Anniversary Waltz, Chapter 10 Rated: R
Title: Anniversary Waltz (10/11)
Rating: R (mature)
Characters/Pairing: Kirk/Uhura
Disclaimer: Characters and canon belong to Paramount, Roddenberry, Abrams and many others but not me. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement intended and no profit is made by the author.
Summary: One year prior, the Enterprise had shipped out for its first mission under the official command of James T. Kirk and the young captain had deemed it a day worthy of recognition.
“Bones!”
Irritation clearly visible in every tightly held line of his body, Jim Kirk ducked into the med bay a few days later.
“I’m busy,” he said as he strode toward the doctor. “Can’t this wait?”
Unperturbed, Leonard McCoy folded his arms over his chest and leveled a patient look at his friend.
“You’re off duty,” he noted. “And for once, things are quiet.” He resisted the urge to knock on a piece of wood to ward off the jinx he was sure he had just invoked and rolled his eyes at the futility of the thought. To the best of his knowledge there was not a single bit of wood anywhere to be found on the gleaming ship. He made a mental note to track down a block of wood next time he was on shore leave. Maybe he could leave it in his desk and indulge his superstitions in the privacy of his office…
Stifling a snort at his own nonsensical thoughts, he patted an inviting hand on the padded cushion of the nearest biobed.
“Why don’t you just hop on up here and we’ll get this over with,” he suggested amiably. “You know, if you would just keep your appointment as scheduled, I wouldn’t have to hunt you down and practically have you dragged in here. I was thinking about sending Security after you.”
Kirk huffed out an irritated sigh and did as he was told.
“I sometimes wonder who really is in charge around here,” he grumbled.
“Shirt off and lie down!” McCoy barked with his usual gruffness.
“And for your information...” He trained his eyes on the captain’s vital signs as they began appearing on the overhead monitor and scribbled notes onto the PADD in his hands. “You’re in charge of everyone else on this bucket of bolts and I’m the lucky bastard in charge of you.”
Because he intended to squeeze a great deal more information out of the captain than just his vitals during this visit, he aimed a grin at his friend to soften his words and was pleased to see Jim’s lips quirk upward in response.
“Yeah, that does make you a lucky bastard,” the younger man agreed as he submitted to having a blood sample drawn. And, because the exam was routine, it was completed in relatively short order.
“Come on.” McCoy tossed Jim his shirt thirty minutes later. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
Kirk tugged the gold tunic over his head and hesitated before deciding to take his friend up on the offer. If nothing else, it would buy him some time before he had to head back to his quarters where he knew Nyota was likely awaiting him.
He followed McCoy into his office.
“So, Bones,” he asked as he dropped into the visitor’s chair with his usual loose-limbed grace. “Am I gonna live?”
McCoy pulled a bottle of bourbon and two glasses from the depths of one of his desk drawers. He poured two fingers of whiskey into each glass and shoved one across the desk before glancing down at the PADD and scrolling through his notes.
“You’ll do,” he drawled as he took a sip from his glass. “But…”
“But?” Jim knocked back his drink in one gulp and slapped the empty glass onto the desk. He closed his eyes and sighed as the whiskey heated a path from his throat to stomach.
“You wanna tell me why you’re not eating?”
“Who says I’m not eating?” Kirk nudged the empty glass toward the doctor and raised his brows meaningfully.
McCoy finished his own drink before dutifully pouring another measure into both glasses. He jabbed a commanding finger toward the other man.
“Sip that one,” he ordered before returning to his preferred topic of conversation.
“For one thing, you’ve lost weight.”
“Are you or are you not always preaching the merits of watching one’s caloric intake?” Jim smirked.
“Over six kilos since the last time you were here to be patched up.” McCoy coolly stared at his friend over the top of his glass. “That’s a lot of weight to lose in a few weeks. Especially when you’re not trying.”
He consulted his notes again.
“You’re also slightly anemic and deficient in vitamins B-12, D and E.” He ticked the items off on his fingers. “Any or all of which are the basis of my theory that you’re not eating properly.”
He stacked his feet on his desk and leaned back in his chair.
“I also think you’re not sleeping.”
He held up a forestalling hand when he saw the captain open his mouth to interrupt.
“Your blood pressure is slightly elevated. And if it weren’t for the huge, dark circles under your eyes, you would have no color in your face.”
He shoved the data pad to one side and propped his chin on one hand.
“Each thing on its own is not overly alarming.” He tapped a finger on the PADD. “But taken together and considering that they are all out of the range of normal for you…” He shrugged and let the thought trail off. “So, again, I find myself wondering what the hell is going on with you.”
Jim’s gaze was fixed on some point over McCoy’s shoulder.
“I’m fine, Bones.”
“You know, Jim.” McCoy stared thoughtfully into the amber colored liquid in his glass. “We’ve been friends for a long time now. Good friends,” he pointed out. “And I’ve also been your doctor during all that time. So I like to think I know you pretty well. Probably better than anyone else.”
He lifted his eyes from the study of his drink and pinned them onto his friend.
“You can deny it all you want, but as your friend - and as your doctor - I know that something is wrong. And it is both my professional and personal opinion that you need to stop bottling up whatever it is and talk about it.”
Kirk continued to stubbornly avoid his friend’s concerned gaze.
