity.

Jim grinned as the other men snickered. He clapped Scotty on the back. "One of these days, I'll catch up to you."

Scotty only smirked.

Jim chuckled. "Day after tomorrow, then? Same time?"

"Aye, cannae come soon enough, Jim," Scotty said, shaking his head.

"Oh?" Jim asked, brow arched in expectation.

"Ye need the practice, laddie, or ye'll be drowning your losses with my whiskey," Scotty said with a grin.

Laughing right along with them, Jim walked away. He began focusing on what was coming with Joanna. He hadn't meant to delay meeting up with Bones, but the game had been more challenging than he'd expected.

"You were having a little difficulty handling the cue stick and making that shot, weren't you?" Bones asked immediately when Jim stopped beside him.

Jim fought a wince. "A little."

"Why didn't you say anything about that before?"

"It's gotten better," Jim said honestly. "And I'm sorry...I think I misplaced my comm in engineering, when I was helping Scotty with repairs."

Bones looked at him, expression too impassive to be anything good.

"Okay, okay. I know what you're thinking. I know that sounds... bad," Jim had to admit, and damn, if Bones' silence wasn't making him feeling a bit sheepish. "And very similar to the things I used to do."

"It just might," Bones said evenly.

"I swear, Bones, none of it was on purpose."

"So you say," Bones stated, clearly not about to give Jim a break.

"I was there helping him before my shift was over," Jim defended, missing the slight smirk on the doctor's face. "And my comm. It's probably...and it's..." Baffled, Jim scratched his head. He had no idea where the damn thing was. He really wasn't this absent-minded, but he'd had a lot on his mind lately. "Bones, I really don't know what happened to it."

"Rand can retrieve it for you." Bones didn't even blink. "Jim, you took a full three minutes for one shot, and you missed."

So Bones had been watching for awhile without Jim noticing. Oddly enough, that unsettled him, but only because it confirmed his own uncharacteristic absent-mindedness. "I miss most of them," Jim snorted. "Bones, should we do this in your quarters or mine?"

Bones frowned, taking him by the arm. "Don't change the subject. Jim, this is important, especially if for some reason your sight is degrading."

"I'm okay until I have to lean over and actually use the cue stick and close one eye," Jim confessed as they exited the rec room. "Then...everything gets twisted in my line of sight."

Bones looked at him thoughtfully. "Keep playing. I think it'll help."

But Jim heard doubt in the doctor's voice. "But...you need to give another exam."

Bones nodded. "It could also be a shift in your eye structure we didn't see or the implants malfunctioning as you move around, and I can't let that go." He paused, thoughtful. "But, honestly, from what you're describing, I think it's a combination of the healing process, the transition, and you needing more refined exercises to help improve your vision."

"Tomorrow?" Jim asked.

"I'll adjust my schedule so it can be tonight."

Jim nodded quietly in agreement. "So, Joanna," Jim asked, pausing as they waited for the lift doors to open. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe we should wait a little longer."

"More time may make this harder. Besides, Jocelyn gave her a holo of the new you," Bones said, one brow arched as he glanced at Jim.

Jim's breath caught and he stopped. "And?"

Bones sighed and gently tugged him along and into the lift. "Jocelyn said she stuck it on her wall beside her bed, next to one of you before we left."

Jim fell quiet. He could just imagine the eight year old looking at her wall for hours, trying to reconcile the way her uncle looked with the one she remembered. Her eyes flitting back and forth between the holos, her world becoming slightly undone like it would Jim's if he'd been in her shoes. He clearly recalled times in his childhood when the people he'd trusted became strangers at some point, their actions not matching up with what he knew them to be like and thus changing his entire outlook on them. Sam. Pike. Jim's heart skipped a beat. His mother. They'd become strangers to him, disappointing him in every possible way, just as he could quite possibly become a stranger to Jo. Even worse was the thought that these physical changes would ultimately unsettle her, and Joanna would have to deal with a new kind of hurt.

"She'll be fine," Bones drawled. "You're her favorite uncle. Nothing is ever going to change that." The lift doors closed. "Deck five."

Jim crossed his arms. "And if she's not?"

"Then we give her time, Jim," Bones said softly.

"You're a good father, Bones, and she's....she's lucky to have you in her life," Jim said, exhaling a breath. Bones may have left on a ship for five years but the doctor was available for his daughter more than Jim's own mother had ever been for him his entire life. They walked out of the lift together, but Bones again took him by the arm. "I don't tell you that enough, and you should hear it every day. I know things are hard on you," Jim added.

Bones looked sharply at him and when Jim met his gaze, it wasn't his imagination. Something Jim had just said bothered him.

"Bones?" Jim asked, faltering in his stride.

"My quarters," the doctor said a bit roughly, running his hand over his face. "But we're going to your quarters to pick up Sam first. Jo was looking forward to meeting her."

Silently, worriedly, Jim followed his best friend to his own door. Bones seemed to want to lead them and Jim didn't mind. It seemed to Jim that they were both thinking far too much.

oOo

Before he knew it, Jim was sitting on the edge of Bones' bed, watching the picture of innocence on the screen of the doctor's PADD. The widest, most beautiful brown eyes he'd ever seen peered at Jim. They stared at him, tracing the outline of his face from his hairline down to his chin, then darting down at the snake lounging across his arms. The young girl looked like a painting, quiet and still, those eyes full of soul and with the slightly mussed hair of an early morning, under the golden light coming through the window beside her.

He stared back at the vision in the screen, heart both drumming and hurting for the child who'd stolen it long ago. Of all the times Jim had talked with Joanna McCoy, she'd never been this softly spoken or reserved. Jim wasn't stupid. He knew it had everything to do with his new face, the scars and the eyes and even his darker hair. It had something to do with the creature he'd been forced to reconcile with, accepting it as part of his life. But, Jim also knew that Bones as well as Jocelyn had prepared Joanna for the change. Bones told Jim that she'd already seen a holo of him. Her parents told her only what she needed to know. It wasn't a complete shock. At least Jim had hoped it wouldn't be.

Jo was strong. She was vibrant and personable, like her mother, Jocelyn. She was also her father with that stubborn streak of hers and the intense love she gave to others, especially Jim. She was an independent thinker, sometimes wearing her emotions on her sleeve even when she tried hard not to. She was a multitude of emotions wrapped up in an unassuming, small package that Jim could not fold into his arms like he wanted to or used to. That he could not whisper words of comfort to or make laugh by targeting her ticklish spots or engage in a serious hide-and-seek game in her grandmother's house. Jo was beyond his reach, beyond his touch, living there on Earth while he was in space and on the same ship that had taken away her father.

Because he knew how hard it was for her, it was almost too much for Jim. It hurt that he couldn't comfort her in a tangible way, but he had delayed the communication long enough and couldn't bear losing his nerve not even five minutes into their on-screen visit. Joanna McCoy's small face and saucer-like eyes told Jim that the beloved niece-of-his-heart was struggling, and it broke something in Jim. Shattered his own expectations that she'd not be affected by his physical changes. He hated that he could not make it better or easier for her, no matter how hard he tried. It was what it was. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

"You want to tell me about school?" Jim asked her softly.

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Okay," he said, stroking Sam, trying to remain as steady as possible for Jo's sake. "How about your Nana?"

She shook her head again, eyes now clenched shut so tightly not even Jim's pleading opened them. He couldn't believe that she didn't want to speak about her beloved Grandmother Nora.

"Boys?" he tried again. "Those weird, annoying creatures that you have to sit next to in class? I was one once. I can give you pointers on how to annoy them back."

"Whadya mean, once?" Bones called from the other room. Jo's eyes shot open. "You're still weird and annoying. You're still a kid and barely manageable, too, you man-child. Just check my blood pressure for proof."

Jim rolled his eyes dramatically. It had the effect he wanted. Jo's mouth widened into a smile. "There's my girl."

"I like your snake, Uncle Jim," she whispered.

"She's pretty, isn't she?"

Joanna nodded. "I think she really likes you. Her name is pretty, too." She paused and peered at the creature. "Samantha."

"She hears you," he said softly, noticing how Sam wiggled from his arms a bit.

"I hope you have her forever," she said awed, "So I can see her when you get back."

"Maybe I will," he said, hoping it was true. "I'd love for you to meet her in person, at a safe distance and when she's in her case, of course."

"I like school," Jo said, still intrigued with Sam.

"You are a very smart girl to like school, Jo," Jim said.

"We're studying famous people and we get to pick one. And dress up like them."

"That's the best part, you know, dressing up and getting to be whoever you want to be, Jo. Just for the day. Do you know how lucky you are? If I tried dressing up and showing up like that for work, I'd get the menacing eyebrow from Mr. Spock," Jim said in exasperation.

She giggled. "I know. It has to be tough being a grown-up. I like being a kid. Uncle Jim?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

She leaned forward, whispering. "Can someone pretend too much?"

The question threw him violently into a warping sense of thought. In every physical sense he was there with Jo but his consciousness seemed to leave the room and no sound registered other than what decided to fight for the spotlight. The thoughts tumbled one right after another. The vacant seat at the dining room table on his birthday caused the prick in his heart. An ill-fated ship filling with children's cries sent a wave of sorrow through him. His thoughts moved swiftly again, calling to mind when his mother said one thing to him yet did another, her betrayal as bitter as the day it had occurred. Something tightened around his arm. Jim's concentration faltered as he realized that his Re'an creature was helping him. His heart wanted to take off racing but Sam tightened her coils even more, and it was enough. Jim breathed in and out, his focus on his Re'an side. It was enough to slow him down, remove him from his own head, and redirect his attention on Jo and her very important question.

Could someone pretend too much? Jim did not know, or maybe he simply didn't want to answer.

"At your age, Jo? You can pretend all you want to," he said instead. "Especially you."

"I want to be an explorer like you," she leaned in even more but Jim could barely hear her. "And a bunch of other things."

"This is the time to pretend, Jo," he whispered back.

"But I'm eight years old. I'm not a baby," she said, words hushed.

"No, you aren't a baby but you're still a kid. You get to pretend until you're twenty, at least, and probably even longer. Why are we whispering, Jo?" He asked softly.

"Is daddy still listenin'?" He nodded. She made a face. "I want a private conversation with the captain. Daddy should leave."

Jim almost laughed at the order. "I'm in his quarters, Jo, so I can't throw him out."

"Sure ya can. You're captain."

"I can take a hint," Bones grumped as he came into the room.

"I just want some alone time with Uncle Jim," Jo said, looking wide-eyed at her father. "Like we used to have."

Jim glanced warily at Bones. "Talks with just Uncle Jim" were normal occurrences, but who knew how smoothly the conversation would go with all these changes on her mind.

"It's alright, Jim." Bones nodded slowly, eyes flickering from Jim to Jo. "I know you two like to have privacy sometimes, and sometimes you're on this same level without me and I don't know what you're talkin' about, anyway. I'll put some music on in the other room. Five minutes?"

Jo's head bobbed up and down, and Jim found that he had no say in the matter. The McCoys were tough to deny when they banded. But when Bones left them alone, Jo went back to her staring.

Jim smiled patiently at her. "You're thinking too hard, kiddo."

Her eyes took on the same worry Jim saw in her father's most days when Bones didn't know Jim was looking. She tilted her head and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs to hold them there. "I can't stop thinking."

Me and you, both, kid, Jim thought to himself, but he only replied, "It's okay if you need to talk to someone. It may help."

She drew a hasty breath. "Uncle Jim?"

"Yeah, Jo?"

She lifted her chin. If it wasn't her father staring at him in all his stubbornness to get an honest answer out of Jim, he would eat all his vegetables the next time Bones was watching. "Is my daddy okay? Is he...is he...sad? 'Cuz he looks sad, sort of like he did when you were in your coma and you weren't...you weren't..."

Her voice trailing off, Jo stared down at her knees. Jim stared at her knees, at her small hands tightly pressing her legs to her chest as if she wanted to disappear. His heart squeezed like the lemons did in Mrs. McCoy's hand when she made lemonade, the refreshment tart at first but slowly sweetening with each stir because she knew just exactly how to make things...better. But Jim didn't know how to make things better. Not really. He made things bitter. Because of the Re'an in him, he couldn't allow Bones to fix the scarring around his eyes. He couldn't let Bones fix him to make things better for the doctor, so he didn't have to see Jim's more visible changes. He couldn't change his darker hair, he couldn't change the way he thought about things now. He couldn't fix all the pain that the Re'an had inflicted upon him and his crew, especially that upon his best friends, Bones and Spock. He couldn't answer in complete honesty for Jo's sake...but he couldn't lie, either.

There was a lot he couldn't do, but he could comfort his best friend's daughter. Just like Jo, he also drew a breath, one to fill his lungs as much as possible. He hoped his answer would be enough for this tender but spirited child. "He was feeling bad but he isn't anymore, Jo. I promise. I'm doing everything that I can to make sure that he is okay."

"You'll watch out for him?" She whispered. Her eyes filled with hope as she repeated the same words her grandmother had whispered to Jim before they'd left on the five-year mission. Watch out for him, Jim. Watch out for my boy, Eleanora McCoy had whispered.

He nodded as he had then, vowing with his life to do exactly that. "It's my duty and my honor to do so, Jo, as captain of this ship."

When she remained unresponsive as before, he tried again.

"I promise, Jo," he said. "He watched out for me and now it's my turn to watch out for him. He's one of two best friends I have in the whole world. And not only am I watching out for him, but Mr. Spock is, too."

"Okay," she said in a small voice, but Jim knew for a fact that this was her brave face.

Jim had saved all his tender smiles for her, and finding it to be the perfect time, he used one. She crawled out of her shell, and he, for the umpteenth time, wished the miles away between them. Nothing compared to a hug from Joanna McCoy but even better was giving one to her, this child of his heart, and calming her fears. "Do you feel like talking now? Maybe more about that school project of yours? Knowing you, you probably picked someone that did something brave and kind yet so profound that it changed the world. Like your dad did when he made that decision to become a doctor. You're a lot like him, you know."

Her nod was unsure but her eyes shined. To his pleasure, she monopolized the next four minutes with an young girl's brilliant ideas for making a difference in the world around her.

oOo

Red Tail was furious.

In all his years developing and then maintaining Project Raptor, he'd never had an agent so blatantly go behind his back. Not one agent, but two, and two of his best.

"I had to learn that you abandoned your current mission from HQ. It was information that was handed from one admiral to the next, beginning with the top, just minutes ago, and by a miracle, leaked to me." Red Tail explained. He stared - no, glared - at the two officers he viewed on his screen. He could see them perfectly well, but they could not see his face, which was only a dark shadow, and they could not hear his real voice, which was being manipulated by the computer. Of course, Roark knew his identity but Winona did not, nor could she ever. Red Tail was certain that if she did know, she wouldn't think twice about murdering him in his sleep now that he'd pitted her against her own son in an effort to test the young captain. "Barnett reviewed your recent logs, innocently looking for information you've gathered but he realized something didn't seem to line up. Do you know what this means?"

Captain Roark certainly did; the usually controlled captain winced. Winona merely lifted her chin, seemingly unbothered by the implications.

"Someone will begin looking at you and your ship, and looking a little too closely, wondering why you abandoned your mission and began to follow the same course of the Enterprise, just flying from under the radar of their long range sensors. HQ may begin to wonder if you've done things like this before," Red Tail stated, barely suppressing his anger. "Unless I can find a way to mop up your mess. One thing is certain, you can't stop whatever it is that you are two are doing, at least not until I can smooth this one over. If the Isis suddenly changes course, it could gain even more attention."

"We should alert the Enterprise," Roark said quietly.

"You're damn right you should," Red Tail snapped. "It's either you tell them or they hear it from HQ that the Isis is trailing them. If Kirk hears that his mother's ship is following him from someone else, what do you think he will do?"

They didn't answer, but Red Tail prayed they understood the consequences. Kirk would have no tolerance for this or them, and Project Raptor could be at risk.

"The problem is, until I have a reasonable excuse for your course of action, we can't say a damn thing," Red Tail said.

Winona inhaled deeply. "I'm keeping up with their logs. They received an inconclusive signal yesterday. We can say that we picked up the same transmission. It was a coincidence or..."

"Or what?" Red Tail interrupted, feeling unusually wary of anything Winona had to say - and uncharacteristically sarcastic. "His mother was worried for his safety?"

"We had concerns about the transmission and since my ship is the closest to the Enterprise, we took the initiative to also investigate," Roark said as if he was briefing HQ already.

"Why are you stalking the Enterprise?" Red Tail expected the silence that followed, but asked again. "What are you waiting for? I am ordering you to tell me. If you do not, I will resort to interfering with this myself."

That got Winona's attention. Her face had become only a shade lighter, but he recognized the fresh tension framing her eyes and mouth. "Sir, I don't think that joining us would be wise."

"You do realize that if I will have to send someone, someone outside of Starfleet, that I trust," he stated slowly. "I sense that whatever you two have planned is a serious risk to the Enterprise."

"It will take them days, sir," she continued, not denying his statement.

Red Tail laughed easily. "I have nothing but days, allies, and ships."

Roark shook his head. "With all due respect, sir, it'll be over and done by the time they get here. It will be a waste of time."

"So there is not much time." Red Tail's anger edged his voice. "Will there be others involved?"

"We are waiting for a reason." Roark's mouth tipped up into a loose smile.

"Roark," Winona said, with a warning glint in her eyes.

"He'll find out eventually," Roark said casually. "But when it's over."

"I am more certain than ever that you are risking your son's life, yet, you have asked for my cooperation all these years to keep him out of Project Raptor." Red Tail shook his head. She made no sense, but that was what made her unique. These paradoxes. It was also what made her powerful and unpredictable. He'd always known that someday, Winona would go too far, but he'd hoped for her sake and for her son's that his prediction would be wrong. He feared that this was it, and the Enterprise was right in the thick of it. "Roark is right. I will find out, and both of you will be appropriately disciplined. I have no qualms about removing agents from the field."

"You wouldn't. We have accomplished more than ever was expected us," Roark challenged.

"I would, and I have ways to stop you from talking once I remove you. Or did you forget that I have a trusted ally on board your ship, someone who would be capable of carrying out the procedure if necessary? Secretly and efficiently. No one will ever know," Red Tail finished with an eery quietness to his voice.

Roark's face went white. It was no surprise to Red Tail that he backed down in the blink of an eye. "Sir, it won't be a problem."

Red Tail leaned forward, voice soft. "Do you mean that if I pull you from duty, you will comply to my own demands for silence as you continue to captain the Isis?"

Roark swallowed. "Yes."

Red Tail sat back in his seat, satisfied he'd made Roark squirm, as he should. Red Tail refused to be challenged like this. The threat wasn't anything but a psychological way of manipulating the end to an agent's knowledge of Project Raptor - but it wasn't an easy treatment. It was brutal, and Roark knew of every horrific detail. Red Tail had made sure of that in the beginning. It was a procedure Red Tail would loathe ordering on a human being, but it was the only way other than committing murder to keep agents from completely betraying him and all the good work they'd done for Starfleet.

"I've heard enough excuses," Red Tail said. "There will be consequences, but I fear that interfering now would be detrimental to Kirk's safety. Am I right?" He added slowly.

"Yes," Winona answered, staring hard at the viewscreen.

"If Kirk and his crew are harmed, or anyone else, there will be hell to pay," Red Tail said.

"They won't be." Roark said, as easily as if they were discussing the weather.

"I must know when you expect things to play out," Red Tail asked harshly.

"We ourselves cannot possibly know that," Roark shrugged. "We only know it should be soon."

Red Tail had no tolerance for these games. "I refuse to let Captain Kirk face this alone. Expect company. And, if something fails in this plan of yours, or you cause more trouble, you will rue the day you ever thought to go behind my back."

"It won't fail," Winona's confidence oozed from her person. "My son will handle everything as I expect him, too."

"Because he's captain of the Enterprise once again?" Red Tail asked softly. Did she not know that her son was not the same man as he was before? "He's more than that, if you've forgotten."

"And that is exactly what I'm counting on," she said in a cool voice, oddly calm.

Red Tail's hackles raised. This was dangerous. It was dangerous and simply put, his own fault. If he hadn't recruited a woman hell-bent on ridding Starfleet of its evils, she may have lost a bit of this fire and gone home to Riverside years ago to two growing, needy boys. At the very least, she would have had more time to spend with her family. But if he hadn't recruited her, a hell of a lot worse things would have happened over the years, for without her drive and knowledge, and even her deviousness, a multitude of people would have perished. Situations gone bad would have gone worse and weapons made would have been made stronger and faster. Her own son could have suffered his death one of numerous times over the past two decades. It was a sordid thought, but if James T. Kirk no longer existed in this life, who knows how things the past few years could have played out.

But whatever it was that these two had planned for the near future, it started with Winona, continued with Roark's guidance, and ended with Jim Kirk. Red Tail could make a good guess on what was on her mind, something entirely apart from Project Raptor, because he knew it had fueled her desire to join Project Raptor in the very beginning. Revenge. Beginning and not ending with the various atrocities her son had experienced on planet as well as off while she had been an absent mother. She could be bringing a multitude of people into this situation but without more information, he wouldn't come close to an educated guess that would sufficiently prepare him.

His stomach soured. Involving her in the first place had been a fucking mistake, giving a little too much power to an emotionally disturbed woman. The result? For all he knew, an innocent man and his crew could be facing something that could possibly end in an all out fucking war.

"Although it is in fact now after hours at HQ, I will find a way to speak with your dear friend, Admiral Archer, as soon as we are done here," Red Tail decided. "Without saying anything that will jeopardize Project Raptor, of course, perhaps I can influence him to speak to your beloved son in the morning. For now, until I have gathered more information myself, keep to your story but refrain from contacting the Enterprise. In fact, as soon as we're done here, sabotage your own communications until nine hundred hours tomorrow. I believe a few more hours won't make a difference in Kirk's reaction, and, like I said, I need more information if I'm going to patch your fuck up."

"Sir, please - "

"Commander Kirk, the admirality will handle this. You know that Archer's probably already handling this because of your close ties with him - and with your son. As much as he tries to hide it, it's not a secret that Captain James T. Kirk is his favorite." Red Tail said, ignoring her protests. "I suppose, also, that you will be hearing from him as well, or maybe he's tried to contact you in this short time and you refused. I have no doubt that he'll be as suspicious as I am and will do all that he can to get to the bottom of this. If he comes to a similar conclusion, that you are up to something, he'll want to prepare Captain Kirk and his crew. Captain Roark and Commander Kirk, as far as your own conversation with the admiral, I wish you all the luck in the black. You'll need it."

oOo

Bones finally turned and faced Jim. He'd spent at least the past ten minutes quietly looking over the readings on the computer and inspecting the image of Jim's internal eye structure, and now, as he looked ready to explain the discrepancy Jim was having playing pool, Jim couldn't help but hold his breath. "There is a wider margin for adjustment than expected, and it isn't anything we can fix immediately," Bones said.

"You're pulling me from duty, aren't you?" Those weren't words Jim wanted to hear, and shoulders sinking, Jim deflated a little.

Or maybe a lot, because Bones glared at him."Don't get your panties all in a twist, Jim."

"I can't help but expect the worst, Bones, when you start with something like that," Jim scratched the back of his neck.

Bones nodded. "I can understand that, but just let me finish. No, I am not shortening your leash again Jim, because your difficulty will not affect your daily duties. However, I will have to set up intense visual stimulation sessions for you - each day."

Jim's brows shot up. "Every day?"

"I know it will cut into your free time, the time you're spending with your crew. I imagine it will also be draining, at first, but it has to be done, for at least four weeks to get the results we need."

An unwelcome, bitter feeling stole over Jim, something he hadn't felt since before the Re'an.

Resentment.

He felt it to his core, and he hated it. He still couldn't hate the Re'an, because he was now ironically one of them, and it wasn't in his nature to go against them. So he wasn't exactly sure at whom he was actually directing this unexpected and strong feeling of resentment. Bones, who was only looking out for his best interests? Or himself, a man who felt so discombobulated lately he didn't know what to do with himself? Or his mother, who was making him go crazy as he panicked and peered over his shoulder, trying to figure out what possibly could be coming next?

"Jim?"

Jim hardly registered Bones' soft voice. Couldn't he just have it easy...for once? His free time really wasn't free time. It was for his crew, not for Jim. It was for researching anything he could think of, looking for clues leading to Red Tail and Project Raptor. It was for anything that would keep his crew safe.

"Jim, ya with me?" Bones asked.

"I'm frustrated, that's all," Jim said. He would've looked away but the doctor's eyes pierced him right where he was - in a chair in sickbay, Bones' territory, and therefore, also right at the mercy of a doctor-turned-shrink.

"You've successfully spent time with your crew the past two weeks. They took notice, Jim. I heard from several of my staff already, before you came to sickbay for your exam. They appreciated the time you gave them, and they realize that it required for you to push yourself." Bones drew a breath. "That said, your crew will understand if you can't do what you were doing anymore. You have their allegiance and respect, either way."

"It's not just that, Bones," Jim admitted. However, he bit his tongue before he continued to explain his current, and perhaps even unhealthy, obsessions.

"Do you want to talk about what's been bothering you lately?" It seemed to Jim that Bones used this situation to his advantage, asking him a loaded question that deserved a better answer than Jim could currently offer.

Did he really want to reply to that? To what was bothering him? Did he want to talk about his mother? The feeling he had in his gut that he'd failed her when he was young and that was why she'd become involved with Project Raptor? Not on his life.

"I'm feeling very selfish, and I don't like it. At all." Jim closed his eyes, exhaling a slow breath as the words freed him in an unexpected way. "It doesn't seem right. I'm..."

"Off-balanced? Not feeling like yourself?" Bones hesitated. "Preoccupied by...current events here on the Enterprise?"

Jim glanced quickly at Bones and gave a short nod. He should have expected the doctor would know just exactly how he felt, even after the Re'an had messed with him.

"It's late and you should get some rest, but tomorrow you should meet with Elise," Bones said.

"It's my first full day," Jim's mouth dipped down into a full-fledged frown. Not great timing for what Bones just suggested.

"Exactly why it would be important for you to have a session with her."

"Bones - "

"Jim, you can take a little break mid-morning," Bones ordered. "She can meet you here or in your quarters."

With that firm voice, there was no arguing with the doctor. Jim found himself nodding yet another time.

"And I need to tell you something that you may not like to hear." Bones added.

Jim's heart sank. "I hate when you start out saying things like that. Don't you know what it does to people?"

Bones chuckled dryly. "Do you want to hear it or not?"

"Go ahead," Jim sighed. "You'll be telling me anyway."

Jim wanted to take his words back as soon as he saw the subtle smile disappear from Bones' face and heard just exactly it was that he wanted Jim to do.

"You need Sam with you more than you think you do," Bones said. "She's part of you, Jim, because the Re'an barrier is undoubtedly a part of you. There is no separating of the two of you, yet you didn't bring her here, and I want to know why."

"You," Jim admitted.

"I thought we went over this already," Bones said softly.

"I know. We did." Jim knew he sounded almost pathetic, but what else could he say?

"I see." Bones shifted to lean against the counter behind him and crossed his arms. "But you need her."

"Bones - "

"No, you listen to me, Jim," Bones clipped. He narrowed his eyes at Jim. "I want to see her with you everywhere, except in the swimming pool, because I know you don't want to leave her unattended that long with crewmembers around, no matter how tame you can make her act. She helps makes you be the Jim you are meant to be and the only one that you can be - this one. The one changed by the Re'an. Everywhere, okay? Deal?"

He was right, of course, and it got under Jim's skin a little. "Got it. Be imprisoned in sickbay every day for visual exercises under the watchful eye of Doctor Bones and be tied to a snake that Doctor Bones would rather put out an airlock but can't because said doctor ordered me to wear the damn thing even when I'm taking a piss," he repeated, feeling every bit as snarky as he sounded. "All because the old me died. Old Jim - dead. The 'zipped up in a body bag' kind of dead," he added just because he could.

After a moment of deafening silence and with the worst thing he could have ever said to Bones echoing in both of their ears, and guilt also in Jim's, the doctor shockingly seemed to let it all slide off of his back. And that's when Jim knew he'd gone too far.

Bones cocked an eye, his mouth grim, and asked, "Does being a smart ass make you feel better all of a sudden or something?"

"Absolutely not," Jim said hotly, and goddamn it, still irritable and unable to shut his trap. "I feel worse, actually. Thanks for asking, Doctor Bones."

"I thought so. I also have a feeling you're going to have a tough time sleeping tonight, with those smart ass remarks floating around your head." Bones turned around like Jim had never said such hurtful things and took his PADD into his hands, furiously typing on it. No doubt an order for a sedative. Great. Payback in the form of a hypo.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Jim challenged. "The part where I talked about being a snake wearing convict?"

"Yep," Bones muttered, not looking at him. "You're definitely still a man-child."

"Maybe I should just get a tattoo, in case I forget her," Jim went on heatedly. "A large one. Property. Of. Sam. Lot of help that will be when I actually try to have a relationship some day. Someone else's name on my arm may put a damper on things. Oh, forgive me. I mean a damn snake's name, like that's any better," he muttered, feeling even more resentment building.

Bones stopped what he was doing and glared at him. "Are you done having your pity party? There are worse things that could've happened to you than being forced to depend upon a snake for the rest of your life."

"Worse did happen, Bones."

"I mean worse than that, you moron," Bones' voice raised to an almost thunderous level. "Do I have to spell it out for ya?"

The sound stole Jim's breath away but what he saw was a knife in his heart, a wound of his own doing. Bones' eyes were flecked with pain, the lines around his mouth more defined than ever.

Jim could've kicked himself. He wasn't just a man-child. Or only a moron. He was, in fact, an idiot. "Look, Bones...I...Bones, I mean...I..."

Jim's voice faded, Bones looked crushed, and Jim had no excuse for any of it. He really was an idiot, an idiot who couldn't even apologize to the best friend he ever had.

The doctor's eyes perused him wearily. With guilt again pressing in on him at all sides, Jim listened to his friend's long-suffering sigh. "Listen, Jim. It's okay," Bones said, his shoulders slumping just an inch. "I know it's hard, and it's late, and I know what you're trying to say, but don't worry about it. Get some rest. Keep Sam near, out of her case, even tonight, alright?"

"She made me uneasy. They both did." After the compassion Bones showed him, the admittance rolled off his tongue. "And I'm off my game. But I can't be, Bones."

"Your mom? Roark?" Bones' hand abandoned his device and he reached up and squeezed Jim's shoulder.

Of course his mother. Who else could have this much control over him yet be so far away?

"You'll feel better in the morning, especially after your swim," Bones said, frowning. "You are still doing that, meeting Spock? Laps in the pool?"

"I am. Every day," Jim said, looking at Bones quizzically. "I thought you knew that."

"You're a hard person to track," Bones grumped as Jim got up from his chair. "I don't know your schedule anymore."

Jim read between the lines, realizing what he should have done in the first place. "Meet me for breakfast tomorrow." Jim made eye contact with his best friend. Bones' eyes filled with surprise. "Like old times."

"Like old times?" Bones repeated.

"The best times, Bones," Jim said quietly, knowing exactly what Bones was thinking and not wanting him to believe that Jim still thought of those misconstrued memories, although he did. He couldn't help but think of what the Re'an had forced him to believe, those times Bones purposefully and consistently 'missed' their breakfast meetings. It was the very reason he hadn't mentioned the idea again in the first place the past two weeks. He was scared, apprehensive of something that hadn't even happened in the first place and it was time to move past it, if not for his benefit, then for his best friend's.

There was a long pause from the doctor, then a soft smile from Bones that Jim basked in. Jim wondered why he'd waited so long. "Captain, I wouldn't miss it for the world, but you're wrong about one thing."

"About...about what?" Jim held his breath.

"Those weren't the best times," Bones said, making Jim's stomach tie up in knots even though the doctor's eyes warmed. "These are, the times we're in right now."

Oh. Jim looked down at his idle hands, the knots in his stomach loosening at the unexpected words.

"I mean it, Jim," Bones said softly.

"Even with Sam?" Jim glanced up and sent Bones a hesitant, half-smile. Bones had forgiven him for his hurtful words all too easily. "And my idiotic behavior?"

"Couldn't have a better time without them." Bones inclined his head towards the door. "I'll walk you to your quarters, even though I may in fact have much better things to do with my time, you know. I am the CMO."

"And I'm the captain."

"That's debatable." Bones deadpanned. "Come on, kid. I'll make sure you're tucked in for the night."

"Can you read me a story, too, dad?" Jim quipped, barely catching himself before he actually whined and revealed that he really wanted Bones to do just that. Anything to stop the constant thinking.

"Infant," Bones muttered under his breath.

As Jim followed Bones out the door, he couldn't help but smile to himself. Bones was grumpy like usual, but as always, it was an endearing, heart-warming facade. Somehow, the mixture of kindness along with the doctor's scowl dissolved the tension between them, as it had countless times before. Yet it did nothing to dispel the constant need Jim had to mentally list, matter-of-factly and for perhaps the millionth time in his short life, everything he may have done to push his mother away since the very day he was born.

Chapter Text

"You wish to speak with me, Dr. McCoy?" Spock asked.

His head down and eyes on the PADD in his hand, McCoy finished scanning the list of patients instead of glancing up at the commander. "I do," McCoy said, still preoccupied. He really wasn't supposed to be here for his shift, yet, but he hadn't been able to sleep last night. Not with the "worst" that could have happened to Jim while in the clutches of the Re'an racing through his mind like a wildfire. McCoy had already lived through the "worst" well over a year ago, and hearing the hellish words "in a body bag" escape from Jim's mouth so flippantly was like a sucker punch.

Though McCoy had hid it well and clung to his control, both Jim and his careless, idiotic remarks sparked a fuse yesterday. He couldn't remember ever being so angry at the man, but McCoy was smart enough to see that essentially, it really hadn't been all Jim's fault. Elise informed him just this morning that the Re'an side of Jim needed more nurturing than usual lately. The frustration McCoy felt hadn't melted away yet, but he was relieved to know he'd made the right choice to ignore Jim's tactless words. Jim's behavior was a result of a growing pain that had to be addressed and address it McCoy would.

"Christine," McCoy clipped, "if you could first see to the ensign in bed three, I will be back shortly to speak with her."

"Certainly, doctor."

McCoy finally looked at the first officer who'd answered his message and now stood inside his sickbay. "Spock, if you would follow me." McCoy strode for his office. Spock followed at his heels and once inside, McCoy stood over his desk, leaning with his arms braced on the countertop. Spock clasped his hands behind him as the door closed, a picture of patience that McCoy was surely not.

"You desire to discuss the captain's recent behavior, do you not?" The commander initiated.

