The Enemy Within - Part Two - Chapter Four

[whatshouldntbe]

Title: The Enemy Within
Author: whatshouldntbe
Universe/Series: Part Two of 'What Shouldn't Be' series, Reboot XI/TOS
Rating: R
Relationship status: first time, slow build K/S
Word count: 13000+ for this part, 172000+ so far
Plot: The demons of the past will always compromise the promise of the future.
Warnings: always!girl Kirk, angst, action, character death, language, rom-com humor, violence, possible amateur world-building
Additional Pairings: Kirk/Gary Mitchell, Spock/Uhura, unrequited Kirk/Spock
Summary: Six months into her captaincy, Jim Kirk experiences the hardships of being a twenty-something woman in command.


Chapter 4

Spock withdraws from Jim's mind carefully in order to process the events that had occurred while he was joined in meld with her. It is to his astonishment that he finds both guilt and discontent swimming loops through his ribcage, where he keeps most of his emotions in order to bring them under proper submission. His guilt is for the preconceived notions he once held about Captain Kirk. There was a time when he believed that she has always led an easy and cheerful life, untroubled by responsibility and common worry. And he was also sure that as a consequence, she was quite used to getting her way. He now recognizes that what he mistook for spoiled behavior is actually stubborn determination.

With this considered, Spock finds Jim courage and tenacity admirable. Of all the scenarios that could form James Kirk, it is a virtuous thing that her character has remained in tact.

"Were you aware?" Spock asks, quickly after he contacts Doctor McCoy in regards to Jim's physical condition. There is mild improvement, but nothing of note, the Doctor explains. Wordlessly, Spock takes it as a positive sign. And before he can contain it, the question of Jim's past arises. "Did she ever make a remark or indication?" He notices the considerable pause the Doctor gives on his end of the communicator.

"That's-Spock that's something that Jim's very sensitive about. I do know things. I'm her doctor. Kind of goes with the job but, she doesn't tell me everything-not for my lack of asking either. She's just very-" Doctor McCoy pauses and Spock surmises that he is choosing his words quite carefully. "She's very guarded."

"Indeed," Spock concurs as he recalls the memory of her uncle. It is not hard to for him to fathom why Jim would be cautious in regards to such a matter.

"Yeah well-I have to go. We've got a lot of injured personnel, some of them being my staff. I'll keep monitoring her and you just keep on doin' whatever it is that's helping her readings level out. McCoy out."

The line dies.

Spock snaps his communicator shut and places it neatly on the other side of his PADD where Doctor McCoy has forwarded Jim's biofunction readings. He spends a brief moment studying them before he puts the PADD back in its space on the floor. He prepares himself by simple breathing exercises that his father has taught him. He finds a center for his emotions, and curls his fingers over the curve of his knees as his lids lower. He folds inwards toward the bond and trails the golden thread into Jim's mind once more.

Her mind welcomes him with the same kind of inviting coolness as before and when he opens his eyes, he is standing in a lowlight wide hallway with chessboard colored tiles, antique vases and statues line the wall along with nicely polished tables under oil paintings. A few paces down the hall is a fourteen-year-old Jim. She is on her knees, using both her hands to scrub the floors as she cries. She's wearing a long purple dress with puffed out ruffles at the shoulders and down her waist to her feet.

Jim pauses her scrubbing to press the back of her raw hands to her pinked wet cheeks. Her tears darken her eyelashes and her small shoulders shake with her sobs. She rips off the curly blonde wig from her head and throws it in Spock's direction with an angry shout before she lowers her head and sobs at the floor. All Spock can see now is the military-like buzz cut blonde hair, as well as the mark of 'G.K.' scarred into the side of her scalp just above her right ear. He is beginning to understand why she prefers not to let her hair down.

"Jim," Spock calls gently as he approaches her. He crouches down so they can be at eye level. "What is the matter?"