“So, I’ve lost a little weight and from that you’ve extrapolated that something’s bothering me?”
McCoy huffed out a sarcastic laugh.
“Jim, everyone knows that something is bothering you. Haven’t you figured it out yet? As your mood goes, so goes the mood of the rest of the ship! And frankly, my friend, your mood is terrible. It’s bad for morale!”
“I’m fine,” the captain repeated through clenched teeth.
“Of course,” McCoy mused as if Kirk hadn’t spoken. “You could always talk to a counselor.” He had the satisfaction of seeing his friend’s attention finally shift to him.
“Bones -”
“Look, Jim,” McCoy said softly. “We both know that I can make that an official diagnosis. And if I think it’s necessary, believe me when I say, I will. But I’m asking you - as your friend - wouldn’t it be easier to just talk to me?”
Jim tipped his head back and drained the last of the bourbon. Closing his eyes, he rolled the empty glass back and forth between his palms.
While Bones patiently waited.
And waited.
“Nightmares.”
Long moments later, McCoy’s patience was finally rewarded.
“Do you want to tell me about them?” he asked gently.
“Every night,” Kirk murmured. “For almost two weeks now, I have the same dream. Every. Single. Night.”
McCoy could see the deliberately controlled rise and fall of his friend’s chest. Jim was staring through him and the doctor knew he was deeply entrenched in the memories of his nightmare.
“What do you see in your dreams?” He kept his voice low and calm.
“I see them lead her up the steps and stretch her out on the altar. I try to get to her, but I can’t.” The glass slipped from Jim’s hand and fell to the floor with a clatter but he didn’t react.
“She’s not fighting them, but she turns her head and she looks at me.”
Kirk blinked and his gaze locked intently on McCoy’s, no longer looking through him, but trying to make the doctor see what he does each night in his dreams.
“She looks at me and she’s pleading with me to save her. And I can’t. And I don’t. And she dies.”
He used the heels of his hands to angrily brush away the tears dampening his lashes.
“She dies and it’s my fault.”
“Because you couldn’t fight your way through a crazed mob to get to her in time?”
“No!” He swiped an impatient hand through the air. “It’s my fault because I took her with me. She wasn’t supposed to be there,” he whispered almost to himself. “But I wanted her with me…”
“Nyota,” McCoy breathed in sudden realization.
Jim nodded.
“I wake up every night and I turn my head and she’s there. Sleeping so sweetly and I’m happy to see her. I’m so grateful and it makes me sick to my stomach!”
McCoy shook his head in confusion.
“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you be glad to know it was nothing but a bad dream?”
“It was a mistake, getting involved with her.” Lost in his own thoughts, Jim ignored the question. “A mistake for me to get this close to anyone. I should know better. I should have known,” he muttered.
“JIM!”
McCoy’s voice lashed out like a whip and Jim blinked dazedly.
“I don’t understand,” Bones repeated. “You’re going to have to explain.”
Kirk gave his head a little shake as if to clear it.
“It’s plain enough for me to see that you’re in love with her,” McCoy said. “Of course you would be relieved to wake up and find out that she was safe.”
“It’s not just the nightmare,” Jim explained slowly. “I can’t stop thinking that it could have been her. I wanted to take her with me that day. I had even considered adding her to the landing party but couldn’t come up with a good reason why it was necessary for her to be there. Still, I figured that I’m the captain and sometimes that means I don’t have to explain myself. Right?”
“Absolutely. So why didn’t you?”
“Because I thought tongues might wag and she’d be pissed off that I was drawing attention to our relationship.”
“She doesn’t want anyone to know?”
McCoy could tell from the captain’s moody shrug that he had hit on a somewhat sore spot so he stepped around the sensitive topic.
“Okay. Well, regardless, I still don’t think I understand why you’re beating up on yourself.”
“Do you want to know what I was thinking while I was on that planet and that horror was taking place?” Kirk demanded angrily.
“Tell me.”
“When I finally got to Delgado… after she was already gone… I just kept thinking ‘Thank God it wasn’t Nyota. It could have been her.’”
His eyes were burning with self-loathing.
“I was relieved, Bones. Relieved that it was Delgado and not Nyota. What does it mean that I was glad that Delgado was dead? What kind of captain does that make me to want to protect one crew member over another?
McCoy closed his eyes for a moment. There it was, he thought.
“It makes you a man,” he told his friend. “It makes you a human being.”
Kirk shook his head emphatically. “I can’t do it,” he said. “I can’t love her and be her captain. I have to find some way to end it between us.”
“I should have listened to her when she said it was a mistake for us to become involved.” He let out a bitter laugh and looked at the older man.
“She was afraid that if we ended our relationship, she would have to leave the Enterprise because it would be too awkward for us to work together. And now I think she was right.”
“I don’t believe that,” McCoy responded.
“I can’t be her captain, Bones,” Jim repeated in a reasonable tone. “I can’t be the man who sends her into potentially dangerous situations… and I can’t very well send someone in her place.”
“Jim.” Bones rose from his seat and came around the desk to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“What about me?” he asked. “Are you going to send me away too?”
Jim nodded. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed.
“And Spock? Sulu? Scotty?” McCoy pressed. “Are you going to send all of us away?”
Jim sagged in his seat and looked up with tired eyes.
“What’s your point, Bones?”