"I most certainly do wish to speak to you about his behavior," McCoy said with all the vehemence he'd been suppressing. "You haven't missed a thing, have you?"

"No, I have not," Spock stated. "I have patiently awaited both your instruction as well as the captain's own recognition that he is in need of assistance. However, I did not intend to let it go unattended beyond this very day."

"I am a hundred percent positive that Elise and Sam will help center and then stabilize his thoughts. The time spent in the pool this morning will, too, but we need to do more," McCoy asserted. "Have you come up with anything that could explain the bizarre conversation Roark initiated at the end? I think that's making our captain's head spin. Not to mention his mother's involvement in Project Raptor."

"Captain Roark and Commander Kirk wished for us to understand that the Klingons are plagued by an startling and dangerous weakness," Spock said.

"No, that's not quite right." McCoy looked curiously at Spock. "You dragged the Klingon part out of Roark's mouth at the last possible moment."

"Indeed, I did provoke his answer. However, they clearly had no qualms informing us of this potentially harmful secret."

"I know that, Spock, but why the hell would they even tell us that? Was it Red Tail's initiative? Or their own? It's a very dangerous thing they are playing with...this Project Raptor and the knowledge they have." McCoy's head dangled between his shoulders. He sighed. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I confess it vexes me each hour, Dr. McCoy. However, I am apt to believe they have challenged Jim."

McCoy glanced up at Spock. "With what?" McCoy asked with a huff.

"They use tactics a Re'an would abhor," Spock said.

If that wasn't an underwhelming statement. "You got that right," McCoy muttered.

"Perhaps they were curious to see his reaction and his resolve concerning these abhorrent ways. It is quite...disconcerting," Spock said.

That was the second understatement of the year. They were also getting nowhere, merely talking themselves around in circles. "Jim would never stoop to their level, especially now." McCoy said. In fact, just hearing of a mere creature inducing such a strong reaction from another being had probably sickened Jim. It was against the very nature of Jim, the Re'an.

"No, he would not, and we simply do not have enough facts to postulate any further, Dr. McCoy."

"Then what the hell can we do?" McCoy asked.

"Continue to ease Jim's mind, doctor," Spock said slowly, "as well as approach him about the things troubling him. Has he spoken to you in any degree about his concerns?"

"Jim is hardly talking to me, Spock," McCoy admitted. "I have to pull just about everything out of him, and even then he hides behind his sarcasm or deflects."

Spock's eyes flickered with emotion. "The captain harbors a vast amount of guilt for his mother's involvement in Project Raptor. He believes his shortcomings as a child aggravated his mother's desire to live off planet and immerse herself into her work."

McCoy had a feeling that was part of it, too. "He thinks that he's to blame for just about fucking anything his mother does that's unpredictable or unsavory, including this - his mother bringing his crew and ship into the world of espionage over a dilithium reserve he doesn't even know about." McCoy sank into the chair behind his desk. "There's something else on your mind. What is it?"

Spock drew a careful breath if McCoy ever saw one from a Vulcan. "Jim is suffering from an intense feeling of solitude."

"You mean to tell me that he's feeling lonely?" That was the last thing he'd ever expected to hear. "He's on a starship, with people...with us, Spock. He's been purposefully seeking out his crew. He can't be lonely. I know for a fact the crew clamors around him when he's off duty." McCoy paused then muttered in disbelief, "Like I said before. Jim Kirk, Pied Piper."

Spock quirked a brow. "That is a curious statement, Dr. McCoy. Nonetheless, he is lonely. He speaks with Soona frequently as she is having a difficult transition to her previous life."

"You think that is affecting him, too? Her own troubles?"

"He has been dwelling on her situation, yes, and has spoken to me about ways to make her transition easier," Spock said softly. "However, the Re'an did not disperse to find residence on separate planets or form various colonies. They are a community of beings and encourage familial ties."

"In other words, all the Re'an died, then the woman who is like his sister left him, a cultural taboo. Although we are his human family, a loss is a loss, maybe even more so when it comes to the Re'an," McCoy mused aloud.

Spock hesitated. "It is a feeling which goes beyond that."

McCoy rolled his eyes. Shaking his head, he raised an eyebrow and sarcastically said, "Well, that was as clear as day." He fixed Spock with a look, "Could you please explain what the hell that's supposed to mean?"

Spock shook his head, "I am not at liberty to say more at this time."

It wasn't what McCoy wanted to hear, but he let it go, just as he seemed to be letting a lot go of a lot lately. Like the idiotic words coming out of Jim's own mouth. Jim's well-being was his first priority and if Spock decided something could not be discussed, McCoy wouldn't interfere. They all needed to work with one another to keep the best Jim Kirk they could in the command chair, and he'd trust Spock in everything to do his part.

"So what should we do?"

"I suggest that after Jim meets with Elise we revisit our discussion," Spock said.

"With Jim?" McCoy asked quietly.

"Yes. I take responsibility for failing to approach the captain in the beginning."

"The past two weeks have been like a whirlwind for all of us," McCoy shook his head. "Don't blame yourself. I could place the blame on myself, too, but the fact of the matter is, Spock, Jim is a deep thinker. Sometimes too much for his own good. I can't tell you how many times I had to drag him out of that head of his through the years, just to keep him eating and sleeping." Just to keep him alive.

"It is this deep thinking that makes him successful in his captainship."

"True, but I'm telling you, not all of it is good, beginning with the stuff with his mother."

"I concur," Spock stated. "We must trust that Elise will appropriately assist him and soon..."

"He'll be back to normal," McCoy murmured, unaware he'd spoken aloud and thus, interrupting the commander. "Well, the current normal."

Spock took two steps forward, placing him right at McCoy's desk. "You have accepted our new captain with more ease than I anticipated."

"You're not serious, right?" McCoy scowled. He'd admittedly had done everything but that. This transition had been as difficult as hell.

"I do not intend to belittle your feelings. Your cooperation and understanding are to be commended."

"You should've been around yesterday," McCoy muttered under his breath, absently restacking the PADDS on his desk. "You might just change your mind."

"Did you lash out at him, or did you continue to provoke the captain into stating any additional troubling comments?"

"I did neither," McCoy said slowly.

"Then I believe had I witnessed the exchange you are referring to, it would not alter my assessment," Spock said.

"It's not his fault," McCoy muttered again. "It's Roark's. His mother's. And, like it or not, Red Tail's, whoever the hell he is."

When Spock remained silent, McCoy glanced up. The commander's face had turned to stone. "Push a button, did I?" He said quietly.

"Red Tail is not finished with our captain," Spock said, still locked in his grim expression.

"You just had to go and remind me of that, didn't you?" McCoy said.

"It was an extensively planned incident which required previous knowledge of the relationship between both Commander Kirk and the captain. It is disconcerting to think that the captain as well as the Enterprise have been under Red Tail's scrutiny for an undisclosed duration of time." Spock paused. "My feelings have not changed in regards to Commander Kirk and her subsequent actions, in spite of the knowledge that she was ordered by Red Rail himself to betray her own son."

McCoy arched a brow. "Had you the chance, you would have burned her at the stake."

"That is unlikely, doctor, as I calculated the possibility at only eight point six percent."

"Only," McCoy sniggered. "So there was a chance."

"I fear that I continue to fail to comprehend the human capacity for betrayal, especially if it comes from one's mother," Spock said.

The reminder of Winona's betrayal coursed like ice through McCoy's veins as did Spock's loss of his own mother, a woman who was far different, and dare he say better, than most. "At the surface, she deserves our judgement." To him, that was all that mattered, and McCoy would stand by that until the very day he died.

"Even peering below the surface, I cannot convince myself to think otherwise. I am now two point three minutes late meeting with the captain and must not delay any further."

"Before you head off for guard duty at the pool," McCoy said. "We do have to decide when to meet with Jim."

"Is thirteen hundred hours acceptable?"

"It should be fine."

"I will accompany Jim to your office at that time. Good day, doctor." With this, Spock turned on his heel and exited.

The Vulcan's words sank in slowly, leaving McCoy more than satisfied that even a creature of logic saw the bitter truth of the matter. Nothing that Winona had done to Jim could ever be justified or excused, even in light that it had been ordered by Red Tail himself, and none of them would ever forget that. Least of whom the one who now had a greater capacity for forgiving than any of them - the betrayer's own son, Captain James T. Kirk.

oOo

Jim finished his morning laps with steady strokes, his fingers brushing against the wall as he ended with what he hoped to be a better time than he had yesterday. His head broke the surface and he sucked in a much needed breath. He raised his arms and rested his forearms on the edge of the pool. Cooled rivulets of water raced down his bare back and barely suppressing a shiver, he fought the urge to start over. He felt Spock's presence now, and Jim hoped that he'd arrived earlier and managed to time him like before. All of Jim's hard work was finally paying off. Most days he was gaining both endurance and speed, and Jim was anxious to know if he'd managed to improve a little today, too. Water continued to stream down from his hair into his eyes, blurring the solitary figure that he spied off to his right. He fell into a fit of blinking, his irritated eyes reminding him that he was missing an important piece of equipment - his goggles. He'd left the damn things on the bench, and if Bones found out, he'd have Jim's head.

Hadn't he done the same thing yesterday? He'd been in a constant state of forgetfulness. Now that he thought about it, he really hadn't felt like himself today, either, since leaving his quarters this morning an hour earlier than usual. Being in the water had helped him, though, just as Bones had implied it would. However, Jim couldn't bring his Re'an creature to the pool. He'd left her in his quarters because Bones had also reminded him about it last night. Jim shook his head at himself, realizing without the doctor lately, he simply would have fallen apart. If Jim slipped up again and didn't return to his quarters to get Sam... Jim could just imagine. It would be the last straw for Bones.

But, maybe he had an excuse this time. A good one. Today marked the day of his first full shift in months, so it was no wonder that his anticipation had skyrocketed. Unsurprisingly, he hadn't slept well through the night, even with the sedative. He had an excess of positive energy that needed burned, and in the process of getting to the swimming pool, had even failed to wait for his first officer. On top of all of that, the vague transmission they received the day before continued to nag at him.

Jim leaned forward and drew his head back and forth along his arms to wipe his eyes. He paused, resting his head and steadying his breath. Getting back in shape this time seemed to be much harder than he'd remembered even after being irradiated, but if he employed the same useful tool that Vulcans did - logic - then he knew that it couldn't be the case. Instead, like many, many other things, his memory of that particular recuperation had been warped by the Re'an meld and all of its complexities. It was just one more thing to add to a list that ebbed and flowed, a list of all that he needed to work out on his own or with help from Elise. A list that included his stupidity about Sam.

After a few more seconds, Jim finally lifted his head and gazed up at his patient companion now standing in front of him. "You made it. I wasn't sure."

"I arrived as soon as you began your laps, but I did not wish to impede your progress by making presence known. You have improved by two point three seconds, captain," Spock said. Jim's goggles dangled from his fingers.

"Good," Jim breathed as Spock stretched out his hand. Jim took the goggles and set them along the edge of the pool. "Thanks."

"You are welcome, Jim."

Jim wiped more water from his face, deciding that he could use a breather because maybe he wasn't quite done with his laps after all. Jim rested his chin on his arms, exhaling a soft breath that felt hot on his cool hand. The water of the pool was almost as warm, a cocoon as it moved against his body, urging him to relax into it and continue his routine - but he could just hear Bones cautioning him not to overdo it.

Thanks to the betrayal that his mother had served him, he'd been driven the past fourteen days but with some effort he'd somehow adhered to the doctor's orders. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Bones even more stress than he already had. The way Jim spouted off the night before hadn't helped at all. Jim knew as he soon as the words were coming out of his mouth that he was treating his friend miserably, but it had been as if he hadn't even been able to control himself.

Just like any other time his frustration had compounded, he needed an outlet to take care of it outside of the bridge. Being Re'an didn't make a difference. In Jim's opinion, physical activity - and lots of it - was the best solution, not using his best friend as a verbal punching bag. Physical activity killed two birds with one stone, Jim thought mildly, pleased that he'd successfully used one of the idioms from the list Bones had given him weeks ago to study. Physical activity allowed him to healthily rid himself of his pent up frustration while at the same time helping him get back in shape as quickly as possible. His half-shifts for the past two weeks had actually benefited him, giving him the time to dedicate towards reaching his goals in increasing his camaraderie with his crew and his overall health. He had to be on top of his game, mentally and physically, although it seemed that at this point of time, he was far head with only one of those.

"You are planning additional laps, I assume?" Spock asked.

"I am, Mr. Spock," Jim said. He rested his forehead against the pool's wall, holding his weight up by his hands alone as they gripped the edge. He stared at the water lapping against his chest below him. Even after all these days off the bridge or with limited hours on duty, the steady of hum of his ship followed him everywhere, even in the water. The satisfaction he received from being on the bridge never left him. The contentment he felt as he immersed in himself in his work was always present, even here. Jim exhaled a breath, sinking a bit more into the water. At least, these had been pleasant things he felt until his mind had began working overtime.

"You find great pleasure in this added exercise to your regime," Spock said.

"The swimming?" Jim asked.

Spock nodded. "We have met here for twelve consecutive days."

Jim leaned back all the way and released his hands from the pool's edge, sinking up to his neck in water. He gave Spock a small smile. "And I'm grateful."

"It is a logical suggestion by Dr. McCoy."

Logical but also a little overprotective, given that Bones was still concerned about the permanency of Jim's sight and therefore the safety in doing about absolutely anything. Post-Re'an Bones was even more of a mother hen than pre-Re'an Bones, something Jim never thought would ever be possible. Actually, post-Re'an everyone was a bit over cautious, especially as Jim visited various crewmembers after his shift was over. Spock had even suggested that Jim give things a full month before having the freedom he used to have exercising without company. Or guard, as in this case, Jim thought wryly. "Sure you don't want to come in?"

"I find myself at ease recording your efforts." Spock said. "I do not require a change in activity."

"Thanks for that." Jim's smile widened as a feeling of friendship washed over him from the Vulcan. It was far better than the stress he had from thinking too much. And now with Spock there, it wasn't hard to feel this happy, especially when one's best friend gave up a short but significant amount of their time each morning to stand poolside while you exercised for thirty minutes. "You're doing a great job of it, too. About the swimming, it was a part of who they were outside of their quiet, everyday life."

Re'an pools contained chemicals to enhance the natural blue tone of their skin. Like many of their more sacred secrets, Jim's own awareness of this came to light after Elise's arrival and subsequent help. Even without the blue skin, he was compelled to jump into the water when it worked in his schedule.

Spock understood what 'they' met, and nodded. "You also desire more warmth than the average human, thus why you increase the pool's temperature an average of seven point two degrees."

It did come back to the temperature and the warmth that Jim craved. It wasn't that he was even cold. He wasn't. That problem had been solved weeks ago when his bond with Spock had been stabilized as well as the Re'an barrier. But, being a little warmer comforted him, sated something within him that he'd needed since he'd awakened from the horrors of the Re'an meld. He discovered that Sam had the same affect on him for when she coiled herself around his arms and shoulders, the skin-to-skin contact provided unmatched, soothing comfort.

"Captain, if I may suggest a reasonable solution?"

"Go right ahead, Spock," Jim replied.

"Perhaps if you acquired a Vulcan bondmate..."

Jim wondered if his ears were more waterlogged than he'd first thought. He could've sworn he'd heard Spock say the words Vulcan bondmate.

"...you would no longer have to depend solely upon water or Samantha for that particular type of comfort," Spock continued. "For your bondmate would also provide what you desire."

Jim's mouth dropped open all on its own and there was nothing he could do to prevent the feeling of pure panic when it set in.

"However," Spock said, "until that time I have no qualms assisting you as you exercise in the pool area."

Jim's chest filled with something other than the oxygen he required. Something strange. Something...like desperation. Fight or flight. The need to hide from his first officer, maybe in a Jeffries tube or better yet, in Bones' quarters where there were random hypos stored, because...hell, Spock was actually serious. "Wait a minute, Spock," Jim said breathlessly. "Did you really just suggest what I think you did?"

"Indeed, Jim. A bondma - "

Jim's heart jumped into his throat, and he interrupted Spock before he said anything else to aggravate this rather odd strangulation sensation he felt, "And you said, and I quote, until that time...as if you know...or believe... it's going to happen?"

"Yes."

"You've got to be kidding me." Jim dropped his voice to a broken whisper, dragging his hand across his wet mouth. He'd much rather wipe the smug look off of his first officer's face and shoot it out of an airlock along with this idea Spock had.

"I am not postulating in jest," Spock clasped his hands behind his back as he looked down his nose at Jim, which Jim very well knew that Spock knew that it made him look like an even more smug SOB. "You must realize that you can no longer avoid the inevitable, Jim. The Re'an meld has affected all aspects of your life, including your great desire for less shallow engagements of physical intimacy. You also long for companionship, as it is the Re'an way."

"You're an imposter, aren't you?" Jim's head spun so fast it practically spun right off his neck. Why did his friends have to torture him like this? Bones had mentioned the marriage word once already, jokingly, when he was blind and still recuperating from the Re'an meld, and he knew Jim better than anyone. Even the new Jim. He knew that Jim could never function normally in a relationship like that. But, Spock suggesting that he find someone was even worse because... Jim swallowed harshly again...when was Spock ever wrong?

"Jim, I am not an imposter. I am Commander Spock of the starship -"

"Don't condescend me, Spock. You're clearly an imposter." Jim gave a self-deprecating laugh. His first officer was an imposter and a sneaky one, too, but Jim knew how to argue himself out of this one. Logic. "No one, absolutely no one, would ever believe that I was marriage material if they truly knew me. Therefore, it is logical to believe that you are not who you say you are. You are an impo-"

"My suggestion is reasonable, Jim," Spock interrupted, unfazed by Jim's remarkable attempt at logic, "For I am not your bondmate as in a marriage. I share a bond with you and can only provide a limited amount of what you desire as I am Nyota's bondmate. A Vulcan mate would provide what you both need and want."

"Maybe I desire celibacy," Jim muttered under his breath. He almost lost his balance and his arms splashed a little in the water before he glared up at his nosy friend. "Ever think of that...imposter Spock?"

"You are being most illogical, Jim." Spock said.

"Not really. I've already had more than a year and a half of practice being celi-" Jim flushed and clamped his mouth shut. Damn. He really hadn't wanted to admit that out loud.

"Your patience is diminishing. You do not wish to continue in this manner."

"But maybe I do," he said defensively. "I have a ship to run."

Not that it had ever stopped him before, but that was beside the point.

"It is illogical," Spock repeated. He exhaled a slow and seemingly burdensome breath for anyone, let alone a Vulcan. "You will not remain celibate even while captaining this ship and wanting to maintain your professionalism and adhere to Starfleet regulations."

"Did you just...sigh?" Did Vulcans even do that? Mortified, Jim's face heated. Shit, what if the other swimmers were still here? "You sighed? About my...sexual habits?" He hissed, straightening in the pool and looking furtively behind his shoulder.

They are gone, captain.

Didn't matter. He was still looking. Maybe they're invisible. If they were invisible, they could still hear.

They are not invisible, Jim.

That just showed what he knew, Jim scoffed to himself. Spock was an imposter revealing facts about Jim's non-existent sex life in front of invisible crew members. If Jim wanted to flip out, he'd earned it, rightfully so. You sighed, didn't you? Answer me, commander.

"Indeed, I did," Spock said simply.

Jim's attention snapped back to Spock. "You sighed...you...you don't think I can..." Jim's mouth gaped open when Spock sighed audibly - loudly- for a second time. Eyes widening, Jim pointed a finger at the Vulcan. "You did it again. You sighed ... You..."

The Vulcan was going to hell in a hand basket, that's what.

"It is improbable that you will manage to refrain from sexual intercourse much longer, despite the Re'an changes you have experienced," Spock said. Jim dropped his hand in disbelief. "You have not engaged in sexual relations since before your irradiation and that length of time has already caused you a certain amount of...unease in your very psyche."

This is the last time I am ever going swimming with you, Spock.

As I have yet to participate in that particular activity, your statement is illogical.

Oh, for the love of... So you haven't even dipped your toes in the pool. That's a mere detail, Spock. Insignificant if you ask me. Technically, if one person in your party is swimming, you're going swimming.

Captain, again, your logic is skewed.

It was embarrassing and frustrating, that's what it was. "How did you even know that? About...about...?" Jim asked incredulously. "Wait...don't answer that..." His voice faded. Right. Spock had had access to many things in his brain when he was recuperating from the Re'an meld. Jim almost flushed. Spock better not know details of that one -

Two, captain.

Shit. He knew. He knew of the twins, so long ago.

"Indeed, I am aware that the Re'an change has hastened the desire you already feel for an enduring intimate relationship and it will inevitably require action to remedy the situation," Spock continued. "Because of the Re'an barrier and subsequent change to your species orientation your previous tendency to choose your sexual partners at whim and inconsistently at best will no longer sate that desire. A bondmate is a logical solution."

The Vulcan in a handbasket was actually serious, and Jim would have to thank Bones for including another expression on that list of his that Jim could actually understand and use - although at first, he'd been very doubtful about its usefulness at all.

"So you don't think that I can handle going without..." Jim blinked again. This conversation was getting stranger by the second but he couldn't stop himself. "Without...and you think I should get a...because...I have this...crazy thing about being warm and might as well find myself...a Vulcan uh...mate...so I can have...have...the other, also? Like...a two for one deal?"

That was cold, even for a Vulcan. That was -

"I believe that you have experienced such a great change that not even you yourself yet understand what you are perhaps capable of in all aspects of your life," Spock thankfully interrupted, saving Jim from the embarrassment of his continued, weak speech and his voice from squeaking any further. "I believe it would be, as humans say, worth a shot."

"Nothing about that idea is even logical, Spock. It won't work...I wouldn't be able function in a relationship like that and you can't try at having a bondmate to see if it even would work," Jim finally finished, scowling. He really shouldn't have even opened his mouth. And Spock really should know that about Vulcans.

Don't you know that about yourselves?

Jim, indeed, I am fully aware -

You don't try at...at being bondmates, Spock! Once you're mated, you're stuck, unless you want to break the bond and suffer horrifically. How could you forget that?

Captain, I did not forge-

And why the hell would I want to stick anyone with me? It would be very unfair to them. You forgot the illogic of that particular notion, bond buddy. His scowl deepened when Spock had the audacity to launch one of those raised, dark eyebrows at him.

I, in turn, would ask why you fail to realize that your potential to sustain a lasting and fulfilling relationship has risen due to the Re'an changes?

Because he was still Jim Kirk, that's why. He had a headache - no, a damn migraine - just thinking of dropping this baggage on someone else, someone he was supposed to care for. It didn't seem like a very caring thing to do at all. He felt guilty enough dropping his baggage on his friends - on Bones. Let alone..a...a bondmate. It would be foolish. It would be dangerous for any -

Captain, that is untrue. Spock's reaction rang clear as day across the bond, momentarily shutting him down.

Spock, it's common sense that this isn't the last of my baggage and I don't want to burden anyone with it if I don't have t...will you stop looking at me like that?

In what manner am I observing you, Jim?

Like you're smarter than I am.

Logically speaking, I am-

Damnit Spock, you don't have to reply to everything I say! Jim paused. Think.

Spock's brow lifted to the ceiling. Jim groaned and moved forward to the pool's edge. Enough of this. He still had some laps to finish. And after that, Jim planned on saying nothing to Spock at all. Nothing. Words were done. All words. Thinking words, too. Done.

"Spock," Jim began with authority, as captain-like as being in the water allowed. "Don't ever bring that up again. That's an order."

"Captain, I bring this to your attention only with your happiness in mind," Spock said, a hint of disappointment crossing over his face.

The same sadness swept over Jim through their bond and he felt it like it was his own. He'd disappointed his friend in the strangest, oddest way ever. He felt horrible. What kind of friend was he if he couldn't discuss something so simple, though altogether outrageous, with a friend? Spock only wanted Jim to be happy. It wouldn't lead anywhere, anyway. What would be the harm?

"Fine." Jim gave a dramatic sigh. "Don't ever speak of it again...unless you can think of a third and a fourth reason, which will give the idea more credibility," Jim added.

Spock's mouth parted slightly, as if he wanted to say more but they both were silent. Jim hoped the heat creeping up his neck wasn't a blush. Had he really just said that? A nervous energy building back up, Jim decided to add two more laps than he really thought he could handle. He grabbed his goggles off the floor, "Four more laps. I'm supposed to meet Bones for breakfast in half an hour."

"I believe it is your second breakfast."

"Second breakfast," Jim repeated, thinking of that energy bar he'd had first thing this morning. And of movies. Jim liked movies, didn't he? He couldn't remember. He looked at Spock strangely. "Have you ever watched Lord of the Rings?" If he were to be honest, Jim would be very surprised if he had. The film was over two hundred years old.

"No, captain, I have not."

"Oh. Thought maybe you...well, at any rate, they talk about multiple breakfasts." Jim brightened. Anything to get Spock's mind off of Jim's sad, pathetic sex-life. Jim shook his head at the bizarre thought. Things just kept getting weirder. "You should watch it. With me. You may appreciate the hobbits in it. They're short."

"Jim, I am not short of stature."

"They have pointed ears," Jim explained.

"So do elves, which I have already seen in numerous books," Spock stated.

"Lord of the Rings has elves, too, of the best kind. And orcs. But don't ask me to describe those scary creatures to you. They are worse than hengrauggis, in my humble opinion, and give me nightmares so bad that I have to sleep beside Bones, wearing my flannel 'happy' pajamas."

"Happy pajamas?" Spock repeated.

"Joanna picked them out for me years ago. They have bears and unicorns on them, her favorites."

"Unicorns?"

"She was four at the time. I couldn't tell her no, Spock. Besides, they have these special horns, with magic powers that calm me at night."

"Magic powers?" Spock echoed.

Jim thought for a moment. "At least, that's what Bones said."

"Captain, I believe this conversation to be going down a strange and unusual path."

"Maybe I should get back to swimming," Jim deadpanned.

"Indeed, it would be wise, Jim."

"And you'll forget everything I said about those pajamas?" Jim asked expectantly.

"Proceed when you are ready, captain," Spock merely replied.

"I take it that's a no."

oOo

"Those unicorn horns have no special powers, do they?" Jim said, as his tray slammed onto the table. The captain sat down in a huff and pierced McCoy with a glare.

"Well, good morning to you, too," McCoy drawled. Breakfast in the mess hall just wasn't the same without a good-natured captain sauntering in a few minutes late. He breathed an audible sigh of relief that Jim had come. He hated to admit it, but he'd been a nervous wreck, waiting. Waiting to see if Jim would get cold feet. McCoy honestly wouldn't have blamed him for not showing.

Jim leaned in, eyes narrowing in on McCoy sharply. "Those horns. They're fake. They don't have magic powers."

"You always knew they didn't," McCoy snorted, finding himself quite entertained. What was even more entertaining to watch than a truly oblivious Jim Kirk was watching a Jim Kirk who was trying very hard to look oblivious just for appearances' sake. Still, this proved even more that Jim was not feeling like his new self. "You just liked the attention I gave you. What's really bothering ya?"

"Not one damn thing," Jim muttered, twirling a fork into an omelette. No, McCoy amended. More like mutilating it with successive stabbings.

"If you're going to eat that, you may not want to kill it first," McCoy said evenly. It didn't even look edible now.

"What?" Jim looked up, face blank as he absently poked at his breakfast.

McCoy just shook his head. "Never mind, Jim. But, speaking of Joanna, I talked with her right after you did last night," McCoy said, heart lightening at the thought of his daughter. "She loves Sam. She also likes your darker hair and the fact that it looks like you possibly could be wearing eyeliner, which makes your eyes even prettier than they already were, according to her. She wants to marry you now."

Jim actually paled. "Not you, too."

"What?"

"I'm not the marrying type," Jim groaned. His fork fell onto his dead omelette and he put his head in his hands, shoulders slumping.

McCoy was actually shocked. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. The Jim as before or the Re'an, human Jim - he should've expected this reaction. "Should I be concerned that you aren't even worried she's only eight? Or that she's your adopted niece?"

"She really said that?" Jim whispered, peering at McCoy hesitantly through his fingers.

"She certainly did say she wanted to marry her Uncle Jim."

Jim glanced behind him and then peered over McCoy's head. He leaned forward, whispering, "I mean about the mascara?"

"Eyeliner, Jim," McCoy corrected him. "Eyeliner."

"Like there's a difference," Jim scoffed. Then he paused, brow furrowed. "There isn't, is there?"

"There is a difference." McCoy frowned. "Now I am worried."

"I mean...I didn't freak her out or anything?" Jim straightened his shoulders but McCoy could see right through those baby blues to the vulnerability that his best friend was trying so hard to hide. "I could see that my appearance bothered her but I hoped that maybe I was wrong. I couldn't tell because she wasn't chattering the entire time like she usually does. She was so quiet. Shit, Bones, she really wasn't herself! Why didn't I see that? She was upset! I knew it had been a bad idea - "

"Jim, calm down," McCoy hushed him before he worked himself up even more. "She basically thinks you're her uncle turned Prince Charming. She's into make-up now, a little early if you ask me, and that's why she said that about your eyes."

"She's just into make believe lately, Bones, because of a project in school," Jim said, blinking twice. "She told me all about it, well some of it, when she actually talked. Jo wants to play all sorts of things again, like she did when we first met. Didn't Jo tell you?"

"Not sure I believe it. She likes to play kickball and climb trees."

"And be a doctor on a jungle adventure or an ambassador to a new planet or a..." Jim grew quiet and looked down at his plate. He picked up his fork again. "I'm sorry."

"Why? For this?"

"It would probably be a good idea for me not to talk to her too soon, then, or much at all, if that is how she feels about me. I would hate to aggravate this issue." Jim tightened his lips and set down his fork - and broke McCoy's heart. Jim wanted to talk to Joanna as much as Joanna wanted to speak to her Uncle Jim. Whatever this was that Jim was dealing with, it had to stop.

"I'm not worried about it," McCoy said honestly. "Sure it's a bit scary to think she's fixated on marrying my best friend, but she could do worse."

Jim threw him a dark look. "It is worse and you know it."

"Look on the bright side. If she'd told me this two years ago I would have reacted poorly. I might have even punched you in the jaw for doing whatever it is that you do best and charming people, especially my daughter," McCoy smirked. "But Jim, things are different now. I'm sure it's a phase, even Jocelyn agrees, and maybe Jo needs to think this way to deal with the changes she sees in you." Jim opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but McCoy beat him to it. "Don't say another word, Jim. I'm not upset that she seems to have a crush on you. It's natural, and well, maybe I should've expected it to happen sooner because she may also need a stronger link to you in her young mind, being so far away from you like this."

Jim didn't look convinced. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely. She has something planned for the next time you talk with her, actually."

"Something planned?" Jim looked dubiously at him. "What...a wedding?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Jim, it's no wedding. It's a surprise that Jo has for you but you'll have to wait."

"You know how I used to hate secrets? I still hate 'em," Jim deadpanned.

"Actually, you love them, just not if they're the kind of secrets you don't know about."

"True," Jim's mouth quirked. "I guess I can handle it for Jo."

"Trust me, it'll be worth the wait," McCoy said. He eyed Jim's shoulders, realizing for the first time that Sam was missing, and then it hit him. The reason for Jim's insecurity. His hesitance. The same things he saw yesterday and the day before. "Where is she?"

"Who?" Jim had the look of complete innocence as he stared at McCoy.

"Sam," McCoy said, looking pointedly at at his arms. "You forgot her."

"I didn't..." Jim's brow furrowed as he looked down at himself. "Oh."

"You need her, Jim," McCoy reminded him softly. Jim's mouth tightened around the edges, and McCoy could see the resentment already building. "She helps you."

"I know, I know," Jim said, his sigh burdened with frustration.

"Jim," McCoy stressed. "I told you this last night."

"I know. I just..." Jim's shoulders slumping, he shook his head in disbelief. "I shouldn't have forgotten her. I don't know why..." Jim's voice trailed off into nothing. He reached up, running his hand through his hair and leaving the new length a ragged mess once he was done. "I guess I was...hell, I don't know, Bones."

He didn't know why? Why he'd forgotten that Sam had basically evolved into being another member of the bridge the past two weeks? McCoy could easily answer for him. Mother issues. Having to forgo the Re'an honesty and lie to an admiral who was also a friend. And those were just two reasons. "I could go through an entire list why you forgot but how about I just ask Dr. Jahnas to bring her to the bridge?"

"No," Jim shook his head. "As soon as we're done here, I'll stop at my quarters before going to the bridge."

"Okay," McCoy said quietly. "Obviously something is bothering you, Jim, to make you forget her. Is it the full-shift?"

Jim grew serious at the reminder. "I'll be fine once I get there. We received a choppy transmission yesterday that Uhura is still trying to decipher."

It was the Kirkian art of deflection at its best but McCoy let it go. He'd get an answer from Jim later, or not at all, and that would have to be fine for now, as long as Jim's mood lifted. "A distress signal?"

"Perhaps, but it wasn't your standard signal and the coordinates are sketchy but it appears to have come from the general direction we're already headed. There seems to be hardly anything in the transmission that was salvageable by the time it got to us but we will continue to investigate it." Jim said. "And today, we may get a closer look of the cloud-like sentient being our scanners picked up two days ago."

Cloud-like sentient beings. Those were never good. Was he the only sane one around here actually wanting the Enterprise to go in the opposite direction?

Jim must have read his mind. "It's dead, Bones. We need to check it out, Bones, especially -"

An alert from Jim's comm interrupted him. He pulled it out immediately. "Archer," Jim murmured as he read the message, mouth drawing tight. "He wants me to contact him as as soon as possible. Privately. Bones, if he gets wind of anything wrong between my mother and me...I just hope that isn't why he's wanting to speak with me." Jim sighed and set the comm on the table.

"Is that why you've been avoiding your favorite admiral?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're never this nervous to talk with Archer," McCoy said carefully.

"You know I talked with him last week," Jim said, frowning. "Twice."

McCoy looked at him in surprise. He assumed, for numerous reasons, that Jim had delayed any communication with the admiral.

"Mom and I should have discussed what sort excuse to use to explain any tension that he may pick up, not that the time had been right to bring up something like that," Jim said. "I can't think of even talking with her now."

"About your mother, Jim," McCoy hesitated. That Jim referred to his mother with the same endearment as he'd always had told McCoy many things about Jim's state of mind. Perhaps the old Jim would have resorted to "Commander Kirk" or "the commander," but despite the strength he showed as he ordered her off of his ship, the man who sat before him still had a soft spot for the same woman who'd recently stabbed him in the back. Even if he hadn't verbally committed to forgiving her, Jim still loved her.

An expected wariness slipped over Jim's face. "Yes, Bones."

