Fic Dump
I have been working on this fic since I saw Star Trek XI and I'm now getting the impression that I'll never finish it, so I'm just posting it as is. Please be aware that there are huge chunks of time missing and major events that I never got around to writing. Also, it could probably do with some editing.
George - Kelvin
“What should we call her?” he asks, watching the countdown on the screen in front of him.
“We could name her after your mom,” she suggests and he winces.
“Agrippina? That’s a whole lotta name for a kid.”
He looks out at the viewscreen, where the black ship is drawing closer. His time is running out and he wants to give his child this if nothing else. Wants her to know that he died knowing her name.
“Let’s name her after your mom,” he says. “Let’s call her Jen.”
“Jen” she says, testing it out. “Okay, Jen it is.”
It’s done, he thinks, and there’s no time left for anything except to tell them that he loves them. He hopes that they can find happiness without him.
He almost thinks he can hear her voice over the sound of the explosion. Then he doesn’t hear anything at all.
In the shuttle, Winona and her baby both cry.
#
Winona - Shuttle
Jen spends the first ten days of her life screaming. The doctors explain that babies aren’t really supposed to be born in space; that it’s rare but not unprecedented. They tell her that it has made Jen sick, that she will need time for her bones to adjust once they get back to Earth, that she will never be completely comfortable in Earth’s atmosphere.
Winona nods numbly to whatever they say. She finds it hard to concentrate on what the doctors are telling her - her limbs feel heavy, her brain sluggish. She knows that they expect her to go to the screaming child. They are expecting her to pick Jen up and comfort her.
She can’t find the strength within herself to do it. She feels like a child herself. They put Jen into her arms when she doesn’t leave her bed but that doesn’t stop the screaming. It is as if Jen is crying for both of them; mourning where Winona cannot.
Ten days is a long time to spend in a shuttle with a screaming baby and it has been keeping them all awake, tugging at Winona so that she feels she might break apart. It isn’t fair, she knows, but she wants it to stop. Just for a little while. Just so she can get some sleep.
On the eleventh day, she begs them to sedate Jen so that she can get some rest herself. When the screaming stops, she knows she should feel guilty but instead she can only feel relief. She thinks about George Jr. back in Iowa with her mom and she doesn’t know how she’s going to cope. She is just so tired.
She drifts to sleep staring out at the stars and hears someone murmur ‘post-natal depression’ but the words slide over her and away. She wonders what happened to the wreckage of the Kelvin, what direction she would have to go to find it. She thinks ‘George, you bastard, I can’t do this’ and she dreams.
#
Winona - Earth
When they arrive back on Earth, Starfleet tell her to take all the time she needs. She signed on for five years but they aren’t hurting for pilots enough to call on a recently widowed mother. The medics from the shuttle recommend that she receive treatment for post-traumatic stress and depression and who knows what else and she smiles and tells them that she’ll get help once she goes home to Iowa.
She doesn’t.
It’s not that she doesn’t want to. Although, okay, yes, she doesn’t want to. It’s more that she has other things to be getting on with. She thinks to herself that she’ll try and make it on her own, before she goes crawling to a federation doctor. If she’s diagnosed with depression, they won’t send her back into space and being stuck in Iowa forever is maybe the worst thing that could happen.
She knocks on the door of the farmhouse that George promised to fix up for her one day and when his mother answers, it’s all Winona can do not to burst into tears. George Jr runs out and attaches himself to her legs and she hopes he doesn’t notice that when she says, “Hey there, honey,” her heart isn’t in it as much as it used to be.
#
Winona and Frank 1
She goes on because what else is there to do. Winona is only 26 and she doesn’t feel old enough to be a widow. She hates the way people look at her now - pitying, sidelong glances. She’s sure they whisper about her behind her back.
“That’s poor Winona,” she imagines they say. “Her husband went down with his ship.”
She can’t bear it.
George was a hero and Starfleet give her a generous death in service payment. She doesn’t want it. Money can’t bring back George and that’s all she wants. She refuses to touch they money. Leaves it in trust for the children.
She gets a job as a mechanic. Working is good, helps her feel more like a real person. It’s not flying, but that doesn’t matter. If she misses the stars, she still enjoys the feeling of accomplishment she gets when she puts an engine back together with her hands, feels its energy thrum beneath her fingers.
That’s how she first meets Frank. His hoverbike is a piece of shit. She seems to spend weeks working on it. When it’s done, he smiles at her and asks whether she’d like to get a drink sometime.
It’s the first time anyone’s noticed her since George died and she feels greyed out and unattractive, can’t imagine what he sees in her. She’s a single mother of two with grease-stained clothes and a smile that feels like a thin veneer.
She says yes because it’s good to feel wanted again and because he’s nothing like George was. She thinks maybe a change will be good for her.
It isn’t.
#
Winona and Frank
“I need the credits, Win, okay? You aren’t here and kids need food and clothes and payments for their school trips.”
He looks sincere but Winona knows that doesn’t mean he is. Oh, she’s sure he needs the money but she’s willing to bet that her kids won’t see a single credit. She’s learned that Frank always knows the right thing to say to get what he wants. He knows her; she won’t risk their welfare on the chance that he’s lying.
It doesn’t matter. She’ll be dirtside again soon and this job should pay enough for her to move the kids away from Frank. Maybe she’ll send them to her sister. If not, George’s parents might take them in for a while.
“Sure, Frank,” she says. “I can’t send you the credits, we’re nowhere near a Federation planet or starbase, but you should get enough by selling George’s old car. It’s a classic and it’s in good condition. You can get George Jr. and Jen to help you clean it up.”
She’s grateful he’s never been off planet. He doesn’t know it would be easy to send him the credits. She’d rather part with the car. She’ll miss it but she’s never going to need it. She doesn’t want it if she can’t have George in the driver’s seat.
“Thanks, Win,” he says and smiles. He always smiles once he’s got what he wants and she smiles back, even as her blood turns to ice water.
“I’ll see you soon,” she says. “Give my love to the kids.”
She wonders if he notices that she never sends her love to him. Whatever love she had for him died quickly, once he moved into her house and started taking her money. She doesn’t think he ever loved her. He definitely doesn’t love her kids.
“Love you,” he says and she slams her hand down on the console, ending the connection. She goes to take a shower. The kids will be fine, she reminds herself. They don’t have anything Frank wants and they won’t be with him for much longer.
#
Jen
Her name is Jennifer Agrippina Kirk and she didn’t start out wild. She was quiet to begin with and mostly unnoticed.
She seems to spend her entire childhood learning from George’s mistakes. He is loud, so she is quiet. Frank notices him all the time and that means he gets hurt. Frank hardly ever notices her. She learns how to be almost invisible.
She goes cold with anger and she doesn’t know who it’s for; George for leaving her, Frank for driving him away or her mother for not being there to stop it. She watches George walk away and it occurs to her for the first time that if she doesn’t do something, no-one else will. He told her that Frank didn’t notice her enough to be a problem and she realises that the solution is simple. George would stay if Frank left him alone and Frank would leave him alone if there were a bigger target in front of him.
She looks at the car and then she throws down the cloth and climbs in. The keys are in the ignition; Frank had put them in so she could listen music while she worked.
#
Jen and Frank
He sells her father’s books. They aren’t worth as much as the car would have been but still, books are pretty valuable and George Kirk had a nice collection. The last printing presses had stopped production even before the eugenics wars, with the rise of technology, and many books did not survive. The text was imported onto PADDS and the World Library instead.
They are Jen’s books now; she was the only one interested in reading them so Winona gave them to her for her birthday one year. A gift and a memory, bequeathed together. George didn’t own any children’s books, so Jen grew up reading Shakespeare, Herodotus and Dickens.
They are her most precious possession.
When he picks her up from the police station, Frank grips her arm too tightly and when he throws her into her bedroom, the walls are bare.
She cries herself to sleep.
#
Jen - shuttle
The trip to Tarsus IV takes a week and, from the moment the shuttle leaves Earth’s atmosphere, she loves it. She spends hours on the observation deck looking out at the stars. There’s so much potential in each little light that flashes past. She wants to visit them all; see what’s out there.
She thinks about the moment when gravity held her between a moving car and the edge of a cliff.
