What Part of Forever (Chapter Five)
The final chapter, at long last. I cannot actually believe how long this has taken, and how late this story is, but I just couldn’t bring myself to post until I was satisfied with the outcome. So, all the way from Auckland, New Zealand, despite being viciously ill and in a foreign country, ENJOY. Thanks to everyone for reading, and for everyone who stuck with this story! The master post with PDF, bonus art and music, as well as complete links to all chapters posted, is coming very soon. ♥
Title: What Part of Forever (Chapter 5)
Author & Mixer: Kairi (feels_like_fire) Did my own mix for this, which you can find here.
Artist: kauniainen did a beautiful piece of artwork that you can see HERE, I will make sure she sees all of your comments!
Betas: This fic would not EXIST if it were not for the efforts of tmysha, rainjewel, and linzeestyle. I CAN NEVER THANK YOU ENOUGH.
Series: AOS/Reboot, pre-Academy slight AU
Character/Pairing(s): Kirk/Spock, McCoy, Rand, Chapel, Pike, Winona Kirk, Sarek, T'Pring, Harry Mudd, with cameos by Scotty and Number One
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: ~85k total; this part, 11,405.
Summary: Vulcan is considering seceding from the Federation; Spock decides now is a good time to catch up on being Human. So he hires Jim Kirk as his guide, with predictable results. Pretty Woman redux, now with more sex. In this chapter, Spock and Jim-and Vulcan-have to make their decisions about the future.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Interlude. Chapter Four. The art. The mix.
Either the traffic in Los Angeles had become that much more congested since the last time Spock had crossed it-perhaps in sympathy to the knots currently twisting Spock's stomach-or else stress really was getting the better of him. Regardless, the drive along "Historic U.S. Route 66" was such slow going that Spock briefly but seriously considered turning around and demanding a cross-city transport via one of the Federation ships he knew was waiting in orbit above Earth. But he did finally manage to make it to Venice Beach in one piece, and pulled up outside Jim's house in his rented hovercraft forty-four minutes after departing the Beverly Wilshire, at 9:56 pm. It was late, Spock reflected. He wondered if he should wait until morning.
Spock stared at the front door for a few moments before letting his gaze drop to his hands, fingers still wrapped around the steering wheel. He amended his previous train of thought: he should almost certainly wait until morning, for Dr. McCoy's sake if for no other reason. Jim might be prone to late evening hours, but Dr. McCoy did frequent early shifts at St. Mary's and no doubt needed all the sleep he could get.
Thirty more seconds passed before Spock climbed out of the car, thirty seconds of trying unsuccessfully to convince himself to at least page Jim on his PADD before knocking at the front door. It would have been more logical to message Jim before leaving for his house, to make sure Jim was actually here, but Spock hadn't been able to stomach the idea that Jim might decide to cut and run before Spock could get here to talk to him. The thought that Jim would run rather than give Spock a chance to explain himself hurt, but wasn't that what Jim had already done once today? He could not afford to discount it entirely and make the same mistake twice. So he'd come to Jim's house with no forewarning, calculating a 76.85% chance that Jim would still be here based upon the influence of Dr. McCoy and Spock's estimation of his¬---of Jim's character.
This thought hit Spock as he was walking up the drive, and he paused for a moment, suffering another pang of doubt. He did not even know how to quantify Jim within the safety of his own mind. Small wonder that Jim had grown so anxious since their return from Washington. Spock thought again of Charlotte and Alan, realized that he hadn't so much as messaged them since their return save for a cursory missive sent to inform them of his safe arrival. It seemed that despite all his best intentions, his pursuit of his Human heritage had become even more complicated than simply sticking to his Vulcan half.
Later. He would have to deal with all of that later. Right now, Jim was the only thing that mattered. Resolving thus, Spock took the last three steps to Jim's front door, raised his hand, and knocked three sharp, quick raps.
For a few seconds, nothing happened; the house was lit from within, but quiet. Spock couldn't tell if anyone was actually up. Then he heard footsteps from inside, and seven seconds later, the door opened, revealing a rather disgruntled-looking Leonard McCoy. "Why am I not surprised," he said, eyeing Spock with the air of a man who has grudgingly accepted that the world has gone insane but adamantly refuses to like it.
"Dr. McCoy," Spock began, but McCoy just rolled his eyes, stepping back and gesturing Spock inside. Spock entered hesitantly, glancing into the living room, but Jim was nowhere in sight.
"I'll get Jim," McCoy said. "Go have a seat, Spock."
Spock did. He smoothed his hands over the arrow-straight lines of his trousers, and this was the position he was in when Jim entered his peripheral vision. Spock looked up, and in that instant he suddenly knew the sensation behind the Human euphemism of having one's heart stop: his chest seized up, his lungs clenching tight, the silence in the room abruptly unbearable.
Neither man spoke for several seconds. Spock could only stare. Then Jim let out a breath and came forward, and Spock broke his own paralysis, rising to his feet. "Jim-" he began, but Jim shook his head, smiling slightly.
"Let's go for a walk," Jim said. "Let me get my jacket." Spock nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as he tried to stand in the living room and not think of the conversation he was about to have, or how it might turn out. Jim came back in under a minute, and Spock followed him out the front door, pulling it carefully closed behind him.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, heading down the street and out of Jim's neighborhood, turning west towards the ocean, the water rendered molten silver under the full moon. Spock found he had never been so aware of his own body, or of another person's. Never had letting his hands swing at his side felt so awkward.
Jim slowed as they approached another intersection, glancing at Spock. "I thought we could go down to the boardwalk," he said, his gaze intent.
The uncertain note in his voice went straight to Spock's gut, his stomach twisting painfully. But all he said was, "That would be satisfactory." Jim nodded, smiling that faint smile, and they continued on in renewed silence.
Eighteen minutes and thirty-five seconds after leaving the front door, they finally came in sight of the water, stopping at the edge of the wooden boardwalk. Clouds had moved in from the sea, obscuring the moon and stars. The Pacific, normally so impressive, was now nothing more than a smothering grey presence looming up as far as even Spock's eyes could see. It was difficult to tell where sand, ocean, or sky left off, the horizon almost invisible. Spock stared out at the blue-grey expanse, dismayed that he had no better idea what to say now than he had back in the hover-craft.
Beside him, Jim leaned against the wooden fence, arms and elbows resting on the topmost rail. He stared at the ocean, his expression unreadable, and for several long moments the only noise was the low hiss and rush of the water slipping invisibly back and forth across the sand. Spock's throat constricted, a dozen impulses all fighting for dominance. He tightened his hands on the wooden rail.
"Jim," Spock began, and stopped. Jim turned to stare at him, his expression a study in complication. Spock took a deep breath. "I was afraid you would be gone," he said finally. "That you would have left."
Jim smiled, but this was one of those Human expressions that held very little pleasure or humor. "I was gonna," he admitted. "But Bones talked some sense into me."
"Then I owe him a debt of gratitude." Spock moved to close the distance between them, making as if to reach out and touch Jim's face. But Jim leaned away, and Spock faltered mid-gesture, his hand falling awkwardly back to his side.
"I don't know if you want to be thanking Bones just yet," Jim said, trying for 'casual' and not quite achieving it, eyes pointedly on Spock's face and not that abortive touch. "Since you haven't gotten around to telling me why you came all the way here tonight. We can't just ...keep doing what we were doing, Spock. At least, I can't do that." Jim's voice shook on this last, but he regained his composure almost immediately, regarding Spock steadily.