“Listen to me. If Starfleet wanted dispassionate officers in the center chairs of its ships, they would not promote so many humans to the position.”
McCoy’s hand tightened on Kirk’s shoulder.
“It’s not supposed to be easy. But you’re not just a captain. You’re a man with all the flaws and frailties that come with being human. It’s your job to make the hard decisions but it’s our job to support you. The relationships you form with the people around are meant to anchor you. Spock helps you to see the logical side of the decisions you’re facing. Nyota helps you to make them with compassion.”
“And you’re my common sense,” Jim said with a ghost of his usual smile.
“That’s right. And that’s what I’m doling out right now - some good, old-fashioned common sense.” McCoy tapped a finger against his own temple. “The fact that life and death decisions don’t come easily to you is what makes you a good captain. Your crew is not just numbers on a page to you. Don’t think that you can cut yourself off from caring about others just because it would be easier - or think that we will stop caring about you.”
Jim’s shoulders rose and fell on a long sigh.
“And one more thing,” Bones continued. “Being glad that Nyota was safely out of danger does not mean that you were happy Delgado was dead. I was there with you when you beamed back to the ship.” His voice was gruff with remembered emotion. “You were wrecked.”
He scrubbed an affectionate hand through Jim’s hair.
“You need to forgive yourself for being human, kid.”
////////
Kirk wandered around the ship after leaving the med bay, McCoy’s words bouncing around in his head, vying with his own uncertainties for supremacy. When staring at the stars through a window on the observation deck did not yield an epiphany, he reluctantly made his way to his quarters.
The pneumatic door opened with a hiss and he stepped into a darkened room.
“Lights at thirty percent,” he ordered. His gaze swept over the living space of his quarters. To his surprise there was no sign of Nyota and he felt twin pangs of relief and sadness.
He rubbed defensive fingers against the headache beginning to throb in his temples and made his way to the sleeping area.
She was perched on the edge of the mattress; her back ramrod straight, hands folded neatly in her lap.
“If this is over,” she said in a low voice, not looking at him. “I wish you would just have the courage to say it.”
“Nyota…” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, paralyzed at the realization that she was going to force things to come to a head.
“I can’t take this anymore,” she continued in the same low monotone. “One minute you tell me that you love me and the next you act like you can barely stand to be in the same room with me.”
He felt a flash of irritation in the knowledge that she had heard his whispered declaration that night and had never said anything in response.
“I thought we were happy. I thought you were happy.” Dark eyes swimming with emotion, she looked up then and the brief surge of anger melted away as he watched her crumple onto the bed. Lying on her back, she stared at the ceiling and the silence between them was a crushing weight.
She blinked, a tear spilling over her lashes, and he fell to his knees beside the bed.
“Don’t.” He lifted a tentative hand toward her, wrecked at the sight of his stubborn, brave Nyota reduced to tears because of him. “Please, Nyota. Don’t. I can’t stand to see you cry.”
Hesitantly, he perched on the edge of the bed and leaned over her. His lips ghosted over her cheek, sponging up another tear as it marked her skin with a silvery trail.
She turned her head toward him. “Even when we’re in the same room, you seem to be so far away from me.” Their faces were so close her lips brushed his as she spoke.
He stroked a thumb over her cheek, gathering up a fresh spill of tears. She made no sound and somehow it was the silence of her grief which tore into him. He chased each crystalline droplet with his mouth, lips glancing off her temple, skating over the high arch of her cheeks, tongue darting out to lap up the moisture suspended in the bow of her upper lip. He absorbed each tear as if he was trying to absorb the pain behind them.
Her lips trembled open.
“You’re pulling away from me and I don’t know why.”
“Shh.” He hushed her with a kiss. Swinging his feet onto the bed, he stretched out beside her. Propping his weight on one elbow, he leaned over her; skimmed his knuckles over her cheek and down the long, slim line of her throat. His fingers toyed with the uppermost button of her blouse and keeping his gaze fixed on hers, he slipped the first button free of its mooring.
Her tongue darted out to moisten suddenly dry lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth as his busy fingers moved inexorably from one button to the next. He pushed the soft fabric aside and slid a hand over the curve of her shoulder before lowering his mouth to taste the smooth skin.
She sighed, her head tipping back against the pillow in wordless encouragement that he continue his exploration. She didn’t know what it meant - his sudden attention - but she ached with the need to be close to him.
He skimmed a single finger along the edge of her bra, tracing the pattern of the scalloped lace onto her skin and again a sigh trembled past her lips at the delicacy of his touch.
He flipped open the front hook of her bra and brushed the satiny cup aside. His thumb scraped over one nipple, bringing it to life and she groaned when he dipped his head to close his lips over the rigid peak.
She gasped, her back arching off the mattress and he stretched up to cover her mouth with his, swallowing the sound of her cries. Their lips met and clung in a series of endless kisses. Her fingers tangled in his thick hair, holding him captive as her mouth moved hungrily against his while his hands roved over her.
Tearing his mouth free of hers, he finished undressing her. Slowly. Taking his time. Making it last and caressing each bit of her warm skin as it was exposed.
Again, he lowered his mouth to her breasts. His jaw, roughened with a day’s growth of beard, scraped the delicate skin as his tongue painted a lazy path over the plump flesh and in a straight line down the center of her torso, stopping to nibble at the whorl of her navel.