For the first time, she thinks that if this was what her mother left her for, maybe she can understand. Maybe it’s something she can forgive.
#
Jen - Tarsus
She hates herself for it later but when she first meets him, she really likes him. She’s fourteen and completely adrift, a girl without a home. Her mother has finally come to her senses and decided to divorce Frank, though she hasn’t been back to Iowa for months so Jen doesn’t know how she even remembered they were still married.
Her mom sends George to stay with Grandpa Tiberius and Grandma Agrippina, but they’re too old to deal with a fourteen-year-old girl as well, so she’s shipped off to her aunt and uncle on Tarsus IV. She loves it there but she doesn’t know how to deal with the strangers who are apparently her relatives.
Mostly she behaves the way she used to with Frank before things changed. She is quiet and respectful and as invisible as it’s possible to be while sharing food and a house with someone.
Jen reads anything she can get her hands on and pays attention in class. Pretty soon the teacher is introducing her to the government people who sit in sometimes, while other students glare at her.
“You must be Jennifer,” the man says and the teacher smiles at him and says, “Jennifer this is Mr Kodos. He’s an elected member of the governing body here.”
She smiles at him a little and he rewards her by smiling back. “I hear you’re very talented,” he says. “Mrs Hope here tells me she hasn’t had such a promising student in years.”
“Thanks,” she says, “I try.”
“And how are you finding our little colony?” he asks.
She smiles again, a real smile this time wide and artless. “It’s beautiful here,” she says. “It makes me think of Elysium.”
“Indeed?” he asks. “Rivers of milk and honey?”
“No,” she says. “I was thinking more along the lines of wide open land and sky. Iowa seems so dry and tired in comparison.”
She doesn’t really want to trust him, is used to being disappointed, but he seems so interested in what she has to say that she can’t help opening up a little. It’s a mistake but she doesn’t know that till later. Doesn’t realise until she’s gone three days without food and she’s in the city square with everyone else.
He’s there, of course. He notices her and smiles, motions her to his side and she stands there as he condemns 4000 people to death. She forces herself not to look away from them as they are killed. She is here and somehow she feels complicit. She is one of the chosen few who lives because these people are dying.
A young boy falls to the ground in front of her and she feels something inside herself snap. She throws herself on Kodos, shouts and begs and smacks her fists against him. He looks down at her, ruefully, and she is pulled away from him.
“Jennifer,” he says. “I’m disappointed in you.” He motions to the men holding her and they take her into the town hall and throw her into a cell.
#
Untitled
“History will be the judge of me, not you,” he says. “I may yet be the hero or the villain.”
She can’t bring herself to look at him.
#
Jen - Tarsus
Everything goes crazy outside and her guards are distracted by the rush of people headed for the doors. It’s actually pretty easy for her to sneak out of her cell.
#
Jen - Post-Tarsus
When Starfleet offer to relocate her, she decides to just go back to Iowa; go back to Frank. It’s not as if he can do anything worse than she’s already lived through. She feels like she’s run out of fear and anger; that maybe she won’t have any for the rest of her life.
They get on surprisingly well, the two of them. She doesn’t provoke him and he doesn’t touch her. They quietly dance around one another, without communicating. With George gone, they don’t have much to talk about anyway.
Her mother tries to call once a month, no matter where she’s posted. It’s always a short conversation. They talk about the weather in Iowa, about the latest mechanical disaster Winona’s been called to fix, about anything that doesn’t matter.
It’s not that Jen doesn’t love her mom; she does. It’s just that it’s so much easier to love her in the abstract, as the idea of her mother, than as this woman who doesn’t even know enough not to call her Jenny.
She’s spent years loving Winona from a distance, as she worked off-planet and the woman who calls is a stranger. They are all strangers pretending to be a family. Pretending that they aren’t all broken. Jen wishes her mom would just leave her alone. It’s so much easier when she doesn’t have to think about her.
You can’t count on anyone, she thinks to herself, and god helps those who help themselves.
She’s been back two months when she finally makes an appointment with the doctor. She asks if there’s any way for him to make her sterile. Tells him that she’s never going to want children. That her decision will never change. He smiles and takes her hand, tells her she’s still young yet.
Finally he concedes that there is a procedure but she will need parental consent. She stands up and walks out. She feels older than fifteen. Has felt older her whole life, but not like this - like there’s a hollow place where her heart should be, like Kodos reached in and pulled it right out of her and she can’t find it to put it back again.
She takes the money from the Starfleet Victim’s Fund and gives it to a backstreet doctor in Iowa City. He asks if she’s sure and she remembers Kodos, whispering in her ear. “Excellent breeding stock,” he’d said. She nods. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life. She never wants to bring a child into this fucked-up mess. And she’s not a victim. She’s a survivor.
#
Jen
She drinks too much and fights too much, fucks hard enough to leave bruises and enjoys being fucked even harder. She runs until her legs shake and her muscles scream and ache. It’s not that she enjoys the pain, exactly. It’s more that she likes the reminder that her body is there; the proof that she’s alive. It gives her something to hold onto when she has nothing else.
If she’s learned one thing, she’s learned that everyone and everything else can leave or be taken away. It’s just her and her body in this together. It’s the defining theme of her life that people leave.
#
Jen - 20th birthday
Happy Fucking Birthday, she thinks to herself. Here, have some guilt with your cake. She wants to laugh but she might come out of it crying and it isn’t worth the risk. She’s drunk and alone and her father died twenty years ago today.
#
Pike - Bar
Ordinarily Christopher wouldn’t have noticed the girl. For one thing, she clearly didn’t want to be noticed. Her body language wasn’t screaming it, in that way that drew the eye so you couldn’t help but notice anyway. She was the type that just seemed to blend in so that it was hard for him to keep his eyes on her in the shifting mass at the bar.
He wouldn’t have been paying attention to her at all if she hadn’t shifted for a second, just as his eyes were passing over her, to reveal bruised thighs before her skirt slid back down to cover them. What, he wondered, would a girl be doing with hand-shaped bruises on her inner thighs when it was possible to get rid of bruises without even visiting the doctor?
Anyone ordinary would have done that. Or simply worn pants, which made this girl unusual and therefore interesting. Christopher liked a mystery. He watched as the bartender set a shot down in front of her. They hadn’t spoken, so he must have known her. Perhaps she was a regular here. That would also be unusual; bars like this didn’t usually have regulars. It was too close to the shipyard and too far from the town; the kind of place that had a constant rotation of starfleet cadets and officers passing through it.
He was thinking about getting up and going to talk to her when another girl approached the bar and attracted the bartenders attention. The girl he had been watching shifted somehow, turning from someone who didn’t want to be noticed into someone who did. Now this could be interesting, he thought.
#
Jen - Bar
Jen had ground rules. Quite a lot of them, actually. Far more than anyone who knew her would expect. Mostly they were things like ‘Never let anyone see how much it hurts’ and ‘Don’t get attached’ and ‘Your mind is the only thing no-one can take from you, so you’d better not let yourself lose it.’ Someone was watching her and she was just the right side of drunk that she wanted to give them a show. Besides, it was always fun to mess with the cadets.
“That’s a lot of drinks for one woman,” she says and smirks because, hey, why do anything halfway? She’s trying for obnoxious, but if she does get lucky the cadet is hot and it could be fun.
She leans forwards and smiles.
“I’m Jen. Jen Kirk.”
#
Pike - Bar
“That’s Jen,” the bartender says following the line of Christopher’s finger and looking back at him. “You think she’s hot or something, cause I tell you now, she ain’t gonna be interested.”
“Or something,” Chris says, like it was just idle curiosity, didn’t really matter to him either way. There’s something tickling at the back of his brain though, something he’s missed and it bugs him because he doesn’t miss things.
“She got a last name?” he asks, then, “How well do you know her.”
The bartender’s smile slides of his face and he starts to turn away but Chris puts his glass down on the bar, pushes it towards him.
“I promise I’m not out to hurt her,” he says, though he’s not entirely sure that’s true. There’s something about her, like she’s asking for it.
“She works here,” the man says, refilling the glass though really he should have given Chris a new one. “Monday, Wednesday and Saturday nights. She comes here every other evening to drink.” He pauses, looking back at her. “And fight.”