"I came to apologize for my harsh words earlier today," Spock said, never taking his eyes from Jim's face. "You were in distress, and I allowed myself to react inappropriately."
"Yeah, well, I was a pretty big dick to you, too, so you weren't the only one," Jim said. He crossed his arms across his chest, then uncrossed them, shoving his hands into his pockets. He took a deep breath, still regarding Spock with that half-wary, half-hopeful expression that was wreaking havoc on Spock's ability to think straight. "The way I reacted was about nine kinds of ridiculous. But do I really-"
"My criticism of you was unwarranted," Spock interrupted. He didn't think he could bear to hear his own words repeated back to him out of Jim's mouth.
"Uh," Jim said, and laughed. "No. Not entirely unwarranted, anyway. But what I was gonna ask, Spock, is if you meant what I heard you say to your dad." He hesitated, and Spock's badly-lagging brain finally realized what Jim wanted to ask but seemed to have difficulty saying aloud.
"Do you complicate me, you mean?" Jim nodded. He seemed to be holding his breath. Spock smiled, ever so slightly, the barest quirk of his lips. "Irredeemably. I came here to ask if you would continue to complicate me, as I do not wish to live without it. Or without you."
Jim stared at him. For several seconds, Spock could once more hear nothing but the murmur of the ocean not thirty yards off, the salty, dark smell of the water filling his nostrils. The moment seemed to stretch, a product of his own illogical wish that if what next came out of Jim's mouth was "no," that time might stop right now so that Spock would never have to hear it. "Spock," Jim managed finally, and took a deep breath. "God. Um." Jim shut his eyes for a few seconds. "That depends, Spock. What will you do if Vulcan actually does secede? Because I can't---do this again. We have to decide this here, tonight."
It was Spock's turn to hesitate. "I do not know, Jim," Spock said finally, and Jim's face fell. "I cannot conceive of returning to a planet that has just shown how little it thinks of me, and of other species, but neither do I know where else I might go."
Jim's jaw tightened, and he turned away, planting both hands on the railing, gripping hard as he stared out to sea again. Spock stood rigid, his arms locked at his sides, hands clenched into fists with the effort of not grabbing Jim and turning him back to face Spock. "You know," Jim said suddenly, "Pike came to see me tonight too. A few hours ago."
"Indeed?" Spock strove to keep his voice neutral. As easy tasks went, this one proved nearly impossible.
"Uh-huh. He's sponsoring Bones into the Academy. Said I basically had a place guaranteed for me if I wanted it."
"That seems of questionable legality," Spock observed, and Jim gave a short little laugh that made Spock dig crescent-shaped welts into his palms. Spock stared at the side of Jim's face, his gaze lingering at the corner of Jim's full mouth. "Do you plan to accept?"
Jim shrugged, leaning forward against the rail and clasping his hands. "I dunno. I should. God knows it's better than hangin' around LA doing nothing."
"You would be excellent at Starfleet," Spock said softly. "It would provide ample opportunity for one as gifted as you."
"Yeah? You know who else would be excellent at Starfleet?" Jim turned back towards Spock, his face and body tight with barely-contained energy. "You."
Spock shook his head. "Negative. I am a scientist, not a soldier."
"Oh, whatever. Is that what you meant by 'gifted,' that I'd be a great soldier? Gee, thanks." Jim rolled his eyes, a smile playing about his lips despite the sarcasm.
"Negative; you have the capacity to excell at anything you wished to pursue at the Academy, however--" Spock never got the opportunity to finish, because Jim had stepped forward and grabbed two fistfuls of Spock's shirt, pulling him down into a kiss that rattled Spock's skull and made sparks burst behind his eyes. There was a moment of white shock, and then Spock crushed Jim to his chest, returning the press of lips. After a few moments of needy fumbling on both their parts, Spock's hand found Jim's and twined their fingers tightly together..
Finally, Jim broke away just enough to breathe, his face flushed and his lips swollen from kissing. The sight made Spock itch, but he pushed all his other urges aside for the moment. "Please clarify your answer, Jim," he murmured, stroking the pad of his thumb against Jim's cheekbone. "Your response is indistinct."
"Shut the fuck up, Spock." Jim's grin was blinding, barely visible out of the corner of Spock's eyes. "I want to keep complicating you," he said, the slightest shake in his words. "Now will you stop asking stupid questions?"
Spock felt his chest tighten, his heart thundering in his side. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Jim's. "I cannot make any such promises, as my Human half is prone to fits of illogic," he said, "but I find your answer most satisfactory." Jim made a wet noise in the back of his throat, and Spock felt the ache in his chest expand until he thought he might pass out. Jim drew a harsh breath and drew back, lessening the strength of the connection, and he and Spock stared at each other for several seconds, not speaking.
"You're such a dick, Spock," Jim said, smiling. He pulled Spock down for another kiss, and Spock found no need to say anything else.
* * * * *
"Would someone please tell me why the hell we're going out into fucking Death Valley for this?" McCoy glared across the cabin at Jim and Spock, already stripped down to just his short-sleeved undershirt. The transport had air-conditioning, but between the altered temperature settings for Vulcan physiologies and the late-August heat, it wasn't currently doing much good, and McCoy was about four cramps away from vomiting his lunch over the expensive nuleather upholstery.
"It is actually the Mojave desert we are going to, doctor," Spock said placidly. Jim was strapped into the seat next to Spock, similarly wearing just a white t-shirt and jeans for the journey, but looking considerably less put-out about it than McCoy did. "And the secession hearing being held in the desert is out of deference to the number of Vulcans in attendance and our preference for hot, arid climates. It is a most courteous gesture on the part of Federation officials, in recognition of the inconvenience of having to travel from Vulcan for the hearing in the first place."
"You didn't have to come, you know," Jim pointed out. "You could have stayed home. It's not like you even have to testify."
McCoy rolled his eyes hard enough to be heard back in Los Angeles, bracing against the seat-back and taking a few deep, not-nearly-steadying-enough breaths. "Sure, Jim," he grumbled. "Captain Pike offers to put us up at his fucking ranch out in the desert, and arranges seats for us at the secession hearing, and also, the man's agreed to be my advisor at the Academy. I'm totally going to tell him no. Fuck, Jim."
"I'm just saying-!"
"Yeah, well, shut up." McCoy groaned, trying to sink lower into his seat, the lap-strap digging into his stomach. He groped for the bottle of water in his bag on the seat next to him, taking a few desperate quaffs before slumping back into his seat with a groan.
Spock watched him in growing consternation, glancing at Jim as McCoy made a noise resembling a man being mauled by a grizzly. "Doctor, perhaps you should give yourself an anti-nausea injection to help with your kinetosis," he began, but McCoy just shook his head, beads of sweat now standing out on his cheeks and forehead.
"Can't," he grated out. "Allergic reaction. S'the one thing I'm allergic to and Jim's not."
"Hey, I'm not allergic to that much," Jim protested. "Besides, he's not motion-sick, Spock, he just has a horrible fear of flying."
As if on cue, McCoy ripped the seatbelt off and went staggering into the head, slamming the door shut behind him as best as he was able. Seconds later, Jim and Spock could hear the unmistakeable sounds of retching. Spock looked at Jim, silently raising an eyebrow. Jim sighed. "Okay," he amended, "maybe he does get motion-sick, too."