Not often did McCoy lose his nerve around Jim but he had for the last two weeks. Instead of offering his professional opinion about a situation he knew wasn't going away anytime soon, he had allowed the captain of the Enterprise the courtesy of "moving on in peace."

But, Jim was not "moving on" and he certainly wasn't "in peace." McCoy couldn't wait any longer. With a deliberate quietness, he asked the question that had been burning his tongue for days, even last night when he dared to mention her name. "Jim, have you thought that maybe your mother has been in space a little too long?"

Jim stared at him for so long that McCoy thought Jim had forgotten where he was and had gone to another place entirely. Just when he was about to try and gently return the captain to their world, Jim answered his loaded question. "All the time, Bones," Jim finally said, attention returning to his breakfast. "All the damn time."

oOo

Jim walked up to his quarters after his breakfast with Bones. As soon as he stood by his door, the undeniable pull of the Re'an creature hit him like one of Bones' strongest hypos. Or maybe an entire supply room of them, Jim amended, as he wavered on his feet. He braced himself with an arm against the wall, which had turned up by some miracle beside him, and began an internal rant at himself. This wasn't thinking of his crew. This was putting his own desires and insecurities over his crew. This was, in fact, one of the stupidest things he'd ever done.

Allowing his head to hang, Jim huffed a breath as his frustration reached a new level. His current reaction to Sam was warranted. Jim had experienced the pull of the Re'an creatures before. He'd been almost kidnapped over it. He had been kidnapped over it and his identity destroyed. But that was then. This was now. His connection with Sam was vastly different than before. It was complete and satisfied. He really should have known that any attempt to separate himself from this sacred creature would cause this powerful of a reaction, even if the attempt was unintentional. Hadn't Elise warned him in the very beginning that it was dangerous if he ever fought this distinct pull?

This was his own damn fault. Everything that his actions had provoked, including his hurtful words to Bones, was his fault, too. He was disjointed and disturbingly imbalanced because of his carelessness and more aware than ever that he needed to regain some sense of self before he went to the bridge or spoke with Archer.

Jim tapped his fingers on a space on the wall as the faint feeling finally began to disappear and his mind adjusted to the close proximity he had to Sam once again. Sam. How had he managed to forget her for a second time? Had it been the extra laps in the pool? The enlightening conversation with Spock in the pool? Jim sighed and commanded the door to open, still questioning himself. Or maybe it was simply a reason he held at arm's length. A reason that his best friend, the doctor, most certainly did not hold so far away. He'd kept it close, calling Jim on it in spite of Jim's stubbornness.

"Captain, I must speak with you."

That familiar, serene voice could only belong to one. It halted Jim in his thoughts as his door opened. "Elise." Turning his head towards the beta, he offered her a smile. "I believe we'll be meeting for a session later this morning."

"With all due respect, Captain Kirk, I don't think we should wait to begin with your therapy. Do you?" Elise said, her eyes probing past all the frustrations he was keeping at bay. The longer he held his breath, the more he realized she would only accept one answer.

Jim forcibly exhaled, relenting, and motioned a hand to his quarters. "After you," Jim said, allowing her to enter his quarters first. "No, I don't think we should wait, either," he admitted and followed her through his door. "Dr. McCoy has already spoken with you, then?"

"First thing this morning," she replied. She did not turn around to Jim but immediately gave her focus to Sam.

Guilt ate at him as he, too, watched Samantha. The creature's tail actually tapped at the side of the case as he approached her. What the hell was wrong with him? He very well knew he needed to have her with him. He didn't waste time but simply acted and retrieved her from her crowded home. He could not deny the feelings of wholeness that flooded through his body as he held her against his skin, her body coiling around his arm. If he could have his way, he'd let her run free in his quarters but life on the starship was unpredictable and for her safety, it was better that she was left enclosed when he was gone.

"Take a seat and allow me do the work," Elise instructed. "The first thing we must do, captain, is encourage the connection you have with Samantha. You are one with her. Are you aware of this?"

He stared at her for a moment, then muttered, "If Bones had said that to me yesterday or this morning, while I was trying to eat my omelette in peace, I would have punched him."

Elise's eyes filled with a mild laughter. "He's only concerned for your best interest, Jim. I know you're aware of the nature of your relationship with Samantha, but I asked you in order to see how you would respond. It was as I expected."

"I passed...or rather, failed...the test, didn't I?" He chuckled ruefully. "I don't know what is wrong with me. I enjoy having Sam as a part of me, because it's who I am. A Re'an. But...this other part of me seems to..."

"Resent her," Elise said softly. "Resent her for both her attachment to you and your dependance upon her."

"Yes. Yet... I don't want to be without her." The thought sucked the breath from him. Soona was gone and Sam was the only part of the Re'an that was left.

"It's a paradox and right now, it's understandable you may have days like this, Captain." She paused. "But we can't allow it to continue."

"What should I do?" He asked quietly.

"Listen to her," she answered. "Allow me to find where there is weakness in the Re'an barrier, to fix it so it does not harm you. It needs to be fixed so you can process the many responsibilities and relationships - "

Jim's breath hitched.

"Relax," Elise murmured. "I know you're concerned about your mother but there is nothing you can do for her at this moment, Jim. You can't change her decisions. You mustn't blame yourself for what decisions she makes. You don't know the future, either. However, you can do something for yourself and for your crew for the present time. Accept what has been given to you by the Re'an. Think of it...as a gift. It will be easier if you accept these things, Jim. Accept them and allow your Re'an side to work on your behalf. Otherwise, you will continue your slow spiral out of yourself. You will not even be who you once were after you've finished spiraling down."

An image of Bones and Spock and the Enterprise also careening in the black flashed before his eyes. "I can't allow that to happen."

"No." Elise looked at him calmly. "You can't."

"You want me to accept the Re'an side again, like I did before." He swallowed, considering how painful that actually had been for him.

"Don't look so worried, Jim." The healer's smile widened, reassuring him. "It will not be as difficult as you recall it being the first time. You've already accepted it, this is merely reminding yourself of who you've become. Now, sit. Quietly, tuning into the creature in your arms."

She was right. It wasn't as difficult as he remembered. With Sam, the process was even easier, and time slid by as he obeyed her instructions. He wouldn't be able to ever explain the intricate, mysterious process to anyone, but as the Re'an side of him seemed to take over, it did not change the essence of who he was. It kept it, fulfilling it. Within the hour, he'd settled back into his new self, the person he was meant to be, insecurities vanishing, confidence returning, and a new insight into his own psyche.

The quicker these growing pains occurred, the faster he could get Elise back to her granddaughter, Soona.

"She'll be fine," Elise said softly.

Jim jerked his eyes away from Sam and up to the beta's ever-serene face. "She's alone."

Elise nodded. "She's alone in the sense that you as a Re'an see and understand, but she does have her parents, Jim. They haven't forgotten her and they are not pressing her to make changes that are too soon for her to make."

"If you ever sense that you need to return, I want you to feel free to go to her," Jim said.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," Elise said quietly. "I believe you understand why I made the decision to remain on the Enterprise."

He did. His status as a Starfleet captain as well as his responsibilities to his crew influenced her decision, but it didn't make his acceptance of it - this almost selfish acceptance - any easier. "I'm humbled by your decision," he said. "If there is anything I can do for her, will you let me know? Anything, Elise."

"I will, Jim. But knowing her Re'an brother is so concerned will be enough for her to step forward," the beta replied. "Now, before I go, I suggest we meet again, the day after tomorrow, to continue therapy."

"I need another so soon?" Jim asked, worried that this hadn't been enough.

"It's only a safe guard," she assured him as she left.

Elise was always honest with Jim, so her answer was sufficient and put his mind at ease. Jim slipped into his bedroom to grab a PADD he'd left on the bed. As he did so, the recent past caught up to him like it usually did when he accidentally lingered just about anywhere, but it didn't overwhelm him like before. Still, Jim's feet simply wouldn't propel him beyond his bedroom and out his door.

With Sam on his shoulders, he swept his right index finger along the braille that still decorated his dresser drawers. Maybe a bit of his old stubbornness was showing through along with his new nature from the Re'an, but he wanted these little reminders of the time his world had been in complete darkness. He'd learned many things during that time, things about himself and about his crew. His ship was the same but he and his crew were not and they never would be the same again. Jim's mind had been invaded, his memory pulled apart and prodded, and his sense of self completely broken, shattered really, and rebuilt, piece by piece by the Re'an. Just like the scars around his eyes, the braille markings served a purpose to remind him of things he didn't want to forget for the sake of his crew.

The retrospection didn't stop but he finally left his quarters and began his shift. Jim decided to first tend to a few matters in the ready room before stepping onto the bridge. He still felt he needed a few moments to focus himself and that meant also postponing his call to Archer just a bit longer.

Settling in his chair with a cup of coffee and Sam comfortably coiled on his right arm clear up to his shoulder, he reviewed the logs from both Spock and Scotty from the previous day, as well as his own. They were headed for the Danavus system after they took a look at the dead cloud. The Danavus system was known of and assumed to be a treasure trove of both habitable and inhabitable planets - but never explored. Not one ship had had the appropriate long-range scanners required to provide sufficient data from the edge of the quadrant, save for basic information about two small planets on the outermost edge. Since the Enterprise now edged closer than any other ship had in the past, she would soon remedy that.

However, Jim decided that the most pressing matter at hand was the inconclusive transmission the Enterprise had received the previous day. It didn't set well with him and he hoped that Uhura could shed more light on it today. Jim finished his coffee and headed for the bridge. Upon entering through the door, he noticed his communications officer clearly fixated on whatever it was that was coming through her earpiece.

When she was finished not one minute later, he was watching and ready from his vantage in the command chair when she, too, turned to look his way. "Lieutenant Uhura, report."

"I've picked up another transmission, sir."

Hearing a veiled apology in her words, Jim assumed that it must not be much different than the one from yesterday, which had been vague and missing the vital information that they needed to make any sense of it. "Let me guess. It's riddled with holes."

"Yes, sir, but not as many," Uhura said. "The universal translator only determined a scattering of mostly partial words, which may be in one of five languages, sir. In my own attempt to further translate the signal and narrow it down to one of those languages, I am almost certain that I identified the word attack as well as mount. The voice did sound a bit strained, or forced. I do believe it is an attempted distress signal, sir."

"Who are we looking at here, lieutenant?" Jim asked grimly. It was unlike Uhura to dance around like this, and Jim had a feeling she was purposefully being vague. Even Spock swiveled in his chair at his console, waiting.

Poised in her chair, Uhura's gaze was more direct than her initial report. "I believe the transmission is in Vulcan, sir."

Jim instantly locked eyes with Spock. The Vulcan shifted in his seat and straightened his spine, but it was the shock stirring in his eyes which betrayed his usual unflappable disposition on the bridge. Jim's uneasiness grew as he came to fully understand the reason behind Uhura's delay. Vulcans this far into the black? In an unexplored part of space? Logically, it was too early to pass judgement on the situation, but Jim's instincts raced ahead of him. This was anything but good. This simply wasn't good at all.

Chapter Text

Everyone and everything around them fell away. Even the Vulcan presence in the back of his mind began to fade, yet Jim could not pull his eyes away from his Vulcan friend. He wasn't surprised that Spock enabled his shields almost immediately. Jim himself had done much the same thing as soon as he'd had therapy with Elise, to protect Spock from the residual effects of both the therapy and his unsettling thoughts of his mother. Jim had begun the process, but Spock now finished it. Jim mourned Spock's diminished presence in his mind. He also understood why Spock chose to withdraw, but it gave him the impression that the Vulcan was truly in a state of shock. For a few seconds it scared him, because Jim knew, despite the shields, exactly what was going through his first's mind. It was the same thing running through his: Nero, red matter, bitterness and loss, all crashing together into the singularity. However, it didn't stop there. There were questions; too many questions. Had they been here since before Nero? Suffering alone? Or choosing to stay away, their bonds so broken they could not help themselves?

"I was not aware of any Vulcans this far out in the black," Jim managed to say, unable to draw his eyes away from Spock, but his words seemed to break the pure tension that had filled the bridge after Uhura's announcement.

"Nor was I captain," Spock stated with strained breath.

Jim did not intend to let this signal be dropped for its lack of content or their own lack of knowledge. He reluctantly turned his attention off of his first and turned back to Uhura. He had a job to do, even while he worried for Spock, especially because he was worried about Spock. "Lieutenant, are you able to determine specifically from where the signal came?"

"Sir, I only have two of the four necessary coordinates, and they are the same as before." Uhura replied. "I've isolated the signal and it appears to have come from the direction of the Danavus system, as did the first."

"Only two of the coordinates?" Jim asked, frowning. It wasn't enough to get a specific location at all.

"The first number is 26, the second 84."

"Captain, those duplicated numbers now have a forty-two percent chance of correlating with the coordinates of our own intended course," Spock said, to Jim's relief. It had appeared, at least momentarily, that his first officer was emotionally compromised, but hearing the Vulcan's steady speech and logic told Jim he wasn't compromised. At least for now. "Thus, the likelihood that the signal is coming from the same destination has tripled."

"We already know that searching for anything within the Danavus system will be like looking for a needle in a haystack, Spock," Jim stated. "Information from both transmissions are also inconclusive. That said, we will continue as planned, but maybe a bit quicker." Jim quickly made his decision and turned to his helmsman. "Mr. Sulu."

"Yes, captain."

"We need to move. For now, take us to warp factor eight," Jim ordered.

"Aye, sir."

Jim looked back at his first officer. "Spock, the estimation of our time of arrival?"

"It will take us eight point four hours now that you have increased our speed," Spock stated.

"Good," Jim nodded. It was very close to his own estimation. "However, I won't risk entering Danavus until we know more. We will drop to warp factor five at seven and a half hours and take our time from there. We need the time to run additional scans.

"That is wise and acceptable." Spock nodded.

"Meanwhile, Spock, you may contact New Vulcan and inquire if any Vulcan colonies may exist within or around the system."

Spock's brow arched. "Yes, captain."

Although Spock did not vocalize his doubt, Jim recognized it. "I realize that it is not logical to assume that any Vulcan, let alone a group of them, would disperse from New Vulcan and take up residence elsewhere. However, it is a reasonable explanation for these two transmissions. Or," Jim added carefully as a sense of déjà Vu hit him, "They were brought here against their will."

"You have my support, captain," Spock inclined his head. "Your logic is sound."

A sigh rippled through Jim as he thought of the next step. He was already obligated to contact Archer, but the admiral may also be able to shed light upon the situation and that was more important over any of his own insecurities. Jim turned back to Uhura. It looked like he was going right back to the ready room and contacting the one person who may have already sensed things were difficult between Jim and his mother. "Lieutenant, I'd like to personally review your findings immediately. Also, I need to speak to Admiral Archer. I'll take the call in the ready room."

"Yes, sir," she said.

Jim glanced at Spock. "Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, captain," Spock asked.

"You have the conn. Alert me immediately of any developments. Lt. Uhura, get Admiral Archer for me and pipe it into my ready room," Jim said before he jumped to his feet and slipped out from the bridge.

He'd delayed speaking with Archer as long as he possibly could this morning. Re'an growing pains aside, if he couldn't separate his personal life from his duties as captain as he spoke to his superiors, he really had no business being in the command chair. His mother wasn't a part of his life like she had been before. She was gone, immersed in her own work that for a short time had dangerously interconnected with his. Is connected to his, he reminded himself. He was worried about her and her involvement in Project Raptor, especially as it entwined with Roark, a captain who Jim decided held more secrets than his mother even knew about. Captain Roark of the Isis may understand his mother but he also sensed that the captain cared for her beyond friendship. And where there was great affection for a strong-willed, influential woman named Winona Kirk, there could also be enabling.

With effort, Jim attempted to push away the feelings he had for his mother's welfare. She wasn't his concern, although McCoy's loaded question this morning proved to that Jim himself that he cared for her. Maybe he was concerned and his mother in the center of it, but he had to focus on his crew and especially on those who could be in distress at this very moment. Besides, his mother had made her choices and so had he. If Jim had anything to do with it, it'd be a long time before he'd have to deal with her again.

Once at his desk, the Re'an creature once again a second skin, Jim clasped his hands in front of him. He was ready and waiting as Admiral Archer's face filled his viewscreen. "Admiral, sir. It is good to see you."

"Jim, it's unusual for you not to promptly return my communication," Archer said, his neutral expression warning Jim that something of a serious nature was on the admiral's mind.

"Something came up, sir. I apologize," Jim said sincerely. "I had a much needed therapy session with Elise."

"I'm glad you're keeping on top of things, Jim," Archer said. "But, let me get straight to the point, then. I have recently learned that the Isis is trailing you."

And just like that, all of Jim's hopes for a clean break from his mother crashed to the floor.

Shit. Jim broke out in a cold sweat. He'd been right to keep looking over his shoulder. He'd been right to think this wasn't exactly over, despite all of his hopes and expectations.

His mother was following him, trailing both his crew and his ship, while they were also at warp, headed for a group of Vulcans, who were quite possibly under attack. It was far, far from acceptable.

Archer's eyes probed past the shield he'd erected. "Son? I see this has come to a shock for you."

Jim cleared his throat of the lump that had grown in seconds. "Sir, I was under the impression that the crew of the Isis had orders to remain and continue the research we relinquished to their teams."

"They had orders to do so, yes, but they've been trailing you for at least one day, as far as I can tell. They are just short of your long range scanners, Jim, and I'm concerned." Archer paused, leaning forward. "Do you have any idea why they would be doing this?"

Thoughts and implications and reasons swarmed Jim's mind, but he couldn't grasp any of them. "Sir, I honestly don't know."

"Did your mother give you any indication that they would be disobeying their own orders to follow you?"

"Admiral, no. Nothing," Jim shook his head, the cold and lost feeling settling into the marrow of his bones. "In fact, it was very clear that we were going our separate ways."

"I see," Admiral Archer nodded. "The thing is, I've noticed things over the past few years about your mother, and I don't have the same trust in Winona -or Roark - that I've had in the past, Jim."

Neither did he, but it didn't mean he wasn't surprised to hear that from Archer's own lips. "You believe they are..." Jim paused. What could he say? Expecting trouble? Wanting to kidnap him, torture him until he revealed the location of the supposed dilithium of the Re'an that he didn't know about? "Pursuing something they did not manage to record in the logs," he finished.

"That's one way of putting it," Archer replied, his eyes smiling though his face was not. "Very diplomatic. Son, is there anything that you can give me to shed some light on Roark's course of action?"

"Did you speak with them?" Jim asked instead, as quietly as he could. Before his heart could race out of his control, Sam shifted her body around Jim's arm, the movement of her coils reminding him of his own inner strength. He could do this. Lie, for the sake of something better.

"I did." Archer nodded, his eyes sharpening as they peered at Jim. Jim did not miss that he failed to elaborate. "Did something happen between you and your mother, Jim?"

The question was directed at him so abruptly that Jim almost jumped out of his skin. He took a deep breath, hoping the admiral hadn't noticed his hesitation. "Possibly. That is why, sir, I have nothing to say...that would help. We parted ways."

"I had hoped that the two of you had finally reconciled," Archer's eyes grew troubled. "I thought her strong desire to see you was enough to help you both get through this. Apparently, I was wrong."

"Sir, my transition to life as a Re'an proved too difficult of an obstacle to overcome, but we did try," Jim said, hoping that was enough to pacify the Kirks' longtime friend. It was true, the man he was now failed to see eye-to-eye with his mother on simply about anything.

"If what you say is true, and I do trust you, Jim, and you don't have anything else to tell me, I can only come to one conclusion."

"And what is that, sir?" Jim asked.

Archer sighed. "For all her peculiarities, your mother is a mother bear where you are concerned. I believe that they expect something to happen. As to what, your guess is as good as mine. Therefore, the safety of both you and your crew is at stake, Jim."

"We are already on alert, sir. We've picked up a second rather vague transmission that we believe to be a distress signal coming from somewhere within the Danavus system. There is a strong possibility that the transmission is in Vulcan, sir."

Archer's expression sombered. "Vulcan? This changes things."

"I agree," Jim simply replied. There was no need to speak of what they were both thinking - the attack of Vulcan. Jim absently stroked Sam's back. "We are headed there at warp, Admiral."

"Jim, be careful," Archer advised. "Take every precaution and do not let down your guard."

"We will stop once we are on the outskirts, sir, to review the transmissions and run additional scans" Jim explained. "And I have not let down my guard for fourteen days," he admitted. Whether it was a mistake to do so, he had jumped right in and there was no going back.

"Kirk, please elaborate." Archer's voice instantly laced with steel.

"A gut feeling," he said honestly. "They left me with a gut feeling."

"Your instincts have been proven wise in the past," Archer said. "However, if there is anything else that could help us get to the bottom of this, I need to know."

"I've told you everything that I believe to be relevant, sir," Jim said, the white lie hot off his tongue. He inwardly winced having to hide anything from Archer. "And my crew is prepared, sir."

"And you won't be alone."

"Sir?" Jim asked.

"Jim, I'm sure that this is what will be in your logs because it is in fact what Roark and your mother explained to me, though I hesitate to believe them. The Isis was also concerned about the first transmission your ship received, which they, too, picked up. They decided to forfeit their current mission and come to aid you in the case of an emergency," Archer explained. "Am I correct to believe that you were unaware of this?"

"Admiral, I had no idea." Jim couldn't believe the excuse Roark had given Archer as to why they were trailing the Enterprise. It was simply too convenient and also strange that Roark had not informed Jim of this himself. No wonder Archer was suspicious. But it didn't make sense to Jim either that the admiral didn't open the conversation with this news in the first place, unless he also suspected Jim to be a part of Roark's questionable actions.

Archer continued. "I've had to wade through some discussions with disgruntled admirals, but I've managed to convince HQ to let it go because Roark does have a good track record, one of the best. But, frankly, just between us, Captain Roark's brief explanation is riddled with holes."

"Such as the one you just mentioned? Our ignorance to his course of action?"

"His excuse for that was a malfunction in their communications the past eighteen hours, as soon as they picked up the first transmission you did. Jim, I don't want hell to break loose if it's something you and I can manage alone. Or, maybe it's nothing at all and Roark is telling me the truth and his communications were down until this morning. Now that this new transmission has come to light, it gives the actions of the Isis more credibility, and I believe it would be unwise to order them off your trail. You may need Roark's ship and assistance for whatever it is that you're headed towards." Archer sighed. "This makes no sense to me, and I don't want to take any chances, Jim." Archer tapped his fingers on the desk, eyes piercing Jim. "However, there isn't a second Federation starship that can reach you in eight hours but three days."

"I understand, sir."

"You're facing two unknowns simultaneously and quite frankly, it's unfair to you so soon after what happened with the Re'an," Archer said. "It's not that I don't think you can handle this, I do, but I am concerned. Because of that, I'll make sure that the ship that is three days away is on its way."

"We are prepared, sir."

"I know you are, son." Archer drew a breath, his eyes falling on Sam. "One more thing," he murmured.

"Yes, sir."

Archer's gaze flipped back to Jim as he folded his hands together on his desk. "Is your relationship with your mother going to get in the way of your dealing with the Isis? I was hoping that you would be able to learn more by speaking with her yourself, but if things didn't play out as I'd hoped when she visited, than this may be very difficult for you."

"It won't be a problem, admiral," Jim said, relieved that Elise had taken the initiative to get him through this latest Re'an growing pain.

"Good. Keep me updated, especially after you speak with Captain Roark, now that their communications systems are functional again."

As soon as the connection ended, Jim quickly prioritized what had to be done with the secrecy of Project Raptor foremost on his mind. Contact the Isis to make this official for anyone who wanted to weed through the Enterprise's logs. Fake a goddamn smile when he spoke with Roark and his mother. Update his own logs with this mess of information. Pretend all was well but inform his crew of the truth, be ready for absolutely anything once they got to the edge of the Danavus system - and wait. And, if it was the last thing he ever did, try to get the truth from Roark and his mother for the sake of his crew as well as those possibly in danger. At some point before they reached Danavus, Jim had to speak with his mother - alone.

In the stillness that he knew wouldn't last, Jim sat for another moment, again going every detail and preparing himself to speak with Roark. Sam unwound herself from his arm and slid across his shoulders, stretching into her full length and then curling herself in a graceful dance. She slipped halfway down his arm, her presence grounding the captain in a way that she never had before. It was for the best and also, at the back of his mind, a bizarre coincidence that Archer's actions would allow his mother and Roark's shadow operations to fly easily under the radar right along with the Isis. All while Jim's own ship and crew were seemingly being led to some unknown destination with an unclear purpose, with their leader, the Isis, positioned oddly behind them.

oOo

"Commander, I have established the connection with New Vulcan."

"On screen, Lieutenant," Spock said, slipping into the captain's chair. He anticipated that his father's answer would reflect the facts Spock had obtained in the course of the captain's absence. In regards to the Danavus system, there was no record of any of the species which spoke the five languages possibly represented in the transmission living there. Thus, their search had been swiftly narrowed down to Vulcan, for the captain's suspicion was logical and the Vulcans a guarded species. Additionally, Spock himself ascertained the possibility that the broken words were indeed in Vulcan at eight-five point seven percent.

"Aye, sir," Uhura said.

His father's face filled the viewscreen. "Spock," Sarek greeted him with a slow nod. "I sensed your urgency. How can I assist you and your captain?"

"We received a transmission which leads us to believe there may be Vulcans living within or near the Danavus system," Spock said. "As it appears they may be in distress, I must know if this is a possibility in order to be sufficiently prepared."

"I warned them it was not logical to leave New Vulcan for an uncharted system," Sarek replied after a brief pause. "I was not alone in my opinion. Five others joined in with my dissent, in an effort to keep them from harm."

"There is a colony," Spock said, brow arched.

"Yes," Sarek nodded again.

"Why is this not recorded as public knowledge?"

"Their colony consists of twenty-four priests and priestesses of a religious sect, who, following the destruction of Vulcan, chose to heal apart from those focused on repopulation efforts," Sarek said. "They wished for silence on the matter."

"That is illogical," Spock said..

"It was a logical decision in their minds, for the very nature of their broken bonds resulted in a great weakness in both their physical and mental states, a weakness they believed could only be healed through isolation," Sarek said slowly. "They relied on their visions and other religious practices to provide them with their path. Their reasoning appears faulty, but who among us was free from any bond damage?"

"What was the nature of their bonds?"

"Their bonds were fashioned by an intricate and rare ancient ritual. They probed deeper and fuller to form the initial bonds and once they were broken, the priests and priestesses could not perform as they once had," Sarek explained. "Yet, their decision to abandon our efforts in expanding our race was not seen as a weakness in itself, for their role in our society is vastly different from that of those who remained."

"Is their departure still a matter of dissension?" Spock asked.

"It is not. They are respected, in spite of their decision," Sarek said. "We could not stop them from leaving, and we have have recognized the loss keenly, as we anticipated. Their decision to form another colony grew strong in their minds as did the desire to depend upon religious ritual on behalf of the remaining Vulcan population. They wished to dwell separately, patiently, in an effort to attain knowledge for the future of all Vulcans. The logical choice was to allow them to leave quietly and in peace rather than observe their suffering on New Vulcan, where they would not heal as they desired nor be capable of performing their duties on behalf of our society. Before they departed from New Vulcan, they promised to remain in contact with us and return in five years. In turn, we agreed to keep their colony's habitation a secret. To our knowledge, they intend to remain faithful to their own promise."

"What is the location of their colony in the Danavus system?" Spock asked.

"I will not break my vow."

"If this is, indeed, a transmission from their colony, they have abandoned their own intention for secrecy, father," Spock asserted.

"Indeed, they have," Sarek murmured. "I assume that the Enterprise is on a course set for Danavus?"

"We are at warp, father," Spock said, but it garnered no response from the older Vulcan. Sarek's silence revealed to Spock that his own reasoning influenced his father's apparent indecision. "Per Captain Kirk's orders, we will continue at warp until we reach the outer edge of the system," Spock continued, determined to reveal the intentions of the Enterprise by inferring that the destruction of Vulcan fueled Kirk's decision. Logically, it should invoke the cooperation of his father. "Then, we will proceed once we know the nature of the distress within this uncharted system. If the colony is in danger, it is logical that you would provide for us its location rather than delay our assistance as we wait to complete our scans."

"Captain Kirk is wise to practice such caution," Sarek said, his expression unchanged but his voice was more somber than Spock recalled it ever being since the death of his mother. "Very well. It is as you said. The colony has forfeited their privacy. Since their settlement, the smallest planet in the system has been named Danave II. The colony is there."

oOo

Spock waited at the threshold of the bridge as soon as the call with his father ended. He did not have to wait for long, for the now ash-haired, scarred captain came within sight in sixty-two seconds. He could not sense Jim's emotions, but it took only a single glance at Jim's stony expression to see that the conversation with the admiral had upset the captain.

"Spock," Jim acknowledged, stopping right beside him. Together, they watched the crew on the bridge. There was a strange silence between them, and Spock stole a glance his companion. The lines of Jim's forehead drew together. "The Isis is following us."

At that very second, Spock's heart skipped three precise beats.

"Archer also informed me that the Isis decided to come along with us, after receiving the same transmission we did several days ago," Jim continued quietly. Samantha wriggled off his arms and Jim held her with his two hands, looking down as she appeared to dance, half-dangling in the air. "Funny thing is, that means they had to have been checking our logs. Another funny thing is that their communication has been down until this morning and that is why they couldn't inform us that they were joining us on our...excursion."

"I find that...convenient."

"Too convenient," Jim muttered. He ceased speaking, his focus drifting towards his Re'an creature.

"Indeed. They are expecting something to occur," Spock finally said. "They are...waiting."

"It just gets worse. We'll have to work with them if this transmission proves to be a distress signal," Jim said under his breath. "Archer doesn't believe Roark, not really. I can tell and I, of course, don't trust Roark or my mother at all. Archer says he doesn't want this to get big if it doesn't have to. Even though I don't trust Roark and mom, I don't want to risk this blowing up in our faces, because..." Jim heaved a breath, hooking Sam along his arm furthest from Spock. "I know it can't jeopardize the bigger picture."

Project Raptor. The transmission.

"Understood, captain," Spock replied quietly.

"Archer is sending a ship. It's three days away, and I suspect that it's going to be three days too late. Isn't this going to be a walk in the park," Jim muttered.

"I fear I have news that will only increase the urgency of the situation."

Jim lifted his eyes to Spock, his expression unchanged as he stated as if had had known all along, "There is a Vulcan colony on Danave II."

"Yes. It consists of twenty-four priests and priestesses belonging to a religious sect."

"That's small...That's...dangerous," Jim's mouth turned down in a harsh frown. "They couldn't possibly defend themselves well at all in the event of an attack. Any type of attack."

Spock did not disagree. "My father believes that the 'mount' spoken of in the transmission is their chosen, sacred place of ritual, the mountain called Hakaya. If they had been able, they would take refuge there, in the caves which offer the most protection," Spock explained.

"Please tell me we have a way of contacting them."

"I convinced my father to provide us with the channel to communicate directly with the head priest, Vorant, and his bondmate, the priestess T'Enne, on Danavus II," Spock said. "Lieutenant Uhura has already sent the transmission. We are awaiting word."

"Good," Jim said. He took a breath and adjusted Sam in his arms. "I'll wait on the bridge along with you for a short time. There are a few things I want to consider before I speak with Roark, and we do have about eight more hours before we arrive at the edge of the system. I don't have to speak with him just yet, but it's unavoidable. It may be that we'll need this extra ship once we know that nature of the distress call."

"Does Doctor McCoy know that we are to work along with the Isis?" Spock asked cautiously.

The words and your mother were left unsaid.

"No," Jim said simply. "No, he does not, Mr. Spock. He doesn't have a clue. He doesn't even know where we're headed."

oOo

"Lieutenant Uhura has there been any response?" Jim asked.

Spock swiveled in his chair, waiting for Nyota to respond to the captain's question. The bridge crew did not pause in their work, as they understood the severity of the situation, but several heads half-turned the captain's way. Thirty-two point seven minutes had passed since Uhura's first transmission to Danave II, but the Enterprise had yet to receive any communication back from them This brought Spock to the present and precise conclusion that the Vulcans on Danave were, indeed, in distress.

"Captain, as of now, I've still not received any communication from Danave II," Nyota informed Jim.

Jim leaned his elbow in the side of his chair, hand on his chin as he fixed his eyes on her. "We will keep sending them our reply, lieutenant. Every half hour. I don't want them to believe they are alone."

"Yes, sir."

"Spock, walk with me for a moment?"

"Yes, captain." Spock slipped from his chair and followed Jim to the lift. Jim instantly entered his personal code, closing the doors until he opened them otherwise.

"Spock, I want to be upfront with you," Jim exhaled a long breath. "I am concerned for you. Do you need to meditate before we speak with Roark?"

"No, Captain, I do not," Spock answered.

"Do you wish to meditate?" Jim asked quietly.

"I neither require nor desire meditation at this time."

Jim stared at him, eyes narrowing. "You're sure?"

"I am adequately prepared," Spock explained.

Jim's brow creased. "For some reason, I don't quite believe you. Maybe it was the word that you used - adequate."

"Vulcans do not lie, captain," Spock stated. "I am prepared." It would not satisfy the captain, but it was the truth.

"Your shields are up," Jim said evenly.

"As are yours," Spock replied in kind. The captain's ability to shield his thoughts and feelings had increased by a startling thirty-two percent since his therapy with Elise. Spock did not view this in a negative manner, for the ability positively assisted the captain as he dealt with their present mission.

"I guess we are both stubborn." The captain crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "I'm not sure if that is a good thing right now...or bad."

"Perhaps it would behoove us to lower them?" Spock asked him politely.

Jim's expression grew thoughtful. "I am pretty sure you're just saying that for my benefit, and I don't want you to do something you are not comfortable with," Jim said. "I just wanted you to know that I notice, and that as your friend, I am concerned that the mission at hand is troubling you."

"If the mission is, indeed, troubling me, I will be happy to alert you, first and foremost," Spock said softly. "I do not wish to worry you, Jim."

Jim smiled. "I appreciate that, Spock."

"In turn, I hope that you will feel comfortable to approach me with your own concerns," Spock continued.

"Shields may be good for a little longer," Jim said with a wry grin.

"If that is your wish, captain," Spock said, unsurprised. "However, I am apt to believe that your own reasoning is solely based on the desire to protect me. For that I am grateful, but it is not necessary. I am willing to be a source of comfort for you if you decide to lower your own shields."

"Yet you yourself will continue silently, holding back," Jim said.

"It is the best decision for us all."

Jim snorted. "Like I said, we're both stubborn."