#
Jen - Bar
“Xenolinguistics,” Uhura says and then she narrows her eyes. “You don’t even know what that means.”
This one is fun, Jen thinks. She smiles and leans in towards her. “Study of alien languages,” she says. “Phonology, morphology, syntax.” In her head she continues the list: vocabulary, etymology and culture. She thinks she’s made her point, though.
Uhura even seems reluctantly impressed. She takes a drink and says, “Wow. For a minute there, I thought you were just a dumb hick who only had sex with her brother.”
That stings, but if Jen’s learned anything, it’s not to give away any advantage. She’s pretty sure she’s managed to keep it from her face, but maybe not because Uhura looks like she’s about to apologise. Jen puts a big grin back on her face, leans in again and says, “Well, not only.”
She looks Uhura up and down in an obviously appreciative way and winks.
#
Pike - Bar
“How does she keep her job if she fights so much?”
“Are you kidding, man?” The bartender snorts and shakes his head. “That’s how she got the job. Sweet talked the manager into taking her on as payment for any damage she causes. He gets free labour and she drinks for free and clears up any mess she might make. Keeps the cops off her back.”
He pauses and looks Chris in the eyes.
“She’s smart,” he says “and she’s ballsy and I like her, so you mind telling me what’s got you so interested?”
Chris has to think about it for a second. There’s definitely something about her.
Some cadets are approaching her with unhappy looks on their faces. Chris isn’t sure what they object to - her hitting on a girl or just her hitting on a cadet. They tend to think themselves a cut above ordinary town folks. Don’t want them passing time with Academy girls.
“She reminds me of someone I used to know,” he says, finally and the bartender shrugs.
“Whatever you say, man. I don’t think there’s anyone quite like Jen Kirk.”
And there it is, Pike thinks, the moment of clarity, when all the puzzle pieces just snap together and he understands it all perfectly.
Kirk, he thinks, Iowa. He sees a fist swing towards the back of her head and knows he won’t be leaving without her, not if there’s a chance she’ll come. Starfleet needs all the brilliance it can get.
#
Jen - Bar
“What’s the matter, cupcake?” she asks, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Afraid to hit a woman?” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper which, she knows, can still be heard by Uhura and most of the other cadets in the room. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I don’t think any less of you.”
She smirks, picks her shot up from the bar and drains it.
‘Cupcake’ glowers and Uhura tries to pacify him, but Jen’s in the mood for a fight now.
“Come on, big guy,” she says. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“There’s four of us and only one of you,” the big guy says and Jen wonders how he ever got into Starfleet. He’s not very smart and she’s pretty sure that picking a fight the way he’s doing is against the rules, or at least frowned upon. Then again, that’s Starfleet all over isn’t it. She’s not important so it doesn’t matter if no-one follows the rules this time.
“So get some more guys and it’ll be a fair fight,” she says, turning back to Uhura who is at least interesting even if she isn’t actually interested.
#
McCoy - shuttle
She distracts him on the shuttle flight by virtue of being injured. He looks at her and assesses her injuries, thinks about treatments and dosages and not about the effects of vacuum on the human body. She seems somehow relieved when the shuttle leaves the atmosphere, like she can breathe easier, and keeps leaning over him to try and see out of a window.
She smells like alcohol. He likes that about her.
When the shuttle lands, and after they’ve registered - the two of them together because everyone else already had somewhere to go - she smiles up at him and he thinks, don’t try that on me, kid, I just got divorced, but he says, “Come with me.”
“Okay,” she says. “Where are we going?”
“I’m going to see to your bruises,” he says. He turns and walks away without waiting for her to follow.
She jogs to catch up with him and says, “I’ll come with you, sure, but the bruises stay where they are.”
He looks at her sideways but doesn’t slow down. He knows the medical centre is in this direction. She doesn’t say anything and they walk in silence for a while until he says, “Are you crazy, kid? They have to hurt like hell.”
“I’m not a kid, doctor,” she says. He can’t tell whether she’s offended or amused. “And sure, they hurt, but I don’t want them healed.”
“If I don’t do it, someone else will,” he insists.
“I have the right to refuse treatment,” she says.
“Yeah, you do,” he says, “if you want an in-depth psych eval and a trip home.”
She turns and walks away from him and then she mutters, “shit” and turns and walks back. The two of them go into Starfleet medical together and he tells them who he is and informs them that Jennifer Kirk is his patient and he needs to see to her treatment.
He ushers her into an exam room and sits her down, then offers her his flask. There’s not much left, but she needs it more than he does. She scowls, but takes it.
He heals up her face. It’s pretty without the bruises, but it had been pretty with them too.
“Anything else I should know about?” he asks and she says, “Bruises on my thighs but I’ll wear pants, it’s fine.”
He frowns at her. “I could fix those,” he says.
“No,” she says. “I like them where they are.”
“Suit yourself, kid,” he says. “I’m a doctor, not a therapist.”
“Suits me fine,” she says, then “A therapist is a type of doctor.”
She hands back the empty flask and walks to the door. “See you around, sawbones.”
He watches her door for a while after she’s gone, then shakes his head and reminds himself than he doesn’t want to get involved with any woman. Particularly not one as crazy as she seems to be.
#
McCoy - Academy
The next day, she sits herself down next to him in class, smiles and says, “Morning, Bones.” It’s somehow as if nothing ever happened between them and also as if they’ve been friends for years.
“Morning, kid,” he says warily but she doesn’t say anything else.
#
Jen - Academy
Jen’s assigned roommate is named Janice and she’s fine.
#
Jen - Academy, nighttime
Afterwards, he rolls towards her and falls asleep with his arms crossed. It’s a weird sleeping position and she wishes he’d roll away, but he’s already snoring, the breaths gusting out against her skin.
Everything inside her starts to scream. She shifts, trying to get comfortable, but she feels trapped. Her heart starts to race, telling her to get out, run, go, now. She closes her eyes, tells herself it’s just Bones but the feeling won’t go away, so she climbs out of bed as gently as possible, picks up her things and leaves.
She runs across the campus till her lungs hurt and then turns towards the library, scans her student ID to be let in. If there’s one thing she’s grateful for, it’s that information never sleeps here. She promised herself that if she joined Starfleet, she was going to be the best and she is. She does her work at night, with the stars above her and the rest of the world sound asleep. She doesn’t sleep well and it’s easier to work when the campus is quiet, anyway.
She knows Bones wonders where she spends her nights. He isn’t the rest of the student body, easily put off with a lascivious wink and an implication that there are lots of friendly people with beds they don’t mind sharing. He knows her well enough not to buy into her reputation. Too well.
He’s never asked, though. Maybe if he did, she’d share. Maybe not. She feels like he has too much of her already.
Sometimes she notices another girl studying in the library at night. They exchange smiles, the smiles of people who are not friends but nonetheless are pleased to see one another. It somehow makes her glad to know she’s not the only person here who might have trouble sleeping.
The other girl is green, which makes her seem interesting enough to be worth Jen’s time. Maybe she’ll go over and introduce herself sometime.
#
Gaila - Academy
Gaila has heard of Jen Kirk, of course. Everyone on campus has by now. She’s been rooming with Nyota for the last year and a half and for at least six months Kirk has been Nyota’s main topic of conversation. She’s heard a lot of bad things but she’s also heard from several of her partners that Kirk is great in bed, so she’s not sure she’d dislike her.
They haven’t met so she’s surprised when someone sits down next to her uninvited and says,
“I figure it’s about time I introduced myself. I’m Jen. Jen Kirk.”
When she looks up, she sees the girl from the library. They aren’t friends but she’s a familiar face, at least. Gaila would never have been able to connect the rumours to this girl.
“Gaila,” she says. She doesn’t offer her hand. Orions don’t touch without intent.
Kirk looks her up and down and then says,
“Orion, huh? That must suck.”
Gaila looks up, ready to tell her where to go. She isn’t going to sit here and be insulted by someone she barely knows. Kirk holds her hands up placatingly.
“I mean,” she says, “I don’t even have a tiny headache so they must have you on all kinds of drugs and suppressants.” She pauses and gives Gaila a significant look. “Which must suck,” she adds.