* * * * *
"You invited who?"
"Jim, calm down, would you? Jesus." Pike leveled a glare at Jim that any Vulcan would be proud of, weakened only somewhat by the casual clothes he was wearing. It was still early, and the white-washed kitchen of the adobe-style ranch was still relatively cool and filled with cheerful morning light. "I didn't invite your mother, I submitted her name to the Admiralty as a suggestion of which Federation representatives might be chosen to speak at the hearing. She was chosen and accepted our request to come speak. And she's not staying here, she's staying at the same hotel the rest of the Federation reps are staying in, her and her boyfriend."
Jim choked, nearly dropping the cup of coffee he'd just raised to his lips. "Boyfriend?" he sputtered, setting the mug down on the counter and grabbing for a rag to wipe the spill up with. "Excuse me? Boyfriend? The fuck?"
Pike stayed where he was at the table, watching in amusement as Jim wiped up the coffee he'd spilled on himself and the floor, though the huge brown patch on his shirt was too big to salvage. "I knew you two didn't talk much, but you really didn't know she's been seeing someone?" Jim scowled by way of response, peeling off the shirt and chucking it onto the counter, peering at the splotch of red on his chest where the hot coffee had scalded him right through his shirt. "Yes, she's seeing someone. Some student or former student of hers, apparently, a real engineering whiz. Name of Montgomery Scott."
"Yeah? What's he like?" Jim went to the sink, wetting a rag with cold water and dabbing at his chest. "God, please say he's not, like, my age. That'd be awful."
"A few years older than you, late twenties," Pike said amiably, and chuckled to himself as Jim made a noise like a cat being stepped on. "Brilliant, eccentric. Got sort of a problem with authority, though not the way you do."
"Gee, thanks." Jim flung the rag into the sink and leaned against the counter. "So, why exactly are you putting me and Bones and Spock up here instead of at one of the hotels with everyone else?"
"All the hotels have been booked full for at least a month now, Jim. I wanted you here and I live here, so it seemed the most reasonable thing to do. Spock had a room with the rest of the embassy, but he chose to stay with you here and give up his room for someone who couldn't find lodging elsewhere." Pike tapped a few buttons on his PADD, saving and closing a file before standing up, device in hand. "And because frankly, I'm not above a little positive reinforcement if it gets me three good recruits instead of just one."
"Yeah, Spock told me you've been trying to con him into leaving the VSA for Starfleet for years now. Persistent son of a bitch, aren't you?" Jim flinched as Pike threw a sweatshirt at him, the one that had been hanging on the back of his own chair.
"Watch your mouth, kid. You might not be one of my cadets just yet, but I don't need to hear your sass or see all the hickeys your boyfriend's been giving you."
Jim grinned good-naturedly, pulling the sweatshirt over his head and glancing down at the Starfleet Academy logo printed on the front. When he looked back up again, Pike was smirking. "What?"
"Just glad I'm not going to be the one to have to deal with you in class, that's all," Pike said mysteriously. "Number One is going to have her work cut out for her."
"Who?" But Pike just shook his head. "You know, you are really over-confident that I'm going to do what you want-"
"Save it," Pike cut in. "Also, go wake up Dr. McCoy and see where Spock got to. If any of you want breakfast, now's the time, 'cause we're leaving in an hour. Don't be late." With that, Pike turned and left the kitchen, headed towards the master bedroom. Jim rolled his eyes at Pike's retreating back, but it had no weight behind it. Considering how little sleep he got last night (Vulcan body heat plus the heat of the Mojave desert equalled Jim Kirk sweating a lot), Jim wasn't anywhere near as crabby as he might have been. Then again, considering the way he'd woken up this morning, maybe it wasn't such a surprise.
As if on cue, Spock entered the room from the opposite doorway. He went immediately to Jim, indulging in a spine-tingling kiss against the counter before he pulled back. "Why are you wearing that sweatshirt?" he asked. "And where is Captain Pike?"
"Dunno. Went off to be Captainly, I guess. And I spilled coffee on my shirt, that's why." Jim leaned up and stole another kiss, before a loud cough from the other side of the room interrupted him. Jim broke off and pressed his face to Spock's throat, grinning to himself.
"Goddammit, Jim," came McCoy's voice, thick with sleep and superficial irritation. "Can't you two keep it in your pants for ten damn minutes? Already woke me up once this morning."
"My apologies, doctor," Spock said smoothly, though he hadn't yet taken his hands away from Jim's hips. If Jim thought Spock had been a touch possessive before, it was nothing to how Spock was behaving after formally declaring his intentions towards Jim. "We had no intention of disrupting your sleep."
"Sure you didn't," McCoy grumbled, making a beeline for the coffee-pot, an old-fashioned affair that consisted of nothing more than a glass canister, a plunger, and a mesh filter. "If I hear you again tonight, I am going to poison you both in your sleep."
"What makes you think we're gonna wait 'til tonight?" Jim said innocently.
"Jim!"
* * * * *
"Spock?" Jim had to keep his voice quiet, not wanting to draw anyone's attention, though considering how huge the audience chamber was, it was doubtful anyone but their nearest neighbors would hear a word. The chamber stretched around them, up and up, more like a canyon or a cathedral than a senate chamber, all white walls and high, narrow windows. The amount of light the place got was the only thing that gave Jim a fighting chance at not falling instantly asleep during the speech of every single Vulcan who got up on the podium.
"Yes, Jim?"
"How long did you say this hearing was going to go on for?"
"Three weeks," Spock said. He turned his head ever-so-slightly in Jim's direction, raising that enigmatic eyebrow at him. Jim groaned. "Were you unaware of its length?"
"No, but I was kinda hoping I was wrong. Because Vulcans believe in efficiency! Not in everything taking eight thousand years to cover every single detail of the relationship between Vulcan and the Federation since the beginning of recorded time."
"You are exaggerating again," Spock said serenely, but he reached over and took Jim's hand for a moment, stroking the tips of his fingers over the backs of Jim's before returning his hands to his own lap.
As if on cue, McCoy leaned over on Jim's other side and nudged him in the ribs, while somehow managing to keep his eyes on the figures down below. "Ow! Dammit, Bones..."
"Can it, kid, your mom is speaking next." Jim went white, going very still in his seat. Spock glanced once at Jim, but when Jim gave no word or sign, he turned his attention back to the front.
Down below, a slim, grey-suited figure was walking up to the stand, her blonde hair pulled back in an elegant twist. Jim felt his heart wedge itself into his throat despite his best efforts, and he leaned forward, trying to get a better look.
"Next speaker," announced the tiny, grey-haired chairwoman, peering over her spectacles at Winona. Winona nodded at her and started up the steps. "Lieutenant Commander Winona Kirk."
Winona mounted the podium, and the chamber went quiet. Behind her, the big screen projected an image of her from the waist up, magnified a thousand times. Jim could feel Spock and McCoy next to him, staring in fascination at the face of Jim's mother, and wondered what they were thinking of right now. Winona gazed around the room, hands resting lightly on the podium in front of her, and when she bent down to speak, Jim felt his breath catch in his throat.