She tugged on his hair and he jackknifed up long enough to strip away his own clothing. She held out inviting arms and as he sank back into her embrace, they groaned at the delicious sensation of skin-to-skin contact.
“I missed you.” She panted the words against his throat.
Stretching out full-length over her, he settled into the welcoming cradle of her hips. His fingers combed lazily through her hair, spreading it out over his pillows. She wrapped her legs around his hips, wanting to anchor him to her and never let go.
They rolled on the bed, fighting for domination. They touched and tasted, his mouth sliding wetly over the smooth curve of her hip, her teeth scraping delicately over the ridged muscles of his torso.
She floated, steeped in sensation, glorying in the weight of his body pressing hers into the softness of the sheets beneath her.
He raised his head, saw her dark eyes were glazed with desire and slid into her. Filled her. Burrowing his face into the curve of her neck, he threaded his fingers through hers and drew their joined hands over her head.
His name escaped her lips on a long, serrated groan and he pushed his hips against hers, burying himself deeply. They moved, rocking against the other; long, lazy strokes that pushed them closer and closer to the edge. Until finally, they fell.
////////
After, they lay quietly tangled together in the dimly lit room. His weight still pressing her into the bedcovers, he shifted so that he was lying pressed alongside her and nestled his head against her breasts, listening to the comforting sound of her heart beating steadily beneath his ear.
“I can’t help but wonder… was this goodbye?”
She felt his arms tighten reflexively around her in response to her low-voiced question.
“You’ve been so far away from me,” she continued. “And I don’t know how to reach you.”
He pulled himself up and rested his head on a pillow while she shifted to face him and tucked her hands beneath her cheek.
“Won’t you please tell me what’s wrong?”
He smoothed her hair away from her face, capturing a lock between his fingers. He twined the silken strands around his forefinger and her heart skipped a beat at the aching familiarity of his absentminded caress.
“Is it about what happened on K’aranga?” she prodded.
His gaze darted away from her face.
“It’s just something that I need to work out,” he hedged.
“Something that involves me?”
Though he continued to avoid her gaze, his head bobbed in assent.
“Jim.” She tapped a finger beneath his jaw until he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “If it involves me, don’t you think I have a right to be part of the discussion?”
He hesitated, wondering how much of the truth to reveal.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” he finally admitted.
Her eyes were dark and warm with sympathy.
“About Delgado’s death.” She laid a comforting hand on his cheek.
“No. About yours.”
“Mine?” she exclaimed in surprise.
“If you had been with the landing party like I wanted…” He hissed out a breath as the nightmare images rose in his mind. “I can’t stop thinking of how easily it could have been you.”
Her lips parted in a silent “O” as understanding dawned.
“I have the same nightmare every night,” he confessed. “Only, rather than seeing Delgado on that altar, I see you. And I can’t save you.”
“Oh, Jim.”
She eliminated the few inches between them and drew him into her embrace. Unaware of the rest of the concerns which plagued him, she stroked loving hands over him. Petting and soothing him with her touch, she whispered assurances that she was fine; that she was right there with him and he didn’t have to worry, until eventually they both slid into a troubled sleep.
///////
Nyota!
Though he made no sound, he jerked awake with a violent shudder. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he scrubbed his hands over his face.
“Jim.”
She laid a hand on his back and ordered the lights to the lowest setting. Perspiration cooling on his skin, he shivered and she rose to kneel behind him. Pressing herself to his back, she rested her chin on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.
“Tell me.”
Cloaked in the near darkness of the room and emotionally raw with the remnants of the nightmare, the truth spilled from his lips.
“I love you,” he whispered. “But I’m afraid that this is a mistake.”
“You’re afraid that we’re a mistake,” she clarified. “Why?”
“Do you understand that every instinct I have screams to protect you?” His shoulders rose and fell beneath her chin in a silent sigh.
“How can I live with myself if you are injured or killed because of something I ordered?” He turned his head toward her and his eyes glittered in the faint light. “And how can I in all good conscience send someone in your place?”
“Every night I dream that you die because I sent you into danger.” He twisted at the waist and cupped her face between his hands. “And every night I wake up and am weak with relief to find you safe in the bed beside me.”
His thumbs stroked over her cheeks and his gaze roved hungrily over her face as if memorizing her features.
“I don’t know how to be the man who loves you and be your captain. I know that I should end things between us, but I’m selfish and I don’t want to let you go.”
She wrapped her hands around his wrists, felt the rapid beat of his pulse beneath her fingertips.
“Believe it or not, I do understand.” She pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes. “Every time you beam off this ship, I worry. I know it’s not the same thing because you aren’t out there on my orders. But it was agony for me to listen to you over the open comm the day Delgado died - to know there was nothing I could do to help. I watched you just plunge into that mob and was terrified something would happen to you.”
Pulling his hands away from her face, she laid her head on his shoulder.
“I love you.”
She felt a shudder ripple through him at her words and pressed a kiss to his skin.
“I love you,” she murmured against his shoulder.
His hands settled on her waist and he hauled her onto his lap. She wound her legs around his hips.
“I should have said it before.” She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry I waited.”
Wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, her breasts flattened against the wall of his chest, she laid her lips against his ear.
“I think we have something worth fighting for,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t give up on us.”
TBC
A/N: Definitely only one more chapter to be posted which may total about two scenes. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with the story so far. I appreciate your patience and your kind notes.