The thing is, it does suck. No-one ever seems to think about that . Gaila hates it and she hates the way Nyota bitches at her if she forgets. It’s not like it’s her fault that her body is put together differently and she is glad to be here in Starfleet. It’s just that with all she had to do to get here, she wishes that sometimes it didn’t take so much self-control and sacrifice to be part of it.
“Anyway,” Kirk says after enough time has passed that things are getting a little awkward. “I came over here to ask whether you’d like to study together sometime.” She smiles and it’s a good smile, wide and inviting. “You know,” she says, “When we’re both alone in the library one night.”
Gaila smiles back because she can’t help it. She doesn’t know whether she’s just made a friend or been propositioned. Maybe both.
It’s nice, though, to think that there might be someone she could be friends with apart from Nyota. She hasn’t done too well fitting in so far.
#
McCoy - Dorm
He’s sat on his bed in the dorm room, trying to read when Jen walks in, humming tunelessly to herself, and drops a pile of PADDs onto her bed. She turns to look at him and smiles.
“I’m having the greatest day, Bones,” she says. “Richardson finally acknowledged my…” she trails off, taking a closer look at him, then steps back and cocks her head to one side.
“Uh-oh,” she says. “Anniversary?”
“How do you do that?” he asks, looking down at his book, his lips pressed tightly together.
“Oh come on, Bones. You look miserable, you keep rubbing your ring finger and you’re reading,” she pulls the book out of his hands and looks at it, “Revolutionary Road. Seriously, you shouldn’t be reading this right now.” She puts the book down on his desk and then turns back to him. “Next time, try asking me something that’s actually hard.”
He snorts and says “What’s the square root of -1?”
“The square root of -1 is imaginary,” she says without blinking, “I kinda like that about it.” She grins at him so brightly that for a second he can’t help but smile back. Then he remembers what day it is and frowns again.
“Okay, genius,” he says, “I give up. What would you prescribe for a lonely, bitter divorcé on what would have been his tenth wedding anniversary?”
“Drink,” she says, decisively, “and company.” She turns back to the door and then looks over her shoulder at him. “C’mon, Bonesy. Let’s get you so drunk you can’t even remember her name.”
#
McCoy - Bar
“If she hadn’t left you, we’d never have met,” Jen says quietly several hours and more than several drinks later and leans over to wrap one arm around him. “You know I need you, Bones. Couldn’t do this without you.”
“I know,” he says. “I’m source of little visible delight.”
She nods and smiles the way she always does when he says something she thinks is particularly clever. “But necessary,” she tells him and kisses him sloppily on the cheek. Then the moment is gone and she leans away and says, “You want to drunk comm your ex? Might make you feel better.”
He seriously considers it for a moment. There are so many things left unsaid between himself and Jocelyn and he could maybe bear to talk about them now, with his body full of whiskey and Jen there to take his side, but he knows he can’t risk it. There’s Jo to think about, after all.
“I can think of better ways to spend my time,” he says and slides off of the bar stool, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her into his arms. She surprisingly graceful for someone who’s drunk as much as she has and he spares an idle thought for the effects of alcohol on the human body.
“Let’s take this pity part somewhere more private,” he says and she leers. “Restroom private or dorm room private.”
“Restrooms, Jen? Don’t you have standards?”
“Sure,” she says. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He supposes that’s true. He’s just never asked what her standards are.
They stumble back to their dorm and she lets them into their room. She turns to face him and smirks.
“My place or yours?” she asks and he looks at the beds. Hers is still covered in PADDs, which pretty much answers that question. He pushes her down onto his bed.
“Mine,” he says and then he kisses her and says, “mine,” again more softly.
“For tonight,” she says.
“For tonight,” he agrees and kisses her again to shut her up.
He’s too fucked up to do much but kiss her until he feels lightheaded and push her down into the mattress, but that’s okay because he knows she’d rather be held than anything else and he has her, if only for tonight. He holds her tight and enjoys feeling close to somebody, no, to her.
He’s about to fall asleep when he hears her say, “I expect reciprocation on my birthday, okay?” in the smallest voice he’s ever heard from her.
“Hell, kid,” he mumbles, “I don’t even know when your birthday is.”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “You’ll figure it out.” Then she yawns and says, “Sleep,” and he kisses her on the forehead. He drifts off to sleep with her hair tickling his nose and forgets that he ever felt alone.
#
McCoy - Morning
She’s gone in the morning, but that’s okay. There’s a glass of water on the table and a note that says, “You’ll have to get your own hypospray. I’m a cadet, not a doctor.” He snorts and drops a hand down the side of his bedframe to the emergency hangover cure he keeps there. He’s pretty sure she knows about it, but you could probably fill a whole computer with the things she knows but won’t talk about.
#
Spock - Kobayashi Maru
Spock has heard of Jennifer Kirk before he ever sees her and, while it would be illogical to judge her solely on rumour and the accusation of others, he cannot help but lend some weight to the testimony of cadet Uhura, who has been his friend and assistant for two years. He trusts Uhura’s judgement, even as he is surprised by the harsh words coming from her mouth and when she points out a girl walking across the courtyard, he mentally makes a note to avoid her.
“She’s brilliant,” Uhura says. “It’s just that she’s arrogant, selfish and rude.”
They both look over to where Kirk is standing. She’s leaning against an older cadet, one arm wrapped around his shoulders. He looks exasperated. As they watch, she takes a large bite out of an apple and offers it to her friend. He shakes his head and she says, “Good idea, Bones. Don’t want to be thrown out of Eden.”
Her friend shakes his head and says, “That was a quince, not an apple, but I was actually more concerned about catching something horrible from your saliva.”
She grins widely, leans in and licks his neck. Spock looks away.
It isn’t too difficult to avoid her after that. Their paths haven’t crossed before, after all. Jennifer Kirk does not take any of his classes and they do not seem to enjoy any mutual interests. After a while, he forgets all about her and, if he does notice her, it is only as a face amongst the crowd, a too bright smile that does not belong, a voice that is too loud to be drowned out.
She does not come to his attention again until it is time for her command track class to take the Kobayashi Maru test. He watches her just as he watches all of the cadets who take the test and he does not see any trace of the girl Lieutenant Uhura descibed. She is confident, but not arrogant. She is polite to her crewmembers and she performs admirably enough.
When she leaves the room, she looks pale but there is nothing to suggest she would not do well in command of a ship. He notes as such on her records and then forgets all about her.
She does not seem to forget about the test.
Less than a month later, she is back in the testing room. He had heard that one of the cadets was making a fuss about wanting to take the test again but he did not realise that it was she.
#
Jen - Kobayashi Maru
The first time she fails the test, she goes back to her dorm room and gets drunk. She wakes up on the floor some time later to see Bones scowling over her.
“M’fine,” she says.
“Fine,” he says, flatly. “You drank all of my bourbon because you’re fine.”
“All that I could find anyway,” she says. “You’re sneaky. I’m sure you’ve got some hidden away where I couldn’t get at it.”
He does, it’s true.
#
Spock - Kobayashi Maru 2
The second time Jennifer Kirk takes the Kobayashi Maru test, she does not perform admirably. It’s sound reasoning, Spock supposes, that makes her forgo diplomacy entirely and start out on the offensive. It is logical to attempt a different approach.
If there hadn’t been a mind - his mind - guiding the test, perhaps she might have won. She somehow coaxes things from the ship that should not be possible. She fights until there is nothing left for her to give and some of her moves are completely and unpredictably brilliant.
Still, she fails because there is no way for her to do otherwise. It is the Kobayashi Maru and nobody passes. Even Jennifer Kirk.
She does not seem to understand the purpose of the test. It is not an examination of her resourcefulness or bravery, but of her understanding and maturity.
Her performance this time throws a different light on her previous efforts and he is forced to note this in the official records.
#
Pike - Pre-academic hearing
Christopher thinks they might have overlooked her flagrant disregard of the rules this time if she hadn’t been accused of cheating before. They may have considered it a testament to her flexibility and original thinking. She has been accused of cheating, though. Many times. It is an accusation that follows her around.
No-one is quite sure when she has time to do her work to the standard she consistently achieves. She gives very little outward sign of her intelligence. Christopher has lost track of the number of times he’s had to calm down an irate member of the faculty on her behalf. Many of them refuse to believe in her aptitude, thinking that she has simply never been caught.