"When I first received the message requesting my presence at this hearing, I thought someone was playing a joke on me," Winona said. Her voice was clear and strong, and, Jim thought, would have carried throughout the room even without the aid of the amplifying speakers. "I'm not active duty any longer, and I only teach from the comfort of my own home. Furthermore, I've never been known for my public speaking. Too rude, and too concerned with more technical problems. But after I gave it some thought, I knew I had to come. Not only because it's an honor that the Vulcan Embassy thought my opinion was worth listening to, but because I owe a personal debt to a number of Vulcan officers and healers."
Jim's chest tightened, and he clenched his hands on his knees as he suffered a premonition of what was coming next. Below him, down on the floor, Winona kept talking. "One of the many reasons I'm now semi-retired is because I know all too well how often the Federation-and Starfleet-likes to sweep unflattering events under the rug and pretend they never happened. Lucky for me, I can't be court-martialed for talking about a clusterfuck that's already on public record, so I can be candid with this audience here today, and with the many of you who are watching the broadcast."
"Now I see where you got your elegant language, Jim," McCoy muttered, and it was Jim's turn to elbow his friend in the ribs.
Winona paused, and stared directly into the camera aimed at her face. "I'm talking about the events that happened on Tarsus IV, thirteen years ago." The room, which had resumed a low-level murmur of background noise, went suddenly and completely still. Invisible up in his seat, Jim shrank deeper into his chair. "I don't care to go into the details, the hows and whys of how the crop failure and the genocide came about. What I'm here to talk about today are the people who came off that first ship to help the survivors-not just the soldiers, but the healers and counselors that Vulcan sent before any other Federation vessels could arrive. The first responders."
Jim's mouth was bone-dry; beside him, Spock managed to rip his gaze away from Winona long enough to look at his partner in some concern, but Jim just shook his head, eyes never leaving his mother's face. After a moment, Spock looked back as well. "If it wasn't for the team of healers that landed on Tarsus IV that day, the body count from execution and famine would doubtless have been so much higher. And if it wasn't for the counselors, even those that survived might not have stayed with us to help prevent such things from happening again. One of the survivors whose life was saved by a Vulcan healer was my son."
In tandem, Spock and McCoy both turned to look at Jim, and for once they were wearing nearly identical expressions of horror. "No," Jim hissed, still unable to tear his eyes away. Down below, Winona kept talking, but for the moment Jim couldn't even really hear her. "It wasn't me, okay? She's not talking about me."
"Then who-" Spock demanded, bewildered, even as understanding dawned on McCoy's face.
"My brother," Jim said softly. He looked away from Winona, raising his eyes to meet Spock's. "She's talking about my brother."
* * * * *
The Tarsus disaster wasn't all Winona talked about-thank God, Jim thought-but the end result was that the Vulcans present all seemed impressed with the honesty and bluntness she'd shown, even if Starfleet was now having mixed feelings about asking her to come speak. Jim didn't care; he had too much else to think about.
"That was a hell of a speech, Mrs. Kirk."
"Winona, please. Thanks... Dr. McCoy, isn't it?"
"Leonard McCoy, yes, pleasure to meet you, ma'am."
"Oh god, am I a ma'am?" Winona laughed, tossing her head back, and the gesture made something in Jim's chest clutch and ache. He followed behind Spock and Captain Pike, dragging his feet a little as he waited for the crowd of people around his mother to disperse. This was so far from anything he'd pictured whenever he'd given a spare thought to seeing his mother again, but it didn't look as if he'd be able to slip away unnoticed. Not that he really wanted to-Winona was his mother, after all-but he wished this was going to be a little less awkward.
Off to one side, another man that Jim didn't recognize was doing his own version of the lurk. He had reddish hair and a pale complexion that was currently splotchy and red-probably from the heat, Jim thought-and the way he was watching Winona, a sort of puppyish, wistful expression, made Jim wonder if this was the boyfriend Pike had been talking about. It was better than standing around with Spock and McCoy and pretending to not notice the sideways looks they were giving him after the bomb Winona had dropped during her speech, anyway. Jim knew there was no way he'd be getting out of that conversation later, but it didn't mean he had to think about it now.
Jim sidled over to the red-headed stranger, endeavoring to make it look casual and not like he was trying to scope out the guy who was banging his mom (oh god oh god why did he let his brain go there, why?), and said, "You look about as comfortable in this heat as I feel."
The man glanced at Jim, summoning a rueful smile. "Oh, aye, it's pretty wretched, I'll not argue with you there," he said amiably. "But at least the hotel rooms have proper air in them, so it's not a complete loss."
"The joy of interspecies relations," Jim agreed, and stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Jim."
"Pleasure, Jim, I'm Scotty." They shook, and Jim, who had been prepared to punk the stranger at a moment's notice, decided to keep the hammer from dropping, at least for now.
"So, are you here to testify?" he asked casually. Scotty shook his head, and gestured vaguely in the direction of Winona, who was still chatting amiably with McCoy, as well as Spock and Captain Pike, now.
"Nah, I'm just tagging along with this lovely lady, here. Say, did you hear her speech? Quite a bombshell! 'No gift for public speaking,' my arse. In fact-"
"Monty!" Jim and Scotty both jerked their heads up like guilty schoolboys to find Winona watching them in clear amusement. "I see you've met my son, Monty."
Scotty looked at Jim in shock. "You're Jim Kirk?" he said indignantly. "You rat bastard, you weren't going to say a word, were you?"
"Probably not," Jim said, "at least not until I'd gotten something really incriminating out of you." He grinned, cheerfully ignoring the glower Scotty was leveling at him in favor of taking three quick steps to cross the distance to his mother. He and Winona spent about five seconds just looking at each other, while everyone stood around them in a loose semi-circle and pretended to not be staring, until Winona snorted and pulled Jim into a short, fierce hug. He was five inches taller than her, but it didn't seem to make much difference. "Augh-hi, mom."
"Jim, you jerk." Winona released him, stepping back a bit and looking over him critically. "But you look good for a jerk. At least you've been taking care of yourself." Winona glanced sideways at Spock, then looked back at Jim expectantly. "Well? You already beat me to introducing you to Monty, aren't you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?"
"What? Mom! Jesus, now is when we're having this conversation? Right now?" Jim sneaked a glance sideways at his friends, hoping vaguely for support, but if anything Spock looked fucking amused (well, for a Vulcan). Meanwhile, McCoy outright looked like he was having the best day of his life, the son of a bitch. Jim didn't dare to even look at Pike.
"Please, Jimmy. I'm your mother, it means I have a natural immunity to your bullshit."
"Right, okay, but-later, please? I promise I will tell you everything," he added, when Winona opened her mouth with a particularly meaningful look in her eyes. His mother raised her eyebrows at him, then finally smiled.
"Allright, fine. I have to go talk to Barnett in a few minutes, anyway, and pretend to care about the whining he's going to throw at me. But I'm going to take all of you gentlemen out to dinner tonight, so don't make any other plans." With this, Winona extended her arm to Scotty, who took it, making a heroic show of not acknowledging the furious red in his cheeks, and the two of them sauntered towards one of the exits.
"Why did you not wish to introduce me to your mother just yet?" Spock asked, as he and Jim fell into step, following Captain Pike and McCoy towards one of the other exits. Spock's tone was mild, but that was part for the course; Spock would have sounded just as blasé about a tornado that was headed directly for them.
"Because she'd want to know how I met you," Jim sighed. "And I was hoping to save the shouting match following the 'So I've been having sex for money' conversation for a private moment."