Jim sniffs as the ruffles on her shoulders shake with her hiccups. She lifts her head with some struggle, and looks up at him with those wide watery blue eyes in a way that never fails to twist his heart around like clockwork. "I wouldn't do it," she sniffles. "Pick a boy-I wouldn't do it. I couldn't. And he's angry. I-" She shakes her head as more tears stripe her cheek.

"To whom do you refer?" Spock questions with a concerned furrow of his brow.

"He-" Jim hiccups as her lips tremble. "He makes me choose them. I don't want to, but I'm so hungry. So hungry and that I just don't care anymore and-I choose them. The boys. He likes the-" She pauses to let out a wet cough. "He likes them young. So young. Baby faces almost." She sniffs and rubs the back of her hand against her wet cheeks. "He uses me to pick them. They-they like my face. I treat them nice, make them feel-safe. I promise them food. They're all so hungry so they don't even fuss. And then-then-oh God," she sobs presses her face into his knee. He stiffens slightly but does not push her away.

Spock can feel her warm tears sinking past the layer of his pants. Even his sensitive nose picks up the faint tinge of salt in the air. Her trembling frame churns something unpleasant in his gut, and he finds that he is at a loss of how to comfort her.

"He lets them eat-stuffs them like a pig," Jim continues with another wet cough. "Then he gives them some wine that makes them sleepy." She sobs some more and shakes her head.

"What happens when they sleep?" Spock asks carefully. There is a dawning sense of unease descending down his spine.

Jim's shoulders shake a little more before she lifts her head. She meets his gaze as her lips tighten in anger. "He takes them to bed-and he f-fucks them." Her bottom lip trembles and there is a wash of shame in her blue eyes. "Then he eats them. And I help him. I-" Her eyes are filled to the brim with tears.

"You were not given a choice," Spock says by way of comfort. "Your youth and physical limitations are being taken advantage of."

"No, no," Jim moans as she hides her mouth behind the back of her raw red hands. "I'm a monster just like him. A stupid obedient pet. All those boys-God, all those boys-and I did it. I helped-I-" She cut off by a tearful hiccup. "But I-I couldn't this time-the boy was only three and I couldn't-"

The sound of a door slamming open startles Jim and she quickly backs away from Spock. She looks at him with frightened eyes.

Heavy footsteps echo from the opposite end of the hall. Two men appear. One man is a forty-something, plump and balding man. He's wearing a turquoise colored suit with a matching tie. The other stands tall and is a rather gaunt looking man. He has toffee colored hair and the design of his mustache matches something one would find in old pirate lore. His posture is straight and dignified, while his expression remains somber. His brown eyes have a harsh glint in them, which make his rather hawkish shaped nose seem even more unfit for his face, and it casts an ominous expression that glooms something sinister.

"With all due respect, Governor Kodos," the man in the turquoise suit begins. "I do not understand why you are so lenient with the little cunt."

"Mind your words, Mr. Breaker," Governor Kodos murmurs as they come to a stop before Jim. He looks down at her as though she were some kind of prized animal. "You can forgive a young cunt anything. A young cunt doesn't have to have brains. They're better without brains. But an old cunt, even if she's brilliant, even if she's the most charming woman in the world, nothing makes any difference. A young cunt is an investment-an old cunt is a dead loss. All they can do for you is be the bitch that all your friends want. But that doesn't put meat on their arms or juice between their legs. She is paying for the sins of her mother Eve, as the bible recants. With the proper guidance and the right male authority-my little princess will grow into something beautiful."

Spock is very appalled by Kodos's philosophy regarding the female gender, as well as his behavior towards the youth as a whole.

"She is rather rebellious, sir," Mr. Breaker supplies unhelpfully. His lips curl in a rather mean sneer.

Jim glares at the two men with quiet defiance and anxious worry.

"This is also true," the Governor agrees. He eyes Jim with a reluctant sigh. "Three days in the pit might correct it."