"Jim, I must counter your statement with one of my own," Spock said, using the captain's name freely. "It is not stubbornness leading us to perform our duties in this silent, resilient manner. It is the concern and care we have for our friends. In doing so, I do not believe we are alienating ourselves or causing our bond to weaken. Indeed, it is the opposite. I sense your strength and I admire it. It has given me the strength I need to continue in my duties and consistently perform to your high standard."

Jim widened his eyes, startled. "It...it has?"

"Indeed, Jim," Spock said.

The captain's hands dropped to his side, relief written on his face. "Okay. Well, if that's the case, I guess it's good, then," he murmured. "This is...good. I'm glad to hear this. I've been worried."

"It is not necessary."

"I know that now," Jim offered a small smile. "I am glad you're okay. Really okay, and not just saying that to make me feel better."

"Please, Jim. Trust me," Spock said softly.

"I do, Spock. I do." Jim nodded, light dawning on his face as he looked at Spock and subtly allowed his own emotions to bleed through their bond. Trust, as Spock had requested. Confidence in Spock as his first officer of the Enterprise. Finally, appreciation for their friendship, which had been refined by trials since the very day they came face-to-face. In turn, Spock sent Jim the confidence and trust he always had in Jim - and a wave of admiration that Jim as a Re'an could now graciously accept, even though Jim could not allow himself to feel pride. "I trust you with my life."

"And I trust you with my life and the lives of the Vulcans on Danave II," Spock said.

"I will do all that I can, Spock." Jim's quiet promise echoed warmly in Spock's ears. "We all will."

"It is all that I ask." Spock paused, searching Jim's face. "It is also what I expect you will do, despite the unknown."

Jim exhaled a long breath. "I will talk with Bones next, before Roark."

"I fear the doctor's reaction to these new developments will be what you expect it to be."

Jim's short laugh sent a feeling of comfort through Spock. "That's why I'm bringing you along, Spock. I need someone on my side. You."

"I will not choose sides, Jim," Spock said, his lips quirking at the captain's urgent request.

"Well, then, the best I can ask for is body armor, I suppose," Jim mused.

"Body armor?" Spock repeated, preparing himself for the strange explanation that was sure to follow.

"To protect me from the wrath of Bones when I tell him the likelihood that we'll have to work side by side with Captain Roark - and my mother," Jim said.

"Indeed, Jim, you shall have my cooperation," Spock said, allowing the smile to flicker on his lips. "I see now that my presence will be most advantageous in keeping you from harm."

But Jim's smile waned before it ever began. "All joking aside," Jim said. "I pulled you away from the bridge, to talk with you, because you're my friend, Spock. But also, because this situation is even more difficult because of my mo-

"You must not continue," Spock interrupted quietly, putting his hand on Jim's shoulder to stop him. The captain's eyes widened in surprise but his touch had the desired effect, silencing Jim. "I will not allow you to continue thinking in such a manner. You are not to blame. Apologizing on behalf of your mother is not logical."

"Maybe not, but it feels right to apologize," Jim said softly. "Because I know for a fact my mother's involvement with... with everything...has upset not only Bones, but you as well."

"Jim, if you sense my anger for what has transpired, it is my reaction to your own suffering," Spock explained, dropping his shields lightly and allowing Jim to sense the full truth of his words. "It is my reaction to my own failure in stopping her."

"It's too complicated to stop, and it began a long time ago," Jim's eyes saddened. "Whatever this is really about, it's not your fault, Spock."

"Neither are you at fault, Jim," Spock said after a moment's pause, fully understanding the impact of his own words upon the man before him. His words surpassed their present time, leading Jim back to his childhood as Spock broadcasted the absolute belief that nothing Jim had ever done could possibly be the cause for his mother' actions.

Jim stared at him, emotion brimming in his eyes, encompassing relief, gratitude, and self-acceptance. "We should get back, then," Jim suddenly whispered, his voice laden with what Spock saw in his eyes. "I mean...go see Bones."

"Yes, we should not delay," Spock agreed.

Jim gave a short nod. With a blinking of his eyes, they were suddenly clear, the past seemingly purged from his mind. Spock dropped his hand from the captain's shoulder, satisfied to see his captain returning to his confident, well-adjusted self.

Jim's lips curved upward, a full smile that was unexpected but not unwelcomed. "Especially now that we're at a draw."

Amused, Spock felt his lips twitch. "I was not aware that this was a competition."

"It's not. You're already on my side. Remember?" Jim quipped, opening the lift doors.

The captain stepped out without another word, but Spock chose to remain behind with an empty space beside him. He was also left with the great satisfaction that he had wisely made his choice to follow Jim Kirk into the black, not only having based his decision on Vulcan logic but also upon the depths of his half-human heart. Indeed, he was already on Jim's side. Most importantly, Spock decided, as he thought of the other Vulcans on Danave II, was that the now Re'an, stalwart, selfless, and peaceful captain was undeniably on theirs.

oOo

T'Enne's breath escaped her as she stood, cornered under the dust and rock which fell from the groaning ceiling of their protection, the second innermost cave of the mountain. She covered her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her coarse, utilitarian robe, but left her eyes bare and squinted through the debris and darkness. The enemy arrived two days ago, at first prowling the outskirts of their colony and then attacking, pushing them deeper into the shelter of their sacred places. There was no true escape, only a choice to continue further into the refuge of the small mountain.

"Come. This way," her bondmate's voice scattered like dust, softly touching the ears of those around her. The command was heard and obeyed by all - except by her.

Holding her left arm delicately at her side, T'Enne wedged herself even more between the boulders to prevent further injury. She was old, bones aged and crooked and brittle like this mountain, and weakened from the injury which spilled her green blood. Her other hand wrapped around her forearm, where a bandage staunched the flow. The attackers had been swift, already destroying their three small ships and killing two of their own. More were injured, just as she was. She'd barely survived to crawl into the mouth of the cave, but now that hours had passed since the first strike, she forced her aged limbs to move for the sake of her bondmate. Until now, when from her viewpoint, all appeared lost. There was no escape from those who had found their small colony and hence forced them to flee into their sacred mountain, Hakaya. The Healing Mountain, where since Vulcan was destroyed, they had given in to their ancient ways, choosing to repair their brokenness here apart from the others on New Vulcan.

T'Enne.

She closed her eyes. Vorant. She whispered back through their bond.

Segon is coming to you. Wait, ashayam.

It was all she could do.

Vorant spoke to her again. We will make our way to another room.

No, she protested. It is too far. We will be lost.

But Vorant was stubborn, just as she knew him to be, the third son of Stepn and who had been given the honor of this priesthood. The Young One's vision showed us the way. You know this. We will not fight this war because if we do, all will be lost. The Young One showed us our chance for life and so we must wait.

As always, her mate was patient as he guided her towards through the logic which paved the way for them all on Danave II. She would do as he asked, for following their sacred rituals would prevent death.

I will wait, she told him.

Her mate's relief coursed through her mind like the narrow, languid river beside her former home, the ribbon of water that was eternally lost to them, and she closed her eyes at the soothing, murmuring presence he provided. He was safe. All was well if he was safe, for he was as old as she. The wall behind her shook and her body pushed against the sharp, protruding rock at her hips. She did not wince. She waited, still.

A hand brushed her arm then full encircled her wrist. "T'Enne, we must move swiftly. I will carry you," the voice of Segon sounded fervently in her ears. He did not wait for her to reply but lifted her from the crevice which cradled her in the destruction. His eyes fell upon the injury. He gently lifted her arm and laid it against her abdomen. "Cover your face."

The fabric of her robe scratched her skin as she protected herself but she paid no heed to the slight burn. Segon had no trouble carrying her. She was considered to be one of the smallest adult Vulcans and with her age, her frailty had diminished her to a thin, old woman. She counted the minutes, over five in all. It took longer than she expected for Segon to carry her through the maze of tunnels and into the third innermost cave of the mountain, but when Segon set her down, he set her beside Vorant and the time melted away. Here they were together. Here they were safe, for now, and his hand brushed hers before their eyes even met.

T'Enne. You did not stay by my side.

It was impossible to do so when the debris fell, she answered.

She leaned into him as he gained a new understanding of what had separated them in the cave. His arm fit around her waist comfortably. He guided her to the seat, the light trickling in from behind the curtains of the inner room providing safe steps for their short journey. The lights flickered like the last remnants of hope in the darkness, also diffusing the calming aroma of incense. Soon, she realized the lights were lanterns in the hands of three Vulcan priests, robed from head to foot, as they walked among the remaining members of their colony now clustered within the room.

"We must meditate," Vorant murmured, as his index finger touched her bandage. "There are other injured, and our walls cannot withstand successive attacks."

"They will not stop." She knew their enemy. The Federation knew their enemy. They knew of them well.

Vorant's eyes glinted in the dimly lit room. "They will. It was shown to one of us."

The Young One survived? she murmured through their bond.

Yes, T'Olryn survived the attacks.

Her eyes traced the outlines of the others, searching. T'Ara, her sister-in-law, sat on the ground beside her sister, T'Kosa, their heads bent together in joint meditation. Vorant's apprentice, Aloran, sat dazed and limp in the corner while his elder brother, Solin, tended to the gashes on his body. T'Enne's eyes grew weary as her gaze passed over the others but she still did not see the Young One.

Look at the curtains, T'Enne.

T'Enne glance at them, the luxurious black curtains covered the entrance to the final tunnel, a tunnel that provided a pathway into the room furthest into the mountain. She saw the elongated form in the shadows, swathed in more robe than Vorant, as was the Young One's own choice. She stood, with her head down and her face serene despite the blood which flecked her pale green cheeks and the jagged tears which cut into the sleeves of her robe, allowing glimpses of fresh wounds and marks along her arms.

T'Enne should help her... or the others ...for her healing abilities had not diminished with age, though her strength had.

You need to regain your strength. There are others to do the work.

Her mate tended to overprotect her but he was correct. Soon, T'Rel tended to the wounds of the solitary figure by the curtain. A vibration shook the walls, but walls merely trembled from the small blast and debris did not fall onto their bodies. The ceiling held but it was only weakening and in time it would crumble. They could only hear dulled blasts of the attack on the outside of their mountain, but the danger could be felt by everyone in the room. The enemy knew they were hiding within the diminutive mountain, and they would either sweep inside themselves to take captives or bury them with their destruction. She must be prepared to move her aged body along with everyone else, if necessary. She must rest to regain her strength if she was to be useful once again. And if not rescued, to fight until death.

The ship will come, T'Enne.

T'Enne grasped the proclamation, the simple belief held by all in this cave, and held fast. It was all they had, given to them by sacred ritual. A ship, the greatest one of Starfleet, which was in all probability, at the opposite end of the skies.

The quietness around them was only a facade, shadowing the inevitable. Their enemy was strong and formidable with at least three ships, their own spy had reported. They no doubt wanted control of this sustainable planet, rich with minerals, and were soon to discover the sacred entrance into Hakaya with their powerful scanners. If the distress signal had not been received, if help did not arrive soon, her estimation of the time left of their existence was hours, perhaps six or eight, at most. At that time, all would be lost. And then, T'Enne thought sadly, they would break their promise to their own species to return to society and fulfill their duties. Their promise shattered, when twenty-two of the last and rare, remaining Vulcan priests and priestesses perished in the destruction.

The cave walls shook again, a blast so loud that T'Enne covered her ears, wincing. She looked to her right, where portions of the wall continued to fall beside Aloran and Solin, barely missing their heads as they scurried out of the way. Then she saw the Young One. Having been on her knees while T'Rel tended to the cut on her face, the Young One fell roughly onto her side, the force knocking her onto the ground and her cheek against the dust of the earth. As she had vowed years ago to Vorant and T'Enne herself and the others, the Young One was silent and did not cry out. Her long black hair spilled from her hood like liquid. The strands framed T'Olryn's face as she blinked up in shock, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath underneath the waterfall of debris.

"To the tunnel!" Vorant called out.

T'Enne pulled her gaze away from T'Olryn as another moved to assist her. No, no. The tunnel to the room was almost the end. The last tunnel, the final hiding place, and the exit on the opposite side way too precarious for all of them to use. There was no chance after that.

"We should stay here," she whispered to him, bravely and logically perhaps but selfishly, for she did not think she could move her feet. "For the sake of those with many more years ahead of them than we have. Let them go, but we should stay to protect them."

To die honorably, she thought to herself.

But her mate, the head priest, had already grasped T'Enne by her arm and slipped his arm around her waist once more. He stopped as she struggled to her feet, her robe cumbersome in her weariness. He looked into her eyes, the only soft and gentle thing in that single moment, the only constant in the unknown. "Can you walk, ashayam?"

The endearment was tender, even at this inopportune time. She began to form a reply with her lips but the earth shook beneath her feet without warning and a curtain of brown and red dust rained down on her head. As she cried out, an image of the inviting, crystalline river where she had been bonded and wedded to Vorant flashed before her eyes. To her dismay, Vorant's concerned face also vanished beyond her reach. Then, her body was weightless and all went black.

Chapter Text

"You're not actually serious, are you?" Bones' voice bellowed through the small conference room.

Although Jim had expected this emotion, his eyebrows still shot up at Bones' knee-jerk reaction. Jim tried his best to prepare Bones but there wasn't that much he could do to sugar coat the issue. Hearing that the Isis was trailing the Enterprise was never going to go over well with Bones, but he'd hoped wording it diplomatically would help the doctor process the news. Recalling Spock's sour expression after he'd informed the commander of the same news, Jim should've expected Bones's reaction to be much worse. Though that was phrasing it quite nicely.

"'We have to join forces?'" Bones repeated the words Jim had spoken seconds ago.

"Yes, Bones, we do," Jim said without inflection. He still hadn't taken a seat, and neither had the two who'd accompanied him to speak privately in the conference room. He wanted to get off of his feet and sit down but then he'd be staring up at his disgruntled CMO and hardly in a position of authority.

"Isn't this just all butterflies and roses," the doctor first muttered, then his voice strengthened as did his accusations. Tension creeped into Jim's shoulders when things began to escalate. "You're going to agree with Archer, just like that? You're seriously going to just go along with this? When you know they're more than likely setting you up? And fucking stalking us?

"Yes, we are going to go along with this," Jim said, hating the rising frustration he felt towards his best friend. "We have no choice."

"No choice?" Bones asked. "For God sake's Jim, when are we going to use our heads and give Roark and your mother over to HQ? When are you going to see that it's the only way to get them off your back!"

"Doctor McCoy," Jim took a step towards Bones, pinning the doctor right where he was with a hearty look and demanding his full attention. This was getting out of hand and if Jim didn't stop it now, who knew what would happen. "You will be silent and listen."

A silence followed but to Bones' credit, that was all it took. Bones never flinched, never moved another muscle, but stared at Jim with eyes filled with something indescribable that Jim didn't have the time to decipher. Neither did Jim have time to spend second-guessing Archer's actions or his own. He didn't have time to pacify Bones - or anyone else. They had to move forward, and Jim needed his CMO to understand what exactly was at risk. It was not Jim. It was the lives of twenty-four Vulcans.

"Due to the severity of the situation, we have no other option but to join forces. We will not fail the Vulcans on Danave. Or, if the Vulcans are not in danger and it is in fact others who are in distress, we will not fail them," Jim said, pausing briefly to see if Bones would challenge him and begin to protest again. Jim really didn't have any time to spare to elaborate and deal with his feelings even if Bones, as his physician, was perhaps even more concerned about Jim than Jim was about himself. His best friend had always worried about him, but ever since the Re'an and also Jim's slow rehabilitation, it had become something on an entirely different level. Jim was aware that things had been tough especially in the beginning, when he hadn't trusted his friends completely and when he hadn't known that his memories had been either stolen or changed. But, he'd gotten better, and for the most part, he'd healed, at least enough to move on. For the doctor's sake, he'd hoped Bones had relaxed a little when it came to his well-being. It was clear he hadn't. Maybe it was Jim's fault, his resentment of Sam, or the general nature of his mom's betrayal, but maybe...maybe it didn't have anything to do with Jim at all.

When the doctor appeared to obey his order for silence, he continued. "If I can put aside my personal issues with my mother, then you can support my decision and prepare your staff. After I speak with Roark, then we will have a better insight in what our crews can provide if the situation on Danave is an emergency. We need to work together, Bones," he said, his voice pleading at the end.

Bones sighed, a sigh Jim knew to be his "I'm the CMO and you are not" sigh. "Jim, it's not just your personal issues, it's the very fact they are lying to your face and endangering the Enterprise," Bones said. "They won't stop their lying with Project Raptor."

"The doctor brings up a valid concern, captain," Spock said, looking carefully at Jim. "We must remain wary of their capabilities for deceit, even during the mission. I find it highly probable that even during this time they will engage in a level of secrecy unless we swiftly and formidably assert ourselves."

"For once, I actually feel good that you're agreeing with me," Bones muttered and, to Jim's chagrin, began to pace.

Closing his eyes, Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course it was about all those things. Didn't they understand that he knew that? It was about juggling more obscurities than there were actual facts. It was having to trust that the Isis - his mother - would be there to assist with the Vulcans when it was necessary instead of sneaking up from behind him. It was having to work with those who were no doubt hiding something from Jim again and not being able to do a fucking thing about it.

"Bones, our priority is the transmission," he said, eyes still closed. "I will not allow us to let them down."

"And if this thing, the reason Roark is nipping at our heels, gets in the way of that?" Bones asked.

Frowning, Jim dropped his hand and stared hard at both of them, but especially at Bones. He'd really had enough of this. "We will do our best, like we always do, no matter the situation and no matter when," Jim asserted. "The Isis will be sticking around, at least until we see what is happening in Danavus. They committed themselves to this same task the instant they lied to Archer to cover up their tracks. They have no choice. In fact, I would rather the Isis provide any transport the Vulcans need, to a starbase or New Vulcan. If the Isis is following us because they expect trouble for the Enterprise, I feel as comfortable about having guests on board my ship as I do giving up my command to fucking Roark."

Bones grunted, dropping his scowl as he glanced at Jim. "It's about time you tell us how you really feel," Bones said as he continued his aggravated pacing.

Jim looked at him amusedly. "Bones, I may not say it, but I feel it. " Jim hesitated. "I've been feeling too much at once, actually, and that's been getting in the way of things. But, I think I have that under control now."

"Jim, I know feeling things as strongly as you have been has been difficult as a Re'an, but I don't think you should lose those feelings," Bones insisted, now coming to a halt in front of Jim. Spock stood silent, perusing both of them equally. "As long as Elise helps you - and Sam - to narrow your focus, don't push them all away. They can help you."

"I know," Jim said gently. "And they do, but now that I feel more like myself, they won't be overwhelming me as they have been."

Bones' eyes suddenly lost a little of their previous fire. Assuming that Bones was affected by what Jim had meant by 'feeling more like myself,' the Re'an, he gave his friend a little space. He turned his attention to Spock.

"Spock, I'd prefer for you to be on the bridge when I speak with Roark."

"Yes, captain," Spock said. "I, too, prefer to be present."

"Good. I'd like the both of you to stay, actually. Quietly," Jim emphasized.

"Jim - " Bones began to protest from behind him, but Jim quickly turned on his heel and held up a hand to stop the doctor.

"Bones, I want you here, so you can witness this exchange firsthand and know how to help me if this trips me up again later. But, not a sound," Jim said, setting his jaw. "Not one."

Bones didn't speak for a moment. "I don't like it, but I'll do what you ask," he finally relented.

"Good," Jim nodded, relieved they could start moving on and preparing as they should. "Spock, after this wonderful conversation I'm going to have with the captain of the Isis and taking care of a few other details, I think I'm going to get a little more shut eye. You'll have the conn."

"You...what?" Bones asked. "You're actually volunteering to take a nap?"

Jim frowned. It really wasn't a nap. It was...catching up on sleep. "We have hours until we even drop out of warp," Jim said. "And...despite the sedative last night, I didn't get the sleep I needed. Since we don't know what's coming, so it seemed, well, logical."

"You're damn right it's logical. Whenever you have therapy with Elise, you require some rest to recover, no matter how short or how long the session is. So yes, it's the best idea of the day but you beat me to it," Bones said, a fresh scowl on his face.

"You're mad that I thought of it first?" Jim asked amusedly.

"Absolutely. I'm furious at you," Bones said in one breath.

"But, it doesn't make sense to be mad at me," Jim felt the need to point out. "I'm making your work less complicated."

"Huh," Bones paused. "You're right. You're actually reducing my stress, for once, instead of adding to it. Guess I'll just find someone else to be mad at in your place," Bones finished grumbling, giving Spock a sideways glance.

Spock took a single step back away from the doctor without saying a word. Things were going to shit, but Jim couldn't help it. He laughed and walked to the door, smiling to himself that at the very least, their banter managed to relieve the remaining tension between them. He needed their cooperation and their support. Without that, he'd somehow manage; but with them by his side, Jim was confident that he could do his job and in turn, they would be the best that they could be together, even if the world was falling into pieces around them. They'd persevered before. If the Re'an had not torn their friendship apart, then neither could a ship called the Isis, which simply wanted to hide in the shadows.

oOo

"Captain, the Enterprise is hailing us," the communications officer behind Winona said.

Jimmy. She'd known this was coming but it was like a shallow cut in her heart, one of many more she was sure to come, and soon, the deepest one that would make its mark. All for the greater good, she reminded herself. Winona glanced at Roark, who stared at the viewscreen with a stony expression. "On screen, Lieutenant."

"Relax," she murmured, coming to stand beside him.

His eyes flickered over her face. In turn, she watched him and realized for the first time a raggedness to his face that hadn't been there even one hour ago or even two weeks ago, when they'd set things in motion. "Archer has me on edge."

Winona shook her head although she believed his concern was warranted. "He knows nothing," she said quietly. "You didn't screw up as much as you thought you did."

Roark didn't get to reply for her son was already looking at them both from the screen. Winona's heart squeezed with pride that Jim had not let this very inconvenient situation mar his game face. Jim appeared almost serene as he stared at them, serene but commanding, the combination startling when compounded by the scars around his eyes. Various crewmembers on the bridge of the Isis turned their heads from their stations to stare at him. Just like that, Jim had demanded the attention of Roark's crew, none of whom had seen the darker version of Captain Kirk. The media would have a field day with Jim once word got out about Captain Kirk's changes to a man who was almost unrecognizable as his former self. The cerulean eyes gave him away, but then again, she was his mother and his eyes always gave him away, even with those scars. Unfortunately, as much as Jim would hate it, the publicity was unavoidable. The media would spin it out of control, keying in on Jim's new orientation of species, the term coined by Dr. McCoy himself, unless Admiral Archer controlled the coverage right from the very beginning. That was why Winona convinced Roark to inform his crew that under no circumstances were they permitted to inform anyone of Captain Kirk's metamorphosis into the first Re'an captain that Starfleet ever had.

"Captain Roark, I'm happy to see that your communication is back in business," Jim said.

Roark smiled. "It was an inconvenience, I assure you. Especially when we wanted to inform you that we wished to accompany you to Danavus."

"We picked up another transmission," Jim said, ignoring Roark's vague apology.

Winona frowned. Roark did not. "It's related to the first?" Roark asked. Winona tucked it in the back of her mind to warn him he was acting too flippantly about the situation. Jim would trust him even less, and Winona wasn't sure it was a good idea to egg him on like this when they needed to aid the Enterprise with whatever was ahead and get the hell out of the way for what was next.

"Yes," Jim clipped. "After analyzing the transmission, we had reason to believe it was in Vulcan. We've since discovered that a Vulcan colony exists on the smallest planet in the Danavus system. Thanks to Ambassador Sarek, we were able to attempt communication with them but as of this time, we have not received a reply. We'll continue in our efforts to contact them. Since their colony consists of only twenty-four priests and priestesses, we're very concerned for their safety."

Winona lifted a brow in surprise. She expected the colony to be small, but this low number invited danger.

Jim continued, "I need to get straight to the point here."

Jim paused, waiting for Roark. Roark glanced sideways up at Winona, then back at Jim, finally answering. "Go right ahead, Kirk."

"This situation is precarious," Jim said, the emphasis all that Winona and Roark needed to hear to know that Jim demanded their complete attention because Jim knew. He knew they were trailing the Enterprise and that they expected something to happen. So Archer was suspicious, or maybe Jim came to that conclusion all on his own. Either way, it wasn't going to make things any easier to look her son straight in the eye. "After speaking with my chief medical officer, we've decided that our staff would be best to care for the medical needs of any injured Vulcans. Dr. M'Benga is Commander Spock's personal physician and understands the physiology of their species more than any other doctor on the Enterprise or the Isis. He'll also be able to delegate matters accordingly and provide insight for your own physicians." Jim paused. "I hope you don't take offense, Roark."

"None, taken," Roark replied with a curious drawl. "I heartily agree with your suggestion."

"However, since our next mission is unavoidable, any need for transport would be best left up to you and the Isis," Jim said, again hinting he was not ignorant of their actions. Winona was impressed how her son handled these responsibilities that had been infused with complications by her own hand. It was the worst timing for something like this to have happened, but her son was stepping up to the challenge.

Roark's right hand fisted on the armrest of his chair. "Again, I must agree with you, Kirk."

Jim grew even more serious - and took over the situation completely with the ease of an older, more experienced captain. Someone, Winona thought ironically, like Roark. "Good. That's settled, then. For the next seven hours we'll continue to travel at warp factor eight. Once we near the outskirts of the system, we'll slow down and run additional scans. I assume you will, too, because I'm sure you'll have caught up to us by then. Roark, I'd like your cooperation from here on out. I'm sure it won't be a problem since I know your intentions are to take care of this situation as efficiently as possible," he finished smoothly.

"You're correct. We are at your service," Roark said, mouth twitching in mock amusement. Winona barely refrained from reaching up and strangling him, then realized he was only trying his best not to show how affected he was by her son's no-nonsense attitude. A shadow of a smile appeared on her face.

"Now, I do have a few other things to take care of," Jim paused and glanced behind him. "Mr. Spock will be handling matters on the bridge in my stead," he said altogether too slowly, and it was clear the younger captain was actually enjoying himself. Winona smirked as her son got under Roark's skin - and it finally showed. The captain of the Isis beside her practically fidgeted in his seat when Jim mentioned the name of his first officer and even more when so Commander Spock came to stand beside Jim. "You may direct any further questions at him."

"It would be my pleasure, captain," Roark said, his voice now void of cheerfulness. In fact, Winona could've sworn Roark did feel like he was choking as he took in the power play Jim made. "Mr. Spock."

Winona silently applauded her son. Of course Jim would know exactly what buttons to push and when. The Re'an had taken so much from him, but underneath, he was still the man she knew him to be. He was also more than that, she thought, as she watched the Re'an snake twirl itself around Jim's arm like a series of bangles.

oOo

Once Spock had Roark's full attention, Jim slipped out of the chair with Sam and gave the conn over to Spock. He caught Bones' eye and inclined his head towards the lift. The doctor cocked an eye in question but followed. "Time for me to return the favor," Jim said simply, as Bones stepped in behind him. The lift doors closed. "Computer, Deck 7."

Bones frowned. "Favor?"

Jim shrugged. "Thought I'd walk you to sickbay, although I may have other things to do - "

"Like sleep," Bones muttered.

"But...I think I can spare a few moments, as I am the captain," Jim grinned, relaxing back onto his heels with his arms crossed.

Bones half-smiled in return, shaking his head in silence. The lift stopped and once they exited and headed for sickbay, Jim lost himself in his thoughts. It hadn't been easy, but they had essentially won the second round with Roark. The older captain had won the first round when he'd chosen to trail the Enterprise. But this time, Jim had controlled the situation and would continue his control because he'd placed Spock in charge for the next few hours. Roark's dislike of Spock had been evident since their initial acquaintance. Spock was definitely up to the challenge, several issues fueling the Vulcan's present, cool disposition, which was sure to only agitate the captain of the Isis even more.

"Well, that went pretty well, don't you think?" The doctor said.

"Are you kidding me?" Jim looked at Bones like he was a stranger, a stranger who'd all of a sudden lost the cynical attitude in favor of the butterflies and roses he always scoffed. "Where did this optimism suddenly come from?"

"It came from watching you fucking with R- "

"Hold it right there, Bones." Jim winced as pain started to grow as fast as an annoying weed at his temple. "I think I know where you're going with that and that mental picture is making me very, very uncomfortable."

Bones snorted. "You are a man-child."

"It's my impression that you sort of egg that on, when it comes right down to it."

"I do things like that because you make it as simple as pie," Bones drawled.

"Now that mental picture I can deal with," Jim mused. As they reached sickbay, he adjusted Sam on his arm and stopped, saying, "I know it wasn't easy, but I appreciate the support you gave me, Bones."

Bones shrugged. "Just admit to me that you enjoyed some of that."

"Seeing Roark squirm?" He had enjoyed some of that but he wasn't up to joking about it now that conversation on the bridge was behind them. It bothered him that there were Vulcans in need of their help and the Enterprise was still hours away. It bothered him because Spock was worried, his concern for these isolated members of his species something he could not ignore. "Bones, it served a purpose. I'm pretty sure that he got the hint that I'm not going to let them screw with me on this one. I'm calling the shots whether he likes it or not. I have Archer behind me, soon another ship, and the best damn crew I could ever ask for." Jim crossed his arms. "Now, about my mom."

Bones suddenly lost the good-natured expression, looking like Jim felt when he stopped whatever it was that he was doing to think about his mom - disturbed and confused. "Jim... please be careful," he said. "Something just doesn't seem quite right to me."

"We decided that was the case hours ago, Bones," Jim said, thinking of the loaded question at breakfast.

"No," Bones shook his head. "I mean, how calm she is, but I could tell she enjoyed seeing you take down Roark a notch or two."

"She's... complicated." It was a cop-out but it was the one word he could use without feeling like he was condemning her. He didn't want to do that yet, not when so much was kept under lock and key, hidden away from him.

"I know I said before that you shouldn't leave things bad between you. I said that because of all the changes you've been through. If anyone could handle it, it'd be you, especially now," Bones said. "I thought that would do you more harm to ignore her, because of what she means to you. But..."

"You changed your mind," Jim said. He leaned against the wall, quietly, as two crewmembers walked past them in the corridor.

"She seems very conflicted when it comes to you, and if there's a choice in the future, I don't want you to be hurt when..." Bones hesitated.

"Bones, whatever it is that you want to say, I can take it," Jim said.

"When she doesn't choose you," the doctor finished quietly.

Jim's next breath was like a hot brick lodged in his chest. Bones' honest words damaged him as much as the memory of his mother's betrayal hurt him.

"I don't say that to hurt you, Jim," Bones said, voice even more subdued. "But to prepare you."

"I know," Jim whispered, looking away. It was something Jim knew that he needed to be reminded of, something that would take a best friend to tell him, although it hurt. Damn, it hurt. But not because Bones said it, but because in his heart, Jim already knew that his mother had already chosen.

And it hadn't been him.

"She hasn't for a long time," Jim said, gaze to the floor, wondering what it would be like to not be this captain. To not be in charge or giving orders, to have a life where his mother would truly love him. A life where none of this shit was following him. "I thought she had, this...last time but I don't..."

"You don't expect it anymore," Bones finished for him.

"No." Jim shook his head, pushing away his self-pitying thoughts. "And I have come to...accept that."

"You're so calm, Jim, and I admit that I envy you. I...am not calm, and speaking of not being calm..." Bones paused, giving Jim a hesitant look.

Jim's brow creased. "Yes?"

Bones exhaled a slow breath. "I apologize, Captain, for my outburst earlier. It was uncalled for. I understand if you need to write me up for insubordination. I went too far," he finished humbly.

Jim stood away from the wall. He'd been waiting for Bones to say something about that, but had wanted to give him time. Bones had actually said something sooner than Jim had expected. Jim couldn't understand everything that the doctor had experienced and felt when Jim was brought back from Re'an V, but he did understand that the changes in him had hurt Bones, and also Spock and the rest of his crew. He understood that, essentially, Bones' best friend had died for a second time, bringing this stranger in his midst, and now that Bones had accepted it and had accepted who Jim had become, there was this new worry. Jim wasn't sure what the new worry was, except maybe a fear of losing Jim again, and it was this explanation which made sense of Bones' insistence to turn his mother in.

"Yes it was uncalled for, but I accept your apology, Dr. McCoy," Jim said honestly. They'd all been pushed to their limits and he knew Bones' heart had been in the right place. His voluntary apology said it all. "There's no need to write you up. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

"It won't," Bones said quietly. "You're taking all of this really well, Jim."

"I'm really not," Jim said, rubbing a hand along his jaw. He really wasn't. It was... acceptance. The Re'an way in him that influenced his response to his mother, to Roark, and to this situation that could go to hell in the blink of an eye.

"I suppose," Bones began slowly, "that it comes back to who you are, Jim. As much as I hate what happened to you on Re'an V - we all hate what happened - I know that it didn't make you less capable of dealing with this, but instead, the perfect captain to deal with this and quite possibly...more."

Jim's hand stilled on his jaw. He really didn't know how to follow that. He wasn't more and he certainly wasn't perfect. The previous day had shown them all that, and he would never be perfect. He'd never had the misperception that he would be, either. These Re'an tendencies that had altered his character hadn't rid him of the flaws of the old Jim Kirk. They'd perhaps smoothed many of them over, matured him so he could hopefully avoid the worst of the flaws. The Re'an tendencies had also altered his psyche so he could view and then handle situations differently, and provided new facets to his personality that he was still getting used to.

"I'm not...more, Bones. I'm just..." Jim stopped himself. He'd been about to say human. That no longer fit him, because it had to be a pair. Human and Re'an. "Me. The captain who discovered that he had to...leave himself behind to move forward."

Who'd been forced to change to be there for his friends. If he hadn't, he'd be separated from them entirely, no longer Jim Kirk but a passive shell of the man he'd once been. Instead of choosing to lose himself entirely, he'd remained to lead them as a changed man. A stranger. He'd chosen this path for the benefit of his true family. It wasn't the perfect solution but he was here, wasn't he?

Bones hummed in his throat. "If I could do one thing in this life, Jim, it would be for you to see that as a Re'an and human, you are far more than you realize. I'm not sure when that will hit you, and I'm not even sure it will, but I hope it does. In the meantime, I get to enjoy seeing it because I'm your friend."

It wasn't anything Jim expected to hear at all. He stood, a little dazed that Bones had so much faith in him.

"I'll come back later and make sure you don't sleep through your alarm," Bones said after a brief silence..

Jim shook his head at himself, coming to attention. "Only two hours. I can't spare more than that."

Bones sighed and started to turn away, muttering under his breath. "Can't believe you're actually volunteering to take a nap. What's this world coming to?"

"It's not a nap," Jim protested. He couldn't "nap" when so much was at risk. "It's...preparing myself for...duty...by sleeping."