"Ah." Something in Spock's tone made Jim glance up at him, and at the smile he saw hiding at the corners of Spock's mouth made him want to either smack Spock or kiss him stupid, he wasn't sure which.
"Shut up, Spock."
"I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about," Spock said smoothly.
Second part of Chapter Five here.
Title: What Part of Forever (Chapter 5)
Author & Mixer: Kairi (feels_like_fire) Did my own mix for this, which you can find here.
Artist: kauniainen did a beautiful piece of artwork that you can see HERE, I will make sure she sees all of your comments!
Betas: This fic would not EXIST if it were not for the efforts of tmysha, rainjewel, and linzeestyle. I CAN NEVER THANK YOU ENOUGH.
Series: AOS/Reboot, pre-Academy slight AU
Character/Pairing(s): Kirk/Spock, McCoy, Rand, Chapel, Pike, Winona Kirk, Sarek, T'Pring, Harry Mudd, with cameos by Scotty and Number One
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: ~85k total; this part, 11,405.
Summary: Vulcan is considering seceding from the Federation; Spock decides now is a good time to catch up on being Human. So he hires Jim Kirk as his guide, with predictable results. Pretty Woman redux, now with more sex. In this chapter, Spock and Jim-and Vulcan-have to make their decisions about the future.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Interlude. Chapter Four. The art. The mix.
Either the traffic in Los Angeles had become that much more congested since the last time Spock had crossed it-perhaps in sympathy to the knots currently twisting Spock's stomach-or else stress really was getting the better of him. Regardless, the drive along "Historic U.S. Route 66" was such slow going that Spock briefly but seriously considered turning around and demanding a cross-city transport via one of the Federation ships he knew was waiting in orbit above Earth. But he did finally manage to make it to Venice Beach in one piece, and pulled up outside Jim's house in his rented hovercraft forty-four minutes after departing the Beverly Wilshire, at 9:56 pm. It was late, Spock reflected. He wondered if he should wait until morning.
Spock stared at the front door for a few moments before letting his gaze drop to his hands, fingers still wrapped around the steering wheel. He amended his previous train of thought: he should almost certainly wait until morning, for Dr. McCoy's sake if for no other reason. Jim might be prone to late evening hours, but Dr. McCoy did frequent early shifts at St. Mary's and no doubt needed all the sleep he could get.
Thirty more seconds passed before Spock climbed out of the car, thirty seconds of trying unsuccessfully to convince himself to at least page Jim on his PADD before knocking at the front door. It would have been more logical to message Jim before leaving for his house, to make sure Jim was actually here, but Spock hadn't been able to stomach the idea that Jim might decide to cut and run before Spock could get here to talk to him. The thought that Jim would run rather than give Spock a chance to explain himself hurt, but wasn't that what Jim had already done once today? He could not afford to discount it entirely and make the same mistake twice. So he'd come to Jim's house with no forewarning, calculating a 76.85% chance that Jim would still be here based upon the influence of Dr. McCoy and Spock's estimation of his¬---of Jim's character.
This thought hit Spock as he was walking up the drive, and he paused for a moment, suffering another pang of doubt. He did not even know how to quantify Jim within the safety of his own mind. Small wonder that Jim had grown so anxious since their return from Washington. Spock thought again of Charlotte and Alan, realized that he hadn't so much as messaged them since their return save for a cursory missive sent to inform them of his safe arrival. It seemed that despite all his best intentions, his pursuit of his Human heritage had become even more complicated than simply sticking to his Vulcan half.
Later. He would have to deal with all of that later. Right now, Jim was the only thing that mattered. Resolving thus, Spock took the last three steps to Jim's front door, raised his hand, and knocked three sharp, quick raps.
For a few seconds, nothing happened; the house was lit from within, but quiet. Spock couldn't tell if anyone was actually up. Then he heard footsteps from inside, and seven seconds later, the door opened, revealing a rather disgruntled-looking Leonard McCoy. "Why am I not surprised," he said, eyeing Spock with the air of a man who has grudgingly accepted that the world has gone insane but adamantly refuses to like it.
"Dr. McCoy," Spock began, but McCoy just rolled his eyes, stepping back and gesturing Spock inside. Spock entered hesitantly, glancing into the living room, but Jim was nowhere in sight.
"I'll get Jim," McCoy said. "Go have a seat, Spock."
Spock did. He smoothed his hands over the arrow-straight lines of his trousers, and this was the position he was in when Jim entered his peripheral vision. Spock looked up, and in that instant he suddenly knew the sensation behind the Human euphemism of having one's heart stop: his chest seized up, his lungs clenching tight, the silence in the room abruptly unbearable.
Neither man spoke for several seconds. Spock could only stare. Then Jim let out a breath and came forward, and Spock broke his own paralysis, rising to his feet. "Jim-" he began, but Jim shook his head, smiling slightly.
"Let's go for a walk," Jim said. "Let me get my jacket." Spock nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as he tried to stand in the living room and not think of the conversation he was about to have, or how it might turn out. Jim came back in under a minute, and Spock followed him out the front door, pulling it carefully closed behind him.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, heading down the street and out of Jim's neighborhood, turning west towards the ocean, the water rendered molten silver under the full moon. Spock found he had never been so aware of his own body, or of another person's. Never had letting his hands swing at his side felt so awkward.
Jim slowed as they approached another intersection, glancing at Spock. "I thought we could go down to the boardwalk," he said, his gaze intent.
The uncertain note in his voice went straight to Spock's gut, his stomach twisting painfully. But all he said was, "That would be satisfactory." Jim nodded, smiling that faint smile, and they continued on in renewed silence.
Eighteen minutes and thirty-five seconds after leaving the front door, they finally came in sight of the water, stopping at the edge of the wooden boardwalk. Clouds had moved in from the sea, obscuring the moon and stars. The Pacific, normally so impressive, was now nothing more than a smothering grey presence looming up as far as even Spock's eyes could see. It was difficult to tell where sand, ocean, or sky left off, the horizon almost invisible. Spock stared out at the blue-grey expanse, dismayed that he had no better idea what to say now than he had back in the hover-craft.
Beside him, Jim leaned against the wooden fence, arms and elbows resting on the topmost rail. He stared at the ocean, his expression unreadable, and for several long moments the only noise was the low hiss and rush of the water slipping invisibly back and forth across the sand. Spock's throat constricted, a dozen impulses all fighting for dominance. He tightened his hands on the wooden rail.
"Jim," Spock began, and stopped. Jim turned to stare at him, his expression a study in complication. Spock took a deep breath. "I was afraid you would be gone," he said finally. "That you would have left."
Jim smiled, but this was one of those Human expressions that held very little pleasure or humor. "I was gonna," he admitted. "But Bones talked some sense into me."
"Then I owe him a debt of gratitude." Spock moved to close the distance between them, making as if to reach out and touch Jim's face. But Jim leaned away, and Spock faltered mid-gesture, his hand falling awkwardly back to his side.
"I don't know if you want to be thanking Bones just yet," Jim said, trying for 'casual' and not quite achieving it, eyes pointedly on Spock's face and not that abortive touch. "Since you haven't gotten around to telling me why you came all the way here tonight. We can't just ...keep doing what we were doing, Spock. At least, I can't do that." Jim's voice shook on this last, but he regained his composure almost immediately, regarding Spock steadily.
"I came to apologize for my harsh words earlier today," Spock said, never taking his eyes from Jim's face. "You were in distress, and I allowed myself to react inappropriately."