"You can't do that!" Jim cries as she trips to her feet, stumbling over the many layers of ruffles on her dress. "I'll die!"

"No, I don't think so, Princess," the Governor corrects with an odd level of detachment in his voice. "I have adopted you-you are my child now. My daughter. I would not allow my little princess to suffer a fate."

"I'll fucking bake in the sun you idiot," Jim snarls and yelps in pain when Governor Kodos backhands her.

Spock winces at the resounding echo that rings through the hall with the inexcusable action. He clenches and unclenches his hand as he keeps his growing anger at bay. It is not enough that they cannot see him, but any interference on his part would be of little use-or so Spock must remind himself in efforts not to intrude. He would not see Jim harmed, especially a younger visage, but this is a memory, and it would be a gross violation if he attempted to alter it. There is also an unknown danger there-the repercussions of any alteration could be many in number. It is unsatisfying for Spock to remain a passive observer, and yet he chooses this route for Jim's mental wellbeing.

"Six days. Make sure she has enough water to survive them, but nothing more," the Governor decides. He gets down on a knee before Jim and eyes her tattered dress with a disapproving cluck of his tongue. He stands again and looks down at her. "You will learn not to deny me of my pleasures and appreciate the life I afford you to have. I enjoy this little game, and it is all the sweeter with you. But do no push me, Princess."

Jim glares at him as she cradles her quickly bruising cheek. She flinches when he brushes past her and walks away, disappearing into a room.

Mr. Breaker is grinning, quite pleased with himself. "Oh don't look so shocked, Precious. The Governor isn't one to be crossed," he says listlessly and makes a gesture for her to follow him. "I'll enjoy this punishment of yours. I believe you will too." He digs his communicator from his pocket and flips it open. "Breaker to Striker. Tell Einhardt to bring the Dune Buggy around. Oh, and we'll need a ladder. The Governor's little princess is going into the pit tonight."

"On it, sir."

The environment shifts, and before Spock is able to make sense of it, he finds himself in an open dirt field during the late night hour. When he looks down, he notices that he standing along the edge of the mouth of a pit. It's rather deep and the bottom of it is masked in the shadows of the night. Even the starry sky offers no light.

Spock crouches down as he peers into the pit and searches the unseeing dark. "Jim," he calls lightly.

There is no response.

"Jim," Spock attempts once more.

"Yeah," she croaks with a dry voice. "I'm here."

"Are you hurt?"

"No." She sounds drowsy. "Just thirsty."

"How many days have you been here?"

"Counted eight so far-Governor Dick decided I could stay longer I guess," she rasps. "Or maybe he's done with me. I wouldn't mind dying."

"Do no say that," Spock chastises mildly. "You are of more significance than you comprehend."

"Is that why the boys from the camp always come around and tease me and piss on my fucking head!" she snaps, and it is followed by a dry cough. Then, a sniff. The walls of the pit begin to echo with her quiet sobs. "Spock," she whimpers. "I'm scared. Tell me-tell me how I can be brave. I want to give up so bad."

"Jim, you must not," Spock replies quickly. "You must not give up. You are important. You are strong, and you have immeasurable courage."

"No I'm not!" she yells.

"I must insist that-"

Jim interjects with a low snarl and says, "Please, just stop lying."

"Vulcans do not lie," Spock corrects calmly. "And I certainly would not waste such an effort on a truth I have witnessed countless times in you. You are important."

The sky rumbles and a bank of grey clouds begin to formulate overhead.

"Stop saying that! I'm nothing! I'm worthless!"

"You are not," Spock insists.

"How do you know?" she demands as thunder shakes the ground and rain begins to pour. Spock knows that if this is a true memory of Tarsus IV, then the rain is an impossibility, and it must be Jim manipulating the weather. "You can't know. You can't," she mutters.

"Of this, I am sure," Spock maintains. "You have remarkable courage, rarely found in the many. And your bravado, although highly illogical at times, is inspiring."

