Fanfic - whishes granted - prologue
Title: Wishes Granted
Pairing: Spork (beacuse it can even go to Dr. Horrible's thighs and be ok with it)
Summary: James T. Kirk always wanted a family of his own, if only to prove his step-father wrong. Now he has what he has always wished for, if only a little different from what he expected.
Sorting the mess Nero left behind had been one of the most tedious chores of Admiral Pike's life. Of course, he respected each an every cadet and officer they had lost that day. And of course, all deserved a proper burial and service in their honor.
But the mind-numbing routine of : Name, Age, Living Relatives, Status, Contact. Had gone on and on for over six months without any alteration. And while his trusted number One seemed to be amusing herself with all the data and repetitive chore, he was only human and about to pull his hair off. Yes, he was the newest admiral in the fleet, and yes, he was still bound to his wheel chair, but he felt that Archer and the others were taking advantage of him.
“Sir?” Number One asked, her eyebrow raised. Christopher shook his head.
“I'm listening, Number One,” he said with a small smile. The woman nodded, her eyes reflecting her disbelief It was his fault, really, that he found the window far more interesting that the pile of PADDs in front of him.
“Cadet Ludger is done, sir,” she said simply, and Chris had the idea he would pay for his inattention later on.
“Well then,” he sighed. “Next is Miss Marcus, Carol, Cadet and...” he blinked as he read. “Family?”
Number One shook her head.
“None, sir,” she replied, checking her data. “Except for young Marcus David, currently residing in the hospital.”
Pike ran a hand through his hair, suddenly reminded why Number One was one efficient first officer but a terrible chatting companion.
“I know, Number One, that's the problem.”
“Sir?” she asked, tilting her head.
The Admiral sighed and shook his head. “Please contact the hospital and get me the boy's data?”
“Already did, sir,” she replied efficiently. “Marcus, David. Six months of age, mother Carol Marcus, condition healthy if a little stressed.”
“The father?” asked Chris, his eyebrow raised as his former first officer and now assistant showed his a picture of the baby in question. He didn't want to think of the possibilities, nor the place he had seen those bright blue eyes and chubby cheeks before.
“Head doctor Anderson says father is unreachable. Cadet Marcus would not identify her son's father before she died,” she said seriously. “Should I contact Social Services to find the baby a foster home?”
Pike swallowed, pulling the drawer in his desk open and searching through it to pull out a thick stack of old papers. His own old dissertation
“Sir?” Number one asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Contact Doctor Anderson, Number One,” the Admiral sighed as he laid a run-down and old photograph by the PADD and shaking his head. “I need a DNA report from the boy.”
Number One nodded but her inquisitive mind reflected in her eyes what she thought.
“Do you think it is necessary?” she asked as she gazed at the picture Admiral Pike was comparing the baby with.
“Just to make sure, Number One,” he answered, running his fingers across the glossy surface of Winona Kirk's face and the blond baby she held protectively in her arms.
Same blue eyes, same chubby cheeks.
Same ears and nose.
“What have you gotten yourself into, kid,” Pike sighed, letting a fond smile curl his lips.
Number One shook her head and did as she was told. She could hardly understand the fondness her Commanding Officer felt for the troublemaker that was one James T. Kirk.
----------
“So, it is true then,” he muttered as Doctor Anderson relied the news to him. Number One was, at the moment, awkwardly holding baby David Marcus-Kirk to her chest, her arms stiff and nose almost wrinkling in distaste as the little hands spread spit into her uniform.
Pike almost smiled.
Doctor Anderson nodded.
“As amazing as it looks, sir.”
Christopher shook his head, his eyes gentle. The kid had really done it this time.
“Should we contact the father, sir?” Doctor Anderson asked, rearranging his glassed. Pike looked at him, then at the baby happily pulling onto Number One's hair, and finally at the pile of PADDs he had received with mission reports from the Enterprise.