"Yeah, well, I was a pretty big dick to you, too, so you weren't the only one," Jim said. He crossed his arms across his chest, then uncrossed them, shoving his hands into his pockets. He took a deep breath, still regarding Spock with that half-wary, half-hopeful expression that was wreaking havoc on Spock's ability to think straight. "The way I reacted was about nine kinds of ridiculous. But do I really-"
"My criticism of you was unwarranted," Spock interrupted. He didn't think he could bear to hear his own words repeated back to him out of Jim's mouth.
"Uh," Jim said, and laughed. "No. Not entirely unwarranted, anyway. But what I was gonna ask, Spock, is if you meant what I heard you say to your dad." He hesitated, and Spock's badly-lagging brain finally realized what Jim wanted to ask but seemed to have difficulty saying aloud.
"Do you complicate me, you mean?" Jim nodded. He seemed to be holding his breath. Spock smiled, ever so slightly, the barest quirk of his lips. "Irredeemably. I came here to ask if you would continue to complicate me, as I do not wish to live without it. Or without you."
Jim stared at him. For several seconds, Spock could once more hear nothing but the murmur of the ocean not thirty yards off, the salty, dark smell of the water filling his nostrils. The moment seemed to stretch, a product of his own illogical wish that if what next came out of Jim's mouth was "no," that time might stop right now so that Spock would never have to hear it. "Spock," Jim managed finally, and took a deep breath. "God. Um." Jim shut his eyes for a few seconds. "That depends, Spock. What will you do if Vulcan actually does secede? Because I can't---do this again. We have to decide this here, tonight."
It was Spock's turn to hesitate. "I do not know, Jim," Spock said finally, and Jim's face fell. "I cannot conceive of returning to a planet that has just shown how little it thinks of me, and of other species, but neither do I know where else I might go."
Jim's jaw tightened, and he turned away, planting both hands on the railing, gripping hard as he stared out to sea again. Spock stood rigid, his arms locked at his sides, hands clenched into fists with the effort of not grabbing Jim and turning him back to face Spock. "You know," Jim said suddenly, "Pike came to see me tonight too. A few hours ago."
"Indeed?" Spock strove to keep his voice neutral. As easy tasks went, this one proved nearly impossible.
"Uh-huh. He's sponsoring Bones into the Academy. Said I basically had a place guaranteed for me if I wanted it."
"That seems of questionable legality," Spock observed, and Jim gave a short little laugh that made Spock dig crescent-shaped welts into his palms. Spock stared at the side of Jim's face, his gaze lingering at the corner of Jim's full mouth. "Do you plan to accept?"
Jim shrugged, leaning forward against the rail and clasping his hands. "I dunno. I should. God knows it's better than hangin' around LA doing nothing."
"You would be excellent at Starfleet," Spock said softly. "It would provide ample opportunity for one as gifted as you."
"Yeah? You know who else would be excellent at Starfleet?" Jim turned back towards Spock, his face and body tight with barely-contained energy. "You."
Spock shook his head. "Negative. I am a scientist, not a soldier."
"Oh, whatever. Is that what you meant by 'gifted,' that I'd be a great soldier? Gee, thanks." Jim rolled his eyes, a smile playing about his lips despite the sarcasm.
"Negative; you have the capacity to excell at anything you wished to pursue at the Academy, however--" Spock never got the opportunity to finish, because Jim had stepped forward and grabbed two fistfuls of Spock's shirt, pulling him down into a kiss that rattled Spock's skull and made sparks burst behind his eyes. There was a moment of white shock, and then Spock crushed Jim to his chest, returning the press of lips. After a few moments of needy fumbling on both their parts, Spock's hand found Jim's and twined their fingers tightly together..
Finally, Jim broke away just enough to breathe, his face flushed and his lips swollen from kissing. The sight made Spock itch, but he pushed all his other urges aside for the moment. "Please clarify your answer, Jim," he murmured, stroking the pad of his thumb against Jim's cheekbone. "Your response is indistinct."
"Shut the fuck up, Spock." Jim's grin was blinding, barely visible out of the corner of Spock's eyes. "I want to keep complicating you," he said, the slightest shake in his words. "Now will you stop asking stupid questions?"
Spock felt his chest tighten, his heart thundering in his side. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Jim's. "I cannot make any such promises, as my Human half is prone to fits of illogic," he said, "but I find your answer most satisfactory." Jim made a wet noise in the back of his throat, and Spock felt the ache in his chest expand until he thought he might pass out. Jim drew a harsh breath and drew back, lessening the strength of the connection, and he and Spock stared at each other for several seconds, not speaking.
"You're such a dick, Spock," Jim said, smiling. He pulled Spock down for another kiss, and Spock found no need to say anything else.
* * * * *
"Would someone please tell me why the hell we're going out into fucking Death Valley for this?" McCoy glared across the cabin at Jim and Spock, already stripped down to just his short-sleeved undershirt. The transport had air-conditioning, but between the altered temperature settings for Vulcan physiologies and the late-August heat, it wasn't currently doing much good, and McCoy was about four cramps away from vomiting his lunch over the expensive nuleather upholstery.
"It is actually the Mojave desert we are going to, doctor," Spock said placidly. Jim was strapped into the seat next to Spock, similarly wearing just a white t-shirt and jeans for the journey, but looking considerably less put-out about it than McCoy did. "And the secession hearing being held in the desert is out of deference to the number of Vulcans in attendance and our preference for hot, arid climates. It is a most courteous gesture on the part of Federation officials, in recognition of the inconvenience of having to travel from Vulcan for the hearing in the first place."
"You didn't have to come, you know," Jim pointed out. "You could have stayed home. It's not like you even have to testify."
McCoy rolled his eyes hard enough to be heard back in Los Angeles, bracing against the seat-back and taking a few deep, not-nearly-steadying-enough breaths. "Sure, Jim," he grumbled. "Captain Pike offers to put us up at his fucking ranch out in the desert, and arranges seats for us at the secession hearing, and also, the man's agreed to be my advisor at the Academy. I'm totally going to tell him no. Fuck, Jim."
"I'm just saying-!"
"Yeah, well, shut up." McCoy groaned, trying to sink lower into his seat, the lap-strap digging into his stomach. He groped for the bottle of water in his bag on the seat next to him, taking a few desperate quaffs before slumping back into his seat with a groan.
Spock watched him in growing consternation, glancing at Jim as McCoy made a noise resembling a man being mauled by a grizzly. "Doctor, perhaps you should give yourself an anti-nausea injection to help with your kinetosis," he began, but McCoy just shook his head, beads of sweat now standing out on his cheeks and forehead.
"Can't," he grated out. "Allergic reaction. S'the one thing I'm allergic to and Jim's not."
"Hey, I'm not allergic to that much," Jim protested. "Besides, he's not motion-sick, Spock, he just has a horrible fear of flying."
As if on cue, McCoy ripped the seatbelt off and went staggering into the head, slamming the door shut behind him as best as he was able. Seconds later, Jim and Spock could hear the unmistakeable sounds of retching. Spock looked at Jim, silently raising an eyebrow. Jim sighed. "Okay," he amended, "maybe he does get motion-sick, too."
* * * * *
"You invited who?"