"It's a nap, Jim," Bones rolled his eyes and turned away. "A. Nap."

Jim chuckled but still didn't admit it, even when he yawned.

"I both heard and saw that," Bones called out. "Get some sleep, Jim."

"Wait," Jim said before Bones could go too far. Bones slowly turned on his heel. "Check on Spock once...or twice...while I'm out?"

Bones lips quirked. "Planned to do that already. I figured that would be the only way you actually relax."

"Okay," Jim said softly, more than a little relieved. And Bones was right. It would be one less thing to worry about as he tried to sleep before whatever was coming hit them. "Good. I'm worried about how this is going to affect him, and he needs more than one of us thinking about that."

"Giving him something to do, oh say like baiting Roark, should help him out," Bones said easily. "Don't worry too much about the hobgoblin."

"And don't worry too much about me, either," Jim slipped in.

"Fat chance of that happening." Bones waved a careless hand as made his way to the doors of sickbay.

"Was worth a shot," Jim quipped back before the doctor disappeared.

Jim shook his head and entered his quarters. He felt the full force of his mental and physical fatigue as soon as he caught a glimpse of his bed through the open doorway of his bedroom. Therapy with Elise had taken its toll, the mental concentration required always draining him to some extent, and with that in mind he worked quickly. He needed to get as much sleep as possible in the short time he had. Realistically, he could give himself two hours at most because the current circumstances required more of his attention. But, Jim had a sneaking suspicion that Bones had every intention of coming to his door and wielding his CMO override. He wouldn't put it past Bones to sneak into his quarters while he was asleep and change the time for his alarm. Definitely not admitting to himself that he wouldn't mind if that happened, he quickly took out his comm.

First things first. "Kirk to Uhura."

"Yes, Captain," Uhura answered.

"I require...your assistance," Jim said quietly.

Uhura didn't hesitate, but there was a breathlessness to her voice, signaling that she understood what Jim was asking for - a transmission and secrecy. "Of course, sir," she said.

"Patch me through to the Isis, specifically my mother. I'll take the call from her in my room," Jim murmured as he sank into the chair at his desk. He rested his head in a hand and bit back another yawn.

"Aye, sir. I will patch you through right away," Uhura murmured her reply.

"Thank you, lieutenant," Jim said. "Kirk out."

When his mother appeared on the screen in front of him, Jim held his tongue, allowing her the first move because he wanted the last.

"You handled yourself well," Winona said, her eyes warm like they'd been on the beaming platform before they'd parted ways. "You reminded me of your father."

Whether or not it was a strategic play on her part, it was a low blow but Jim had already focused his resolve. He would not lower his defenses, though she would make it damn hard the way she was now looking at him and speaking of his dead dad. "It was necessary. I won't be fucked with during this mission when there are innocent lives at stake."

"You won't be," she said, obviously trying to assure him with that look in her eyes.

Jim fought the urge to speak sense into her, his own mother. There was no way she could possibly guarantee that. "How can I even believe you?"

"I assume you have realized we are under scrutiny," she said. "We will work with you as you requested for the sake of Project Raptor. During this rescue mission, or whatever the situation unfolds itself to be, I will do what I can, Jim, but I think Roark understands you will not put up with anything but obedience from him. He's sweating on the bridge as we speak. It was a smart move on your part to give Spock the conn."

Jim stripped any sign of satisfaction from his face when he heard his actions accomplished what he'd hoped for. He relaxed his posture, not wanting to give her anything that she could use against him later on. "You've been following us since the very beginning, haven't you?"

"Since we left the Enterprise after speaking with you?" Her eyes flickered with guilt. "Yes."

Jim didn't ask the most obvious question. Why? She wouldn't answer, even if he held a phaser to her head. He understood something about his mother a little too late. Her own values were twisted. Her mind was affected by this twist but to what extent, Jim didn't know - but he did care, he admitted to himself. He cared and wanted to help her, but her life was a series of these unpredictable choices, each building upon the next, until there was no stopping it. There was no unraveling it. There was no simple explanation. She probably would never accept his help, especially not while she was under the command of Roark. But maybe...maybe he could talk to Archer about that.

"I can't tell you, Jimmy," she whispered, as if the silent question was spoken anyway.

The name sent a chill straight down his spine.

"I know you may hate me right now, but promise me..." Winona stopped, looking as if the world rested on his shoulders. It was a look he could not accept. "Whatever happens, promise one thing. Please?"

He gave a short laugh. "I can't promise you anything when you won't tell me why the hell you're waiting around, spying on my ship," he said.

She nodded. "Fair enough. Contact your brother when all of this is over?"

Jim said nothing because he had nothing to say. He could not promise anything to anyone except his best for the current mission at hand. His brother was the least of his worries.

Winona moistened her lips and sighed, shifting her gaze away from Jim. "I don't blame you for what you're doing right now, but..." She glanced at him hesitantly. "I think he should hear what happened to you, what the Re'an did to you, from you, before the news tells him."

The world suddenly shrunk around Jim for the second time in less than two hours. The media. Fuck.

"Oh, Jimmy," he heard her say in the background, through the roaring in his head. "You didn't think of that..."

Of his face plastered everywhere for the world to see? Of stories embellishing and stretching the truth about the Re'an? Of the tabloids making impressionable people perhaps even hate them? When he was now one of them, one of this once-peaceful species?

"Jimmy, you're as white as a sheet. Do you need...Dr. McCoy?" His mom's worried voice hardly registered but somehow, he knew to shake his head.

No, he hadn't thought of being the spotlight again. He hadn't and he should have thought of it - before his mother reminded him and began acting like the concerned mother, a person for whom he'd lower his defenses. Just because they were on this five-year mission didn't mean that he'd be immune to the press. He'd hoped he would be, but already word could have leaked since they'd been at a Starbase. Even if it wasn't leaked, Jim didn't know he'd ever be ready to share his story.

"Talk with Archer, baby. I imagine he's already formed a plan to take care of that in the best way for you," his mother said, but visions of flashing cameras and tabloids about the Re'an and his decision to orientate himself this way and his acceptance of it overwhelmed him.

Jim rubbed at the knot growing painfully at his temple, wincing. He had to end this before he cracked, before the thought of being in the spotlight cracked him. "If you have nothing else to say that would shed light on our predicament, then this conversation is over," he said in a low voice.

"Jim...okay," his mother sighed. "I see you're in your quarters. Get some rest. You look tired. Your first officer has things under control."

Jim dropped his hand. Of course Spock had things under control. "And your captain does not," Jim couldn't help but retort. "Hopefully, our next conversation will be just as uneventful," he said honestly.

"Good-bye, Jim," his mother said. She tucked her hair behind her ears in the familiar way he remembered since he was a child. She smiled at him as he remembered. She refused to tell him the truth...as he remembered.

"Mom," he said curtly. Jim should've bit his tongue right then and there but he did not. "Be...careful."

When a hint of regret passed over her face, Jim had to look away. He cut the connection before she could get the last word. Second guessing himself never got him anywhere but that's what Jim did as he slumped against the back of his chair. He stared up at his ceiling, wishing he had the energy to walk to one of the observation lounges to enjoy one of his favorite hobbies, but now that he was in his quarters and off of his feet, he couldn't. He was too tired to move and too tired to think straight.

Had he made the mistake, speaking with her? Bones' concerns were valid, so were Spock's, but...he'd had to try, for the sake of his crew. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he hadn't contacted his mother at least once and attempted to get information out of her.

Sighing, Jim heaved himself out of his chair and sauntered wearily into his bedroom. Jim first deposited Sam on the bed. She slithered into her customary coil until he couldn't distinguish her tail from her head, for her colors of blue, green, and gold became a brilliant mix. Jim pulled off his command shirt, tossing it on the bed. He didn't bother with anything else, not even his boots. His eyes were so heavy he feared he'd pass out if he tried and end up on like an idiot his floor. Jim gave a frustrated sigh. He'd had more than enough of being an idiot. Bones and everyone else had their share of him being an idiot, too, and falling asleep on the floor was idiocy at its best when there was a bed right here. He sank wearily onto said bed, feeling the stress of the day as it weighed him down. It was the soft landing he needed, and Jim simply turned on his side and closed his eyes.

There was a slight movement at the end of his bed. The fixture that was always there when he was asleep slithered to her usual spot. His feet. Just like a dog. Jim thought it was a little endearing, and would never admit, except maybe to Spock, who knew anyway, that it was actually nice having a pet. And that he thought Sam was the perfect pet. Perfect for him, but a poisonous pet really wasn't perfect, was it? Only, Sam wasn't a pet. Spock already argued that particular point with Jim. More than once. More than twice, actually. She was a snake, he'd said. A sacred creature vital to the very species of which Jim had become a part, but who were now gone.

Jim knew all of that, of course, but Sam still felt like a pet because he could always tell when she was happy. Jim had to give her that, at least, for he was certain that Sam liked positivity and affirmation in the form of Jim either carrying her a certain way or petting her skin like she could break. He couldn't explain how he knew this, he just did. He sensed it. She also felt like a pet because she slept at his feet. She was faithful. She comforted him when she sensed he was in trouble. She even wagged her tail - to an extent.

But, Samantha had scales, not fur, and she couldn't bark, or purr even if she tried. She was also poisonous and had no legs nor any desire to be scratched behind her ears because she didn't have any ears to be scratched, so why was Jim equating her with a dog at all?

Jim groaned at his own ridiculousness. This was why he was in his damn bed. This was why he was trying to prepare himself so he could deal with Roark and his mother again, and probably for an extended period of time. Like hours. Jim groaned again and turned over on his stomach, face in his pillow. Or, God forbid...days. He let out a muffled, frustrated sigh. He pounded a fist on the bed but sensing that he could be quickly just fueling his own frustration, he twisted his torso and flipped onto his back. Jim stared at the ceiling, miserable and discovering that trying to relax was a thing of the past for Starfleet captains with deceitful mothers.

He could ask Bones for help but that would only raise more concern and attention from the doctor, and Jim didn't see that going over well. Bones was worried enough about Jim and he also had his own department to prepare for any future emergency. This was something Jim would take care of alone. Jim sat up, leaned his weight back on his elbows, and instead chose to stare at the end of the bed and the creature that was there. Sam. Jim did have her, something that was distinctly Re'an and now uniquely Jim. He'd lost so much but strangely had been given what he'd needed to survive the Re'an change. Giving her a soft smile, and feeling far from the man he'd been the day before who had resented her, Jim sank back down into his mattress and crossed his arms behind his head. If he couldn't sleep, well, he had too much to do anyway and would ask Bones for a stimulant. Thinking of the comm beside him and the doctor one call away, Jim exhaled a soft breath, but did not pick up the device, unknowingly already giving in to a little of his previous exhaustion. His thoughts abated with each second, his mind finally relaxing into a warm, sluggish state of awareness.

Without recognizing it for himself, Sam began her customary soothing ritual for the captain. Her scent flowed into his senses and calmed the part of the captain's mind that depended on the Re'an to thrive. Their connection settled into a new, deeper rhythm that could not be undone. It broadened and then, by no fault of their own, sweetened the existing Re'an barrier, allowing the barrier's roots to tangle further into his humanity, developing them together and maturing what was already there. Then, exhaustion mounting, the captain's eyes finally slid shut.

oOo

"Dr. McCoy, we must...see to...the...the..."

At the whispered, urgent words, McCoy spun around from his patient to the woman standing behind him, face pale and her petite form slumped against the bed beside them. "Elise," he said, alarmed. He stepped up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her as her legs trembled. "You look unwell. Let me get you to a bed."

"No...I'm fine." she whispered, now leaning against him. "It's...he..."

He didn't believe that she was fine, but the Betazoid had never come to sickbay unannounced or interrupted him while he worked before. This had to be about Jim and her telepathic abilities. "Is it Jim?"

She nodded, her eyes guarded.

"He's supposed to be sleeping." McCoy said, checking the chronometer. "For the past...well, maybe thirty minutes."

"...urgent...I...was walking...past his..." Elise closed her eyes. "Override."

"You need me to use my override in Jim's quarters, because you sense Jim is in some sort of mental trouble?" McCoy said in a rush of words when the beta didn't elaborate. He'd had practice, many hours of practice, discerning sentences full of holes and slurred words, thanks to Jim.

"Yes," she whispered.

McCoy gave his nurse the orders for his current patient and hastily pulled out his comm to alert M'Benga, who was double checking with Christine that they had all they needed to treat multiple Vulcans. When he was done, McCoy wrapped an arm around Elise's waist for a second time and walked them both to the lift. When he realized Elise's breathing was labored, he did not rush her. "Deck five," McCoy said, shutting the door behind them. He looked down at her, trying to remain patient but he wanted answers. He also wanted to leave Elise in the hands of Christine in sickbay, but he realized arguing with Elise over Jim's safety would be of no use.

"I can't...give them to you." Elise peered at him carefully. "But, it has something to do with the connection...and... Sam."

"I thought Sam was going to help Jim, not hurt him," McCoy said as the lift stopped.

"She hasn't hurt him, but he may need your care," she said weakly, hand against the wall. "Go. I'll follow."

He raced down the corridors, wondering why he hadn't had the sense to check Jim's stats on the computer before leaving sickbay or bring a damn tricorder. It'd be a waste of time to go back. He did have a medical bag in Jim's closet, handy for emergencies, so he entered his override at Jim's door instead of turning back around. He still didn't know what to expect, but as he'd hoped, Jim appeared to be sleeping without a care in the world. McCoy rounded the bed to the side where Jim was lying down and reached for the captain's left hand. He cradled Jim's limp hand in both of his, noting its warmth, and pressed his two fingers along the veins of his wrist. He breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that Jim's pulse was normal.

He sighed and let go of Jim's hand, turning to go to the closet. He'd retrieved the bag just as Elise slipped into the bedroom and knelt beside the bed. Her fingers touched Jim's face, caressing it as Winona had once, before her betrayal. "Captain?" The healer whispered. She ran the back of her fingers along his cheek several times. "Can you hear me?"

McCoy knelt beside her as he checked Jim's vitals with his tricorder, careful of the colorful coil on the other side of the pillow and avoiding her as much as possible.

"Captain," Elise said again, softly, her hand now on his forehead. Jim's brow twitched at the touch.

McCoy looked up from the device. Why wasn't Elise using her telepathy to speak with Jim, instead?

"I will explain in a moment," she said in a quiet, assured voice. "I wanted to wake him. It would be the best way to determine if he is well or not."

She paused, as if waiting for Jim to stir but then his forehead relaxed. With a sigh, she finally closed her eyes and left McCoy alone in the silence as he stood to his feet and watched in even more confusion. What the hell was going on?

When she finally pulled her hand away from Jim's face a moment later, he couldn't take it any longer. "What happened, Elise?" He said, more forcefully than he had intended. He looked hesitantly at Jim, worried he'd awakened him, but Jim remained still except for the steady rising and falling of his chest.

"He's simply exhausted," she said softly, her eyes warm as she observed Jim like a concerned mother. "The poor man. How many hours before we reach the system?"

"Six and a half," McCoy said.

"He'll need most of that time to recover."

"I'll give him four hours, maybe five, but he'll have my head if I let him sleep longer than that. He only wanted two. What happened?" McCoy repeated.

"The Re'an barrier," she whispered, not moving from Jim's side. "It is still how I left it, it's still translucent, except...it grew roots."

McCoy swore under his breath. "Can it be stopped?"

"No, it cannot. It's already done. He's..." Elise's eyes glistened at she glanced up at McCoy. "More, now. More...Re'an. More human and Re'an."

"That doesn't make much sense," McCoy sank to the edge of the bed, leaning over with his head in his hands. And it wasn't what he wanted to hear. "It's Sam's fault, isn't it?"

"It's not her fault, not in the sense that it is a negative thing for your captain," she said quickly.

"What do you mean?"

"In the beginning, when I first arrived to help Jim, I sensed only the slim possibility of this happening. I had thought...he'd have time if it did happen. Years, decades even, because he isn't a true Re'an. It could be that Samantha prompted this change, but I doubt it. I believe it is everything going on around him...and..." She hesitated.

"What?" He asked, swallowing.

"He spoke with his mother," she said softly.

McCoy stared at Elise, stunned. He had not expected Jim to do that, let alone Uhura to not mention it to him. Jim knew it would only make trouble for himself. He knew. McCoy would wring his neck when he woke up.

"Yes, Dr. McCoy. He understood the risks," Elise continued. "He risked himself to speak with her, on behalf of his crew, to attempt to get her to tell him the truth."

"And with this risk, it may have also triggered this?" He glanced down at Jim and glared at his fool of a captain.

"It may have," she admitted. "The barrier's reaction was to protect itself - and Jim. He'll behave more Re'an than, than ever, but he will also have great means to balance that with his human side. He's...the barrier, it...is fuller. Even more stable because of these roots. It was young before, like...a baby...but now...it's not..."

"It's matured," McCoy said, still glaring at the man lightly snoring, though what she said now made sense to him. It made sense that Jim would be a baby Re'an for awhile, but life on a starship was not easy. It was stressful, in particularly for a captain and one as intensely dedicated as Jim. And it made even more sense to McCoy that Jim would've done something as stupid - brave - as talking to his mother alone. Who knew what the woman had said to get under his skin.

"The matured barrier is a world of its own in a Re'an, a Re'an adult," Elise said. "It has rules of its own, things that Jim will know that he didn't before. Things he will be able to do through the barrier. Some things he may have to learn through time, or see and experience for himself."

McCoy's glare slowly morphed into resignation. It was done. He didn't understand what all of this meant, but there was nothing they could do, except support Jim. He set down the tricorder and found something else to do that was worthwhile. He silently removed Jim's boots, realizing Jim's exhaustion had been too great for him to even manage such a simple task before he fell asleep. After he set them on the floor, he found an extra blanket and covered Jim, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He stepped back from the bed, from Jim, and prayed that his best friend would not be a stranger for a second time when he awakened.

"I'm sorry, Dr. McCoy, but we won't know what all of this means until Jim does," Elise said when he was done.

"So this happened, all of it...just now? Minutes ago? While he was sleeping?"

Her eyes softened. "Dr. McCoy, the roots are deep. I suspect it began days ago, even before his conversation with his mother, but so subtly I didn't notice. Perhaps the growing pain he experienced encouraged the roots to seep into his humanity. Or, with all that has happened, the stress with his mother and then today, with the Isis, it prompted a protective reaction of its own."

"A chain reaction," McCoy added carefully. They'd dealt with those before with the barrier.

Elise nodded again. "You know how dangerous the barrier is and the intricate problems it has caused your captain. It was more dangerous in the beginning, but these roots...don't think of them negatively, doctor."

The next question absolutely pained him. "And when he wakes up?"

Elise's eyes looked straight into his soul, probing past the guarded wall he'd built, the wall that kept him sane since Jim had been taken by the Re'an and hopeful that his best friend wasn't gone forever. He tried to meet the Betazoid healer's stare head on, but his heart tripped on itself and he was forced to look away before all of his walls fell down.

"Dr. McCoy, he will still be Jim," her voice became a gentle breeze and the way she reached and grasped his hand just as gentle. She squeezed his hand, and he felt the pain in his heart slowly ebb. Soon it was enough that he was able to look at her again."The Re'an, human one, the same man he's already become and the one you now know, but I believe he'll be more stable, more content with himself, these growing pains a thing of the past...but we must be careful."

"Careful," McCoy repeated, more or less whispering the word. He didn't think he liked the word careful, at least not in the hesitant way she said it. "Careful as before, I assume, when we walked on eggshells around him."

"Yes, Dr. McCoy," Elise said. "Calling attention to this change may upset him, as it would upset anyone who would experience another change to their persona. He may feel more guilt if you point out the change and thus feel as if he was the one who caused it."

"He needs to figure this out for himself," McCoy said, now understanding. "The Re'an way."

"Yes, and I believe he will realize what happened soon after he awakens. He's more aware of himself." Her eyes softened. She still hadn't let go of his hand, and the warmth from her presence continued to soothe him. "But we can't speak of it until he does. Your captain has been carrying too much guilt. He doesn't need more."

"I understand," McCoy said, knowing exactly what that guilt was doing to Jim. But, he didn't want to keep this type of secret from Jim, not anymore. They'd had too many secrets, and Jim deserved to know if something like this changed for him. "And if he asks if something happened?" He added quietly. "What then?"

"Be honest. His mother has lied to him, Dr. McCoy, several times over, and while we must not initiate the subject, if asked it would do more harm to deceive Jim," she replied, attempting to stand to her feet. McCoy grasped her elbow when her body swayed. With a weak smile, she patted his hand. "Thank you, Dr. McCoy. I'm affected by this more than I realized."

"Elise, allow me to call for a hover chair to take you back to sickbay," McCoy said, already reaching for his comm. He put it up to his ear.

"I'd prefer remain here in his quarters, if that's alright. The couch is fine," she said warmly. When he frowned, she added, "This is only a precaution. He'll be fine. I promise, Dr. McCoy."

He reluctantly lowered his comm but agreed with her. "I have things to take care of in sickbay," McCoy said. "Will you comm me if you sense that he's starting to wake up too soon? On second thought, I may give him a light sedative to keep him sleeping. He has had trouble lately, although he won't admit it."

She nodded. "I know the ship needs her captain, but Jim needs this time more, for his mind to restore if he is to be of any use in the upcoming mission."

"Alright, we let him sleep." McCoy agreed. Things were under control, especially with a certain Vulcan pushing Roark's buttons. "Spock's in charge at the moment, and no doubt loving every minute of it."

oOo 

"Jim."

Jim's peaceful slumber broke at the sound of his name. Slightly irritated at the interruption, he burrowed his head further into his pillow. He smiled to himself when he realized a blanket covered him. That meant Bones had used his override after all and then noticed that Jim had been too tired to crawl under his covers. It meant that he'd cared enough to throw a blanket on Jim, possibly remembering how much warmth Jim actually preferred. Sighing in contentment, he clutched at the edge of the softness and pulled it up past his chin until he was practically hiding. It was nice. Warm. Comfortable, but maybe too comfortable because now all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

"Jim," the whisper grew obnoxiously loud.

"Mmph." Jim shook his head into his fluffy pillow.

"Buddy, I've let you sleep as long as I can."

A hand pressed into his arm, nudging it. It may have been a gentle touch but Jim swiped at the hand anyway. "No," he protested weakly. He could stay here forever. What was wrong with that?

"Jim, you have to wake up," the doctor spoke firmly.

"Lemme sleep," Jim murmured. "Please?"

"And that coming from the same man who told me only two hours," Bones muttered. The doctor sighed raggedly. "Jim, if you knew what time it was..."

What time it was? When Jim forced his eyes open and squinted in the dim light to find his friend, it all came flooding back to him. The distress call. The Isis. The Vulcans. "Time? It's...I had time to nap. I mean...sleep. Two hour - " Jim sat up quickly and raised a hand to the part of his body that suddenly felt like a cloud on a roller coaster, then just as quickly fell back on his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. Some roller coasters were worse than hover coasters because at one time, he'd stupidly ridden one of those old fashioned things on a dare. So he knew. Cloud on a rollercoaster. "Woah."

"Jim, tell me how you're feeling," Bones ordered.

Jim blinked up at the doctor, whose hands were on his shoulders. He didn't know how he felt. His head felt strange and his tongue had thickened. Something wasn't right. With him and...Bones was frowning, but it wasn't his normal frown.

"Jim?"

"I don't...know. I had time, right? To sleep?" Jim forced out, wincing.

"Yes, you did have time," Bones said slowly, the worry still pouring from his eyes but he let go.

"Did I...do something wrong? Is that why you're frowning at me?" Jim asked. It seemed very possible, since he'd screwed up with Sam. And then Bones. And then Sam again...and maybe even Bones again...and...

Sam. Jim forced his head off the pillow to look at his feet, heart jumping in his throat when he didn't find her.

"No, ya didn't do anything wrong, Jim," Bones said slowly. "And...I'm not frowning at -"

"You are," Jim said bluntly.

"No, not frowning."

Jim gave him a look. "It's your scowl, Bones, the one that always tells me when I'm in trouble."

"I'm not...and you're not..." Bones huffed a sigh. "Fine. I am frowning. It's just that mentioned your head. Does it hurt?"

Jim blinked and carefully pulled himself up to an upright position, with the doctor assisting. Jim continued to rub his head with one hand as he looked for the snake. He felt...different, maybe. He felt...He didn't exactly know what he felt like. His head was hurting, but it wasn't. It felt like a thick cloud, but he...felt fine. He was confused, but things seemed clearer to him, only they weren't. "No...maybe..." He stopped, eyes tracing the rest of the bed for his snake. "Not sure."

"If you're looking for Sam, she's by your pillow," Bones said.

Jim frowned. That was new, but there she was, wrapped in a tight coil beside his warm, soft pillow. He reached for her and she slithered to him.

"What time did you say it was? How long did I sleep? Has it even been two hours?"

"It's been five and a half hours, Jim," Bones said evenly after his whirlwind of questions.

Five and a half hours? Impossible. Jim pulled his knees up to his chest, so his elbows rested on them. He put his head in his hands so his fingers could dig into his scalp. He dug and dug, deeper as he tried to understand what Bones just told him. Five...and a half...hours. Hadn't it supposed to be...just two? "What happened to the two hours I had requested?"

The bed dipped as Bones sat beside him, on the side furthest from Sam. "It became longer. Much longer."

"Okay," Jim muffled, still digging. "Five and a half hours. Not two."

"Right," Bones' voice was almost too low to hear.

Jim's hands stilled as he glanced up at Bones. "That's a big difference. A three and a half hour difference."

"I..." Bones clamped his mouth shut.

"It's just that it's...more than twice as long," Jim said, not making sense of it.

"Yes, genius, it is," Bones sighed.

"It's almost three times as long?" Jim asked, confused.

"You're pretty smart, aren't you?" Bones' eyes filled with caution. "About the time, Jim..."

"If I slept all this time, you must have had a reason to let me sleep."

"I did have a reason, but..." Bones paused. "Wait. You're not mad?"

"For the extra three and half hours of sleep? No," Jim said. "Why would I be?"

"Because, normally you'd be chewing my head off about right now if I'd let you sleep longer than you'd wanted to."

Jim stared at Bones, and Bones stared back.

"You'd be upset, Jim, especially since we have only one hour left before we stop, run scans, and wait for the Isis," Bones said. "Quite pissed, actually."

Jim kept staring and the doctor did, too. So he would be. He would be pissed, but he wasn't.

What the hell?

"My first is more than capable to handle the preparations for this mission, and probably more capable than me to deal with Roark," Jim said slowly, trying to rationalize for the both of them why this didn't upset him.

"You, Captain Kirk, are perfectly capable of dealing with Roark," Bones clipped. "You already proved it."

Jim shrugged and continued. "If you let me sleep longer than I'd asked, it was because you had a reason. Although I don't know what that reason was, I trust you. But..." Jim paused and stood to his feet. He closed his eyes before taking another step, reaching with a hand behind his neck to massage the small knot he discovered. Maybe that's what was causing this...unusual sensation in his head.

"Why don't you take a shower?" Bones said. "You don't have much time, but you can enjoy a shower with hot water, and maybe ease whatever...whatever is going on there with your...head...I mean...neck...before returning to the bridge," Bones finished, with a rare awkwardness to his speech.

Jim opened his eyes and stared at Bones for a second time. When had his best friend become so terrible at hiding secrets? He was a doctor. He kept secrets for patients all the time.

"Sounds perfect," Jim said, determined to figure this out for himself. He had a feeling Bones would actually leave if Jim began an interrogation, and Jim didn't want Bones to leave. Not when Jim had no explanation for this - whatever this was. "I'll take a hot shower with water, just like you suggested. Doctor's orders."

"Good," Bones said, the way he rubbed his jaw a nervous gesture Jim recognized. It did Bones no favors. Jim was now one hundred percent certain that Bones was hiding something. "I think I'll stay here with you, though, if you don't mind. Until you're done."

Bones wanted to stay? That was good, but...Jim chewed his lip. Something had changed in his mind. Jim could feel it in his head - his damn brain. Something had drastically altered. Jim didn't know what yet, but Bones knew. He maybe even knew that Jim recognized the change, but here he was, keeping the knowledge close to his chest. The doctor wasn't going to offer the information anytime soon and Jim finally realized why. It was exactly what they did when he was recovering from the meld with the Re'an. They wanted him to figure it out for himself. They understood that it was what Jim, the Re'an, needed to do. Come to the knowledge naturally so Jim wouldn't react in a negative manner.

Jim nodded, saying nothing, going along with it, and went to his bathroom. He left Bones alone on his bed. Worried that the doctor would in fact leave, he wasted no time and within seconds, he'd stripped and the hot water poured onto his body. Jim braced both of his hands against the wall, lowering his head so the stream of water hit the sore spot on his neck. He thought as the water coursed over his body, and thought some more as he increased the temperature until it was almost excruciatingly hot, and as he did, his confusion lessoned. The pain he thought he'd felt in his head disappeared. The strangeness in his mind vanished. Perhaps these things had never even been there but had merely been an adjustment to the change. By the time steam filled the room and he wrapped a towel around his waist, everything had clicked perfectly in place.

He ran a hand through his hair and stepped out into his room, barefoot and water dripping from his body. A chill swept over him. He paid no attention to it. Bones was still there at the edge of his bed, occupied with his PADD, but Jim had something he wanted to say.

"I'd thought, at one point, that we'd find a miracle," Jim began. His friend glanced up at Jim, eyes widening in surprise. Jim's heart lurched at the haunting pain he saw, the pain he'd thought had gone away. Before he lost his nerve, Jim went on with what he'd wanted to say. "I thought that this could be reversed, even though the barrier was in my head. Even though Elise never said it could be. I'd hoped it would be, even when I didn't remember the old me and I felt better about the new me. For your sake, Bones, more than anyone else, I'd hoped it would someday be reversed. But it never was, and there never was a chance for it to be. I was sorry, and I am sorry. And now, I think...something else happened while I slept, and I can see that there's absolutely no chance. None, Bones. It's here to stay."

Jim waited for his friend to answer, biting his bottom lip and feeling like a kid waiting to be disciplined for some prank. Only this wasn't a prank. It was real, and he wanted the reality of it confirmed for him.

"You're right," Bones said simply. "Something happened while you slept. It's been a part of you for good, Jim, since the beginning, but now...it's buried in your mind even deeper."

"It..." Jim searched for the word. "Matured, didn't it? It...grew, something like...roots."

"Yes," the doctor said again.

"Why?"

Bones hesitated. "It may be best to talk to Elise about that, Jim."

"Okay," Jim said, accepting the doctor's obvious deflection, but then Jim's shoulders dropped. "Bones, I can't stand it if you're hurting and I'm feeling, for the first time in months, like I'm completely content with myself. Like I'm...finally who I should be and I...want to be this way."

Bones lowered his device and gave Jim a small, but genuine smile. "I'm not going to lie to you. I am hurting, but I'm not hurting as much, Jim. I hurt very deeply at one time, as you know, but I'm happy you're here with us. I know I may worry a little," Bones paused and rolled his eyes when Jim gave him a pointed look. "Okay, so I worry a lot, but I'm thankful for every day with you as our captain. It's like you said to me earlier. You chose to leave yourself behind to move forward and be here for us. That's all I need, Jim. My best friend. That's all we need. You, the Re'an and all that has become so much a part of you."

"There's a lot to this, what happened, that I don't...that I haven't figured out yet," Jim said quietly. He didn't even know where to begin to explain what the barrier's sudden maturation had done, and for now, he had to tuck these things, which he only knew, in the back of his mind. Too much was at stake for him to do otherwise.

"Jim, it may take you awhile to figure that out and maybe it won't take that long. Either way, I'll be here." Bones nodded. "Whenever you need me."

"Okay," Jim said quietly.

"Good. Now, for God's sakes go get some clothes on before you catch a chill."

"What?" Jim looked down at himself. "I am wearing a towel. That has to count for something."

"It's a towel that's falling down your ass," Bones smirked.

"Duly noted," Jim said and promptly pulled the towel up higher before he walked over to his dresser. He glanced back at the doctor, who was minding his own business and working on the PADD, but a strange feeling of wanting to be modest crept into Jim's chest. "Going to have to drop the towel to get the clothes the doctor ordered. Do you mind?"

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," Bones said. He stood to his feet. "But I will respect your sudden preference for modesty. I'll wait in the other room, or come back later."

Bones would leave? "No," Jim rushed out. "Stay? Things will be getting...busy soon. You can...just...um...turn around?"

Bones cocked his head, looking at him curiously. "You really did just gain a preference for modesty."

Jim tried to ignore the heat filling his face. "Maybe," he muttered.

"Huh. This knowledge could be quite useful to me," Bones drawled. "To a few others, too."

Jim's eyes widened. "That's so mean - and unfair. Don't you dare tell Uhura, Bones. She's the worst when it comes to blackmail."

Bones looked at him innocently. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Or Spock," Jim added, then, "Or just about anybody. You do, and I'll shave your eyebrows off when you're sleeping."

"You wouldn't," Bones narrowed his eyes at him. "That sounds...very un-Re'an like of you. Aren't you supposed to be peaceful? That's clearly an act of spite, if ya ask me."

"Oh, I would." Jim shrugged. "It just so happens many Re'an shave eyebrows for each other once a year for their most peaceful ceremony."

Bones stared at him, open mouthed.

"Bones?" Jim hedged.

The doctor blinked. As Jim waited, he could've sworn he heard crickets.

"Bones? You with me?"

"You can keep your modesty a secret from the whole damn universe, for all I care," Bones finally muttered, turning his back to Jim. "I rather like my eyebrows."

The corners of Jim's mouth twitched. He couldn't imagine Bones without them, and he couldn't imagine keeping more secrets from his best friend than he had to. "Before I slept, I asked Uhura to patch me through to my mom," Jim blurted out, his hand tightening around the corners of the soft towel around his waist. Bones stilled.

"I know ya did, Jim," the doctor answered quietly.

"Elise," Jim murmured, honestly not surprised she'd told the doctor.

"Yeah," Bones admitted.

"How much did she tell you?" Jim asked.

"Nothing else."

Jim sighed. "Mom wouldn't tell me anything except...she reminded me that someday, my face will be all over the news again. The Re'an in the spotlight, too."

Bones shot to his feet and turned to face Jim with the fiercest scowl on his face that Jim ever saw. "Christ, Jim, as if she hadn't done enough," Bones gritted. "She had to know that would upset you."

"She didn't mean to," Jim said. "It came naturally into the conversation. It wasn't a set up."

"I don't know if you can really determine that anymore, Jim." Bones pressed.