Reports varying from 'Klingon Attack, we are all fine, though I broke both legs :D sorry about that.' to 'We lost 4 crew members, stupid Romulans. Will take shore leave in Space Station 12. Oh, Spock says hi and please don't take Bones' reports too seriously.'
No, he couldn't just call the kid and drop this into his lap. He was finally living his dream, finally blooming.
And he knew that the poor boy had enough abandonment issues to leave it all behind for his only son.
Plus, he told himself, the Enterprise is no place for a six month old baby.
“I guess we've better contact Mrs. Kirk with news about her grandson?” he sighed, trying not to laugh as David snuggled into Number One's chest and kept his little hand curled on her hair.
“Negative, Admiral,” Number One answered, her arms unconsciously curling more firmly around the baby. “Lt. Winona Kirk lost her life in the line of duty four years ago. Accident in Delta Epsilon Pi.”
Christopher Pike sighed. As a man of action he was used to take quick decisions in order to salvage a situation. He could take little David to Social Services and be done with it. He would be taken to a foster family and Jim would never have to know. It was the logical thing to do. Everyone won.
Yet, he was sure his little protégé would find out about it eventually. He always had that ability of pulling classified information out of his ass.
And he knew Jim would never forgive him if he found out he had given away his son without asking him first.
'What would you have done, George?' he asked himself, as he always did.
Little David gurgled a little, his eyes wide and happy.
Number One's eyes filled with warmth, her fingers unconsciously caressing his chubby, pink cheek.
He knew the answer already.
“Doctor Anderson, please prepare the custody documentation, will you?” he sighed, walking towards his assistant with a small smile. “I guess I can take care of the little one until daddy comes home.”
Number One looked at him curiously, her arms tightening lightly around the baby.
“Up to the challenge, Number One?” he asked gently. The woman nodded, eyes determined. It would be a brand new adventure for the two of them.
And for one David George Kirk.
Idly. he wondered what the mysterious old Vulcan that called him sometimes would have to say about this little development.
To Be Continued.
.
Pairing: Spork (beacuse it can even go to Dr. Horrible's thighs and be ok with it)
Summary: James T. Kirk always wanted a family of his own, if only to prove his step-father wrong. Now he has what he has always wished for, if only a little different from what he expected.
Sorting the mess Nero left behind had been one of the most tedious chores of Admiral Pike's life. Of course, he respected each an every cadet and officer they had lost that day. And of course, all deserved a proper burial and service in their honor.
But the mind-numbing routine of : Name, Age, Living Relatives, Status, Contact. Had gone on and on for over six months without any alteration. And while his trusted number One seemed to be amusing herself with all the data and repetitive chore, he was only human and about to pull his hair off. Yes, he was the newest admiral in the fleet, and yes, he was still bound to his wheel chair, but he felt that Archer and the others were taking advantage of him.
“Sir?” Number One asked, her eyebrow raised. Christopher shook his head.
“I'm listening, Number One,” he said with a small smile. The woman nodded, her eyes reflecting her disbelief It was his fault, really, that he found the window far more interesting that the pile of PADDs in front of him.
“Cadet Ludger is done, sir,” she said simply, and Chris had the idea he would pay for his inattention later on.
“Well then,” he sighed. “Next is Miss Marcus, Carol, Cadet and...” he blinked as he read. “Family?”
Number One shook her head.
“None, sir,” she replied, checking her data. “Except for young Marcus David, currently residing in the hospital.”
Pike ran a hand through his hair, suddenly reminded why Number One was one efficient first officer but a terrible chatting companion.
“I know, Number One, that's the problem.”
“Sir?” she asked, tilting her head.
The Admiral sighed and shook his head. “Please contact the hospital and get me the boy's data?”
“Already did, sir,” she replied efficiently. “Marcus, David. Six months of age, mother Carol Marcus, condition healthy if a little stressed.”