Rating: R (mature)
Characters/Pairing: Kirk/Uhura
Disclaimer: Characters and canon belong to Paramount, Roddenberry, Abrams and many others but not me. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement intended and no profit is made by the author.
Summary: One year prior, the Enterprise had shipped out for its first mission under the official command of James T. Kirk and the young captain had deemed it a day worthy of recognition.
“Bones!”
Irritation clearly visible in every tightly held line of his body, Jim Kirk ducked into the med bay a few days later.
“I’m busy,” he said as he strode toward the doctor. “Can’t this wait?”
Unperturbed, Leonard McCoy folded his arms over his chest and leveled a patient look at his friend.
“You’re off duty,” he noted. “And for once, things are quiet.” He resisted the urge to knock on a piece of wood to ward off the jinx he was sure he had just invoked and rolled his eyes at the futility of the thought. To the best of his knowledge there was not a single bit of wood anywhere to be found on the gleaming ship. He made a mental note to track down a block of wood next time he was on shore leave. Maybe he could leave it in his desk and indulge his superstitions in the privacy of his office…
Stifling a snort at his own nonsensical thoughts, he patted an inviting hand on the padded cushion of the nearest biobed.
“Why don’t you just hop on up here and we’ll get this over with,” he suggested amiably. “You know, if you would just keep your appointment as scheduled, I wouldn’t have to hunt you down and practically have you dragged in here. I was thinking about sending Security after you.”
Kirk huffed out an irritated sigh and did as he was told.
“I sometimes wonder who really is in charge around here,” he grumbled.
“Shirt off and lie down!” McCoy barked with his usual gruffness.
“And for your information...” He trained his eyes on the captain’s vital signs as they began appearing on the overhead monitor and scribbled notes onto the PADD in his hands. “You’re in charge of everyone else on this bucket of bolts and I’m the lucky bastard in charge of you.”
Because he intended to squeeze a great deal more information out of the captain than just his vitals during this visit, he aimed a grin at his friend to soften his words and was pleased to see Jim’s lips quirk upward in response.
“Yeah, that does make you a lucky bastard,” the younger man agreed as he submitted to having a blood sample drawn. And, because the exam was routine, it was completed in relatively short order.
“Come on.” McCoy tossed Jim his shirt thirty minutes later. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
Kirk tugged the gold tunic over his head and hesitated before deciding to take his friend up on the offer. If nothing else, it would buy him some time before he had to head back to his quarters where he knew Nyota was likely awaiting him.
He followed McCoy into his office.
“So, Bones,” he asked as he dropped into the visitor’s chair with his usual loose-limbed grace. “Am I gonna live?”
McCoy pulled a bottle of bourbon and two glasses from the depths of one of his desk drawers. He poured two fingers of whiskey into each glass and shoved one across the desk before glancing down at the PADD and scrolling through his notes.
“You’ll do,” he drawled as he took a sip from his glass. “But…”
“But?” Jim knocked back his drink in one gulp and slapped the empty glass onto the desk. He closed his eyes and sighed as the whiskey heated a path from his throat to stomach.
“You wanna tell me why you’re not eating?”
“Who says I’m not eating?” Kirk nudged the empty glass toward the doctor and raised his brows meaningfully.
McCoy finished his own drink before dutifully pouring another measure into both glasses. He jabbed a commanding finger toward the other man.
“Sip that one,” he ordered before returning to his preferred topic of conversation.
“For one thing, you’ve lost weight.”
“Are you or are you not always preaching the merits of watching one’s caloric intake?” Jim smirked.
“Over six kilos since the last time you were here to be patched up.” McCoy coolly stared at his friend over the top of his glass. “That’s a lot of weight to lose in a few weeks. Especially when you’re not trying.”
He consulted his notes again.
“You’re also slightly anemic and deficient in vitamins B-12, D and E.” He ticked the items off on his fingers. “Any or all of which are the basis of my theory that you’re not eating properly.”
He stacked his feet on his desk and leaned back in his chair.
“I also think you’re not sleeping.”
He held up a forestalling hand when he saw the captain open his mouth to interrupt.
“Your blood pressure is slightly elevated. And if it weren’t for the huge, dark circles under your eyes, you would have no color in your face.”
He shoved the data pad to one side and propped his chin on one hand.
“Each thing on its own is not overly alarming.” He tapped a finger on the PADD. “But taken together and considering that they are all out of the range of normal for you…” He shrugged and let the thought trail off. “So, again, I find myself wondering what the hell is going on with you.”
Jim’s gaze was fixed on some point over McCoy’s shoulder.
“I’m fine, Bones.”
“You know, Jim.” McCoy stared thoughtfully into the amber colored liquid in his glass. “We’ve been friends for a long time now. Good friends,” he pointed out. “And I’ve also been your doctor during all that time. So I like to think I know you pretty well. Probably better than anyone else.”
He lifted his eyes from the study of his drink and pinned them onto his friend.
“You can deny it all you want, but as your friend - and as your doctor - I know that something is wrong. And it is both my professional and personal opinion that you need to stop bottling up whatever it is and talk about it.”
Kirk continued to stubbornly avoid his friend’s concerned gaze.
“So, I’ve lost a little weight and from that you’ve extrapolated that something’s bothering me?”
