Star Trek 11 Fic
Fic: Fear is in the Eye of the Beholder
POV: Jim Kirk
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: 5 times Jim should have been terrified but wasn't, and the one time he was.
5.After about the 5th time a Klingon held a phaser to my face, I got over it. I mean really, you can only be scared of the same exact scenario for so long before it's old news. So this time I just waited for the Klingon to make a stupid move, or for Spock to make a really smart one. No biggie.
4.I got shot in the leg. Seriously, shot with something called a bullet. It hit the inside of my left thigh...just below little James. I was too fuckin' relieved about my penis to even begin to be scared. I have priorities afterall. I'd rather be dead than a eunic.
3.There was a split second when things felt wrong. I heard Scotty and then I heard a bunch of white noise, then some more Scotty. But his voice was wrong, and his clothes too. I knew it was some one in a million transporter malfuction mixed in with time-space-continum fuckery, but my landing party was alive. That's more than I get most other missions.
2.We were in the middle of battle, heated, panicy, chaotic battle. It was something you could base the Kobyashi Maru on. But I'm the captain, and this is one of those no-win scenarios every Admiral tried to shove in my face. It wasn't hopeless, it was a just a chance for me to prove myself. So i sat back in my chair, crossed my legs, and gave orders.
1.The shuttlecraft exploded. Just gone. A very lucky shot by the Suluban. I didn't have time to call engineering and check. I didn't have time to cry or wonder 'what if'. I didn't have time to question the last thing I said to him. I had to beat them. I had to concentrate. And underneath all my girt, determination, and concentration, I didn't feel empty. It didn't feel final. I didn't feel dead inside. So I just knew Spock was okay. And I knew he'd want me to keep calm even if he wasn't.
0.When Spock and I started our...whatever it was between us, I had no idea. He didn't either. Hybrid genetics are always faulty, and I should've known something would come up. I should've known, because he just seemed so perfect all the time.
I can't say I'm not happy about it. I mean, yeah, it's a little weird that my boyfriend has a uterus, but it's not a relationship breaker. It's just more to love. And at 8 months, there was really a lot more to love. Spock waddles, seriously waddles around the ship. No one says anything though, and I know it's out of respect. But I can't find out what kind of respect, either because he's Spock, or because he's still terrifying with a stomach the size of a watermellon. Doesn't really matter I guess.
But right now I'm terrified. Hybrids are wildcards. Our baby could be deaf, or have a weak heart, or the wrong type of antibodies for it's blood type. He could be have a weak immune system, or have none at all. He could have human blood and no liver. He could have testicles and a vagina together. He could be mentally handicapped, or physically handicapped. His telepathy could go haywire and frie his brain. His body temperature might fry human organ tissue.
I'll have a million doubts and only dozens of answers until he's born. And even then I'll be worried. His life is different. It's not like all the crewmembers; they signed up for life on a starship. My baby will have no choice. And if he get's hurt, if he dies, Spock won't be the one to hold onto me and tell me it was beyond my control. He won't be the one clinging to logic and burying emotion. If something happens I have to be the strong one, because I'm daddy.
And all these little what if's terrify me. They make me want to cry. They make my happiness seem a little too sour. And sometimes it's just too much. And when it is I curl around Spock's swollen stomach and talk to our baby boy. Then Spock plays with my hair, and I can pretend the hum of our engines is cricket's outside of the farm and hybrids are commonplace, and that our baby will be just fine.
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I tried to get more serious with each number. What do you think?