Jim says nothing.

"One day you will make a fine captain, and it will be an honor to be your First Officer," Spock continues.

Jim sniffs, and is clearly biting back soft sobs. "Spock-" she says, voice trembling. "I'm so scared. I don't-I don't want to be here anymore. How-how do you do it? I know Vulcans can control their emotions. How do you do it?"

Spock can feel the echoes of an ache twisting inside his heart again like clockwork. His hands begin to shake and he clenches them against the feeling. He would like nothing more than to be able to withdraw Jim from the pit. He swallows dryly instead. "I do not know," he says honestly, a tremor worming its way around his usually monotone voice. "Right now, I am failing."

Jim sniffs. She clears her throat and says, "Everyday I've been here, I've been praying. I don't believe in much, but I believe in Death. I beg him not to come for me. Not yet. I just want to get out of here, and I swear when I do, I'll do everything right. I'll make up for it all, even if it means giving up my life. That's a bargain isn't it?"

"I believe the term, you will find, is 'martyr'," Spock states dryly.

"Shut up," Jim weakly replies, but gives a feeble laugh.

Spock feels the sound spread loop warm ribbons of satisfaction through his chest.

"You know, if it means anything," Jim says after another hiccup. "I think you'd make a great First Officer. But I don't think they'd let me hire my imaginary friend, let alone me for all I've done."

"Jim, I am real."

"No," Jim sighs. "No you're not. You're the only good thing that follows me. Like a-but you're not real. I wish you were. I'd keep you forever."

Spock is unavoidably flustered, and glad that the darkness shrouds his shameful response.

Jim goes quiet. He feels her presence slip away.

When he allows himself to follow, he appears in a chaotic bedroom lit by the late evening sun. A sixteen-year-old Jim is standing in front of a full length mirror, wearing a flowing strapless wedding gown, complete with a long veil fixed to the crown of her pinned-up curls. Jim is running her hands down her waistline when she spots him in the mirror and smiles.

"How do I look?" she asks, then straightens her posture and the line of her shoulders as she eagerly awaits his response.

Spock opens his mouth, but no sound comes forth. He is floored.

Jim laughs and hides her blushing face behind one hand. "Oh my God, your face-" Her words get cut off by another long laugh until her bare elegant shoulders are shaking with it. "Wow. I am just-flattered, Spock." She calms down with a sigh as she drops her hand. She turns her gaze back to her reflection as she turns to and fro. "I was really nervous about how I'd look, but then you came and made that adorable face, and now I'm sure." She bites her bottom lip but her smile is too wide and proud.

Spock clasps his hands at the small of his back and wills away the green that tinges the tips of his pointed ears.

"Today is going to be so beautiful. The sun is shining, and the birds are chirping. I almost feel like dancing-but I don't do that," Jim says chattily as she uncaps the top from a tube of lipstick and carefully colors her lips with a dark red. She smacks twice, clips the cap back on before nodding twice in satisfaction. "Well, I think I have everything covered."

Spock takes a moment to study her bare feet before he lifts his gaze to hers. She's facing his direction now. "You are getting married," he states evenly.

Jim stares at him until her brow furrows with a snort. "Uh-no," she says as though it should be obvious. "It's Halloween and every year at the bar I work at, we throw a little get-together. My boss always want me in 'uniform'." She walks to the side of her bed and grabs a cheetah scarf and a square bottle of perfume. "Last year I was a Power Ranger-red, if you must know, always my favorite-and this year I'm going as blushing bride-to-be." She walks towards him with a grin and loops the cheetah scarf around his neck. "I should get a helluva amount of tips tonight. Might even be able to buy out that last piece of motor for the bike I've been working on." She takes a moment to spritz her wrists and the sides of her neck with perfume.