"Jim, calm down, would you? Jesus." Pike leveled a glare at Jim that any Vulcan would be proud of, weakened only somewhat by the casual clothes he was wearing. It was still early, and the white-washed kitchen of the adobe-style ranch was still relatively cool and filled with cheerful morning light. "I didn't invite your mother, I submitted her name to the Admiralty as a suggestion of which Federation representatives might be chosen to speak at the hearing. She was chosen and accepted our request to come speak. And she's not staying here, she's staying at the same hotel the rest of the Federation reps are staying in, her and her boyfriend."
Jim choked, nearly dropping the cup of coffee he'd just raised to his lips. "Boyfriend?" he sputtered, setting the mug down on the counter and grabbing for a rag to wipe the spill up with. "Excuse me? Boyfriend? The fuck?"
Pike stayed where he was at the table, watching in amusement as Jim wiped up the coffee he'd spilled on himself and the floor, though the huge brown patch on his shirt was too big to salvage. "I knew you two didn't talk much, but you really didn't know she's been seeing someone?" Jim scowled by way of response, peeling off the shirt and chucking it onto the counter, peering at the splotch of red on his chest where the hot coffee had scalded him right through his shirt. "Yes, she's seeing someone. Some student or former student of hers, apparently, a real engineering whiz. Name of Montgomery Scott."
"Yeah? What's he like?" Jim went to the sink, wetting a rag with cold water and dabbing at his chest. "God, please say he's not, like, my age. That'd be awful."
"A few years older than you, late twenties," Pike said amiably, and chuckled to himself as Jim made a noise like a cat being stepped on. "Brilliant, eccentric. Got sort of a problem with authority, though not the way you do."
"Gee, thanks." Jim flung the rag into the sink and leaned against the counter. "So, why exactly are you putting me and Bones and Spock up here instead of at one of the hotels with everyone else?"
"All the hotels have been booked full for at least a month now, Jim. I wanted you here and I live here, so it seemed the most reasonable thing to do. Spock had a room with the rest of the embassy, but he chose to stay with you here and give up his room for someone who couldn't find lodging elsewhere." Pike tapped a few buttons on his PADD, saving and closing a file before standing up, device in hand. "And because frankly, I'm not above a little positive reinforcement if it gets me three good recruits instead of just one."
"Yeah, Spock told me you've been trying to con him into leaving the VSA for Starfleet for years now. Persistent son of a bitch, aren't you?" Jim flinched as Pike threw a sweatshirt at him, the one that had been hanging on the back of his own chair.
"Watch your mouth, kid. You might not be one of my cadets just yet, but I don't need to hear your sass or see all the hickeys your boyfriend's been giving you."
Jim grinned good-naturedly, pulling the sweatshirt over his head and glancing down at the Starfleet Academy logo printed on the front. When he looked back up again, Pike was smirking. "What?"
"Just glad I'm not going to be the one to have to deal with you in class, that's all," Pike said mysteriously. "Number One is going to have her work cut out for her."
"Who?" But Pike just shook his head. "You know, you are really over-confident that I'm going to do what you want-"
"Save it," Pike cut in. "Also, go wake up Dr. McCoy and see where Spock got to. If any of you want breakfast, now's the time, 'cause we're leaving in an hour. Don't be late." With that, Pike turned and left the kitchen, headed towards the master bedroom. Jim rolled his eyes at Pike's retreating back, but it had no weight behind it. Considering how little sleep he got last night (Vulcan body heat plus the heat of the Mojave desert equalled Jim Kirk sweating a lot), Jim wasn't anywhere near as crabby as he might have been. Then again, considering the way he'd woken up this morning, maybe it wasn't such a surprise.
As if on cue, Spock entered the room from the opposite doorway. He went immediately to Jim, indulging in a spine-tingling kiss against the counter before he pulled back. "Why are you wearing that sweatshirt?" he asked. "And where is Captain Pike?"
"Dunno. Went off to be Captainly, I guess. And I spilled coffee on my shirt, that's why." Jim leaned up and stole another kiss, before a loud cough from the other side of the room interrupted him. Jim broke off and pressed his face to Spock's throat, grinning to himself.
"Goddammit, Jim," came McCoy's voice, thick with sleep and superficial irritation. "Can't you two keep it in your pants for ten damn minutes? Already woke me up once this morning."
"My apologies, doctor," Spock said smoothly, though he hadn't yet taken his hands away from Jim's hips. If Jim thought Spock had been a touch possessive before, it was nothing to how Spock was behaving after formally declaring his intentions towards Jim. "We had no intention of disrupting your sleep."
"Sure you didn't," McCoy grumbled, making a beeline for the coffee-pot, an old-fashioned affair that consisted of nothing more than a glass canister, a plunger, and a mesh filter. "If I hear you again tonight, I am going to poison you both in your sleep."
"What makes you think we're gonna wait 'til tonight?" Jim said innocently.
"Jim!"
* * * * *
"Spock?" Jim had to keep his voice quiet, not wanting to draw anyone's attention, though considering how huge the audience chamber was, it was doubtful anyone but their nearest neighbors would hear a word. The chamber stretched around them, up and up, more like a canyon or a cathedral than a senate chamber, all white walls and high, narrow windows. The amount of light the place got was the only thing that gave Jim a fighting chance at not falling instantly asleep during the speech of every single Vulcan who got up on the podium.
"Yes, Jim?"
"How long did you say this hearing was going to go on for?"
"Three weeks," Spock said. He turned his head ever-so-slightly in Jim's direction, raising that enigmatic eyebrow at him. Jim groaned. "Were you unaware of its length?"
"No, but I was kinda hoping I was wrong. Because Vulcans believe in efficiency! Not in everything taking eight thousand years to cover every single detail of the relationship between Vulcan and the Federation since the beginning of recorded time."
"You are exaggerating again," Spock said serenely, but he reached over and took Jim's hand for a moment, stroking the tips of his fingers over the backs of Jim's before returning his hands to his own lap.
As if on cue, McCoy leaned over on Jim's other side and nudged him in the ribs, while somehow managing to keep his eyes on the figures down below. "Ow! Dammit, Bones..."
"Can it, kid, your mom is speaking next." Jim went white, going very still in his seat. Spock glanced once at Jim, but when Jim gave no word or sign, he turned his attention back to the front.
Down below, a slim, grey-suited figure was walking up to the stand, her blonde hair pulled back in an elegant twist. Jim felt his heart wedge itself into his throat despite his best efforts, and he leaned forward, trying to get a better look.
"Next speaker," announced the tiny, grey-haired chairwoman, peering over her spectacles at Winona. Winona nodded at her and started up the steps. "Lieutenant Commander Winona Kirk."
Winona mounted the podium, and the chamber went quiet. Behind her, the big screen projected an image of her from the waist up, magnified a thousand times. Jim could feel Spock and McCoy next to him, staring in fascination at the face of Jim's mother, and wondered what they were thinking of right now. Winona gazed around the room, hands resting lightly on the podium in front of her, and when she bent down to speak, Jim felt his breath catch in his throat.
"When I first received the message requesting my presence at this hearing, I thought someone was playing a joke on me," Winona said. Her voice was clear and strong, and, Jim thought, would have carried throughout the room even without the aid of the amplifying speakers. "I'm not active duty any longer, and I only teach from the comfort of my own home. Furthermore, I've never been known for my public speaking. Too rude, and too concerned with more technical problems. But after I gave it some thought, I knew I had to come. Not only because it's an honor that the Vulcan Embassy thought my opinion was worth listening to, but because I owe a personal debt to a number of Vulcan officers and healers."