The deciding factor this time - the thing that actually brings it to the attention of the review board - is that the accuser is Spock. No-one could possibly reproach him for letting his wounded pride take control of his actions. As a Vulcan, he is considered above such behaviour.
Chris isn’t sure that this is true.
#
Jen - Academic Hearing
When Commander Spock walks down to the lectern, she thinks ‘so there’s the man who programmed the unbeatable test’ and hates him a little. He’s not a man at all, really. She feels uncharitable for having the thought. It’s not really like her to judge by appearances but this test has been bothering her for months and now she knows what sort of person would come up with a mindfuck like that.
#
Jen
The past isn’t just a foreign country, it’s an uncharted planet in the delta quadrant, and she’s not the girl she was then. You can call Jen Kirk many things, but never say she makes the same mistake twice.
#
Jen - Delta Vega
She wakes up in a pod with an insistent beeping noise pulling her into consciousness. The computer advises her to stay put but she isn’t locked in and she’s never been one for doing what she’s told.
#
Jen - Enterprise
There are 493 souls on board the Enterprise and most of them aren’t bridge crew so it seems to take most of that first year before all of them know and trust her. It’s important to her that she knows them all; their names and specialities. She knows to ask Masters how his date went, as they wait the turbolift together, and to sympathise with him when he tells her it went badly.
She’s read a lot of theory about what makes a good captain and, as far as she’s concerned, it’s all a pile of shit. Machiavelli can go fuck himself. What makes her a good captain is that she cares about every single person she’s responsible for; she knows them and she cares about them. Devotion is more easily won through love than through violence, she thinks. She’s experienced it the other way around and she knows that it never took with her.
Anyway, it’s pretty hilarious that it all goes to hell just as she’s really started to get comfortable in her captaincy. If by hilarious she means completely fucking shitty.
#
Jen - Prison Cell
There’s an unexpected welcoming committee when they beam down to the planet. One moment, Spock is talking to the elders and they seem to be getting along fine, the next she and Uhura and being pulled away from the party. They stun Uhura and Jen reluctantly follows at phaser-point, unwilling to leave her behind.
She can hear Spock’s voice in the background, questioning the Lilrivarians’ actions. He’ll get help. He’ll come for them. She and Uhura just have to wait it out.
Jen sits in the cell, watching the door and waiting for Uhura to wake up. She has faith in Spock, she does, but this feels a little too familiar for her liking.
When they come for Uhura, she fights. She tells them that she’s the one in charge; that Uhura doesn’t know anything and that she isn’t as attractive anyway. She throws herself at them with kicks and bites and does everything she can think of to make them notice her instead. It worked for her with Frank and it works again with the Lilrivarians.
When they come for her instead, she doesn’t fight them and when they throw her back in the cell, Uhura looks at her like someone faced with a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.
“I’ve seen you fight,” Uhura says. “You always fight. Why would you just go with them like that?”
“Lieutenant,” she says and Uhura looks at her. “I’m only going to say this once and if you don’t understand me, you’re not the communications officer I thought you were.”
She pauses for breath; she never talks about it, barely thinks about it and she isn’t going to let it hurt her now but the words still try to stick in her throat.
“I know I’ll be okay,” she says. “I don’t think you would be.”
She breathes out a bitter laugh. “Sometimes you have to do the smart thing.” Her face twists and she adds: “It was logical.”
It almost makes her wish Spock were here. Almost. He’d understand.
“How do you…” Uhura starts to ask and then cuts herself off, turning pale. “Oh, god.”
Jen remembers the mandatory course at the academy. It had warned female cadets about possible offworld dangers. She and Gaila had sat at the back and gone out drinking after. It was real for them but not something either of them wanted to talk about. She thinks it was probably never a real concern for Uhura until now.
“Don’t worry,” Jen says. “I just had to buy us some time. Spock’ll find us before it gets to that.”
She lets herself be taken the next time they come, and the next and it’s almost worse to go back to the cell and see Uhura’s face; her concern. She wishes she had her own cell, that she could put herself back together in private. Most of all she wishes she didn’t have the burden of Uhura’s sympathy.
When she hears an explosion along the corridor, she is so pathetically grateful that she feels for a moment like she needs to resign her captaincy, then it passes and she wakes Uhura up.
“Come on, lieutenant,” she says. “Screw your courage to the sticking place. It’s time to get out of here.”
When Spock opens the door, they’re ready for him and he hands them phasers. Jen knows she must look bad from the way his gaze lingers on her but, although his eyebrow lifts a little, he doesn’t say anything.
#
McCoy - sickbay
She’s their queen bee, and they all want to see her and touch her and reassure themselves of her continued existence. Which would be great, McCoy thinks, if she weren’t so obviously trying not to flinch whenever one of them touches her. She’s got it locked down pretty well, but he knows her enough to know that she’s freaking out.
“Mister Spock, I’m taking the Captain for medical treatment,” she says. “Please see to it that we aren’t disturbed.” He takes Jen by the arm and then turns back towards Spock and adds, “Or there will be consequences.”
He hustles her into his office and closes the door, then tells the computer to lock the doors and screen the windows. She relaxes the minute sickbay disappears.
“So,” he says. “Anything you want to warn me about before I start, or would you prefer it to be a surprise?”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, Bones, but I’m fine,” she lies.
“Bullshit!” he says. “I don’t even have to scan you to know that you need some serious medical attention, Jen. You could probably do with a pysch consult as well, but we don’t have one of those on this boat, so it’ll have to be me.”
“You know, I’m pretty sure you should be asking me if I’d prefer a female physician,” she says and he snorts. It’s just like her to admit what happened without telling him shit.
“I know you, sweetheart, and you can’t even talk to me. I’m not stupid enough to think it’d be easier with anyone else.”
“Well, no,” she concedes, “but you should have asked.”
“If it were anyone but you, I would have,” he says. “These people are your subordinates. You want them to know how fucked up you’re feeling right now?”
She shakes her head and looks down at her hands and he feels bad for pushing the issue. He unlocks his bottom desk drawer and pulls out a bottle of bourbon. “Here,” he says, handing it to her.
“I really am fine,” she says, taking a large swig from the bottle, “or I will be, anyway. There’s nothing that won’t heal fine left alone.”
“It won’t hurt to be sure,” he says and scans her with his tricorder. He doesn’t like what he sees.
#
McCoy - post-lilrivar
He takes her off active duty for four days. If he thought he could get away with longer, he’d do it but she doesn’t want time and space to work through her issues. She wants work and company to distract her from them.
It’s not like he can say anything. He’s just as bad. He was so desperate to get away from the ruins of his life, he joined Starfleet.
#
Untitled
“You’re mine,” he says, pulling her into his arms and kissing her.
“For tonight,” she tells him, pulling away and he shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “Forever.”
So, yeah, sorry it isn't finished.
George - Kelvin
“What should we call her?” he asks, watching the countdown on the screen in front of him.
“We could name her after your mom,” she suggests and he winces.
“Agrippina? That’s a whole lotta name for a kid.”
He looks out at the viewscreen, where the black ship is drawing closer. His time is running out and he wants to give his child this if nothing else. Wants her to know that he died knowing her name.
“Let’s name her after your mom,” he says. “Let’s call her Jen.”
“Jen” she says, testing it out. “Okay, Jen it is.”
It’s done, he thinks, and there’s no time left for anything except to tell them that he loves them. He hopes that they can find happiness without him.
He almost thinks he can hear her voice over the sound of the explosion. Then he doesn’t hear anything at all.
In the shuttle, Winona and her baby both cry.
#
Winona - Shuttle
Jen spends the first ten days of her life screaming. The doctors explain that babies aren’t really supposed to be born in space; that it’s rare but not unprecedented. They tell her that it has made Jen sick, that she will need time for her bones to adjust once they get back to Earth, that she will never be completely comfortable in Earth’s atmosphere.
Winona nods numbly to whatever they say. She finds it hard to concentrate on what the doctors are telling her - her limbs feel heavy, her brain sluggish. She knows that they expect her to go to the screaming child. They are expecting her to pick Jen up and comfort her.
She can’t find the strength within herself to do it. She feels like a child herself. They put Jen into her arms when she doesn’t leave her bed but that doesn’t stop the screaming. It is as if Jen is crying for both of them; mourning where Winona cannot.