“The father?” asked Chris, his eyebrow raised as his former first officer and now assistant showed his a picture of the baby in question. He didn't want to think of the possibilities, nor the place he had seen those bright blue eyes and chubby cheeks before.
“Head doctor Anderson says father is unreachable. Cadet Marcus would not identify her son's father before she died,” she said seriously. “Should I contact Social Services to find the baby a foster home?”
Pike swallowed, pulling the drawer in his desk open and searching through it to pull out a thick stack of old papers. His own old dissertation
“Sir?” Number one asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Contact Doctor Anderson, Number One,” the Admiral sighed as he laid a run-down and old photograph by the PADD and shaking his head. “I need a DNA report from the boy.”
Number One nodded but her inquisitive mind reflected in her eyes what she thought.
“Do you think it is necessary?” she asked as she gazed at the picture Admiral Pike was comparing the baby with.
“Just to make sure, Number One,” he answered, running his fingers across the glossy surface of Winona Kirk's face and the blond baby she held protectively in her arms.
Same blue eyes, same chubby cheeks.
Same ears and nose.
“What have you gotten yourself into, kid,” Pike sighed, letting a fond smile curl his lips.
Number One shook her head and did as she was told. She could hardly understand the fondness her Commanding Officer felt for the troublemaker that was one James T. Kirk.
----------
“So, it is true then,” he muttered as Doctor Anderson relied the news to him. Number One was, at the moment, awkwardly holding baby David Marcus-Kirk to her chest, her arms stiff and nose almost wrinkling in distaste as the little hands spread spit into her uniform.
Pike almost smiled.
Doctor Anderson nodded.
“As amazing as it looks, sir.”
Christopher shook his head, his eyes gentle. The kid had really done it this time.
“Should we contact the father, sir?” Doctor Anderson asked, rearranging his glassed. Pike looked at him, then at the baby happily pulling onto Number One's hair, and finally at the pile of PADDs he had received with mission reports from the Enterprise.
Reports varying from 'Klingon Attack, we are all fine, though I broke both legs :D sorry about that.' to 'We lost 4 crew members, stupid Romulans. Will take shore leave in Space Station 12. Oh, Spock says hi and please don't take Bones' reports too seriously.'
No, he couldn't just call the kid and drop this into his lap. He was finally living his dream, finally blooming.
And he knew that the poor boy had enough abandonment issues to leave it all behind for his only son.
Plus, he told himself, the Enterprise is no place for a six month old baby.
“I guess we've better contact Mrs. Kirk with news about her grandson?” he sighed, trying not to laugh as David snuggled into Number One's chest and kept his little hand curled on her hair.
“Negative, Admiral,” Number One answered, her arms unconsciously curling more firmly around the baby. “Lt. Winona Kirk lost her life in the line of duty four years ago. Accident in Delta Epsilon Pi.”
Christopher Pike sighed. As a man of action he was used to take quick decisions in order to salvage a situation. He could take little David to Social Services and be done with it. He would be taken to a foster family and Jim would never have to know. It was the logical thing to do. Everyone won.
Yet, he was sure his little protégé would find out about it eventually. He always had that ability of pulling classified information out of his ass.
And he knew Jim would never forgive him if he found out he had given away his son without asking him first.
'What would you have done, George?' he asked himself, as he always did.
Little David gurgled a little, his eyes wide and happy.
Number One's eyes filled with warmth, her fingers unconsciously caressing his chubby, pink cheek.
He knew the answer already.
“Doctor Anderson, please prepare the custody documentation, will you?” he sighed, walking towards his assistant with a small smile. “I guess I can take care of the little one until daddy comes home.”
Number One looked at him curiously, her arms tightening lightly around the baby.
“Up to the challenge, Number One?” he asked gently. The woman nodded, eyes determined. It would be a brand new adventure for the two of them.
And for one David George Kirk.
Idly. he wondered what the mysterious old Vulcan that called him sometimes would have to say about this little development.
To Be Continued.
.