Jim's chest tightened, and he clenched his hands on his knees as he suffered a premonition of what was coming next. Below him, down on the floor, Winona kept talking. "One of the many reasons I'm now semi-retired is because I know all too well how often the Federation-and Starfleet-likes to sweep unflattering events under the rug and pretend they never happened. Lucky for me, I can't be court-martialed for talking about a clusterfuck that's already on public record, so I can be candid with this audience here today, and with the many of you who are watching the broadcast."
"Now I see where you got your elegant language, Jim," McCoy muttered, and it was Jim's turn to elbow his friend in the ribs.
Winona paused, and stared directly into the camera aimed at her face. "I'm talking about the events that happened on Tarsus IV, thirteen years ago." The room, which had resumed a low-level murmur of background noise, went suddenly and completely still. Invisible up in his seat, Jim shrank deeper into his chair. "I don't care to go into the details, the hows and whys of how the crop failure and the genocide came about. What I'm here to talk about today are the people who came off that first ship to help the survivors-not just the soldiers, but the healers and counselors that Vulcan sent before any other Federation vessels could arrive. The first responders."
Jim's mouth was bone-dry; beside him, Spock managed to rip his gaze away from Winona long enough to look at his partner in some concern, but Jim just shook his head, eyes never leaving his mother's face. After a moment, Spock looked back as well. "If it wasn't for the team of healers that landed on Tarsus IV that day, the body count from execution and famine would doubtless have been so much higher. And if it wasn't for the counselors, even those that survived might not have stayed with us to help prevent such things from happening again. One of the survivors whose life was saved by a Vulcan healer was my son."
In tandem, Spock and McCoy both turned to look at Jim, and for once they were wearing nearly identical expressions of horror. "No," Jim hissed, still unable to tear his eyes away. Down below, Winona kept talking, but for the moment Jim couldn't even really hear her. "It wasn't me, okay? She's not talking about me."
"Then who-" Spock demanded, bewildered, even as understanding dawned on McCoy's face.
"My brother," Jim said softly. He looked away from Winona, raising his eyes to meet Spock's. "She's talking about my brother."
* * * * *
The Tarsus disaster wasn't all Winona talked about-thank God, Jim thought-but the end result was that the Vulcans present all seemed impressed with the honesty and bluntness she'd shown, even if Starfleet was now having mixed feelings about asking her to come speak. Jim didn't care; he had too much else to think about.
"That was a hell of a speech, Mrs. Kirk."
"Winona, please. Thanks... Dr. McCoy, isn't it?"
"Leonard McCoy, yes, pleasure to meet you, ma'am."
"Oh god, am I a ma'am?" Winona laughed, tossing her head back, and the gesture made something in Jim's chest clutch and ache. He followed behind Spock and Captain Pike, dragging his feet a little as he waited for the crowd of people around his mother to disperse. This was so far from anything he'd pictured whenever he'd given a spare thought to seeing his mother again, but it didn't look as if he'd be able to slip away unnoticed. Not that he really wanted to-Winona was his mother, after all-but he wished this was going to be a little less awkward.
Off to one side, another man that Jim didn't recognize was doing his own version of the lurk. He had reddish hair and a pale complexion that was currently splotchy and red-probably from the heat, Jim thought-and the way he was watching Winona, a sort of puppyish, wistful expression, made Jim wonder if this was the boyfriend Pike had been talking about. It was better than standing around with Spock and McCoy and pretending to not notice the sideways looks they were giving him after the bomb Winona had dropped during her speech, anyway. Jim knew there was no way he'd be getting out of that conversation later, but it didn't mean he had to think about it now.
Jim sidled over to the red-headed stranger, endeavoring to make it look casual and not like he was trying to scope out the guy who was banging his mom (oh god oh god why did he let his brain go there, why?), and said, "You look about as comfortable in this heat as I feel."
The man glanced at Jim, summoning a rueful smile. "Oh, aye, it's pretty wretched, I'll not argue with you there," he said amiably. "But at least the hotel rooms have proper air in them, so it's not a complete loss."
"The joy of interspecies relations," Jim agreed, and stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Jim."
"Pleasure, Jim, I'm Scotty." They shook, and Jim, who had been prepared to punk the stranger at a moment's notice, decided to keep the hammer from dropping, at least for now.
"So, are you here to testify?" he asked casually. Scotty shook his head, and gestured vaguely in the direction of Winona, who was still chatting amiably with McCoy, as well as Spock and Captain Pike, now.
"Nah, I'm just tagging along with this lovely lady, here. Say, did you hear her speech? Quite a bombshell! 'No gift for public speaking,' my arse. In fact-"
"Monty!" Jim and Scotty both jerked their heads up like guilty schoolboys to find Winona watching them in clear amusement. "I see you've met my son, Monty."
Scotty looked at Jim in shock. "You're Jim Kirk?" he said indignantly. "You rat bastard, you weren't going to say a word, were you?"
"Probably not," Jim said, "at least not until I'd gotten something really incriminating out of you." He grinned, cheerfully ignoring the glower Scotty was leveling at him in favor of taking three quick steps to cross the distance to his mother. He and Winona spent about five seconds just looking at each other, while everyone stood around them in a loose semi-circle and pretended to not be staring, until Winona snorted and pulled Jim into a short, fierce hug. He was five inches taller than her, but it didn't seem to make much difference. "Augh-hi, mom."
"Jim, you jerk." Winona released him, stepping back a bit and looking over him critically. "But you look good for a jerk. At least you've been taking care of yourself." Winona glanced sideways at Spock, then looked back at Jim expectantly. "Well? You already beat me to introducing you to Monty, aren't you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?"
"What? Mom! Jesus, now is when we're having this conversation? Right now?" Jim sneaked a glance sideways at his friends, hoping vaguely for support, but if anything Spock looked fucking amused (well, for a Vulcan). Meanwhile, McCoy outright looked like he was having the best day of his life, the son of a bitch. Jim didn't dare to even look at Pike.
"Please, Jimmy. I'm your mother, it means I have a natural immunity to your bullshit."
"Right, okay, but-later, please? I promise I will tell you everything," he added, when Winona opened her mouth with a particularly meaningful look in her eyes. His mother raised her eyebrows at him, then finally smiled.
"Allright, fine. I have to go talk to Barnett in a few minutes, anyway, and pretend to care about the whining he's going to throw at me. But I'm going to take all of you gentlemen out to dinner tonight, so don't make any other plans." With this, Winona extended her arm to Scotty, who took it, making a heroic show of not acknowledging the furious red in his cheeks, and the two of them sauntered towards one of the exits.
"Why did you not wish to introduce me to your mother just yet?" Spock asked, as he and Jim fell into step, following Captain Pike and McCoy towards one of the other exits. Spock's tone was mild, but that was part for the course; Spock would have sounded just as blasé about a tornado that was headed directly for them.
"Because she'd want to know how I met you," Jim sighed. "And I was hoping to save the shouting match following the 'So I've been having sex for money' conversation for a private moment."
"Ah." Something in Spock's tone made Jim glance up at him, and at the smile he saw hiding at the corners of Spock's mouth made him want to either smack Spock or kiss him stupid, he wasn't sure which.
"Shut up, Spock."
"I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about," Spock said smoothly.
Second part of Chapter Five here.