Jim stared at Bones. Maybe he was fooling himself, but he'd rather be a fool who cared than be a man who turned a cold shoulder to his mother and ignored his gut feeling that he could somehow help her. "I need to get her away from Roark. Those six months she wasn't on board his ship or under his command, she wasn't like this, Bones," Jim said. "You know that, because you heard many of those conversations."

"What are you saying, Jim?" Bones asked.

"I'm saying that I will get her away from him."

"I can't stand by and let you do that if it's going to hurt you," Bones said, brow furrowed as he stepped closer. "Jim, listen to me, please. Do not trust her."

"I don't," he breathed out honestly, "But I do trust me."

Bones grew quiet.

"Okay," the doctor finally answered. "I get that, I do, but promise me you will not put yourself in a position that will find yourself alone with her."

"I had to before," Jim said, pleading with him to understand.

Bones sighed. "I know. I know, Jim, but I'm talking about here on out. Promise me?"

Jim ran a hand through his still-wet hair, contemplating Bones' request. He wasn't sure he could do that for him, because of what he knew was ultimately at stake. He got the impression that his conversation with his mother had done this to him, matured the Re'an side in him. Now that it had happened, he had a feeling that the likelihood that the barrier would react again in some bizarre and negative way had greatly diminished. Maybe even these insane growing pains were done, and with that in mind, he doubted that talking again with his mother would damage him as much as it had earlier, if at all. But for the doctor, for his best friend, he agreed. "I promise I'll try, Bones. That's the best I can do."

oOo

A faint moan escaped from her lips. T'Enne peeled her crusted, bruised eyes open, only managing to open them partway. Her head pounded. Her body would not listen to her as she willed it to move. She did not like the feeling pressing into her bones, as if she were too old a woman to get out of her bed. She was an old woman but she was not an invalid. What happened? Where was she?

Her eyes finally took in what was above her, a ceiling constructed and molded in a style similar to her old home, the home she had raised the sons she had born for her mate. She knew this room. Vorant spent more time here than anyone else in their colony.

Yes, we are in the innermost room, ashayam.

She closed her eyes and leaned into Vorant's hand. How had she not noticed he was with her? She listened for sounds of the others, but heard the roar of silence.

We all require meditation.

Vorant did not explain further, and T'Enne did not require him to. She understood. Before the attack, seventeen of their twenty-four had began to fast in preparation for a sacred ritual. And now, with many of them injured and expending energy to escape, they were deep in their healing trances.

How long was I unconscious?

Seven hours, ashayam.

And it had not been in a trance, although she felt Vorant's presence stronger. Perhaps he had attempted to heal her through their bond. She moved her aching head slightly, to look at him in the light. We do not have long.

We can make it to the exit. It is possible. Segon is uninjured.

When?

"Soon, ashayam."

It was the third time Vorant used the endearment. "What are you not telling me?" She whispered.

All will be well. "I must attempt communication one last time. The Young One will stay with you. You must heal, ashayam."

I will.

Vorant pressed his hand against her own, which lay like a limp rag on her chest. All too quickly he moved from her side, appearing as vibrant as he had one hundred seventy five years ago, when they had bonded. He went to a small communications station he had built in the corner, several meters away, and T'Olyrn took his place beside T'Enne, a cloth in her hands. T'Enne looked at it eagerly, forgetting to watch her mate as he worked. She felt too warm, like a fire burned inside her as she lay under the sun. She took a breath, but it burned. Tears pricked her eyes from the pain.

T'Olryn gently patted the cloth on T'Enne's forehead. I will help you, T'Enne.

T'Enne watched the silent woman as she leaned close, her hood no longer covering the thick waterfall of raven-black hair and the cut on her cheek already fading. The young woman's gentle hands knew where to place the cloth to comfort her and then soon, she held a ladle up to her lips, with a hand around the back of T'Enne's neck to hold her up. T'Enne sipped, not taking in an excessive amount that would cause her to be sick. She stopped after two small sips although her thirst had not been quenched. The bandage around T'Olryn's arm looked fresh, and T'Olryn moved stiffly. "You are injured."

T'Olryn's eyes met hers again. She rested her fingertips on T'Enne's forearm. The wounds have been treated.

It was a weak excuse, for T'Enne could see the injuries diminished T'Olryn's mobility, yet she was helping an old woman. Although a slow rumble sounded through the cave, T'Enne ignored it and focused on the woman before her. "You should meditate. Rest."

The Young One shook her head, and T'Enne received some thoughts of the young woman's. Doubt. Doubt in her ability. Doubt that what she saw, the ship, was indeed the future.

She must not doubt herself. T'Enne must tell her that, but when T'Olryn's hand fell from her arm, T'Enne's eyes fluttered shut in her weariness. Oh, to be a young woman again who could match step for step her bondmate's. She took a small breath and with the strength she had left, murmured it again. "Meditate," she whispered with fading breath. "Your gift is strong. We depend upon it."

The pressure of T'Olryn's hand on her shoulder halted her speech. I will meditate if you are able to use a trance to begin your healing, T'Enne.

Her face feeling pinched, T'Enne almost smiled. Of any of the others, only T'Olryn could manage to push her. For her, she decided. For the one who had perhaps sacrificed more than anyone, and not merely her voice in her vow of silence. She decided to listen to T'Olryn's voice of reason, though silent it was. T'Enne struggled, trying to put herself in a healing trance when she heard it. She peered through half-lidded eyes at T'Olryn, whose attention was taken as she, too, heard the hope stirring words from Vorant.

"Commander Spock," her mate spoke assuredly.

A vibration shook the screen in front of Vorant and the commander's reply was lost in the static. A flicker of panic flashed in her mate's eyes when the response returned in pieces. "...Vorant...who is... scans... four ships..."

Tell him who has destroyed our home with those four ships, T'Enne sent through their link, when her mate did not answer the broken communication. T'Olryn's eyes widened as Vorant revealed the name of their enemy, her hand unconsciously falling upon T'Enne's shoulder once more.

The commander did not reply immediately. The silence felt like hours, a ridiculous and illogical thought, but T'Enne's fatigue forced her to close her eyes and time continued to be limitless, impossible to determine. She strained to hear over another ripple through the cave, another rumble through the mountain. It creaked, covering the commander's reply. She wrenched open her eyes as it creaked again, as she felt T'Olryn shift beside her and stand. The creak made her wince, her body curl in its distress. Pain seeped into her brain, into the parts that were once so pleasant and clear but now throbbed and ached with noise and heaviness. The creak made shadows dance as if they delighted in her suffering. It made the wisps of light cut like blades into her eyes. It made T'Olryn fall like a tree, chopped violently at the roots. It made her bondmate become grotesque and twisted in her sight. It made the cave grow darker than the darkest, Vulcan night. The creaking became a groan. It became a roar, a consuming fire, molten all around her, and then, T'Enne's own agonizing screams filled her aged ears.

oOo

Jim swiveled in the command chair when the screen faded to black and caught the eye of Uhura. "Lieutenant, can you patch us through us again?" He asked brusquely.

"Captain, we have lost contact with the colony," Uhura said. "I am unable to reestablish our connection."

Jim turned back to the viewscreen, his eyes burning a hole into the back of his first, who stood in front of him. "Spock," he said softly. "The screaming we heard..."

"One is injured most grievously," Spock said quietly. "I counted six others in the background. I am certain there are others with them. We must not delay." He looked at Jim who nodded before turning back to his sensors.

"Sensors previously confirmed those four ships are four K'Vort class cruisers attacking the colony. The Isis should be here within ten minutes unless they are able - and willing - to increase their speed." Jim said, slowly turning a decision over in his mind. They'd stopped further away to ensure proper scans without engaging in a battle. But now, if they moved forward, they could not possibly defend themselves against this enemy in so few a number - a number of one. "There are four ships. We are one. The cruisers refuse to acknowledge our attempts at communication. It seems that a battle is inevitable. We can't risk it by ourselves, Spock."

"Affirmative," Spock's voice lowered further. "May I suggest we ask Captain Roark to trust our scans and follow us directly to Danave."

It was also a risk, but there was no other choice if they wished to save the numbered Vulcans on the planet. "It's their best chance," Jim agreed. "Uhura, patch me through to the Isis."

"Sir, there is an incoming call from the Isis as we speak."

Jim exchanged a look with Spock. "On screen."

"Captain Kirk," Roark said once he appeared on the screen. "We received your message about the ships. We've increased our speed to the maximum and will be alongside your ship in less than three minutes."

"We made contact with the Vulcan colony. The situation requires our immediate action. Maintain both your current course and current speed once you get here. We will travel at warp with you for eight minutes, until we arrive near Danave," Jim said.

"Our two teams are ready to go upon your word, Kirk," Roark said, with a quick nod. "Your mother is determined to be on one of them."

Jim's stomach flipped at the implied risk, and it flipped again when he realized Roark must understand that despite the betrayal, Jim still cared for his mother. "And I will remain on the Enterprise," he said stiffly.

Roark arched a brow. "You continue to surprise me, Kirk."

Jim shrugged, relieved that Spock's adamancy on the subject had actually changed Jim's own mind in participating with the rescue mission. If anything could distract him, it would be his mother in danger. "My first will head down, and I will remain on the bridge. It was the logical choice. Drop your shuttle at the moon at coordinates 29 18 71, and we will use the other one for cover while our ships engage the attackers, so the shuttles can get to the planet."

"Very well. We will see you in about two minutes," Roark said.

Again, the screen faded, and Jim maintained his resolve and readied his crew. "Uhura, open a ship wide channel. I am issuing a Red Alert."

"Yes, captain," Uhura replied. "Ready, sir."

"Attention, crew of the Enterprise. This is a Red Alert. Away team to shuttle bay one," Jim spoke clearly to his crew through the speaker. "We will reach our destination sooner than we anticipated. The Enterprise will be at warp for the next eight minutes until we arrive near Danave, where we will drop our armed shuttle behind the first of Danave's two moons. The Enterprise, along with the Isis, will divert the attention of the four ships while the away team shuttles to the planet to find and rescue the members of the Vulcan colony. All hands, man your battlestations. Kirk out."

Jim slumped in his chair, mindful of Sam and mindful of the new pair of eyes on the bridge, a pair of hazel eyes, boring into him.

Shit. His mom. His mom. And he wouldn't be down there.

The familiar presence stepped up to his right side. "Jim, ya alright?"

Bones' honeyed drawl washed over Jim with a comfort he desperately wanted. But, it wasn't the time for comfort. He had to stay focused. As he shifted in his chair, Sam nestled down beside him, practically hiding herself. "Yeah," he said, turning his head to look at his best friend. "I will be. Bones, you won't be going down to the surface unless we divert their attention away from Danave, and if that happens and you do go down...be careful. You better get to the shuttle bay."

"As long as you're good," Bones regarded him, worry fresh in his eyes.

They had less than one minute left before charging towards Danave alongside the Isis, and Jim hardly knew what to tell the doctor.

But Jim's silence didn't matter to Bones. The doctor gave him a nod, a smile, and his faith. "I trust ya, Jim. We all do."

"Bones...thank you," Jim said quietly.

The doctor strode away towards the bridge doors. Jim turned his attention to Chekov. "Mr. Chekov, keep your eyes glued to those scans like I know you're doing now. I want to know immediately of any changes."

"Aye, keptin."

"How long until the Isis' arrival?" Jim didn't want to go anywhere without knowing, first, that the Isis was, in fact, by their side. He'd take no chances.

"Zirty- zree seconds, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Chekov. So, Spock," Jim began, double-checking the chronometer. He tapped the side of his chair.

"Yes, captain."

Jim sighed. "Those four ships," Jim said, heart now thumping a bit faster. "What's the probability that they'll be more once we arrive."

"Sixty-four point three percent," Spock said.

"Hmm," Jim said. His fingers drummed along the edge once. "My ship is bigger."

"Yes, it is."

Jim ran his hand along the side of his chair absently, several times. "She's a tough lady, Spock."

"She is, captain."

"And my crew the best there is."

"Agreed," Spock said softly.

Jim paused. "I believe that Roark's hands are tied - he has to help us."

"Despite my initial reservations, I must concur," Spock said. The determination in his eyes intensified as he prepared to leave for the shuttle bay.

"Be careful, Spock."

Spock paused to stand at Jim's left. "We will not relent, Captain."

Jim looked up at Spock. "No, we won't," Jim said. He turned his attention back to the viewscreen and muttered under his breath, "Klingons. Who would have thought they'd be clear out here. Federation space, my ass."

"Captain, their presence is most troubling."

Jim silently agreed. The unanswered question of why the Klingons were here circled his mind like a bird of prey. But even without the answer, they had a job to do.

"Ten seconds, Keptin," Chekov stated.

"Duly noted, Mr. Chekov," Jim said. "Mr. Sulu."

"Yes, sir," Sulu replied.

Jim straightened in his chair, Sam still half-hidden beside him. It was time to get to those moons as fast as they could, and take care of the cruisers.

"In five...four..."

"Let's get moving," Jim said. "We wouldn't want to keep those sons of bitches waiting too long for us now, would we?"

"...three..."

"No, sir, we wouldn't," Sulu said.

"...two...one..."

As the Vulcan's screams became a haunting echo in his ears and a reminder of what was at stake, Jim's expression hardened. They would not fail these numbered priests and priestesses, whose skills were essential to support the culture of the already numbered Vulcans. They simply would not. "Punch it."

Chapter Text

"Captain, the shuttles have successfully deported," Sulu announced.

"Both teams are standing by on your word, captain," Uhura affirmed from her console as the red alert continued through the bridge.

"Duly noted," Jim said. He was working like a well-oiled machine, a man with years and experience behind him that had come in a blink of an eye, that now enabled him to run his ship despite his alteration. When the Enterprise paused to leave the prepped and armed shuttle behind Danave's moon, his crew also maintained their poise, never forgetting the severity of the situation nor the changed man in the command chair. Now that the shuttles were waiting for the next step, Jim quickly turned to his navigator, who was running scans one last time before the inevitable clash with the Klingons. "Chekov, have our scans detected any other ships?"

"Keptin, zer ees nothing vich indicates additional ships."

Jim rubbed his jaw. "Do they indicate any areas of dense space?"

"Nothing, sir."

Jim shook his head. "This is good news, but we can't hold our breath. Expect trouble. We must continue running those scans. This time, include our long-range sensors."

"Understood, sir."

"Sulu, take her out as planned," Jim's voice trailed off as he wrestled with the thought of just exactly who were on the shuttles that the Enterprise and Isis were to protect. Bones' last minute request to go in M'Benga's stead had surprised Jim, but he'd agreed, given that McCoy's experience in emergency medicine and rough conditions, Bones was better suited and more experienced to work planetside with the Vulcans. M'Benga would be standing by in the shuttle bay when they returned. Still, part of Jim could not deny that with the future so precarious and unknown, his mother should be on the Isis - or maybe even Jim's ship - and his CMO safely aboard, as well. Did Bones want some kind of contact with his mother? A chance to question her? He wouldn't put it past the doctor to try to gain information from Winona.

Now that the thought came to mind, he suspected Spock would do the same thing.

Sulu glanced back at him, questioning in his eye. Jim kicked himself. The distraction had come out of nowhere, but something else simmered beneath the surface. The only two who knew what that was were no longer on the bridge. They weren't even on his ship. As of now, no one on the bridge was aware of the hurt he suppressed and successfully managed to bury.

The truth was, Jim was on his own for the first time since becoming someone he'd never wanted to be and may have fought tooth and nail not to become had he'd seen it coming.

"Take her out as planned," Jim repeated. "Alongside the Isis, just until we are within five thousand kilometers of any enemy ship. I don't want to risk blowing ourselves up with our own payload or that of the Klingons."

"Aye, Captain," Sulu said and immediately the ship began her courageous trek.

"Sir, zee last ship ees leaving zee planet," Chekov said. "All four ships are bearing towards us."

"All hands, battle ready," Jim ordered. So it'd begun.

oOo

Winona shifted under the safety harness strapped across her chest. These things had always annoyed her but very recently, everything that came into contact with her either made her skin itch or burn at the touch. This was no exception. When this mission was complete, she'd head to sickbay of her own accord, which would be a shock to Dr. Leighton, she was sure.

She moved under the belt again, cursing regulations, until the scene outside the shuttle pulled her attention away from her discomfort. The view was nothing spectacular, and that was the very reason for her distraction. It looked quiet, eerily so. Black space pressed against the moon which their shuttle hid behind. She could see nothing else from her vantage point, but she knew just beyond the orange moon and yellow haze surrounding it that the clash between the ship her son commanded and the enemy cruisers would soon begin.

The Enterprise had wasted no time depositing their own shuttle and now were headed directly for the Klingons, the Isis matched for speed but heading for the opposite side of the quartet of ships. This was a daring rescue, one which required precision and resolve and perhaps sacrifice, but they had no choice.

Someone cleared their throat beside her. Winona looked up at a grim-faced doctor. Speak of the devil. She frowned, seeing the hypospray in the hand of her personal physician. "Doctor Leighton."

"Commander Kirk," he said curtly. He took a seat beside her and strapped on his own harness. "It has been brought to my attention that you did not yet receive the increased dosage of the tri-ox compound necessary before you step out onto Danave. The scans have clearly shown the atmosphere on Danave is less friendly to humans than Vulcan or New Vulcan, and that a recent storm and various atmospheric conditions have increased the danger."

She'd known about the shift in atmospheric conditions, and usually, even she would have double checked with the nurse who'd given her the compound. She had no excuse for this lack of clarity...except her thoughts...she couldn't keep them straight the past few hours. She'd thought Roark had wanted her to go on planet, but then after a visit from Dr. Leighton, he'd changed his mind and asked for her to stay. In fact, he'd protested loudly, disrupting the bridge, but in the end allowed her to make the call, herself. The erratic behavior from the captain disconcerted her, even more than the fact that both herself and Roark were in severe trouble with Archer. For all she knew, this very well may be one of her final days aboard a starship.

"Very well," she said. "Now is the best time, doctor, while we aren't moving."

Leighton plunged the hypospray with the compound into her neck while Winona thought of the consequences for bringing the Enterprise and her son into this, and none, in her opinion, were bad enough to fit the crime. Nothing would atone for her actions, if indeed they were that horrible. She wasn't entirely sure.

She could not stop the the domino effect no more than she could even soften the blow for her son. For one brief moment, she'd almost decided to tell Jim what she'd done. But, then she realized that keeping him in the dark was the best. If he knew what she'd done, if he was aware of what was ahead of him he may make a mistake in trying to escape or resolve the problem, resulting in something much worse than any of them expected.

No, it was done. Time would only tell, and she was going on the planet, captain's orders or not, because deep down, she knew the attack on the Vulcans wouldn't have even happened if she had made a different choice. She wanted to do as much as possible for the colony, whose members' average age was well over one hundred.

Why had she done this? Bringing her son into this world of intrigue and revenge?

She could not even explain it herself, although it started with Jimmy, as everything about her life did, and ended with him, as well. Something pricked the back of her eyes hurting worse than the hypospray Leighton gave her. It couldn't be tears. She hadn't cried since she first saw and spoke with Jim after the Re'an incident. It struck her as odd, for before she'd returned to the Isis, when she'd been apart from Roark, from Leighton, from everything about the Isis for six months, she'd cried often. Anything and everything had made her cry. Now, it was as if she glided along with the ease of the Isis on an average day, but as obscure as the shadow organization she worked for.

As she stared up at Leighton, who worked with his PADD, and something flashed before her eyes, and she inhaled a sharp, painful breath. A memory of Leighton and an argument, a struggle with the scarred man. She blinked the image away and smiled at him, knowing, somehow, that appeasing the doctor was better than anything else she could do, even better than trying to recall some distorted vision.

"It will last three hours and then you will need another dosage from the medic or myself," Leighton explained. The scarred part of his face, covered with a black mask he refused to take off, moved with his speech. It created a haunting quality to his face that Winona had long since grown accustomed to.

"I understand," she said.

Three hours was not a long time, considering the destruction they would meet on Danave. Scanners discovered the utter mutilation of the Vulcans' homes, their sacred mountain crumbling. Shuttles from both ships were well equipped for any anticipated situation, as well as, many unanticipated situations they could encounter on the surface. Each team consisted of at leas one geologist, one engineer, one senior crew member, one doctor, four nurses, and security. The shuttles' capacity could not hold any more equipment or they would forfeit bringing the Vulcans to safety.

"Commander," Leighton said softly. "Is your son aboard the other shuttle?"

She looked up at him in surprise. It was not the first time Leighton asked about her son but it was a strange question at an even odder time. "He is not," she said swiftly. "He made the wisest choice, to stay aboard his ship. The Enterprise needs him in the command chair."

"Very good," Leighton said, now holding on to a bar above her head to keep himself upright as the shuttle began to pick up speed. "I am sure he will divert the attention of the Klingons away from us and the Vulcans."

Winona pursed her lips and glanced back out the viewscreen. Black leaned against black, orange against yellow, but all Winona could see was a pair of brilliant blue eyes, filled with hurt. Her mind wandered and she lost track of time. As she checked the chronometer, the shuttle lurched violently. Winona's head was thrown back against the wall as if she weighed nothing. Her body pitched forward again, and she groaned as her head began to pulse with pain. She pressed a hand against to her head, forcing herself to pay attention to her surroundings.

"Lieutenant Harthe." Winona ignored her pain and called out to the helmsman. "What the hell was that?"

Harthe didn't bother to look back but she answered Winona as clear as crystal. "A heavily damaged Klingon ship that the Isis fired upon. It was coming straight for us. I was barely able to prevent a collision" Harthe hesitated, then added, with a quick glance back at her superior. "The Klingon ship exploded, Commander."

Winona made eye contact with Harthe, another member of Project Raptor, but more importantly, a woman who had no idea what a decade of plotting revenge had brought upon them. It appeared that the Klingons came here to provide their Empire with minerals and other resources from Danave, but Winona knew their greed was far greater than a simple planet.

Hearing of the first Klingon casualty almost made her smile. "It's beginning," Winona murmured, somehow managing to keep her expression neutral.

oOo

"Fire torpedos!" Jim ordered. They held their position as his guilt rose over his decisions. The ship they'd just hit would soon burn to nothing as all the oxygen was used up, its crew more than likely already dead. At one time, before the Re'an roots had grown, his instinctive desire for a peaceful, passive existence would have ironically warred against his desire to fight. Faint remnants of that desire still challenged him, but he'd done what he'd had to in order to gain the upperhand and divert the Klingons' attention away from the Vulcans. If luck was on their side, that tactical move would prevent any further escalation between them. The Klingons were now down to three cruisers.

"Aye, sir," chorused around him. The shots pushed the Klingon ships further away from Danave, but one ship abruptly turned around ventured closer to the Enterprise, threading itself through the fire.

"Locking on enemy ship, keptin," Chekov said.

"Fire when ready," Jim said.

Jim watched the enemy ship dodge the shots with skill. He realized, perhaps belatedly, that they were the only one of the two Federation ships who were firing torpedoes. "Do not fall back, Sulu. If we do, we may forfeit any chance that our shuttles have getting safely to the planet," Jim ordered. Sulu tightened his mouth but understood; they may have to take a hit.

Jim narrowed his eyes. Damn Roark. They might have had a better chance at defeating them if Roark upped his game. Why was the Isis only firing phasers?

A voice rang loudly from acting Science Officer, Lieutenant Porter. "Captain! Incoming torped- "

Jim braced himself as the torpedo vaulted towards the Enterprise with an unprecedented speed. His ship shook. Jim gripped the sides of his chair until his knuckles whitened.

"Inertial dampeners are disabled!" said Ensign Tura, the Andorian engineer intent at her console.

"Get them back online, now. We aren't in any position to risk being without them," Jim said briskly. "Shields?"

"Ninety-one percent, sir," said Tura.

Porter continued to dutifully keep track of all three dimensions the battle from his scanner. While the Enterprise had been firing on one ship, the Isis had been firing on the other, which was out of view of the Enterprise viewport to port and below. Suddenly that ship flipped, spinning out of control toward the Enterprise. "Captain," Porter shouted to ensure he got his attention, "heavily damaged Klingon ship heading toward us out of control from 285 degrees!"

Jim swiftly made a decision. They couldn't risk a hit like that, but without the dampeners it would be a rough ride. "Evasive maneuvers!" Jim shouted.

"Aye -" Sulu's voice cut short.

An image of a flaming ship flashed across the viewscreen just before the Enterprise suddenly careened almost completely on her side. From the beginning, their interactions with the Klingons had been a dance as well as a battle, and his crew were strapped to their chairs, ready.

Jim gritted his teeth. The sharp toss to the right jarred his neck, and he braced himself with one arm. However, the centripetal force proved too much for his faithful sidekick, who suddenly lost her hold on his arm. He watched in horror as she slipped. Jim reached out, barely snatching Sam by the end of her tail. For a few seconds, she dangled above the space until she slowly bent herself in half and wound herself upwards, coiling on his arm.

"Status report," he shouted. His right arm dangled heavily, the snake attached to him like a bracelet of iron pulling him down and twisting his shoulder. His heart pounded wildly. If it hadn't been for his quick reflexes, he could've lost her.

"It missed us, sir!" Porter said.

"Shields are at eighty-five percent, captain," Tura said.

Jim's body pressed into the safety belt. He grunted under the strain, trying to ignore the pain radiating from his shoulder. "Keep her steady, Sulu," he breathed out. "Do not stray off course. The Isis needs us here, no matter where that damaged cruiser dashed off to." He had to trust that Roark was doing everything possible to make sure the cruisers weren't approaching the shuttles.

"Aye, sir!" Sulu said.

"Dampeners are being restored, captain," Tura called out.

"Ve are getting a reading from zee other ship," Chekov announced. "Eet exploded sir, after eet spun out of control past zee moon."

"The shuttles?" Jim asked, settling back into a more comfortable position. He wrapped his hand around his injured arm, wincing as he moved. His shoulder hurt like hell, but as far as he could tell it wasn't dislocated.

"Eet barely missed zee other shuttle, zir," Chekov said, "but eet ees safe."

That had been too damn close.

"Fire at will. Scatter their ships," Jim commanded again. "But hold our position. Do not let them get within range of our shuttles."

"Aye, keptin."

"They are falling back, captain," Porter said.

They wouldn't forever. Jim closed his eyes, focusing on using the link that he and first officer had prepared to use for this very purpose. Spock...

Yes, captain.

We have two less enemy ships to worry about. Our shields are holding at eighty-five percent and the Isis is controlling the Klingons' other two ships while we hold our own ground. Now's your chance.

We will head to Danave now.

If my mother...

She is not your responsibility, captain.

Jim understood why his first officer had essentially reprimanded him for his inability to focus on the mission but still slightly irritated with the scolding. He must have talked to Bones. Spock, just let me know if she is okay before you leave the planet.

He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that her decision to be a part of the away team was an irrational one. He knew first hand that an irrational Kirk did not make good decisions.

I will alert you of her condition upon my return to the Enterprise.

Jim gritted his teeth, more upset at himself than at Spock. Of course, his first was right to disagree. Jim had to remain on task, focused on commanding this ship and nothing else. These questions he was asking Spock were sure proof. Spock, you are right to keep me in line.

It is my duty, captain. You are injured?

Jim frowned. Spock sensed that? I'm fine. It is you and the others who I'm worried about.

You must seek medical care.

When Bones is back and the Vulcans evacuated, I will. Be careful.

Captain?

The Isis didn't fire a single torpedo. Only phasers, Spock.

That is not logical.

It wasn't, and Jim was beginning to think that Roark knew more than he was willing to give Jim about his relationship with the Klingons. We won't drop our shields for any reason, not until the evacuation is successful and we are clear of enemy ships. You'll have to depend upon the shuttle for your retur-

Another jolt to the right broke his concentration.

"Damage?" Jim asked.

"Shields are now at eighty percent, sir," Tura said.

The ship shuddered her response. The Klingons were using higher classed torpedoes, a risk to their own ships. Jim narrowed his eyes as he watched the screen, the cruisers almost taunting the Isis and Enterprise in their movements.

Why were they doing this at the risk of themselves? To try to obliterate the Enterprise and the Isis...or force the Enterprise and the Isis to surrender because their ships were no longer functional.

Jim didn't care for either of those options. "It's time to increase our own fire power," Jim determined.

"Sir?"

"Level eighteen torpedoes, courtesy of Dr. Marcus." Jim exhaled a large breath. "Cripple them."

oOo

When his son's face appeared on the viewscreen, Kor wasted no time. The skirmish had already begun before he'd been properly notified, and the Enterprise was not alone. The Isis was here. How peculiar and ironic, and Kor did not believe it was a mere coincidence. Commander Kirk, for all the years that he'd known her, was a woman of strange means but an even fiercer resolve. She was fearless but the presence of the Isis meant that the Roark and his first officer expected Captain Kirk to give him trouble.

"You are a fool with no honor," Kor said. "pujwI' HIvlu'chugh quvbe'lu.'"

"They are Vulcans. They are anything but weak," Divok argued hotly. "And now their rescuers have come. They have already destroyed one of our ships and now two others limp."

Kor was well aware of the loss and crippled ships. The Human captains were being merciful, a common weakness among their species. "Merely by being strong does not mean the Vulcans were prepared to fight," Kor scoffed, ignoring the loss. "Your spy tells me they were mostly aged healers, who did not expect a fight, nor did they have the means to fight against you."

"Priests and priestesses," his son affirmed. "A few of the last of their kind. It is a strike we cannot pass up, Father."

"Desist," Kor ordered his son. "You have begun a fight I did not intend for you to fight."

"Retreating is a fool's choice."

Kor's anger stirred at his son's obstinance. "wa' DoS neH yIbuS."

His son's eyes looked upon him severely. "It is to our advantage..."

"You have already lost one ship. Think why this has happened. Your mind has already grown confused. Retreat," he commanded again. "Or you battle without honor and hence, will be punished."

Divok's face turned dark with anger. "The resources that Kirk is aware of are worth the cost, are they not?"

"Mevyap!" Kor snarled back.

"General," his son said through clenched teeth.

"It is not time to fight. Retreat. Allow them to gather the colony on Danave. Allow them to treat the wounded. Then, I will uncloak our vessel...briefly..." Kor allowed his voice to fade. It was more satisfying to see the expression on his son's face change as he came to the conclusion on his own.

Divok's anger did not die away immediately but the glint in his eyes was instant. "You will taunt them."

Kor's lips curled into a grim smile. "The Isis will leave. Captain Roark and Commander Kirk will not stay, now that they know we are here. If they do, we will know they have lied to us and we will destroy them both and the captain. There is no honor in telling lies."

"It is time, as I believed it was." Divok's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "I spoke too soon."

"You are young and at times, a fool. But listen now and you will redeem yourself." Kor paused and leaned forward as the Enterprise hit his son's warbird. The image in the screen vibrated for several seconds until it righted again. Kor never moved a muscle nor did he worry that his son's ship had been destroyed. His son had a scowl on his face as the screen righted itself but he kept his gaze on Kor. "Proceed as I've told you. Leave them be."

"And then..." Divok's voice trailed off in question.

"We shall come face to face with Starfleet's glorious captain," Kor said. "The man who will provide for us with what we need for a thousand ships and a thousand years."

"And if he does not?" Divok asked. "You have a plan to deal with Captain Kirk?"

Kor most certainly had a plan if Kirk did not cooperate. Only he could not determine which course of action would be more entertaining. "ghaH vuv SuS neH."

oOo

"Sir, zey are gone, traveling at warp," Chekov said as the third and final ship disappeared from sight. All eyes were on their captain as they awaited their orders.

"It's not over," Jim said, disabling his harness. "Do not drop those shields, Mister Sulu."

"Aye, sir," Sulu said.

"Lieutenant Uhura, contact the shuttles. We'll wait thirty minutes and make sure all is clear. If it is, they'll be free to move out," Jim said, nodding her way.

"Yes, captain," she said and swiveled back around to her console.

"We are still on Red Alert," he said. His gaze swept over the bridge, and he looked each bridge crew member straight in the eye. They stood behind him as well as ahead, but each of them had accepted everything that he'd become and did nothing less than their duty. In turn, he'd fight for their lives as they also fought for the lives of the Vulcans. "We can't take any chances," he finished softly.

This wasn't over. They'd crippled a second Klingon ship and that did appear to be the reason they decided to flee. But, Jim would not be satisfied until the Vulcans were safe on the Isis and headed towards New Vulcan and the Enterprise was headed towards their next mission with no one on their trail. He walked to the viewscreen and stood with Sam along his shoulders, unaware that all eyes were on him.

Almost as an afterthought, Jim told himself that it wouldn't be over until his mother was away from the Isis for good. He didn't know how to get her away from Roark. It was a problem, unless something rather fortuitous would occur.

He may not be the same man as he'd been before, but he had never let go of the ideal that had been his father's. Neither would he give himself false hope. Some of his mother's actions had hurt him; others had done the complete opposite. She was complicated. She was anything but black and white. She'd always been gray, messy and conflicted. It was a good thing that he was a little complicated himself. It may be the only way he could weather the troubled relationship he had with her.

oOo

McCoy stepped out of the shuttle and onto the broken, dusty ground of Danave. He went directly to work, lifting his tricorder to test how the compound was working in his own system. He took several deep breaths, more confident that he'd approved the correct dosages for the away team after he read his stats.

If he'd said that he'd known they'd land in one piece, he'd be lying. They owed making it to Danave alive to Jim's careful planning and the two ships working together to keep the cruisers out of their way. Still, part of him almost thought it pure, dumb luck that the Klingon ships had turned around and warped away in the other direction.

Confident the suppressing air would not kill them in the few hours they would be on planet, he followed the team. They made their way quickly to the crumbling, sacred mountain of the Vulcans, the team from the Isis not far from them. Winona Kirk was in the lead. Her blonde hair reminded him of the old Jim, and the hurt of that thought squeezed his heart until it bled. Her profile reminded him of Jim, her stride reminded him of Jim, and so did the fire she had when she opposed Spock about the proper entrance to utilize to proceed into the cave. He could not help but observe as she dissented with the other commander.

"Things have changed, Commander. The Klingons retreated. We have the time to go slowly," she said. "The mountain has been hit by the Klingons, forcibly, too many times. It is unstable, Mister Spock, as you already know. Your engineer and geologist have already determined this. I'm sure you've gone over their scans, as well."

"We do not have time to spare, Commander," Spock said. By all standards, it seemed that Spock had won this argument, but something in the commander's eyes caused McCoy to take a second look.

"But if we do, isn't it better to take the action that results in less risk," she argued.

There was one thing that McCoy hated about being a medical officer on a starship that still hadn't gone away after all these years - it was the feeling of dread occasionally stealing into his stomach during missions. And when it did in this moment, he knew it was real.