Ten days is a long time to spend in a shuttle with a screaming baby and it has been keeping them all awake, tugging at Winona so that she feels she might break apart. It isn’t fair, she knows, but she wants it to stop. Just for a little while. Just so she can get some sleep.
On the eleventh day, she begs them to sedate Jen so that she can get some rest herself. When the screaming stops, she knows she should feel guilty but instead she can only feel relief. She thinks about George Jr. back in Iowa with her mom and she doesn’t know how she’s going to cope. She is just so tired.
She drifts to sleep staring out at the stars and hears someone murmur ‘post-natal depression’ but the words slide over her and away. She wonders what happened to the wreckage of the Kelvin, what direction she would have to go to find it. She thinks ‘George, you bastard, I can’t do this’ and she dreams.
#
Winona - Earth
When they arrive back on Earth, Starfleet tell her to take all the time she needs. She signed on for five years but they aren’t hurting for pilots enough to call on a recently widowed mother. The medics from the shuttle recommend that she receive treatment for post-traumatic stress and depression and who knows what else and she smiles and tells them that she’ll get help once she goes home to Iowa.
She doesn’t.
It’s not that she doesn’t want to. Although, okay, yes, she doesn’t want to. It’s more that she has other things to be getting on with. She thinks to herself that she’ll try and make it on her own, before she goes crawling to a federation doctor. If she’s diagnosed with depression, they won’t send her back into space and being stuck in Iowa forever is maybe the worst thing that could happen.
She knocks on the door of the farmhouse that George promised to fix up for her one day and when his mother answers, it’s all Winona can do not to burst into tears. George Jr runs out and attaches himself to her legs and she hopes he doesn’t notice that when she says, “Hey there, honey,” her heart isn’t in it as much as it used to be.
#
Winona and Frank 1
She goes on because what else is there to do. Winona is only 26 and she doesn’t feel old enough to be a widow. She hates the way people look at her now - pitying, sidelong glances. She’s sure they whisper about her behind her back.
“That’s poor Winona,” she imagines they say. “Her husband went down with his ship.”
She can’t bear it.
George was a hero and Starfleet give her a generous death in service payment. She doesn’t want it. Money can’t bring back George and that’s all she wants. She refuses to touch they money. Leaves it in trust for the children.
She gets a job as a mechanic. Working is good, helps her feel more like a real person. It’s not flying, but that doesn’t matter. If she misses the stars, she still enjoys the feeling of accomplishment she gets when she puts an engine back together with her hands, feels its energy thrum beneath her fingers.
That’s how she first meets Frank. His hoverbike is a piece of shit. She seems to spend weeks working on it. When it’s done, he smiles at her and asks whether she’d like to get a drink sometime.
It’s the first time anyone’s noticed her since George died and she feels greyed out and unattractive, can’t imagine what he sees in her. She’s a single mother of two with grease-stained clothes and a smile that feels like a thin veneer.
She says yes because it’s good to feel wanted again and because he’s nothing like George was. She thinks maybe a change will be good for her.
It isn’t.
#
Winona and Frank
“I need the credits, Win, okay? You aren’t here and kids need food and clothes and payments for their school trips.”
He looks sincere but Winona knows that doesn’t mean he is. Oh, she’s sure he needs the money but she’s willing to bet that her kids won’t see a single credit. She’s learned that Frank always knows the right thing to say to get what he wants. He knows her; she won’t risk their welfare on the chance that he’s lying.
It doesn’t matter. She’ll be dirtside again soon and this job should pay enough for her to move the kids away from Frank. Maybe she’ll send them to her sister. If not, George’s parents might take them in for a while.
“Sure, Frank,” she says. “I can’t send you the credits, we’re nowhere near a Federation planet or starbase, but you should get enough by selling George’s old car. It’s a classic and it’s in good condition. You can get George Jr. and Jen to help you clean it up.”
She’s grateful he’s never been off planet. He doesn’t know it would be easy to send him the credits. She’d rather part with the car. She’ll miss it but she’s never going to need it. She doesn’t want it if she can’t have George in the driver’s seat.
“Thanks, Win,” he says and smiles. He always smiles once he’s got what he wants and she smiles back, even as her blood turns to ice water.
“I’ll see you soon,” she says. “Give my love to the kids.”
She wonders if he notices that she never sends her love to him. Whatever love she had for him died quickly, once he moved into her house and started taking her money. She doesn’t think he ever loved her. He definitely doesn’t love her kids.
“Love you,” he says and she slams her hand down on the console, ending the connection. She goes to take a shower. The kids will be fine, she reminds herself. They don’t have anything Frank wants and they won’t be with him for much longer.
#
Jen
Her name is Jennifer Agrippina Kirk and she didn’t start out wild. She was quiet to begin with and mostly unnoticed.
She seems to spend her entire childhood learning from George’s mistakes. He is loud, so she is quiet. Frank notices him all the time and that means he gets hurt. Frank hardly ever notices her. She learns how to be almost invisible.
She goes cold with anger and she doesn’t know who it’s for; George for leaving her, Frank for driving him away or her mother for not being there to stop it. She watches George walk away and it occurs to her for the first time that if she doesn’t do something, no-one else will. He told her that Frank didn’t notice her enough to be a problem and she realises that the solution is simple. George would stay if Frank left him alone and Frank would leave him alone if there were a bigger target in front of him.
She looks at the car and then she throws down the cloth and climbs in. The keys are in the ignition; Frank had put them in so she could listen music while she worked.
#
Jen and Frank
He sells her father’s books. They aren’t worth as much as the car would have been but still, books are pretty valuable and George Kirk had a nice collection. The last printing presses had stopped production even before the eugenics wars, with the rise of technology, and many books did not survive. The text was imported onto PADDS and the World Library instead.
They are Jen’s books now; she was the only one interested in reading them so Winona gave them to her for her birthday one year. A gift and a memory, bequeathed together. George didn’t own any children’s books, so Jen grew up reading Shakespeare, Herodotus and Dickens.
They are her most precious possession.
When he picks her up from the police station, Frank grips her arm too tightly and when he throws her into her bedroom, the walls are bare.
She cries herself to sleep.
#
Jen - shuttle
The trip to Tarsus IV takes a week and, from the moment the shuttle leaves Earth’s atmosphere, she loves it. She spends hours on the observation deck looking out at the stars. There’s so much potential in each little light that flashes past. She wants to visit them all; see what’s out there.
She thinks about the moment when gravity held her between a moving car and the edge of a cliff.
For the first time, she thinks that if this was what her mother left her for, maybe she can understand. Maybe it’s something she can forgive.
#
Jen - Tarsus
She hates herself for it later but when she first meets him, she really likes him. She’s fourteen and completely adrift, a girl without a home. Her mother has finally come to her senses and decided to divorce Frank, though she hasn’t been back to Iowa for months so Jen doesn’t know how she even remembered they were still married.
Her mom sends George to stay with Grandpa Tiberius and Grandma Agrippina, but they’re too old to deal with a fourteen-year-old girl as well, so she’s shipped off to her aunt and uncle on Tarsus IV. She loves it there but she doesn’t know how to deal with the strangers who are apparently her relatives.
Mostly she behaves the way she used to with Frank before things changed. She is quiet and respectful and as invisible as it’s possible to be while sharing food and a house with someone.
Jen reads anything she can get her hands on and pays attention in class. Pretty soon the teacher is introducing her to the government people who sit in sometimes, while other students glare at her.
“You must be Jennifer,” the man says and the teacher smiles at him and says, “Jennifer this is Mr Kodos. He’s an elected member of the governing body here.”
She smiles at him a little and he rewards her by smiling back. “I hear you’re very talented,” he says. “Mrs Hope here tells me she hasn’t had such a promising student in years.”
“Thanks,” she says, “I try.”
“And how are you finding our little colony?” he asks.
She smiles again, a real smile this time wide and artless. “It’s beautiful here,” she says. “It makes me think of Elysium.”
“Indeed?” he asks. “Rivers of milk and honey?”
“No,” she says. “I was thinking more along the lines of wide open land and sky. Iowa seems so dry and tired in comparison.”