"You work at a bar?" Spock questions with a small amount of curiosity as the smell of orange citrus invades his senses. It is familiar to him-he recognizes it as Jim's preferred choice of perfume. The scent fits her well, but it has a tendency of leaving behind small threads of aroma in any manner of room she occupies. Through this, he can often surmise when Jim has been in a certain area, even after she has vacated it. "You are underage," he goes on to say. "Earth's legal drinking age is twenty-one."

"I know right? Insane," Jim agrees cheerfully as she stumbles around her messy room in an attempt to tidy it. Clothes are strewn to and fro across the floor and her bed and her furniture. "The guy that owns the place, Greg Demoysus-I call him Mr. Demo-he looks out for me, you know? I saw he needed help about a month after my fifteenth birthday, and I decide to give it a shot cause I've always looked older than my age. I mean why not take advantage of that right?" She dips down and scoops a handful of bras from the floor before she shoves them in the dresser by her bathroom door. "He'd protested at first, of course he would, I mean, I'm underage-" She shrugs and opens her closet door so she can shove some more clothes inside.

Spock lifts an eyebrow at her cleaning methods. He tenses when he notices the sky beginning to grey over. Spock has accounted that as a warning sign Jim's memory will take an uncomfortable turn.

"But then I batted my eyes and twirled the end of my ponytail and made him laugh," Jim goes on to says, mimicking the actions she speaks of. "He laughed and couldn't deny I was good. And if a pretty little thing could keep the customers coming back every night, he might just take the risk. All I had to do was lie about my age and never do anything more than a little heavy flirting with the customers. Simple."

"Jim," Spock says and studies her room quickly. "Do you live alone?"

"Well no. It's like a border house. I stay with a few others. Two guys and a girl. They're all cool. Um, they're med students passing the time around here just to get their basic requirement courses out of the way before they go to serious school," Jim explains and she shrugs briefly. "But they're not here right now. They left about a week ago-on some kind of tantric hike through the sunken crevices on Blue Horizon that's supposed to lead to the Da Vinci Falls-or so Marshall and Abby and Cameron says but who knows? I would've gone if I didn't have work but you know, that's just how-"

CRASH.

Jim frowns and looks toward her doorway. "Or at least I thought I was alone," she murmurs as her frown deepens into something thoughtful. "They're not supposed to be back for another two weeks." She walks over and grasps onto the frame of the doorway as she leans out to peer down the hall. "Hey! That better not be a robber! I'm serious! I'll kick your ass!" she shouts.

Spock steps toward Jim's window and peers out. He notices there is a large silver truck parked unnecessarily on the front lawn of the house. At the heavy sound of footfalls, and the uneven tempo, Spock estimates that the intruder is male and inebriated. He flicks his dark gaze to Jim just in time to watch as she stumbles back as a young brunet male falls to his hands and knees in the doorway, splashing the clear liquid of the bottle in his left hand.

"Johnny, what the fuck!" Jim exclaims as she looks at the hem of her dress, which is now soaked with alcohol. "Great. Just fucking great. Get up."

"I needed to see you, Jim," Johnny slurs as he works his way onto his feet, leaning against the door for support. "I miss you. You're all I can think about."

"That's grossly needy," Jim says with a put upon sigh. "Look, you're not thinking straight. So why don't you just leave before you embarrass yourself."

"I'm think-" Johnny gets cut off by a hiccup. "I'm thinkin' fine, girl. Now I wanna talk to you but you just wont let me. I don't mean to corner you and-"

"Oh my God, Johnny! You smell like the inside of fifty bars. And I'm pretty sure this is breaking and entering. So I'm going to give you one last chance to go and sleep it off. Let's just forget that this even happened," Jim reasons.

Johnny shakes his head stubbornly as he blinks and scrunches his mouth. He leans into Jim's space as she winces and bats her hand in front of her nose. "I want you back. We were each other's first and-"

"That's exactly it, Jonathan. We had sex once just to lose our virginity and that was it. It was never a thing before it and it was never a thing after it. What part of that do you not understand?" Jim huffs impatiently.