Did Winona know something they didn't? It sounded like she knew the Klingons were gone for good, or at least until they rescued the Vulcans. In fact, she was sure of it, or she wouldn't have suggested the teams take their time making their way through the mountain during such a precarious mission.

McCoy frowned. If he, the doctor, understood that much about what Winona was saying, Spock had to know this, too. Spock may have even set her up to gain some knowledge for himself about this entire situation and...McCoy suddenly lost the ability to breathe.

Klingons, he repeated to himself, somewhat dazed at the thought turning in his head. Klingons. Hell...no...

"Doctor?"

McCoy blinked to attention. Winona Kirk, herself, watched him with concern. "The air is thin here," she said without inflection, as if that was his excuse for staring at nothing like an idiot.

"I've been on New Vulcan before, but this is worse than I expected," he said quickly. "But we are prepared."

She looked at him, the blue of her eyes and the skin around them so clear he thought he was seeing old Jim's double. "We must work together, as your commander surely understands."

"We don't have time to argue. Call a truce," McCoy said. The commander cocked an eye at him. McCoy didn't back down.

"There are risks for each side," she replied finally. "I know that, and so does he." She looked at Spock, as the teams trudged through the rocky ground to the cave entrance. "Excuse me, Dr. McCoy. I must try to make him see this differently."

He nodded politely, hanging back with the medical staff as the rest of the team prepared to create a safe exit through the now crumbled mouth of the cave. From afar, he observed Winona with her hands on her hips, expression and opinion both unwavering. She was stubborn, like Jim, and because of that, he admitted to himself that she must be right. They could not afford to ignore the condition of the mountain.

Spock must have too, for he only arched an eyebrow as he altered their course of action. Still, McCoy remained as uneasy as nerve before. What the hell did Winona know about the Klingons that she wasn't telling them? McCoy was also certain Spock had purposefully provoked Winona in some way.

Unfortunately, while the teams were at work, he was unable to pull Spock discreetly aside and question him about Winona's motives. When the teams finished, the entrance into the mountain side was fixed with supports. It was small but wide enough for two standing side by side. However, for anyone passing through that was McCoy's height, he'd have to hunch over. Nothing else would give them the stability nor the accessibility they needed to reach the Vulcans in hiding. McCoy entered fourth after security, Spock, and the commander, and they came face to face with three Vulcans, green blood coating their faces.

"Others," the oldest-looking muttered. "Many...on ground, injured." He pointed with a limp arm behind him, and McCoy then heard the torturous sounds that Spock had explained to him earlier.

While security officer S'Roi held the priest upright, McCoy scanned the elderly priest and the two other priests with him. None of them required immediate attention, and two nurses on the Isis' shuttle would be able assist them once these initial scans were complete.

"You aren't in need of urgent care but you will receive medical attention on the shuttle," McCoy said quietly to the first Vulcan as Spock began to speak to the others.

"Your transporters are inoperable?"

"The Enterprise and another Federation ship, the Isis, are maintaining their shields for now," McCoy explained. "We have no choice but to do this the old-fashioned way."

"It is logical choice," the Vulcan nodded heavily.

"They're fine to go," McCoy told S'roi. "I'm sure I'll need two more officers when you return, to help with the others who are injured."

"I'll return with two additional officers." S'roi replied, then guided the three Vulcans to the manmade exit.

McCoy strode quickly to catch up to Spock, who was walking through the narrow tunnels the faster than he'd ever seen the commander go anywhere in a long time. Winona kept up beside them.

"Spock, you're anxious," McCoy said.

"The priests told me the priestess sustained a head injury, which damaged her shields," Spock said. "Her mental anguish is beyond what the healers can provide her in their own injured state."

"So, in other words, there may be nothing to help her until they are well, themselves." McCoy said. The tunnel slowly began to widen, and flickering light came from what appeared to be an entrance to a room. "What about sedation? Pain medication?"

"Sedation may decrease her discomfort, but it is an unknown course of action for any member of their sect. Her mental anguish is most likely to continue even when sedated."

"They don't use modern medicine at all, do they?"

"Doctor, I fear they they do not if it can be prevented."

"Please, tell them what the other Vulcan said," Winona said shortly. She gave Spock a sideways glance.

"Indeed, Commander Kirk," Spock said. "Dr. McCoy, although they are of sound mind, they say the Enterprise's arrival was foretold in a vision."

"What?" McCoy asked.

"Furthermore, they are anxious to see the captain but fear him as well."

"Wait, wait. They knew we were coming because of a vision? And they fear Jim?" If there was one thing that make this difficult situation even worse, it was this. New Jim would hate this.

"Indeed, Doctor McCoy," Spock said. "Since he is a part of this vision and in command of the Enterprise, they believe he is a man to be revered, doctor, but from afar. They have been here, secluded since the destruction of Vulcan. They have only seen and heard what had been shown through public affairs, before they abandoned the repopulation efforts for recovery on Danave."

"And when they see Jim..." McCoy shook his head. "Just wait until they get a look at the makeover he had."

"We are a logical species. Even though they believe in certain peculiarities, they will only need time to adjust."

"How much time does one need to get used to a Federation captain wearing a snake around him for most of the time?"

"It is a concern, but I am certain that the captain will take the appropriate measures," Spock's voice grew subdued as they finally neared the open room, the screaming now so loud McCoy wanted to cover his ears. Without warning, the pace changed. McCoy almost tripped over his feet when the body in front of him stopped in his tracks just before the doorway. Spock's arms stretched out, holding both the commander and him back.

"The supports above are weakening," Spock said, with eyes lifted. Signs of previous cracking and the showering of debris proved Spock's hypothesis.

McCoy backed away from the bits of falling rock. He also sidestepped Spock's arm. He could do nothing to help them by staying out here. "Then we have no time to waste."

oOo

"Uhura, what is the progress on the evacuation?" Jim handed his snake over to Dr. Jahnas. It went unsaid that if Jim met the Vulcans in the shuttle bay, Samantha had to be out of sight. Although Jim had the connection with Sam, the snake continued to trust the xenozoologist and allow her to handle her, as well.

"Sir, they estimate the shuttle will return in twenty minutes with the first round of Vulcans needing medical care. The other shuttle is on its way back to the Isis."

"Thank you, lieutenant," Jim said. He gave Aleyah a grim smile. "Dr. Jahnas, stay with her. I'm not sure what will be facing as we continue this evacuation, and I can't have her with me while I greet the Vulcans," he said honestly.

She smiled at the creature. "She won't be out of my sight, captain. I'll take good care of her."

"Thank you," he said quietly. He watched them both leave, lost in his thoughts of how fluid his relationship with Sam had been these past few weeks, when an urgent voice shook him to the core.

"Captain, our long-range sensors have detected a ship."

Jim turned on his heel. "Specifications?"

"The vessel is significantly larger than the battle cruisers, sir. The construction is somewhat similar to them as..." Sulu's voice trailed off as he worked intently at his console.

"Lieutenant, please report," Jim commanded.

"It's a K't'inga class...wait. It's...gone, sir."

Jim swore under his breath. "Cloaked?"

Sulu looked back at him. "Captain, I believe so."

No Klingon ship would error like that after a skirmish and allow themselves to be seen on a whim, especially one of the K't'inga class.

No, Jim decided. This was a message.

oOo

Winona crouched down near the remaining three Vulcans in the room, the most stubborn ones in the colony, she'd decided. The trio had the opportunity to leave the cave, but they all seemed determined to risk their lives in this crumbling cave while the others were escorted out. The elderly, tormented priestess on a thin pallet refused to be moved until others were safely in the shuttle first, and the mild sedative McCoy had given her stopped her screams but now she muttered fitfully in a semi-conscious state. "I am old, they are young," was what she'd whimpered and Vorant interpreted for them. Taking Spock's words about the superstitious Vulcan colony to heart, McCoy had listened to the poor woman's cries. What else could he do? He wanted them to trust him. When he performed initial scans on the others, he discovered at least a half-dozen Vulcans who had life-threatening wounds and required immediate medical attention with more thorough examinations by M'Benga. Those were the ones who'd been moved first and sent to the Enterprise shuttle.

Now sedated, T'Enne was still fitful, muttering loudly, but at least her screaming had died down. Winona glanced at Vorant, who refused to leave his bondmate's side. She learned that his shields were strong and T'Enne did not want him to suffer with her. It was logical, for Vorant had to speak for all three Vulcans. The young Vulcan beside him had not told Winona her name. Instead, Vorant had explained that the young priestess, T'Olryn, had taken a vow of silence. It intrigued Winona, and a gut feeling told her this woman was more than meets the eye.

"I am going to find Dr. McCoy," Winona said. The doctor was assisting another, more critically injured priestess as they moved her through the tunnels on a stretcher, but that had been well over thirty minutes ago.

"There is no need. We will wait," Vorant said quietly.

Winona's eyebrows shot up. Had he not seen the constant debris falling like a heavy downpour from these walls? "Your mountain is crumbling from the inside."

"The vision showed our rescue," he said.

"You may need to work a little bit to fulfill this vision," Winona said.

"We will wait," Vorant said. "Your haste will not alter the outcome."

Winona sighed. Vorant's logic seemed to be skewed, perhaps a result of an injury. She stood to her feet, impatient. "I'll be -"

"We need to work quickly and get them out of here," McCoy said from behind her.

She turned and seeing the focused expression of the doctor, she stopped him before he'd made it any closer to the remaining three Vulcans. "What's wrong?" She asked quietly.

"The Enterprise's scanners," McCoy said in a low voice. He said nothing more, but stared at her with an accusatory look in his eyes.

"Did they detect some danger?" She forced herself to ask.

"There was a large blip in the scans," he said, voice edged with steel

A "blip" most likely meant a ship that had been briefly uncloaked. A message to her - and to Roark - to get the hell out of here before Kor's arrival. "Hmm. They see nothing now? Did the Isis scanners find the same thing?" She murmured, casting a quick glance back at the Vulcans watching them carefully in turn. He had no cause to accuse her. It was just speculation for him, and more than likely Spock as well. She would not give them any reason to believe otherwise.

McCoy stared hard at her, unblinkingly. "It's gone, for now, and we have to - "

The doctor stopped when a groan erupted from within the cave, drowning out their quiet voices. Her gaze flitted upward. Blanket-sized pieces of the ceiling began to collapse, heavy and filled with rock that could kill with a single blow.

"Move!" McCoy roared as dust and centuries of mountain rained down on them. She'd never heard the doctor, let alone anyone, yell so loudly. He moved forward. So did she, or so she thought. Maybe he grabbed her arm to pull her out of the way or maybe it was death pulling her under, well-deserved for what she'd done.

She didn't know, but it didn't matter. The sky was falling. She was falling. Darkness was falling, and in it, Winona felt no comfort - but release.

oOo

Jim left the bridge and began pacing the shuttlebay well before the shuttle returned with the Vulcans needing M'Benga's medical expertise. Other than that, Spock had not explained much to him through their bond. Jim couldn't ignore that. Either something was wrong or... something was wrong. When the shuttle returned, Jim could hardly stand still. Nurse Chapel exited first, and was speaking rapidly to M'Benga. Three Vulcans on stretchers followed her, with two other nurses bowed over them. Jim's gaze swept over every single person who exited the shuttle, not realizing that Bones was not one of them until he came face-to-face with the last to exit the shuttle - Spock.

"Where is he," Jim gritted as he stared into the Vulcan's dark eyes. When Spock hesitated, Jim knew. He knew why Spock had not been forthcoming with any information directly concerning their work on Danave. Something had happened. Bones was on that planet, and in what condition, he had no idea. Bones was down there, and there was a Klingon vessel taunting them out here.

"We are returning for them, captain, as soon as the shuttle is cleared," Spock explained.

"Them?" Jim asked, his hands clenched in fists. 

"There are three remaining Vulcans with him," Spock paused.

Jim didn't like the look in his eyes. "Bones. Is Bones alright?"

"He did not say, captain," Spock said quietly. "But the oncoming storm shortened our communication."

Jim's stomach clenched. "Who else is with Doctor McCoy, commander?" Jim ordered.

"Your mother. A portion of the cave collapsed from within. They are trapped inside the mountain, and our team is drilling a passageway to the inner came," Spock said. He paused. "Your mother, captain."

"What about her," he gritted.

"She is in need of medical care."

"She's injured?" Jim asked. He stared at Spock, a hurt swelling in his chest. "You didn't think you could tell me this before you got here?"

"Doctor McCoy was with Commander Kirk as the debris fell. You can trust that Doctor McCoy will do all that he can to assist her. I will return, and with the team, we will extract them," Spock said as turned to walk back to the shuttle.

"We?" Jim asked, his anger rising. Spock turned on his heel to face the captain. "No, commander. There is no we as it concerns you, Mister Spock. I will go in your place. The Klingons are gone from the area, and I need to go down there, commander."

"Captain, I believe you are making an unwise choice during a time of emotional turmoil."

Jim shook his head and pointed a finger at him. "Oh, no. Don't even go there, Spock. I have kept my cool this entire time, and you know what is exactly going through my head right now. I have to get down there, Spock. It's..." Jim stopped in his tracks. "It's propelling me there, this need to help my mother...it's..."

"Innate," Spock said slowly, telling Jim in one word that he understood. Jim hoped that he also would not interfere with his choice.

"Yes," Jim said. "I have to do this, Spock."

"You have made this decision, although you yourself informed me that long-range scanners discovered a larger, cloaked Klingon vessel."

Jim was tempted to interrupt his first officer, but he maintained his composure. "K't'inga class," he said, as if Spock hadn't evaded stating it for himself, thereby making Jim acknowledge it. "You yourself know that it is not in the area but at least four hours away at warp."

Spock regarded him carefully. "You cannot take Samantha."

That went without saying. Sam's presence would be an utter disaster during a time when he had to be approachable to the Vulcans who remained trapped within the mountain.

"If you are concerned that I may need her, you know things changed again," Jim said, referring to the burrowing Re'an roots in his mind. "I'll be fine."

"And I will watch over your ship, captain," Spock said, voice soft.

Jim closed his eyes briefly in relief. "Thank you."

"On one condition," Spock stated.

Jim nodded "Go on."

"That you receive your full dosage of the necessary compound McCoy allotted prior to departure and take an additional dosage of the compound for yourself to keep with you at all times," Spock said. "The conditions for humans on Danave are quite unfavorable. I observed the humans on the away teams carefully, captain. A second dosage was required to maintain their health before we returned to the Enterprise. You must be prepared."

"Agreed," Jim said. "I'll take that precaution, Mister Spock. And I have one for you, Mister Spock."

"Captain, I assume I will not like yours," Spock said, brow arched.

"No, I don't suppose you will, but I do think it is only logical," Jim said with a grim smile. "If we're still down there in two hours, get the hell out of here. That's an order, Mister Spock."

oOo

Jim ordered the helmsman of the shuttle to push it. They had absolutely no time to spare, and when the shuttle landed sooner than anticipated, he worked his way to the team. They were drilling, gaining access into the inner area of the mountain where his mother, McCoy, and three Vulcans remained trapped. Jim recalled the short report Giotto had sent him that he'd read on the shuttle ride. He picked his way through the entrance the two teams had previously created and silently approached the others, noting that the debris blocking the inner cave did make it impossible to create a clean, straight passage through.

"Captain, as I've explained in my report, Engineer Willis discovered a way into the cave, around the rubble. We are widening it but it is a slow process. The inner structure is cracking and we've had to drill around it an extra twenty meters," Giotto said. "We are now prepared to send one man through to take supplies."

Jim saw the narrow hole above a man made ledge and before even speaking with his chief of security, made a swift decision. No one else was more qualified to pass through the narrow space than Jim himself. Jim began to remove his gold uniform. It would be damn hot in that cramped space, and he'd have to crawl so low he'd eat dirt.

Giotto continued. "It will take..."

The chief of security stopped when he realized what Jim's plan was. Wordlessly, Jim pulled the shirt over his head, leaving the blacks underneath. After a split second of hesitation, he pulled off his blacks, too, leaving him bare chested

"Sir, I don't..." Giotto's voice faded again.

Jim tossed the shirts on the ground with his uninjured arm. He unhooked his belt with his phaser and handed it to another security office, silent as he considered the last time he crept through a long, dark tunnel. The time had been just as desperate as it was now.

"Captain, I can't allow you to do this," Giotto stopped him with his hand.

"You have no choice, Giotto," Jim said, almost apologetically.

"We are still working to widen this passageway. It's too dangerous."

"And it's not dangerous for one of my crew?" Jim asked, brow arched.

"Sir," Giotto said softly, "It is our job."

"And it's mine," Jim said. "Since you've stopped drilling, the narrow tunnel you've drilled has shown no sign of cracking again, correct?" He asked patiently.

"Yes," Giotto said, though with reluctance.

"Then, it is safe for me. My mother is behind that mess, Giotto, as well as Doctor McCoy and three Vulcans," Jim explained. "I've crawled through cramped tunnels before, not unlike this one, and I am thinner than I used to be."

That was all true, not that it would be enough to appease his chief of security, but he had to offer some partly legitimate reason for his actions. He was also the only one with the experience to crawl through there successfully. Despite having an injured shoulder, Jim knew he could manage it.

"I doubt your mother would want you to risk your life," Giotto protested.

Jim glanced sharply at him. His chief of security had no idea how much that statement actually hurt. "There has to be something I could do to help. If my mother is injured, and there are several Vulcans who may be in medical care with him, Doctor McCoy will need an extra pair of hands. There must be something I can do and that something may be bringing food, water, and medical supplies."

"Sir," Giotto said softly, "I don't recommend this, but I can see I will not change your mind."

"I apologize for being difficult, Lieutenant Commander. I will make note in the report that I did this knowing you disapproved of the course of action."

"That's unnecessary, cap- "

"It is completely necessary. I won't have your record tainted by my decision if something goes wrong," Jim said. He took a deep breath but before he could move forward, another hand stopped him.

Jim looked up to see a man in a medical blue, a man who must be a doctor from the Isis. A utilitarian black mask covered the right half of his face, but one perfect eye looked coolly at him.

"I am Doctor Leighton, Commander Kirk's personal physician," Leighton said, as his hand fell away from his arm. He fell silent, and Jim realized belatedly he should introduce himself.

"Captain Kirk," he said, with a short nod.

Leighton's eye glinted at him. "I'm concerned for your mother, Kirk. We don't know the nature of her injury."

"The comms aren't working," Jim frowned.

Giotto shook his head. "No, sir. The coming storm has continued to create interference on planet, and communication cut out as soon as we heard from Doctor McCoy. We do know that Commander Kirk is injured, but to what degree, we are uncertain.

"Doctor Leighton, let me assure you that she's in good hands with Doctor McCoy," Jim clipped, disliking the look the physician was giving him, like he was a specimen under glass. A Re'an under glass. Much like he feared he and Samantha would be once word got out of his transformation.

Giotto must have realized the tension was rising quickly stepped up beside both men. "Doctor Leighton, the captain must be on his way. We don't have time to spare."

"Of course," Leighton murmured. Jim watched the doctor back away, uncertain whether it was just him or if the doctor always gave off a creepy vibe. "Here are the medical supplies for your chief medical officer."

"Tie them to my foot, along with bag with the food and water, and I'll drag them behind. Unfortunately, for me to fit through that narrow hole, it's the best I can do. There's no room, and no more time." Jim hefted himself up to the ledge where the hole had been drilled, trying to hide his grimace when his shoulder throbbed from use. He waited until the smaller medic bag was attached to his left foot, then prepared to crawl his way through. "I'm going in."

"Captain," Giotto said grimly. "For what it's worth, captain, if I were in your shoes, I'd do the same thing,"

Jim glanced back discreetly at his chief security officer. Leighton stood beside him. A warning bell went off in Jim's mind.

There was no mistaking the ice in the doctor's eye, and this time, Jim wondered if he'd ever met him before.

oOo

When McCoy heard the scuffle inside the impossibly tiny hole in the wall, he knew right away who was the idiot working his way to them. The passageway was still only a measly burrow, hardly big enough for a large rodent, and definitely not passable by a man. There was only one person idiotic enough to take such a foolish risk. James Tiberius I-Can-Do-Anything Kirk. The captain who just couldn't stand by if someone he loved needed his help. McCoy grumbled to himself. He wished it wasn't Jim crawling and risking his life through that tunnel, but now that he was there, he hoped that Jim and the others had enough sense to have Jim bring medical supplies and water.

There was a grunt and then the thin layer of dirt and rock covering the hole fell to the ground. Jim face and shoulders appeared through the dust. The captain panted heavily and rested his head, cheek pressed against the dirt.

"Jim," McCoy said curtly. "I would've sent you an invitation, but I'm short on tea."

The captain coughed and gave McCoy a weak, lopsided smile. "Bones," he said hoarsely. "Invitations are overrated, but I wouldn't mind the tea. How is she?"

McCoy looked down at the unresponsive woman who had already lost too much blood because of two wounds he couldn't manage to compress at the same time. He'd made a crude tourniquet for her leg by ripping his blue uniform and pulling up a stiff root that he'd found underneath lighter pieces of debris. It was far from what needed to be done, certainly not sterile, but he had nothing else to staunch the flow of blood. He now applied pressure on an altogether different injury, one that could kill her if they didn't make it to his OR within a few hours, less if he was to be honest. "Could be better. My medbag was almost completely crushed, and I can't get to it, Jim."

Jim grunted and dragged the rest of himself out of the hole with what seemed to be great effort. McCoy winced as he practically fell to the ground. Jim groaned and rolled on his back, panting. He was a mess of sweat and smears of dirt in his hair and on his face and chest. He heaved another breath before getting on his hands and eventually on his feet. He coughed several times and quickly wiped at his dusty face.

"Just a thought, Jim, but you may have to take a shower when we get back," McCoy said.

Jim gave a short laugh which turned into a fit of coughing. He made his way to his mother, weaving on his feet. "I brought medical supplies - and water."

McCoy almost gave a cry of joy. Jim untied the medbag he'd dragged with his foot and set it beside him. Jim also untangled the straps of another bag from the medical supplies, and opened that first. He pulled out a canteen and handed it to McCoy. "Bones, drink." Jim said firmly.

"I'll drink if you pull out the sterilizer, clotting agent, and gauze, and...if there are any hyposprays...grab 'em all...As you can see, I need an extra hand," McCoy said. As McCoy drank, Jim did what he'd asked and then stared at his mother's pale face. McCoy could see the worry working it's way into the heart and mind of his best friend.

"She's unconscious," Jim said, bringing the items over to McCoy's side. His gaze never left his mother's face.

"Debris fell on her, Jim. I'm worried she has a nasty concussion." McCoy made no mention that without proper medical care, she may lose her leg or die in this very cave.

Without a word, Jim raised his hand and brushed back his mother's hair sticking to the trail of blood at her hairline. If there ever was a devoted son, McCoy was staring right at him.

McCoy set the canteen aside. "The others are just behind the wall," he said quietly, then began to sort through the few hyposprays Jim had found. He frowned at the limited number, but was relieved to see the clotting agent. McCoy also picked up the sterilizer with his blood-stained hand.

Jim tore his eyes from Winona and winced. "I'll get them. Her cries..."

Truth be told, McCoy had actually compartmentalized the tortured cries until they had become only a distant noise. "The sedative helped her some, but it seems to be wearing off already."

"But first...your medbag," Jim said, breathless. "My mom."

McCoy inclined his head to the side, his eyes down as he prepared to change the dressing. "Not sure you'll be able to pull it out from under that boulder, but you can try."

Jim managed, of course, and after McCoy changed Winona's dressing, he compared the contents of both bags and what wasn't crushed, it still wasn't enough. Whoever gave Jim this bag hadn't checked it thoroughly, but he'd make do. The clotting agent was the most important next to the oxygen mask. Amazingly, there were a few other things he could use to help make her comfortable if she awakened, as well as a more sophisticated tricorder, the likes that McCoy had never seen before. Still, he wouldn't tell Jim that this kit had been badly prepared. A first year cadet would've known to pack it more properly than this, but he wasn't going to give Jim any cause to head back through the tunnel and risk getting crushed. McCoy kept quiet.

"Jim, this will help stabilize her condition for a short time," McCoy said, pulling things out of the kit. He placed the empty bag underneath Winona's neck. "Hand me the emergency blanket."

Jim unfolded it and put it over his mother himself, chest down, smoothing the edges around her and tucking it over her legs. "Bones..."

"Go," McCoy ordered. "I'll take care of her."

Thankfully, Jim nodded and staggered through the rubble to the three Vulcans. A few seconds later as he recalled Jim's coughing and the general nature of his breathing, McCoy cursed the universe for not giving them a damn break. He couldn't find any extra dosages of the tri-ox compound in either of the kits, unless one counted the hyposprays that had been smashed and were now empty.

oOo

Once Jim made it past the debris which had fallen to form somewhat of a wall between Bones and the Vulcans, he found them almost immediately. A priestess knelt beside the writhing form on the pallet. The woman's cascading black hair fell across her face, it's length unbound in a way Jim had never seen on a Vulcan, let alone a human. He stopped in his tracks and stared for a few seconds, but then remembering the members of this sect behaved in a manner somewhat contrary compared to the rest of their species, Jim decided he'd better get used to a few surprises from them. Jim couldn't determine her age, but when she stood to her feet and the curtain of hair fell away, he saw that she appeared to be his age or a few 'human' years younger than himself.

Her eyes widened a fraction as she realized he was watching, and she took a step back. He'd frightened them already? She averted her eyes, pulled down her sleeves, and adjusted the robe she wore. Jim couldn't help but watch. It seemed everything she did was deliberate, as if she was trying to hide something about herself. The priest standing nearby pierced Jim with a fierce stare and took two steps forward as if to challenge him.

Recalling Spock's warning, Jim raised his hands in surrender. "I'm from the Enterprise. I'm here to help. I won't harm you," he said softly.

"You are a crew member from the Enterprise?" The Vulcan priest asked, his eyes roaming his face. The priestess beside him did the same, and strangely, the Vulcan on the ground appeared to watch Jim through her pain.

"I am," Jim nodded. "My name is Jim."

"I am Vorant. Your eyes are scared. They are recent marks," the Vulcan said. "Why?"

Jim looked at him quizzically. It was an odd question, but he would be honest, especially if it meant the Vulcans would cooperate. "I...lost my sight," he said.

Vorant looked at him in surprise.

"I agreed to a surgical procedure that would increase my chances of my sight returning," Jim said.

"You were blind?" The Vulcan asked.

"For a short time, yes," Jim said.

It was a simple explanation, but it seemed to be enough.

"The duration?"

Maybe not. Jim took a deep breath. "A little more than two months."

"Without sight, one would being to perceive the world differently and, in the process, learn things that a seeing person could not," Vorant said.

The conversation just kept getting stranger. "Yes," Jim nodded. "I agree. When my sight was stripped away from me, I learned many things I wouldn't have learned otherwise."

"You came through a passageway?" Vorant asked after a short pause.

Jim corrected himself. His answers were far from enough to satisfy them, despite the woman on the floor in continued discomfort as they stood conversing in small talk. "A very small one. I crawled on my belly."

"Which accounts for your appearance," Vorant stated.

"I..." Jim looked down at himself, at his dirt-covered bare chest that was scarred and marked much like his back was from the Re'an and other injuries over the years, and barked out a laugh. "I guess it does. But, I'm here now - "

"You are fatigued and your shoulder is injured, but you are trying to hide it," the priest said.

Jim felt his patience diminishing. "I'm trained to do these things. With all due respect, I'd like to move her as soon as possible. Please..." Jim looked at the priest earnestly. "Doctor McCoy may be able to assist her if we take her to him."

"We were separated from Doctor McCoy," Vorant said. "It was unfortunate, but I could not pick up my bondmate up and carry her."

"Your bondmate?"

"T'Enne," the priest's eyes softened as he looked at the woman on the pallet. "I am too old and weak to carry her."

"But I can, and it's time that we move," Jim said firmly.

He stepped forward after another cautious glance at Vorant and young priestess. They moved back but never broke their careful observance of him. The young priestess, however, seemed to suddenly change her mind about the distance between them and fell to her knees beside the priestess. Her hand touched the elderly woman's cheek. T'Enne's eyes grew clear for a few seconds before the younger woman pulled her hand away. When she then touched Vorant's arm and they were both quiet, Jim could only deduce that she was mute and forced to communicate solely through touch.

Vorant glanced at him. "I see the questioning in your eyes, Jim. You are what humans say...a transparent man."

"I never used to be," Jim mused quietly.

"Then I suspect it is a result of your previous state of blindness," Vorant said. "This is T'Olryn. She has taken a vow of silence that she cannot yet break."

"I see," Jim said. He couldn't help but look at the younger woman regarding him with dark eyes, as if she could see straight into to his soul. He coughed, wincing at the tightness now in his chest. "And what did she say to T'Enne?"

"T'Enne is ready. She understands that you need to carry her." Vorant paused. "Several injuries to her body, damaged her shields. She will be able to read your thoughts, sense your emotion, so I can only urge you to be kind to her."

Jim breathed out slowly. He was the last person in this universe who should touch this woman, especially a woman who had a head injury and broken shields.

"You are concerned," Vorant said.

"We need to move," was all Jim said. There was no other choice. He closed his eyes, using all the focus he had to push his concern for his mother aside, his concern for his ship aside, and anything else that may harm this woman aside. He exhaled a breath, opened his eyes, and crouched down beside her. T'Enne peered at him through half-lidded eyes, her tortured cries increasing as he moved to pick her up.

"I'm so sorry," Jim whispered. He knew what it was like to be to be completely dependent on others. He also knew what it was like to be in mental anguish, and now he was going to add to it. "I'm so sorry," he whispered again. "But I'm going to take you to Doctor McCoy. He may be able to help you."

He almost curled his hands and pulled back as she whimpered, but he took another breath, deciding what was the best way to hold her. He slipped his hands underneath her knees and lower back. She weighed next to nothing. As soon as he picked her up, her cries stopped.

Her deathly silence alarming, Jim glanced down at her. "What's happening?" He asked Vorant. T'Enne looked wide-eyed up at Jim, her tear-stained cheeks now slow moving rivulets down her cheek.

The priest's voice held wonder. "Your touch calmed her."

"It...why? How?" Jim asked, alarmed. If they only knew. More than likely, it was probably was the complete opposite. More than likely, she was in too much mental pain because of his thoughts and it was destroying her.

The priest rested his hand on his bondmate's cheek.

T'Enne's mouth curved upwards ever so slightly, and it was all Jim could do but breathe. None of this made sense.

"She senses your peace," Vorant finally said. "As you hold her, her mind does not torment her with its anguish."

"My peace?" Jim repeated, confused. "I don't...I..."

"You do not believe her?" Vorant asked. "You do not have an inner peace? It is not at the very center of who you are?"

"No, I do, but..." Jim hesitated. How would he even explain what he'd had to someone?

"Your peace comes from being Re'an, and the barrier all Re'an's have in their minds," Vorant said, his expression growing curious. "The Re'an. I have heard of this peaceful species but have never met one until now. You are not human, Jim?"

Still sensing T'Olryn's eyes upon him, Jim shifted the light bundle in his arms. What did they want from him? Help? Or continuing this bizarre questioning?

"I'm both. Human and Re'an," he said, hoping the priest would not ask him to clarify. He did not.

"Fascinating," Vorant murmured.

Jim held T'Enne as if she were a fragile treasure. He suspected that Vorant walked the fine line between suppressing his emotions and accepting them. As he walked with T'Enne in his arms, Jim also realized that the priest's deep love for his bondmate had prompted those questions, and in his caution, only wanted to know more about Jim before he helped them in any way.

Jim's scarred eyes weren't pretty, and his haggard appearance after dragging himself through dirt and over stone certainly hadn't helped matters. Jim really couldn't blame Vorant for the time he'd spent quizzing him.

Once they made it back to Bones, Jim's previous concern for his mother returned. In the dim light, she looked far too pale. She looked weak and vulnerable, two things he'd never equated with his mother.

He shifted T'Enne in his arms and sank to one knee near Bones. Vorant and T'Olryn knelt in the open spot between them. Jim was forced to take ragged breaths, none of which seemed to help his waning energy. "How is she," he managed through another shallow gulp of air.

"The oxygen mask was worthless," Bones said, anger in his voice. "I need to get her on the ship as soon as possible, Jim."

In his own mental fog, Jim struggled to follow Bones' hands as he worked with his mother's wounds, but he did notice the tourniquet on her leg and the way Bones kept one hand on his mother's chest. His mother's injuries were more serious than he'd first thought.

"She's lost too much blood, but I'm going to get her as stable as I can, Jim." Bones lifted his head up to look at Jim. "The comms?" He asked.

"Comms still won't get through." Jim said, watching as the doctor then pulled two hyposprays from the medbag. "But my bond with Spock is still functional. The team has been widening...first part of the...tunnel. They reached a large crack...stopped progress." Jim wiped a hand across his sweaty brow, the dark interior of the cave spinning around him, and he missed the interest Vorant showed when he mentioned his bond with Spock. Jim's body wavered, and he jerked himself upright, using a hand against the wall behind him to steady himself.

"Why don't you set her down, Jim?" Bones asked, the doctor's eyes missing nothing.

"Can't," Jim breathed. His other knee hit the ground, and he leaned forward over the bundle in his arms, too winded to sit up straight. Damnit. He wouldn't have the strength to lift T'Enne up and out of this small cramped space once help arrived, and his shoulder not moving as he'd like. He shifted the weight to his knees and left arm as much as possible.

"Why?" Bones said shortly, still watching Jim.

Jim breathed in shallowly, feeling the sweat pouring off his forehead. Bones wasn't going to like it.

"Jim, why not?" Bones urged.

Still unable to catch his breath, Jim shook his head. Vorant quickly glanced at Jim before turning to the doctor. "T'Enne's discomfort disappeared when Jim touched her and took her in his arms to move her. She senses a serenity in him that is more powerful than what damaged her. It soothes her."

Bones sent Jim a look when the priest's used Jim's first name. Jim returned the look with one of his own. Using his first name had seemed logical at the time, especially since Bones told him about their fear of the Enterprise captain - him. They didn't need to know who he really was, at least not yet.

Bones seemed to understand. "If that's the case, Jim, then you need to keep helping her."

As Bones referred to Vorant, Jim's attention turned to his unconscious mother. He reached out to touch her. Her hand was closest, the skin clammy and discoloration beginning in her fingertips. Jim took in another breath of thin air, practically gulping it down. This wasn't the best of circumstances at all for anyone of them. He ground his teeth when he realized Bones was pinning him with his "I'm the doctor" look.

"I don't have any dosage of the tri-ox compound left, Jim." Bones' eyes had an even harder edge than before. "They were crushed with my medkit and there are three of us who need it."