She doesn’t really want to trust him, is used to being disappointed, but he seems so interested in what she has to say that she can’t help opening up a little. It’s a mistake but she doesn’t know that till later. Doesn’t realise until she’s gone three days without food and she’s in the city square with everyone else.
He’s there, of course. He notices her and smiles, motions her to his side and she stands there as he condemns 4000 people to death. She forces herself not to look away from them as they are killed. She is here and somehow she feels complicit. She is one of the chosen few who lives because these people are dying.
A young boy falls to the ground in front of her and she feels something inside herself snap. She throws herself on Kodos, shouts and begs and smacks her fists against him. He looks down at her, ruefully, and she is pulled away from him.
“Jennifer,” he says. “I’m disappointed in you.” He motions to the men holding her and they take her into the town hall and throw her into a cell.
#
Untitled
“History will be the judge of me, not you,” he says. “I may yet be the hero or the villain.”
She can’t bring herself to look at him.
#
Jen - Tarsus
Everything goes crazy outside and her guards are distracted by the rush of people headed for the doors. It’s actually pretty easy for her to sneak out of her cell.
#
Jen - Post-Tarsus
When Starfleet offer to relocate her, she decides to just go back to Iowa; go back to Frank. It’s not as if he can do anything worse than she’s already lived through. She feels like she’s run out of fear and anger; that maybe she won’t have any for the rest of her life.
They get on surprisingly well, the two of them. She doesn’t provoke him and he doesn’t touch her. They quietly dance around one another, without communicating. With George gone, they don’t have much to talk about anyway.
Her mother tries to call once a month, no matter where she’s posted. It’s always a short conversation. They talk about the weather in Iowa, about the latest mechanical disaster Winona’s been called to fix, about anything that doesn’t matter.
It’s not that Jen doesn’t love her mom; she does. It’s just that it’s so much easier to love her in the abstract, as the idea of her mother, than as this woman who doesn’t even know enough not to call her Jenny.
She’s spent years loving Winona from a distance, as she worked off-planet and the woman who calls is a stranger. They are all strangers pretending to be a family. Pretending that they aren’t all broken. Jen wishes her mom would just leave her alone. It’s so much easier when she doesn’t have to think about her.
You can’t count on anyone, she thinks to herself, and god helps those who help themselves.
She’s been back two months when she finally makes an appointment with the doctor. She asks if there’s any way for him to make her sterile. Tells him that she’s never going to want children. That her decision will never change. He smiles and takes her hand, tells her she’s still young yet.
Finally he concedes that there is a procedure but she will need parental consent. She stands up and walks out. She feels older than fifteen. Has felt older her whole life, but not like this - like there’s a hollow place where her heart should be, like Kodos reached in and pulled it right out of her and she can’t find it to put it back again.
She takes the money from the Starfleet Victim’s Fund and gives it to a backstreet doctor in Iowa City. He asks if she’s sure and she remembers Kodos, whispering in her ear. “Excellent breeding stock,” he’d said. She nods. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life. She never wants to bring a child into this fucked-up mess. And she’s not a victim. She’s a survivor.
#
Jen
She drinks too much and fights too much, fucks hard enough to leave bruises and enjoys being fucked even harder. She runs until her legs shake and her muscles scream and ache. It’s not that she enjoys the pain, exactly. It’s more that she likes the reminder that her body is there; the proof that she’s alive. It gives her something to hold onto when she has nothing else.
If she’s learned one thing, she’s learned that everyone and everything else can leave or be taken away. It’s just her and her body in this together. It’s the defining theme of her life that people leave.
#
Jen - 20th birthday
Happy Fucking Birthday, she thinks to herself. Here, have some guilt with your cake. She wants to laugh but she might come out of it crying and it isn’t worth the risk. She’s drunk and alone and her father died twenty years ago today.
#
Pike - Bar
Ordinarily Christopher wouldn’t have noticed the girl. For one thing, she clearly didn’t want to be noticed. Her body language wasn’t screaming it, in that way that drew the eye so you couldn’t help but notice anyway. She was the type that just seemed to blend in so that it was hard for him to keep his eyes on her in the shifting mass at the bar.
He wouldn’t have been paying attention to her at all if she hadn’t shifted for a second, just as his eyes were passing over her, to reveal bruised thighs before her skirt slid back down to cover them. What, he wondered, would a girl be doing with hand-shaped bruises on her inner thighs when it was possible to get rid of bruises without even visiting the doctor?
Anyone ordinary would have done that. Or simply worn pants, which made this girl unusual and therefore interesting. Christopher liked a mystery. He watched as the bartender set a shot down in front of her. They hadn’t spoken, so he must have known her. Perhaps she was a regular here. That would also be unusual; bars like this didn’t usually have regulars. It was too close to the shipyard and too far from the town; the kind of place that had a constant rotation of starfleet cadets and officers passing through it.
He was thinking about getting up and going to talk to her when another girl approached the bar and attracted the bartenders attention. The girl he had been watching shifted somehow, turning from someone who didn’t want to be noticed into someone who did. Now this could be interesting, he thought.
#
Jen - Bar
Jen had ground rules. Quite a lot of them, actually. Far more than anyone who knew her would expect. Mostly they were things like ‘Never let anyone see how much it hurts’ and ‘Don’t get attached’ and ‘Your mind is the only thing no-one can take from you, so you’d better not let yourself lose it.’ Someone was watching her and she was just the right side of drunk that she wanted to give them a show. Besides, it was always fun to mess with the cadets.
“That’s a lot of drinks for one woman,” she says and smirks because, hey, why do anything halfway? She’s trying for obnoxious, but if she does get lucky the cadet is hot and it could be fun.
She leans forwards and smiles.
“I’m Jen. Jen Kirk.”
#
Pike - Bar
“That’s Jen,” the bartender says following the line of Christopher’s finger and looking back at him. “You think she’s hot or something, cause I tell you now, she ain’t gonna be interested.”
“Or something,” Chris says, like it was just idle curiosity, didn’t really matter to him either way. There’s something tickling at the back of his brain though, something he’s missed and it bugs him because he doesn’t miss things.
“She got a last name?” he asks, then, “How well do you know her.”
The bartender’s smile slides of his face and he starts to turn away but Chris puts his glass down on the bar, pushes it towards him.
“I promise I’m not out to hurt her,” he says, though he’s not entirely sure that’s true. There’s something about her, like she’s asking for it.
“She works here,” the man says, refilling the glass though really he should have given Chris a new one. “Monday, Wednesday and Saturday nights. She comes here every other evening to drink.” He pauses, looking back at her. “And fight.”
#
Jen - Bar
“Xenolinguistics,” Uhura says and then she narrows her eyes. “You don’t even know what that means.”
This one is fun, Jen thinks. She smiles and leans in towards her. “Study of alien languages,” she says. “Phonology, morphology, syntax.” In her head she continues the list: vocabulary, etymology and culture. She thinks she’s made her point, though.
Uhura even seems reluctantly impressed. She takes a drink and says, “Wow. For a minute there, I thought you were just a dumb hick who only had sex with her brother.”
That stings, but if Jen’s learned anything, it’s not to give away any advantage. She’s pretty sure she’s managed to keep it from her face, but maybe not because Uhura looks like she’s about to apologise. Jen puts a big grin back on her face, leans in again and says, “Well, not only.”
She looks Uhura up and down in an obviously appreciative way and winks.
#
Pike - Bar
“How does she keep her job if she fights so much?”
“Are you kidding, man?” The bartender snorts and shakes his head. “That’s how she got the job. Sweet talked the manager into taking her on as payment for any damage she causes. He gets free labour and she drinks for free and clears up any mess she might make. Keeps the cops off her back.”
He pauses and looks Chris in the eyes.
“She’s smart,” he says “and she’s ballsy and I like her, so you mind telling me what’s got you so interested?”
Chris has to think about it for a second. There’s definitely something about her.
Some cadets are approaching her with unhappy looks on their faces. Chris isn’t sure what they object to - her hitting on a girl or just her hitting on a cadet. They tend to think themselves a cut above ordinary town folks. Don’t want them passing time with Academy girls.
“She reminds me of someone I used to know,” he says, finally and the bartender shrugs.
“Whatever you say, man. I don’t think there’s anyone quite like Jen Kirk.”
And there it is, Pike thinks, the moment of clarity, when all the puzzle pieces just snap together and he understands it all perfectly.
