Blackbird
Title: Blackbird
Author:
la_dame_boheme
Fandoms: Star Trek reboot
Category: AU, future, genderswitch
Rating: totally G
Pairings/Characters: girl!Spock/Kirk
Warnings: This is a future AU, and genderswap. If you don't like them, please don't read and then comment poorly. All though, please comment. Comments make me smile.
Summary: With Spock in Sickbay, Jim and their young daughter are having a hard time dealing with a night with out her.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. If I did, I would make the bridge crew come over and have a pool party with me so I could see them all without shirts on. Except Uhura. She and I would drool over the guys and sip fruity cocktails and speak French together.
Blackbird
He could understand the little girl’s distress. The raven haired toddler was just less capable of controlling her emotions than her father, but if Jim had had the choice, he’d be crying in the dark of their quarters just like she was. Spock was in sickbay, still. She was doing better, but she was still hurt, and little Amanda was having a hard time adapting to her mother’s absence. Jim was too. It wasn’t normal, or right. It wasn’t a life-threatening injury, Bones had made that very clear. It was just a typical away-mission wounding. But it was enough, and Jim didn’t like it. And apparently, neither did Amanda. The young Vulcan girl hadn’t stopped crying all night. She was only barely two years old, and all she knew was that Mommy wasn’t there. Mommy didn’t hum a quiet Vulcan tune to help her to sleep, or kiss her head and tuck her in. Jim was a pretty strong person; he had to be to be effective at his job. But this was killing him.
Jim sat up in bed and turned on a low light, blinking at the sudden brightness. Amanda was still curled up in her tiny bed, clutching her blue Starfleet issue fleece blanket and the stuffed Tribble Scotty had given her, her cries still babyish in sound. Her startlingly blue eyes were too bright, washed clean with tears and vibrant, just like Jim’s were when they teared up. It was very late, around 2 in the morning, Terran-standard, and he knew she hadn’t slept at all. “Starshine…” he said quietly, cocking his head and looking at her from his spot on the bed. She looked up at him, hiccupping and snuffling into her fuzzy stuffed animal. “Come here, baby girl…” He beckoned her, and the little girl sat up, grabbing her blanket and Tribble and toddling her way out of bed and over to him, still crying. Her neat braid was messy and frizzy from tossing and turning, and he smoothed a few soft, wayward hairs back from her face when she came near enough.
Jim picked her up gently and set her in his lap, holding her against his chest, where she curled up her face and cried. He rubbed her back, shushing gently, pressing his lips against her head. He still couldn’t get over how much she looked like her mother. Long, dark hair, pointed ears, small pale face. Except for the eyes. The brilliant blue eyes that were so much his and were his father’s before that. The blue eyes that caught every single star in space when they curled up together in the observation deck. It gave him an idea that might calm her down. “Hey, Starshine, you wanna go look at space with me?” he asked quietly, whispering against her hair. The little girl coughed on her sobs and tears and nodded, breath hitching. He nodded. It was too cold to sleep in anything but sweatpants and a sweatshirt, so he was at least decent. He wrapped her up tight in her blanket and picked her up, walking with her out of the room.
The ship’s captain took his small daughter through the dimly lit halls up to the observation deck. It was always empty during this late shift; the only ones up were the second shift officers, and they all had duties to distract them from leisurely stargazing. He walked with her to a chair right in the front, and pulled her up into his lap, rocking her quietly. She was still crying quietly, loneliness filling her beloved eyes. He sighed gently and rubbed her back, thinking about when he was this little, and grief and emptiness still haunted his mother at night. She would sing to him back then, rocking him and singing in her quiet, airy, pretty soprano. He could remember what she sang…heard it in his dreams even now, or in quiet moments on the bridge after long, difficult away missions. It was soothing, even in troubled times, to think about her lilting voice singing him to sleep. He swallowed, and took a deep breath, hoping his mother’s never-forgotten comforts would help his little girl get some rest.
“Black bird singin’ in the dead of night….” He sang against her hair, very softly. The observation deck was empty and silent, so even his quiet song filled the room. “Take these broken wings and learn to fly…all your life…” He heard her hiccups and sobs start to settle down, and her little face tilted up to look at him. Usually it was her mommy who sang her to sleep. Usually some quiet Vulcan lullaby; some dark and low melody that vibrated in her chest with her mother’s rich alto. But this was different. This was Daddy’s voice, scratchy and reedy and thin. “You were only waiting for this moment to arise…” Jim watched Amanda hug her Tribble tighter, snuggling closer to him, watching him eagerly for more. “Blackbird, fly. Blackbird, fly…” He smiled a little at her, stroking her tears from her face with his thumb. “…into the light of the dark black night…” Amanda yawned, and he smiled again, watching the sapphire eyes finally close. He hummed the tune, watching her face as she slowly drifted into sleep. But even though she was asleep, he didn’t stop singing. It was a comfort to him too.
He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, it was to his friend’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up and blinked, Amanda was still asleep in his lap, and they were both in pajamas. Bones watched them for a few minutes, his face unreadable. “Rough night?” he asked, voice gentler than Jim was expecting. The captain simply nodded, sitting up in his seat. Bones watched as Jim stood up with Amanda, who adjusted and went back to sleep with her head on her father’s shoulder. “I’ll be on the bridge in a minute. Lemme go lay her down.” His friend nodded and watched as the father and his Starshine trundled their way out of the observation deck, Jim humming something sounding remarkably like the Beatles.