Tri-ox... Jim frowned. "I have some. In my pocket."

"You just happen to be carrying around the compound in your pocket?" Bones shot him a fierce look.

Jim had no idea how he'd forgotten, but when he reached one hand carefully into his pocket, he realized it was only a single hypospray. "It's one dosage," he admitted. He handed it to Vorant, who gave it to Bones. "Spock made sure that I had it right before I boarded the shuttle."

"It's far from sterile," Bones said.

"Sorry," Jim winced.

"Not like you could've helped it, crawling through that damn tunnel," Bones muttered. "One dose and there are three of us who need it."

Jim lifted his shoulders as much as he could without wincing. "I'll be fine."

"I'll be fine, he says," Bones repeated, then glared at him. "Does being a self-sacrificing idiot give you a high or something?"

Jim frowned, quite aware that all three Vulcans, even T'Enne, stiffened at the doctor's words. Great. A rant from Bones was just the thing to help matters. "You know...it's...logical. She's hurt. You're...a doctor."

Bones scowled. "I don't save your sorry ass all the time just for you to die here in a damn cave, Jim! And you have no say in this, Jim."

Jim sighed and shook his head. Bones didn't have to remind him, but Jim was going to try his best to make sure that his mother received the hypospray. Both of the Vulcans beside them looked directly at Jim.

"Do you find yourself close to death often, Jim?" Vorant asked evenly.

That was relative. "Not necessari -"

"Yes," Bones clipped. "When does he not?"

Jim was too light-headed to argue. He rolled his eyes and allowed his head to rest against the wall. "Bones," Jim began, wiping a forearm across his sweaty brow. "It'll be okay. They'll get here."

Bones scowled. "The clotting agent isn't working well. In fact, it isn't working at all."

"Why not?" Jim asked breathlessly.

Bones shook his head, and with his head down as he changed Winona's dressing again, he mumbled something unintelligible under his breath. "Just rest, Jim. Alright?" The doctor finished in a gentler tone.

But Jim could not. The doctor's behavior put him on edge.

It didn't surprise Jim when T'Enne peered up at him, something very un-Vulcan filling her expression - worry.

oOo

McCoy injected the clotting agent again, praying the second dose would work better than the first. With only a smashed medkit, an insufficiently packed second medkit, and his medical knowledge left at his fingertips, keeping this woman alive was nearly impossible. More than likely, she wouldn't live unless they made it to an operating room within the next hour. He had one last dosage of the tri-ox compound. Winona was going into shock. She would need that dose very soon, and he was sure that Jim needed it just as much.

"Bones." The captain sucked in a breath of the thin air. The second was just as laborious. Without even looking at him, Jim's heavier breathing was a concern but McCoy couldn't do a damn thing about it yet except to keep Jim as calm as possible.

McCoy almost grabbed his own tricorder, but his curiosity got the best of him. The shiny, new looking tricorder from the Isis wasn't hard to activitate. After a second attempt, McCoy held the tricorder steady with his other hand and rechecked Winona's vitals. The device was more sophisticated than his but easier to operate one-handed. His curiosity got best of him again, and a quick attachment allowed him to test the commander's blood. He pricked her finger with the attachment and pushed it effortlessly back into the device. In seconds, it performed a more in-depth analysis than he'd ever seen from a tricorder, and then his heart skipped a beat.

What the hell? Winona was on an antiarrhythmic and anticoagulant? Not only that, but on the most aggressive types of that medication available?

"Bones," Jim said again, his voice now a louder, desperate whisper.

That had to be a mistake. McCoy pressed another button, making the tricorder run the scan again. But if this was correct, it explained why none of the coagulants worked.

After the next reading, McCoy realized the world as Jim knew it was changing for a third time.

"Bones," Jim's voice cracked. "I can tell by your face that it's bad. What's going on?"

McCoy finally spared a glance at Jim, not missing the severe expressions of Vorant and T'Olryn beside them as he did so. That Jim was not recognizable to them as Captain Kirk spoke greatly of Jim's changed appearance. Scars around the eyes, the implants redefining his last line, and the dark hair emphasizing all that had changed. Then his personality, the humility revealed through his words and actions, and the dust on his body.

"Bones?" Jim's eyes were just slightly wider and just this side of glassy, but the desperation in his voice was greater than he'd heard from Jim in a long time. It was enough to gain the Vulcans' attention and the elderly woman Jim held in his arms began to whimper.

"I need to get her to an OR as soon as possible, Jim," McCoy said brusquely, turning his attention back to the mess of bone and muscle. "But, since that's impossible, one of you needs to help me." He eyed the Vulcans.

Jim frowned and shifted on his knees. "Let me - "

"No," McCoy clipped.

Jim's eyes widened more. "Bones, she's...my mom," Jim whispered.

T'Olyrn's slight gasp only made Jim's wounded expression deepen. Vorant's only visible reaction was a raised brow but something seemed to change in the Vulcan's eyes.

McCoy's chest clenched. Jim looked as if McCoy had just told him to take a hike. Quite frankly, McCoy knew that in Jim's mind, that was exactly what McCoy had just told him to do.

"I. Know," McCoy emphasized each word. He refrained from glaring at Jim but respectfully sent him a firm look. Of all the times for Jim to argue with him, only this Jim was not arguing for the sake of arguing. Instead, because of his pure love for his mother, Jim literally could not help but want to be in the middle of it all. "And that's exactly why you are not coming any closer."

"Bones -"

"For God's sakes, Jim, stay right where you are," McCoy said as loudly as he could without having to shout.

Both Vorant and T'Olryn continued to look from one man to the other, back and forth, until their eyes, too, settled on the younger man. Dammit, this was beginning to both sound and look like one of his mama's old soap operas. Jim's mouth hung open only for a few seconds before he closed it again, saying nothing but looking like he wanted to protest and play hero in a situation at which he'd fail miserably.

"Listen to me, Jim," McCoy spoke with as much firmness as possible. The lack of oxygen was clearly getting to Jim a hell of a lot faster than even McCoy expected, and McCoy could see that he was going to have to take charge. Whether or not it was going to go over well with Jim, he couldn't honestly say. "You're holding the one person you can help right now. I have my hand on this wound to save your mother. I can help your mother. You cannot. If you let go of T'Enne, she will not be comforted but will scream herself out of a voice and retreat into a mental place from which she cannot return without great help. If you get in my way or I have to worry about your reaction and the fact that you clearly don't have enough tri-ox compound in your system like I do, your mother may die and you may follow in her footsteps all because you got upset and couldn't catch your breath in this thin atmosphere. We only one dosage left of the tri-ox, and we are still trapped inside this cave. Do you know what that means?"

Jim's eyes flickered with understanding.

"Leave Commander Kirk to me, captain." McCoy emphasized Jim's rank as gently as he could.

"Captain?" Vorant asked, staring at Jim. "You are the captain?"

Jim exhaled roughly. "Bones..."

So he let the cat out of the bag. It was bound to happen sooner or later. "Yes, he is," McCoy answered for Jim, his eyes never leaving Jim's face.

"He does not look like Captain James Kirk," the elderly Vulcan said slowly. "However, he does bears some resemblance. I do not understand why I did not discern this for myself earlier."

"He's different, so it's understandable that you wouldn't recognize him." McCoy said, not elaborating. "Being a Captain Pirate and all," he added, muttering under his breath. He was glad the way Jim's focus he been taken off of the damn tricorder and the new readings, and he decided to continue saying more ridiculous things keep it that way.

Jim's face went blank. "Captain Pirate?"

"What? Not flattering enough for ya?" McCoy asked, watching the tricorder as it spit out more results for the commander, and none looked good. Her stats were tanking and he had nothing. Dammit.

"Not... Captain Moron?" Jim blinked heavily. His eyes practically rolled to the back of his head. T'Olryn startled, moving forward as if to help Jim, but at the last second she clenched her hands into fists and put them on her lap under her robe. It didn't matter; Jim had caught himself just in time.

Her actions were unusual, but McCoy had something bigger to contemplate. Someone in his department may have fucked up a hypospray that meant life or death - for the damn captain. He bit back his anger, knowing it wasn't Jim's fault. Besides, showing his anger in front of these Vulcans would get them nowhere. "No. Far from it," McCoy's eyes probed Jim as he slumped back on his heels and found all the signs he didn't want to find. "Jim, are you sure you received tri-ox before leaving the shuttle?"

"Yeah," Jim swallowed.

"Your symptoms tell me it wasn't enough," McCoy felt a tightness in his chest. "You need to stop talking...and listen to me."

"Okay," Jim said in a small voice.

But McCoy knew that Jim Kirk, even this Jim Kirk, wasn't small, and if he could read the expression of the Vulcan who sat between them correctly, even Vorant knew that. However, Jim was agreeable and wiser in his thinking - and losing his sense of judgement and also his coherency because of the rise of carbon dioxide in his blood. "Good," McCoy said softly. "Now, it's going to get harder for you to hold T'Enne and then it will be harder for you to breathe because of the weight that is in your arms. Can you lean back against the wall to rest."

Jim nodded once.

"I will assist you," Vorant slipped in close to McCoy, the limited space making it impossible for them not to bump shoulders. After the elderly Vulcan actually manhandled Jim to lean against the cave wall with surprising strength, Vorant moved in between them. Jim was now settled where he could relax his body and hold T'Enne without overexerting himself.

He felt Jim's eyes upon him but McCoy went about his tasks. He set down the tricorder and reached for what was left of a drug that what could help the commander's blood pressure. He had to reach beside Vorant to get to it.

All this touching was for the birds. It was going to be impossible for them not to share emotions as they wait the next few minutes for the stretcher and extra hands to get Winona and T'Enne into the shuttle.

"Vorant, I need to check Jim's vitals. I will need an extra hand with the commander," he asked quietly. "The medication I'm giving her may cause her to awaken if it works right, and I need to make sure she stays where she is."

The switch went smoother than McCoy expected, and as Vorant now held Winona's life literally in his hands, McCoy shifted his attention over to Jim.

Before he raised the tricorder, he wiped Winona's blood off his hands. He then picked up the canteen and offered it to Jim, but the captain could hardly lift it up to his own lips. Jim's hand shook until McCoy took it from him and guided it to his mouth.

Jim leaned his head back and gulped several times. "Thanks," he rasped.

"Don't thank me yet," McCoy muttered.

Something about the way Jim held himself told McCoy he was going to find more things wrong, and not just a lack of oxygen in his blood.

He was right, and couldn't help direct a little bit of his frustration at the younger man.

"Do you want to tell me how you damaged the tissue in your shoulder?" McCoy gritted. Jim shouldn't even be able to use it with the type of injury he'd sustained. He'd also need surgery.

With the future looming ahead of them all, and Jim showing this foolish, stubborn streak, McCoy had no idea, short of Spock nerve pinching Jim on his other shoulder, how to get Jim to agree to surgery.

Jim blinked at him. "What?"

"Your shoulder."

"I think...when the ship turned on its side and Sam slipped from..." Jim suddenly sucked in a strangled breath, unable to speak.

"She slipped from your arm and you caught her," McCoy finished for him. Jim nodded, his face pained from his effort to breath. "Let me guess. The inertial dampeners were disabled."

Jim closed his eyes and nodded.

"Who is Sam?" Vorant asked quietly when T'Enne's eyes widened.

"What, is more like it," McCoy muttered. "I'll let Jim explain that, but I don't think he can at the moment." He turned his attention back to Jim. "Dammit, Jim, the right force would yank your tissue right from the socket," McCoy said. "And yet you somehow managed to crawl through a damn prairie dog tunnel? And with three cracked ribs?" McCoy challenged quietly, still waiting for the reading that counted the most.

When he saw it, it was the last straw. He saw red.

"You crawled all that way, using your injured shoulder, your body depleted of the oxygen you needed, in a cramped space that didn't have the oxygen you needed in the first place?" McCoy bit out.

"I had to get to you...and mom," Jim whispered, more than physical pain reflecting in his eyes.

No. Hell, no. He was not going to let that be the reason Jim Kirk died in a cave on this oxygen-deprived planet. Not on his watch.

"Whoever fucked this up will no longer be on the Enterprise," McCoy gritted. "Once I'm through with them, they'll want to leave."

Jim winced. "Bones, it was a mistake."

"A mistake that nearly cost us our captain," he snapped.

Not even Jim could argue with that, but the younger man still looked crushed that the doctor threatened an unsuspecting nurse. More than likely, Jim still wanted whoever botched this up to remain on his ship. It was his way now.

"It is logical to punish whoever committed this error," Vorant said quietly. "However, your captain clearly wishes to extend forgiveness. It is admirable."

McCoy bit his tongue. Maybe he'd been a bit harsh, but sometimes Jim was a little too forgiving - especially now.

The lethargic, rasping breaths of the man beside him suddenly became a clear battle between life and death. He studied Jim, whose glazed eyes now barely fixed on anything. McCoy quickly sterilized the only hypospray of the tri-ox in their possession.

"That's...for Mom," Jim wheezed, his eyes desperate and pleading as he tried to pin his gaze on McCoy. Obviously too fatigued to do so, Jim's gaze dropped to the ground. His eyes closed briefly as he wheezed.

Vorant and T'Olryn, for all their Vulcan stoicism, looked ready to steal the hypospray from McCoy's hand and inject it into Jim themselves.

"It isn't," McCoy said gently, using a few more precious seconds to prepare Jim for his decision.

Jim licked his lips. "You?"

McCoy shook his head. "I'm not using it, Jim. Neither am I giving it to your mother."

"Don't you dare," Jim's ashen face paled even more as he realized McCoy's decision. "Bones...please."

"You know I can't," McCoy said. "You're not fine."

Jim shot him a glare. "Based on...what?"

"Based on the fact that you can't even lift your head to even look at me now," McCoy said.

"Yes, I can," Jim gritted. His head hardly moved, and McCoy placed his hand gently on Jim's shoulder, barely pressing down but it was enough to force Jim back against the wall. Jim grunted with effort, taking another shallow, difficult breath.

"Are you sure, hot shot?" McCoy asked.

"It's not...about that," Jim said.

"You're right. It's about the fact that less than three months ago, you were almost lost to us, and a year ago before that, you came to my sickbay in a fucking body bag! That's twice, Jim! I'm not doing that again, not like this, when I have a hypospray in my hand to prevent it!" McCoy couldn't help but shout. Dammit, he'd had enough of this. New Jim or not, he was being a stubborn ass.

Jim blinked heavily "I can't...help that we're in a situation like this. You know...things happen. Bones...my mom. Please."

"She may die even with the tri-ox," he said as gently as he could. Jim's face fell - and broke McCoy's heart, but he couldn't sugar coat Winona's condition for him. "Just so you know, this has nothing to do what she's done to you," he said firmly.

Jim blinked his eyes again and looked away. A tear rolled down T'Enne's cheek. There was nothing separating Jim's thoughts from the elderly, injured Vulcan in his arms that he was protecting. McCoy couldn't even fathom how Jim would feel when this was all behind him and he realized how much T'Enne had felt from him.

"I know..." Jim's eyes shone with unshed tears. Jim's next labored breath was worse than the last. "But...please...Bones...not me..."

"I'm sorry, Jim, but this isn't your decision to make. I care about the one hypospray between life and death - your life or death," McCoy muttered, ignoring Jim as he double checked that the dosage was right. He'd chew one of his nurses a new one when they got back. When finished he glanced at Jim. Jim's stony look in return only infuriated him more. "Oh, don't give me that look. You know I'm right. Maybe I was too quick to stop calling you Captain Moron. Get your head on straight, Jim."

"It's my duty -"

McCoy didn't let him finish. "If you're not here, Jim, what they hell are we to do when whatever it is that Roark and your mother are shoving up our ass actually gets here?" He asked with hushed vehemence.

Jim's eyes first flickered with confusion.

"Ya forgot." McCoy wasn't surprised.

"Forgot what?"

McCoy sighed. "Jim, your mother and her...secrets."

It took a few seconds, and then the younger man's expression filled with guilt. "Bones, how did I forget that?"

"It's the poorly oxygenated air, Jim," Mccoy said quietly. "I know this hurts, but we need you. You are the most important person on that ship. I also know that it's difficult for you to understand how important you are, especially now, but it's about time you do."

Jim opened his mouth, probably to protest again, but McCoy administered the compound. He pushed the hypospray a little harder into his neck then he wanted to when Jim, quite predictably, jerked his neck away.

"Dammit, Bones." Jim grimaced, instantly putting a hand up to rub his neck

"You pulled away," McCoy said matter-of-factly. "We need you alive, and you only know to do one thing - protect your crew at all costs which means at the sacrifice of yourself, but Jim..." McCoy paused, giving Jim a gentler look than before. "Sometimes, sacrificing yourself isn't the best thing."

"But it's all I know, Bones," Jim said, voice quaking with a quiet sob he couldn't hold back. Jim wiped his eyes. McCoy silently watched him for a moment as his breathing rapidly improved. T'Olryn and Vorant were just as vigilant in their observation.

Without giving McCoy a second glance, Jim leaned forward and clasped his mother's hand, engulfing it in his own.

When it came right down to it, McCoy hardly cared what Jim thought when it came to matters in his own field. McCoy would go down knowing he'd been right. Someone had to keep Jim alive, and it might as well be him.

oOo

Jim read between the lines of everything Bones didn't say and did say. His mother didn't have much time, and Jim didn't want to think about anything else the next thirty-five minutes they sat waiting for the team to reach them.

But Bones did.

"Jim, is medbay prepared for us?" The doctor asked, the urgency in his voice clearly for Jim's benefit only, to pull him away from focusing on his mom.

It was the fourth time Bones had asked him about medbay in the past thirty-five minutes.

"Yes," Jim said, trying not to think now how Bones now was breathing with slight difficulty. "Spock told them as soon as I explained the situation with Mom."

Jim brought it back to Winona. Why did so much of his life begin and end with her? The woman who'd hardly even been a part of his life? It made no sense. Neither did the way he wished for more time with her.

"Bones, are you - " Jim began, but Bones shook his head and interrupted.

"Jim, don't worry. They're almost here," Bones said, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm fine."

Jim frowned at him. That wasn't the truth. "You're not breathing well," he said quietly. He'd noticed the second Bones began laboring for a full breath.

"They'll be here soon, Jim. I'll be fine."

"You needed that dosage, Bones," Jim said. "Because you were trapped inside the cave..." Perturbed with himself that there wasn't anything he could do for Bones, Jim allowed his words to fade.

Bones stared back stubbornly, and it was Vorant who broke the tension between them. "It is unusual for a Vulcan to share a bond with a human that is not their mate," Vorant commented.

"He's not just human," Bones said matter-of-factly, tearing his gaze away from Jim.

"I am aware that your captain is also Re'an. When did the bond occur?" Vorant asked Bones.

"When did it occur? How about how? Now that's the question," Bones scoffed. "Accidentally, Spock said."

Jim shook his head at Bones and found that he couldn't help but smile a little.

"Your vehemence concerning this...accident...is fascinating," Vorant said.

Bones sighed, then took a strangled breath. "To his credit...it was the only thing that saved Jim..."

Jim tucked his hand around Winona's limp hand. As his finger found her wrist and the artery pulsing lethargically, Jim pushed aside the voices around him and focused on his mom. Her pulse was weak, her eyes closed, and not even the squeeze he gave her hand disturbed her.

He wearily shut his eyes. He still cradled T'Enne in his arms, but he'd almost forgotten about the constant transference of thoughts. It seemed odd that he couldn't sense T'Enne's thoughts, since her shields were damaged. The Re'an barrier kept surprising them; it could be that whatever peace coming from him acted as his own shield, protecting him from her thoughts. However, the transference from Jim to T'Enne was strong. He'd already thrown caution in the wind. It really didn't matter anymore.

Spock.

Jim, they are almost through.

Jim knew. He heard, and they were almost on top of them.

She may not make it, Spock.

Her physician, Dr. Leighton -

No! Jim adamantly protested. His heart raced. Not Leighton. He didn't even know the man but he knew this...something about him seemed off to Jim.

Captain, I do not understand. Dr. Leighton is a respected physician.

Distract him. Pull him away from the entrance. Do anything you can. Tell Giotto to...tell him...just...

I will do as you have asked.

Jim kept his eyes closed, wanting just a moment alone to pull himself together, as alone as he could be in this situation. His mother was near death, and his best friend wasn't breathing well. Jim wasn't the only one with self-sacrificial tendencies.

Help was just minutes away, but almost anything could go wrong. Jim sighed and opened his eyes to find Bones and Vorant, and even T'Enne and T'Olryn staring at him, waiting.

He blinked and took a closer look around his surroundings. The tunnel was finished, and members of the Isis and Enterprise were filing in.

Jim swallowed. "Bones," he whispered as a security officer from the Isis, as well as two nurses, crowded around them to get to his mother. He didn't see Leighton, but he was still on edge. "I don't think...the Isis..."

He shifted T'Enne in his arms as he got up on one knee, ready to move and ready to protest anyone but his own damn crew carrying Winona to the Enterprise.

Jim's heart raced. This was his chance. His one chance.

Could he steal his very own mother?

Bones frowned and looked from Jim to security and nurses and then back to Jim.

"Bones," Jim whispered again. The doctor clenched his jaw, refusing to remove his hand from Winona's chest even though the nurses had one goal - Commander Kirk.

"I'd thank you kindly to leave her care to me," Bones' voice rang with authority as well as a deepened, Southern drawl.

Jim swallowed nervously. He understood. Bones understood, and he was going to try to fight for her with his sweetened accent that made people listen to him. Jim couldn't look away at the unfolding scene. He couldn't move, and for that matter, he realized that Vorant and T'Olryn only moved to stand get in the way of the Isis crew members pressing in to get to Winona.

The tallest and more severe looking of the nurses tried first. "Dr. McCoy, she is under the care of Dr. Leigh-"

"Who isn't here right now with his hand on her chest to prevent her from bleeding to death," Bones said. "Move her onto that stretcher, but she's goin' with me."

"We have an coagulant - "

"Won't work," Bones said slowly. "I've tried it three times. The only thing that is working is me. And I am returning to the Enterprise because I am also her son's physician. Her son, who is Captain Kirk and who also requires medical care. He sustained an injury in his shoulder, and the weight he is carrying in his arms is aggravating it."

"With all due respect, Dr. McCoy, you can remove your han-"

Bones glared at her, and the drawl disappeared. "I can't, not until I step into my OR. I'm not risking her life nor am I going to board the Isis when my captain needs me on the Enterprise. So, you have two choices. Help me save her life and get her to the Enterprise, or stay in the fucking way like ya are now and watch her die."

The nurse narrowed her eyes. "I believe you are complicating the -"

Bones narrowed his eyes back at her. "Did I mention that as Lieutenant Commander, I do have the authority? I also happen to know that Winona Kirk is good friends with Admiral Archer, who happens to speak with her son, Captain Kirk, quite often."

The nurse was quiet. "I believe we will leave her care completely to you," she said swiftly, "and return to the Isis."

Jim's mouth parted slightly as both nurses backed away without another word and left. Christine and another nurse from the Enterprise took their place.

Jim looked at Bones. "Thank you," he whispered, as his mother was transferred to the stretcher. Bones nodded in acknowledgment, hardly looking at Jim as he was already fully immersed in saving Jim's mother. Bones never left her side, and Jim was grateful. Winona had a chance because of Bones, and Jim was more than willing to step back. As the doctor worked efficiently with his nurses and security and moved out of the inner cave, Jim sagged with relief. It finally hit him, and body weary, he allowed security to guide him towards the shuttle.

His mother was going to board the Enterprise. Bones had stolen her right from under the Isis crew. No other doctor would have done that for him - or for Winona.

He walked to the shuttle behind Bones and the stretcher, holding T'Enne and leaving the broken mountain behind. The shuttle doors closed behind him, and he stood, half-dazed and his right arm aching.

"Thank you," Jim said, his voice cracking again. Now that Winona was inside the shuttle and away from the watchful eyes of the Isis crew, it seemed that the flurry expounded around him and within moments, several IV lines draped from his mother's arms and an oxygen mask fitted to her face. Jim swallowed as blood begin its course through the tube. "You're my hero."

"I did it for you," Bones said under his breath. He glanced up from Jim's unconscious mother, eyeing him carefully. Jim knew he looked horrible and was starting to feel it, too. Jim allowed two security officers to assist him to a seat and was lowered down beside Vorant. "Not her. Not for the woman who has hurt you for your entire life. I did it for you, Jim.

Jim knew. He nodded and blinked away his tears, but missed one. "Bones..." He sucked in a hasty breath but exhaled it slowly, considering the doctor's words. "Thank you," he said, wiping his face.

Bones shook his head at Jim. His mouth dipped down in displeasure. "Promise me, Jim, that you'll leave her care to me and not ask me questions until things have died down a bit."

Jim opened his mouth to ask why when Bones interrupted him.

"I trust you, Jim," Bones said. "I trust you enough to bring her aboard, and now that I am asking you to trust me."

"Of course I trust you."

"I know," Bones said quietly, "and I will explain everything to you once you have had one good night's sleep. Get one good night's sleep, Jim, that's all I'm asking of you before we talk about your mother."

That was asking a lot. Who knew when that was going to ever happen again - one full night of sleep.

But what else was he going to do? Bones had risked a hell of a lot by stretching the truth to get his mother on board. "I understand. I agree."

Bones nodded, now without looking up from his patient, from Jim's mother. "I'll hold you to it."

The doctor's decision to stretch the truth to get Winona aboard the Enterprise had not been based entirely on Jim. Whatever it was that Leighton's tricorder had discovered, it wasn't good and it bothered Bones. When Bones had first become a doctor, he'd had taken an oath, an oath that Jim remembered early on after the Re'an had changed him - do no harm.

Jim understood that Doctor Leonard H. McCoy was a doctor took that to heart, even if it meant caring for a woman who'd betrayed his best friend.

"You're right. Even this coagulant won't set, Doctor McCoy," Christine said to Bones.

Jim swallowed uncomfortably. Two other nurses crowded around his mother, obstructing his view just as he caught sight of his mother's leg and the discoloration around the knee.

"Pack that wound, regardless," Bones said. "Until we're on the Enterprise, that's our priority."

"And her leg, doctor?" one of the nurses asked softly.

"We're doing all we can, and it'll have to be enough."

"Sats already up ten percent," another nurse said.

"BP still - "

"Captain."

Their voices began to blur together. Jim leaned his head against the wall, his arms feeling like weights, but his right arm screaming from shoulder to fingertip. The voices faded as he shut his eyes as a mixture of pain and sleep threatened to also pull him under. His shoulder felt a hundred times worse than it had as he'd made his way through the tunnel, and he tried to counterbalance T'Enne's weight in his arms with his lap, instead. Bones would probably let him have it again later. He knew he really shouldn't have let his injury go so long unattended, but he'd had no choice.

"Captain."

Would Spock obey his order and leave? As of now, they had twenty-one minutes to make it back to the Enterprise before the two hour mark.

"Captain."

He thought of Bones' request. One full night of sleep. As he sat, he didn't think it would be a problem, except for the massive Klingon ship possibly headed their way.

"Captain."

Jim gave his head a mental shake. A familiar face peered at him intently. "Christine," he said, momentarily confused. "You were...with Bones...mom..."

She shook her head and sat beside him after Vorant moved aside. "I'm to look after you," she said simply.

Jim sighed. Of course Bones would ask her to watch over him.

"We have a stronger sedative for T'Enne," she said softly. "It will be better for her to sleep until Dr. M'Benga is able to examine her, and you need your rest, too."

Jim's brow furrowed. "It's only a short ride back...and T'Enne..."

"Doctor McCoy told me to tell you not to argue," Christine said. "Now, Vorant has already agreed, captain. You don't have to worry."

Jim glanced at the Vulcan cradled in his arms. T'Enne nodded, and for the first time, spoke to him. "You must be well for what is ahead, Captain Kirk," she said weakly in stilted Standard.

He still hesitated. If he could still help her...

I can never repay you for what you have done for me, captain, she told him with a touch of her hand. It is time for you to let go.

Let go? It didn't seem right, not when the Re'an peace helped her. Jim was at a loss of what to do when T'Enne was lifted from his possession and placed on a stretcher. His arms felt empty, and he watched the process, including the pain on Vorant's face as he shouldered his bondmate's discomfort instead of Jim doing so for her. Jim couldn't tear his eyes away. He sat, unaware of the soft hands tending to his injury and the watchful eyes of T'Olryn, and even after a moment, Jim's mind still could not clear. He sat dazed, feeling as if he was still on Danave and waiting for the team to get to them.

"Jim, I need to inject the anti-inflammatory near your injury," Chris said, "as well as a pain medication to manage your injury until we return to sickbay."

"What?" Her words were hard to follow.

Christine's brow twitched. She peered at him anxiously. "Captain, I am going to inject something in your shoulder. It will hurt. I need you to be still until I'm done. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

What had she said? Jim shook his head. "Chris..."

T'Olryn reached out a hand and touched Christine on the arm. The nurse's eyes widened. "Oh," Christine said. "T'Olryn says you are still suffering from lingering effects of holding T'Enne. A transference of emotion. It will pass soon."

"Transference," Jim mumbled. "Right." He knew about that, didn't he? When Selek...Selek...or the other...Jim stared at Christine. He wasn't sure he liked this feeling. What was wrong with him? His stomach churned with nausea. He didn't like it then, when he'd watched Vulcan -

Something like a jolt coursed up his arm. Jim startled. What -

Captain, it is T'Olryn.

He squinted down at himself. Sure enough. It was T'Olryn's hand resting gently on his arm, not Christine's.

Repeat if you understand what I am saying. Nurse Chapel must inject medication into your shoulder. She explained that it will be painful, and she asked that you remain still.

A needle. In my shoulder, Jim repeated as requested.

Jim caught the bare twitch of T'Olyrn's mouth. Aloud, captain, in order that Nurse Chapel understands you are aware of the procedure.

Oh. Needles. Jim forced himself to take a few slow breaths. He'd do himself no favors if he wasn't relaxed for this. "Chris, I think I understand. Needles and pain," he made a face. "My favorite combination. Actually, that's Bones' favorite."

Chris gave a quick roll of her eyes. "Yes, you do understand. Thank you, T'Olryn," she said to the young priestess. "I apologize on the captain's behalf if he was mouthy. Or flirted."

Jim looked at her, exasperated. Why were those always the first assumptions that everyone had about him?

Christine's eyes sparkled a little before she pressed her lips firmly together. "Ready?"

A loud beeping came from over Chris' shoulder. Jim's heart jumped. "What's going on-"

"Captain, let Len take care of her," Christine said firmly. "You must focus on me, so I can get you well enough to remain on duty."

Jim stared at her, a part of him, a part of the old him, clawing to get out and tell everyone what he really thought about all of this. This was almost too much. How did Bones expect him to...just wait?

But how could he not?

Jim finally sighed. "Fine."

Her eyes were apologetic, and he felt a pinch right next to the most sensitive area of his shoulder, a pinch that felt more like jagged teeth digging into his bare skin, determined to not let go.

Jim broke out in a sweat.

His shoulders began to shake. Shit. She'd hardly started, and he couldn't even handle a simple injection. He clenched his eyes shut and locked his jaw, fighting the urge to gag, when suddenly the pain and nausea abated. His shoulders drooped all by themselves under Christine's hands. Languidly, he opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling. His discomfort was gone. It was like he'd never been injured. It was odd, but...maybe Chris had also numbed him with something.

After a moment, Christine moved away and squeezed his good shoulder. "We're done," she said. "Now, I'm going to put your arm into a sling until we're in sickbay. Doctor McCoy has told me you're to get a hot shower and examination before you return to the bridge. More than likely, we'll be putting this sling back on after your shower and examination, and you'll use it until your surgery," she finished.

"Surgery?" Jim groaned. He should've known. A sling was bad enough. But, surgery? "It's really not...that bad...is it?"

"Captain, according to Doctor McCoy it is. He said, and I quote, 'his self-sacrificial, belly-crawling did him no favors,'" Christine said, her tone soft. "It tore more tissue."

Jim grimaced. He had no doubt that it had. "I didn't have - "

"- a choice. He said you'd say that, too," Chris sighed, but grew silent as she fitted the sling on his shoulder and tucked his arm safely inside.

Jim stared in resignation at his useless arm. It just had to be his dominant arm, didn't it?

Watching him carefully, Chris made a noncommittal noise in her throat. "Doctor McCoy knows you'll be anxious to get back to the bridge," she added. "He understands it's necessary soon after we return, but as I said, your injury is going to require surgery, sooner than later. He will work with you until you both agree with a time. Until then, captain, we'll manage it the best we can with the sling and injections."

Jim owed Bones a great debt. Even if he didn't, it wasn't the time to argue. He closed his eyes again and nodded in agreement, well aware that T'Olryn's hand now rested on his good arm.

No, he corrected, opening his eyes. Still rested on his arm. "That was you?" Jim asked T'Olryn. If he was to describe the look she was giving him, he would say it was purely and stereotypically Vulcan. Stoic and steady, with nothing emotional behind it whatsoever. It didn't bother Jim. In fact, he appreciated the respite from the emotional upheaval he was finding himself up against on a regular basis. "Taking away my pain?"

He didn't know what to think of her helping him in this way. Actually, he did know how he felt.

Absolutely horrible.

Captain, you did not cause me to feel discomfort. I intervened of my own accord because you sacrificed your own health to aid us in a time of turmoil.

He wanted to argue that his efforts didn't need to be repaid, but he decided it would be the wrong thing to say to her. If he'd learned anything from his experiences, it was to be more accepting of help and humbly receiving it. "Thank you...T'Olryn," he said.

T'Olryn's hand dropped, and she settled back into her seat for the remainder of the shuttle ride, once again readjusting the sleeves of her tattered robe over her arms and then sweeping her hair over one shoulder, where it fell to her waist.

A throat cleared, and Jim glanced up to find Giotto standing in front of him.

"Captain, Mister Spock would like me to inform you that since the shuttle appears to be returning within the time you allotted, the Enterprise is waiting for us to board," the chief said.

"Thank you, Giotto," Jim said.

"Your comm, sir," Giotto added, holding out the device. Jim took it with his free hand and glanced at the chronometer. He leaned his head back and sighed. Now came the hard part - explaining to the Vulcans what that meant for all of them, for Vorant had not missed anything that had occurred after T'Enne had been given a heavier sedative.

And neither had T'Olryn, for that matter.

For a few brief seconds, as Jim considered who sat beside him and regarded him with her dark eyes, he forgot about who he was - and the responsibilities awaiting him on the Enterprise. As he came to himself, he absently thought that taking a quick, hot shower - and finding a clean shirt - would no doubt be among the first things he'd do when he returned to his ship.