Johnny stares at her for a long while and blinks tiredly. His bottom lip trembles and he lowers his head with a sad shake.

"That's alright, son," a new voice says, stepping out from the shadows of the hall and from behind Johnny. A man with hard lines of age in his face, a muscular build and short military cut grey hair claps a rough and calloused hand on Johnny's shoulder, causing him to jump slightly. "You tried to talk the bitch down, and clearly she's not hearing you right."

"I hear him just fine, thanks." Jim watches them both carefully as she backs away. "Both of you need to leave," she says lowly.

"Now where are my manners? My name is Howard. I'm Johnny's father. You must be Jimmy." Howard smiles with white teeth in an eerie motion that almost echoes a shark. "Girl you sure got my boy tied up in knots over you. He fucks you once and you're all he can moan about. Now don't get me wrong," he says as he holds up a hand while tucking the other in the pocket of his pants. "You sure are pretty, and I'm sure you got some charm. I just feel that maybe my boy hasn't had enough of you to let you alone."

"I'll only say this once more," Jim says slowly with a warning tone. "Get out of my house."

"Or what?" Howard smiles sharply again. "Now don't be rude, girl. We just tryin' to talk to you. My boy's whimperin' like a little wet whore to get your attention, and that ain't workin' so here's what I think-we try it my way. Now how do you want it done, Jimmy?"

"Dad. Please-" Johnny starts.

"You shut your fucking mouth, boy. We tried it your way," Howard says calmly without ever lifting his gaze from Jim, who is inching towards her communicator. "Girl, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Jim turns away and lunges for the device but Howard is already coming down on her. He grabs her by the arm and hurls her across the room into her dresser where she goes crashing into the wood. She grunts in pain and cups her hand over her side as she attempts to slide away. Blood is pooling out the side of her mouth and she coughs.

"You're fucking crazy," Jim rasps and struggles valiantly when Howard grabs her by the hair. She yells in protest, kicking out her feet and scratching his arm.

Howard winces but he doesn't make a sound, nor does stop dragging Jim to the bathroom. "Get in here!" he yells once they disappear from sight.

Johnny hesitates but he quickly follows them in the bathroom and slams the door shut.

Before Spock is able to take a step in that direction, the door goes flying off the hinges and Johnny along with it. There is a second cry of anguish and Howard comes stumbling out, yanking a butter knife from his abdomen.

Jim appears a second later with a bruised jawline, a threatening grin and an automatic handgun aimed at their direction. Her dress is torn around her knees and there are hand-shaped bloodstains in certain areas.

"You crazy bitch!" Howard groans, trying to catch all the blood pooling out from his gut.

Jim laughs unbelievingly and says, "You and your fuckwad son were about to rape me like a pig and do God knows what else, and I'm the crazy one? Yeah, sure."

Johnny groans and rolls to his feet, crying out in pain as his dislocated shoulder collides with Jim's nightstand. There is blood pouring from his nostrils, and his nose is noticeably crooked.

"Listen, I just cut a path open in your cecum, which is about two degrees off from your appendix. Be happy that's where I stabbed you," Jim states with mock sweetness. "And Johnny-Boy, your lucky all I did was give you a broken nose and a dislocated shoulder."

Howard and Johnny stare at her with wide eyes.

"I know what you're thinking. I do," Jim says. "You're thinking, holy shit, not only is she fucking gorgeous, but she's also insanely smart. Yeah, well, maybe next time think about that when you try to bust in on some seemingly defenseless young lady. And if I hear any reports about you attacking some other poor girl, I will hunt you guys down, cut off your dicks and jam it down your redneck throats. We squared?"

Howard and Johnny quickly shake their heads with an affirmative as they wheeze in pain.

"Well," Jim sighs and lowers her gun. "I think I'm going to go easy on you this time, and not press charges. But I might change my mind if you're not gone in the next two minutes."