McCoy huffed out a sarcastic laugh.
“Jim, everyone knows that something is bothering you. Haven’t you figured it out yet? As your mood goes, so goes the mood of the rest of the ship! And frankly, my friend, your mood is terrible. It’s bad for morale!”
“I’m fine,” the captain repeated through clenched teeth.
“Of course,” McCoy mused as if Kirk hadn’t spoken. “You could always talk to a counselor.” He had the satisfaction of seeing his friend’s attention finally shift to him.
“Bones -”
“Look, Jim,” McCoy said softly. “We both know that I can make that an official diagnosis. And if I think it’s necessary, believe me when I say, I will. But I’m asking you - as your friend - wouldn’t it be easier to just talk to me?”
Jim tipped his head back and drained the last of the bourbon. Closing his eyes, he rolled the empty glass back and forth between his palms.
While Bones patiently waited.
And waited.
“Nightmares.”
Long moments later, McCoy’s patience was finally rewarded.
“Do you want to tell me about them?” he asked gently.
“Every night,” Kirk murmured. “For almost two weeks now, I have the same dream. Every. Single. Night.”
McCoy could see the deliberately controlled rise and fall of his friend’s chest. Jim was staring through him and the doctor knew he was deeply entrenched in the memories of his nightmare.
“What do you see in your dreams?” He kept his voice low and calm.
“I see them lead her up the steps and stretch her out on the altar. I try to get to her, but I can’t.” The glass slipped from Jim’s hand and fell to the floor with a clatter but he didn’t react.
“She’s not fighting them, but she turns her head and she looks at me.”
Kirk blinked and his gaze locked intently on McCoy’s, no longer looking through him, but trying to make the doctor see what he does each night in his dreams.
“She looks at me and she’s pleading with me to save her. And I can’t. And I don’t. And she dies.”
He used the heels of his hands to angrily brush away the tears dampening his lashes.
“She dies and it’s my fault.”
“Because you couldn’t fight your way through a crazed mob to get to her in time?”
“No!” He swiped an impatient hand through the air. “It’s my fault because I took her with me. She wasn’t supposed to be there,” he whispered almost to himself. “But I wanted her with me…”
“Nyota,” McCoy breathed in sudden realization.
Jim nodded.
“I wake up every night and I turn my head and she’s there. Sleeping so sweetly and I’m happy to see her. I’m so grateful and it makes me sick to my stomach!”
McCoy shook his head in confusion.
“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you be glad to know it was nothing but a bad dream?”
“It was a mistake, getting involved with her.” Lost in his own thoughts, Jim ignored the question. “A mistake for me to get this close to anyone. I should know better. I should have known,” he muttered.
“JIM!”
McCoy’s voice lashed out like a whip and Jim blinked dazedly.
“I don’t understand,” Bones repeated. “You’re going to have to explain.”
Kirk gave his head a little shake as if to clear it.
“It’s plain enough for me to see that you’re in love with her,” McCoy said. “Of course you would be relieved to wake up and find out that she was safe.”
“It’s not just the nightmare,” Jim explained slowly. “I can’t stop thinking that it could have been her. I wanted to take her with me that day. I had even considered adding her to the landing party but couldn’t come up with a good reason why it was necessary for her to be there. Still, I figured that I’m the captain and sometimes that means I don’t have to explain myself. Right?”
“Absolutely. So why didn’t you?”
“Because I thought tongues might wag and she’d be pissed off that I was drawing attention to our relationship.”
“She doesn’t want anyone to know?”
McCoy could tell from the captain’s moody shrug that he had hit on a somewhat sore spot so he stepped around the sensitive topic.
“Okay. Well, regardless, I still don’t think I understand why you’re beating up on yourself.”
“Do you want to know what I was thinking while I was on that planet and that horror was taking place?” Kirk demanded angrily.
“Tell me.”
“When I finally got to Delgado… after she was already gone… I just kept thinking ‘Thank God it wasn’t Nyota. It could have been her.’”
His eyes were burning with self-loathing.
“I was relieved, Bones. Relieved that it was Delgado and not Nyota. What does it mean that I was glad that Delgado was dead? What kind of captain does that make me to want to protect one crew member over another?
McCoy closed his eyes for a moment. There it was, he thought.
“It makes you a man,” he told his friend. “It makes you a human being.”
Kirk shook his head emphatically. “I can’t do it,” he said. “I can’t love her and be her captain. I have to find some way to end it between us.”
“I should have listened to her when she said it was a mistake for us to become involved.” He let out a bitter laugh and looked at the older man.
“She was afraid that if we ended our relationship, she would have to leave the Enterprise because it would be too awkward for us to work together. And now I think she was right.”
“I don’t believe that,” McCoy responded.
“I can’t be her captain, Bones,” Jim repeated in a reasonable tone. “I can’t be the man who sends her into potentially dangerous situations… and I can’t very well send someone in her place.”
“Jim.” Bones rose from his seat and came around the desk to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“What about me?” he asked. “Are you going to send me away too?”
Jim nodded. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed.
“And Spock? Sulu? Scotty?” McCoy pressed. “Are you going to send all of us away?”
Jim sagged in his seat and looked up with tired eyes.
“What’s your point, Bones?”
“Listen to me. If Starfleet wanted dispassionate officers in the center chairs of its ships, they would not promote so many humans to the position.”