Howard and Johnny stumble out the door and out of sight without having to be asked twice.

Jim scoffs, shakes her head and mutters, "Bitches."

Spock finds both of his eyebrows rising, but he is only alarmed by how he is not even slightly shocked by her behavior.

Jim looks over at him and snorts. "I had to learn about self-defense the hard way," she admits and pulls the trigger of the gun until bubbles come out. "You have to be smart and two steps ahead. That's what my old kickboxing coach used to say. He was a sweet old guy. Deadly-but sweet." She sighs and takes off her tattered veil. "Looks like I'm not going in to work tonight."

"Are you confronted often?" Spock asks as he draws closer to her.

"Now and again, some asshole likes to see if he can try it," Jim says with a shrug. "A woman is like a tea bag-you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water. Do you want know the truth?"

Spock inclines his head as she leans tiredly against her disheveled dresser.

"I came back to Earth a little after I turned fourteen and I was terrified of everything because of where I'd been and what I'd been through. Tarsus left some pretty deep scars." Jim tosses the fake gun into a lopsided drawer and cups her hands over her shoulders. "I mean I had a fear so thick that it kept me up late at night, just so wide-eyed, shaken and sick with it." She takes a moment to shrug. "Finally I couldn't take it anymore. So I went to this rec center on the coast of town and met an ex-boxing coach. He was pretty well known back in his day, and he's helped over a dozen girls earn their fair share of heavyweight belts. So I thought, if I could just get him to teach me how to take control of who does what to me, I wouldn't be so scared anymore. And it took some convincing on my part because I hadn't had prior training, and Marty only works with girls who have been in the biz for a good while. But I was persistent. So persistent that I finally wore him down and he began training me in the art of kickboxing and self-defense. I wasn't planning on finding myself in a place where I'd have to actually use it. I just wanted it for me. It wasn't until about a year ago that I started to get that kind of attention. But by then I was already knee deep in experience.

"One night I'm walking home, right? It's night and I'm alone and I'm walking along this long stretch of road, just trying to get home. I'm newly fifteen, I just got a job, moved out of my stupid Uncle's place-things are going good. So I'm walking along and this vintage Chevy impala pulls up, practically sardine packed full of drunk college boys looking for something young and pretty to fuck. And who should they see but me wandering around all by myself?" Jim shakes her head with a wry grin and pulls her blue-eyed gaze down. "One guy gets out, another guy follows-then next thing I know is they're all trying to ease me back into the depths of this cornfield to our left, you know, away from view and everything. And me, I'm just politely asking them to leave me alone even though I know what they're trying to do. But things get physical, and I'm not even scared. For once in my life, at that moment, I feel ready and calm. And it wasn't easy, but I manage to get the drop on all of them, even though three of them had a pocketknife. But I was the one who was able to walk away with no more than a bruise on my cheek and a couple of shallow cuts here and there. And I tell Marty what happens the next day, and at the end of it all, I tell him that he needs to teach me everything he knows, because I sure as hell have never been included in the percentage of women who are sexually assaulted in their lifetime and I sure as hell never will be, and I'm going to do everything I can to try and teach whatever I know to girls just like me. I've had a rough life, I know, but I've been lucky with some things, and never having been sexually violated is one of them and its always going to stay that way for me and whoever else I can help."

"You have a desire to become a defense instructor?" Spock questions.

"I don't know about that. I mean-I've been thinking about saving up money, you know. Like, just enough to move out of state and go somewhere where I can open up my own bar," Jim admits. "I don't like to think too far ahead. Who knows where I'll be right?" She chuckles ironically. "I used to want to sail the stars when I was little. Be either a captain or a pirate. I don't think Starfleet would let someone like me command their ships. Pirating sounds more fun actually."

"Jim, it would be unwise to engage in such an illegal occupation," Spock warns gently. "And you will make a fine captain."

Jim stares at him for a long while. "Why are you here?"

Part 2