McCoy’s hand tightened on Kirk’s shoulder.
“It’s not supposed to be easy. But you’re not just a captain. You’re a man with all the flaws and frailties that come with being human. It’s your job to make the hard decisions but it’s our job to support you. The relationships you form with the people around are meant to anchor you. Spock helps you to see the logical side of the decisions you’re facing. Nyota helps you to make them with compassion.”
“And you’re my common sense,” Jim said with a ghost of his usual smile.
“That’s right. And that’s what I’m doling out right now - some good, old-fashioned common sense.” McCoy tapped a finger against his own temple. “The fact that life and death decisions don’t come easily to you is what makes you a good captain. Your crew is not just numbers on a page to you. Don’t think that you can cut yourself off from caring about others just because it would be easier - or think that we will stop caring about you.”
Jim’s shoulders rose and fell on a long sigh.
“And one more thing,” Bones continued. “Being glad that Nyota was safely out of danger does not mean that you were happy Delgado was dead. I was there with you when you beamed back to the ship.” His voice was gruff with remembered emotion. “You were wrecked.”
He scrubbed an affectionate hand through Jim’s hair.
“You need to forgive yourself for being human, kid.”
////////
Kirk wandered around the ship after leaving the med bay, McCoy’s words bouncing around in his head, vying with his own uncertainties for supremacy. When staring at the stars through a window on the observation deck did not yield an epiphany, he reluctantly made his way to his quarters.
The pneumatic door opened with a hiss and he stepped into a darkened room.
“Lights at thirty percent,” he ordered. His gaze swept over the living space of his quarters. To his surprise there was no sign of Nyota and he felt twin pangs of relief and sadness.
He rubbed defensive fingers against the headache beginning to throb in his temples and made his way to the sleeping area.
She was perched on the edge of the mattress; her back ramrod straight, hands folded neatly in her lap.
“If this is over,” she said in a low voice, not looking at him. “I wish you would just have the courage to say it.”
“Nyota…” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, paralyzed at the realization that she was going to force things to come to a head.
“I can’t take this anymore,” she continued in the same low monotone. “One minute you tell me that you love me and the next you act like you can barely stand to be in the same room with me.”
He felt a flash of irritation in the knowledge that she had heard his whispered declaration that night and had never said anything in response.
“I thought we were happy. I thought you were happy.” Dark eyes swimming with emotion, she looked up then and the brief surge of anger melted away as he watched her crumple onto the bed. Lying on her back, she stared at the ceiling and the silence between them was a crushing weight.
She blinked, a tear spilling over her lashes, and he fell to his knees beside the bed.
“Don’t.” He lifted a tentative hand toward her, wrecked at the sight of his stubborn, brave Nyota reduced to tears because of him. “Please, Nyota. Don’t. I can’t stand to see you cry.”
Hesitantly, he perched on the edge of the bed and leaned over her. His lips ghosted over her cheek, sponging up another tear as it marked her skin with a silvery trail.
She turned her head toward him. “Even when we’re in the same room, you seem to be so far away from me.” Their faces were so close her lips brushed his as she spoke.
He stroked a thumb over her cheek, gathering up a fresh spill of tears. She made no sound and somehow it was the silence of her grief which tore into him. He chased each crystalline droplet with his mouth, lips glancing off her temple, skating over the high arch of her cheeks, tongue darting out to lap up the moisture suspended in the bow of her upper lip. He absorbed each tear as if he was trying to absorb the pain behind them.
Her lips trembled open.
“You’re pulling away from me and I don’t know why.”
“Shh.” He hushed her with a kiss. Swinging his feet onto the bed, he stretched out beside her. Propping his weight on one elbow, he leaned over her; skimmed his knuckles over her cheek and down the long, slim line of her throat. His fingers toyed with the uppermost button of her blouse and keeping his gaze fixed on hers, he slipped the first button free of its mooring.
Her tongue darted out to moisten suddenly dry lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth as his busy fingers moved inexorably from one button to the next. He pushed the soft fabric aside and slid a hand over the curve of her shoulder before lowering his mouth to taste the smooth skin.
She sighed, her head tipping back against the pillow in wordless encouragement that he continue his exploration. She didn’t know what it meant - his sudden attention - but she ached with the need to be close to him.
He skimmed a single finger along the edge of her bra, tracing the pattern of the scalloped lace onto her skin and again a sigh trembled past her lips at the delicacy of his touch.
He flipped open the front hook of her bra and brushed the satiny cup aside. His thumb scraped over one nipple, bringing it to life and she groaned when he dipped his head to close his lips over the rigid peak.
She gasped, her back arching off the mattress and he stretched up to cover her mouth with his, swallowing the sound of her cries. Their lips met and clung in a series of endless kisses. Her fingers tangled in his thick hair, holding him captive as her mouth moved hungrily against his while his hands roved over her.
Tearing his mouth free of hers, he finished undressing her. Slowly. Taking his time. Making it last and caressing each bit of her warm skin as it was exposed.
Again, he lowered his mouth to her breasts. His jaw, roughened with a day’s growth of beard, scraped the delicate skin as his tongue painted a lazy path over the plump flesh and in a straight line down the center of her torso, stopping to nibble at the whorl of her navel.
She tugged on his hair and he jackknifed up long enough to strip away his own clothing. She held out inviting arms and as he sank back into her embrace, they groaned at the delicious sensation of skin-to-skin contact.
“I missed you.” She panted the words against his throat.
Stretching out full-length over her, he settled into the welcoming cradle of her hips. His fingers combed lazily through her hair, spreading it out over his pillows. She wrapped her legs around his hips, wanting to anchor him to her and never let go.
They rolled on the bed, fighting for domination. They touched and tasted, his mouth sliding wetly over the smooth curve of her hip, her teeth scraping delicately over the ridged muscles of his torso.
She floated, steeped in sensation, glorying in the weight of his body pressing hers into the softness of the sheets beneath her.
He raised his head, saw her dark eyes were glazed with desire and slid into her. Filled her. Burrowing his face into the curve of her neck, he threaded his fingers through hers and drew their joined hands over her head.
His name escaped her lips on a long, serrated groan and he pushed his hips against hers, burying himself deeply. They moved, rocking against the other; long, lazy strokes that pushed them closer and closer to the edge. Until finally, they fell.
////////
After, they lay quietly tangled together in the dimly lit room. His weight still pressing her into the bedcovers, he shifted so that he was lying pressed alongside her and nestled his head against her breasts, listening to the comforting sound of her heart beating steadily beneath his ear.
“I can’t help but wonder… was this goodbye?”
She felt his arms tighten reflexively around her in response to her low-voiced question.
“You’ve been so far away from me,” she continued. “And I don’t know how to reach you.”
He pulled himself up and rested his head on a pillow while she shifted to face him and tucked her hands beneath her cheek.
“Won’t you please tell me what’s wrong?”
He smoothed her hair away from her face, capturing a lock between his fingers. He twined the silken strands around his forefinger and her heart skipped a beat at the aching familiarity of his absentminded caress.
“Is it about what happened on K’aranga?” she prodded.
His gaze darted away from her face.
“It’s just something that I need to work out,” he hedged.
“Something that involves me?”
Though he continued to avoid her gaze, his head bobbed in assent.
“Jim.” She tapped a finger beneath his jaw until he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “If it involves me, don’t you think I have a right to be part of the discussion?”
He hesitated, wondering how much of the truth to reveal.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” he finally admitted.
Her eyes were dark and warm with sympathy.
“About Delgado’s death.” She laid a comforting hand on his cheek.
“No. About yours.”
“Mine?” she exclaimed in surprise.
“If you had been with the landing party like I wanted…” He hissed out a breath as the nightmare images rose in his mind. “I can’t stop thinking of how easily it could have been you.”
Her lips parted in a silent “O” as understanding dawned.
“I have the same nightmare every night,” he confessed. “Only, rather than seeing Delgado on that altar, I see you. And I can’t save you.”
“Oh, Jim.”
She eliminated the few inches between them and drew him into her embrace. Unaware of the rest of the concerns which plagued him, she stroked loving hands over him. Petting and soothing him with her touch, she whispered assurances that she was fine; that she was right there with him and he didn’t have to worry, until eventually they both slid into a troubled sleep.
///////
Nyota!
Though he made no sound, he jerked awake with a violent shudder. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he scrubbed his hands over his face.
“Jim.”
She laid a hand on his back and ordered the lights to the lowest setting. Perspiration cooling on his skin, he shivered and she rose to kneel behind him. Pressing herself to his back, she rested her chin on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.
“Tell me.”
Cloaked in the near darkness of the room and emotionally raw with the remnants of the nightmare, the truth spilled from his lips.
“I love you,” he whispered. “But I’m afraid that this is a mistake.”
“You’re afraid that we’re a mistake,” she clarified. “Why?”
“Do you understand that every instinct I have screams to protect you?” His shoulders rose and fell beneath her chin in a silent sigh.
“How can I live with myself if you are injured or killed because of something I ordered?” He turned his head toward her and his eyes glittered in the faint light. “And how can I in all good conscience send someone in your place?”
“Every night I dream that you die because I sent you into danger.” He twisted at the waist and cupped her face between his hands. “And every night I wake up and am weak with relief to find you safe in the bed beside me.”
His thumbs stroked over her cheeks and his gaze roved hungrily over her face as if memorizing her features.
“I don’t know how to be the man who loves you and be your captain. I know that I should end things between us, but I’m selfish and I don’t want to let you go.”
She wrapped her hands around his wrists, felt the rapid beat of his pulse beneath her fingertips.
“Believe it or not, I do understand.” She pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes. “Every time you beam off this ship, I worry. I know it’s not the same thing because you aren’t out there on my orders. But it was agony for me to listen to you over the open comm the day Delgado died - to know there was nothing I could do to help. I watched you just plunge into that mob and was terrified something would happen to you.”
Pulling his hands away from her face, she laid her head on his shoulder.
“I love you.”
She felt a shudder ripple through him at her words and pressed a kiss to his skin.
“I love you,” she murmured against his shoulder.
His hands settled on her waist and he hauled her onto his lap. She wound her legs around his hips.
“I should have said it before.” She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry I waited.”
Wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, her breasts flattened against the wall of his chest, she laid her lips against his ear.
“I think we have something worth fighting for,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t give up on us.”
TBC
A/N: Definitely only one more chapter to be posted which may total about two scenes. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with the story so far. I appreciate your patience and your kind notes.