Kirk, he thinks, Iowa. He sees a fist swing towards the back of her head and knows he won’t be leaving without her, not if there’s a chance she’ll come. Starfleet needs all the brilliance it can get.
#
Jen - Bar
“What’s the matter, cupcake?” she asks, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Afraid to hit a woman?” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper which, she knows, can still be heard by Uhura and most of the other cadets in the room. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I don’t think any less of you.”
She smirks, picks her shot up from the bar and drains it.
‘Cupcake’ glowers and Uhura tries to pacify him, but Jen’s in the mood for a fight now.
“Come on, big guy,” she says. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“There’s four of us and only one of you,” the big guy says and Jen wonders how he ever got into Starfleet. He’s not very smart and she’s pretty sure that picking a fight the way he’s doing is against the rules, or at least frowned upon. Then again, that’s Starfleet all over isn’t it. She’s not important so it doesn’t matter if no-one follows the rules this time.
“So get some more guys and it’ll be a fair fight,” she says, turning back to Uhura who is at least interesting even if she isn’t actually interested.
#
McCoy - shuttle
She distracts him on the shuttle flight by virtue of being injured. He looks at her and assesses her injuries, thinks about treatments and dosages and not about the effects of vacuum on the human body. She seems somehow relieved when the shuttle leaves the atmosphere, like she can breathe easier, and keeps leaning over him to try and see out of a window.
She smells like alcohol. He likes that about her.
When the shuttle lands, and after they’ve registered - the two of them together because everyone else already had somewhere to go - she smiles up at him and he thinks, don’t try that on me, kid, I just got divorced, but he says, “Come with me.”
“Okay,” she says. “Where are we going?”
“I’m going to see to your bruises,” he says. He turns and walks away without waiting for her to follow.
She jogs to catch up with him and says, “I’ll come with you, sure, but the bruises stay where they are.”
He looks at her sideways but doesn’t slow down. He knows the medical centre is in this direction. She doesn’t say anything and they walk in silence for a while until he says, “Are you crazy, kid? They have to hurt like hell.”
“I’m not a kid, doctor,” she says. He can’t tell whether she’s offended or amused. “And sure, they hurt, but I don’t want them healed.”
“If I don’t do it, someone else will,” he insists.
“I have the right to refuse treatment,” she says.
“Yeah, you do,” he says, “if you want an in-depth psych eval and a trip home.”
She turns and walks away from him and then she mutters, “shit” and turns and walks back. The two of them go into Starfleet medical together and he tells them who he is and informs them that Jennifer Kirk is his patient and he needs to see to her treatment.
He ushers her into an exam room and sits her down, then offers her his flask. There’s not much left, but she needs it more than he does. She scowls, but takes it.
He heals up her face. It’s pretty without the bruises, but it had been pretty with them too.
“Anything else I should know about?” he asks and she says, “Bruises on my thighs but I’ll wear pants, it’s fine.”
He frowns at her. “I could fix those,” he says.
“No,” she says. “I like them where they are.”
“Suit yourself, kid,” he says. “I’m a doctor, not a therapist.”
“Suits me fine,” she says, then “A therapist is a type of doctor.”
She hands back the empty flask and walks to the door. “See you around, sawbones.”
He watches her door for a while after she’s gone, then shakes his head and reminds himself than he doesn’t want to get involved with any woman. Particularly not one as crazy as she seems to be.
#
McCoy - Academy
The next day, she sits herself down next to him in class, smiles and says, “Morning, Bones.” It’s somehow as if nothing ever happened between them and also as if they’ve been friends for years.
“Morning, kid,” he says warily but she doesn’t say anything else.
#
Jen - Academy
Jen’s assigned roommate is named Janice and she’s fine.
#
Jen - Academy, nighttime
Afterwards, he rolls towards her and falls asleep with his arms crossed. It’s a weird sleeping position and she wishes he’d roll away, but he’s already snoring, the breaths gusting out against her skin.
Everything inside her starts to scream. She shifts, trying to get comfortable, but she feels trapped. Her heart starts to race, telling her to get out, run, go, now. She closes her eyes, tells herself it’s just Bones but the feeling won’t go away, so she climbs out of bed as gently as possible, picks up her things and leaves.
She runs across the campus till her lungs hurt and then turns towards the library, scans her student ID to be let in. If there’s one thing she’s grateful for, it’s that information never sleeps here. She promised herself that if she joined Starfleet, she was going to be the best and she is. She does her work at night, with the stars above her and the rest of the world sound asleep. She doesn’t sleep well and it’s easier to work when the campus is quiet, anyway.
She knows Bones wonders where she spends her nights. He isn’t the rest of the student body, easily put off with a lascivious wink and an implication that there are lots of friendly people with beds they don’t mind sharing. He knows her well enough not to buy into her reputation. Too well.
He’s never asked, though. Maybe if he did, she’d share. Maybe not. She feels like he has too much of her already.
Sometimes she notices another girl studying in the library at night. They exchange smiles, the smiles of people who are not friends but nonetheless are pleased to see one another. It somehow makes her glad to know she’s not the only person here who might have trouble sleeping.
The other girl is green, which makes her seem interesting enough to be worth Jen’s time. Maybe she’ll go over and introduce herself sometime.
#
Gaila - Academy
Gaila has heard of Jen Kirk, of course. Everyone on campus has by now. She’s been rooming with Nyota for the last year and a half and for at least six months Kirk has been Nyota’s main topic of conversation. She’s heard a lot of bad things but she’s also heard from several of her partners that Kirk is great in bed, so she’s not sure she’d dislike her.
They haven’t met so she’s surprised when someone sits down next to her uninvited and says,
“I figure it’s about time I introduced myself. I’m Jen. Jen Kirk.”
When she looks up, she sees the girl from the library. They aren’t friends but she’s a familiar face, at least. Gaila would never have been able to connect the rumours to this girl.
“Gaila,” she says. She doesn’t offer her hand. Orions don’t touch without intent.
Kirk looks her up and down and then says,
“Orion, huh? That must suck.”
Gaila looks up, ready to tell her where to go. She isn’t going to sit here and be insulted by someone she barely knows. Kirk holds her hands up placatingly.
“I mean,” she says, “I don’t even have a tiny headache so they must have you on all kinds of drugs and suppressants.” She pauses and gives Gaila a significant look. “Which must suck,” she adds.
The thing is, it does suck. No-one ever seems to think about that . Gaila hates it and she hates the way Nyota bitches at her if she forgets. It’s not like it’s her fault that her body is put together differently and she is glad to be here in Starfleet. It’s just that with all she had to do to get here, she wishes that sometimes it didn’t take so much self-control and sacrifice to be part of it.
“Anyway,” Kirk says after enough time has passed that things are getting a little awkward. “I came over here to ask whether you’d like to study together sometime.” She smiles and it’s a good smile, wide and inviting. “You know,” she says, “When we’re both alone in the library one night.”
Gaila smiles back because she can’t help it. She doesn’t know whether she’s just made a friend or been propositioned. Maybe both.
It’s nice, though, to think that there might be someone she could be friends with apart from Nyota. She hasn’t done too well fitting in so far.
#
McCoy - Dorm
He’s sat on his bed in the dorm room, trying to read when Jen walks in, humming tunelessly to herself, and drops a pile of PADDs onto her bed. She turns to look at him and smiles.
“I’m having the greatest day, Bones,” she says. “Richardson finally acknowledged my…” she trails off, taking a closer look at him, then steps back and cocks her head to one side.
“Uh-oh,” she says. “Anniversary?”
“How do you do that?” he asks, looking down at his book, his lips pressed tightly together.
“Oh come on, Bones. You look miserable, you keep rubbing your ring finger and you’re reading,” she pulls the book out of his hands and looks at it, “Revolutionary Road. Seriously, you shouldn’t be reading this right now.” She puts the book down on his desk and then turns back to him. “Next time, try asking me something that’s actually hard.”
He snorts and says “What’s the square root of -1?”
“The square root of -1 is imaginary,” she says without blinking, “I kinda like that about it.” She grins at him so brightly that for a second he can’t help but smile back. Then he remembers what day it is and frowns again.
“Okay, genius,” he says, “I give up. What would you prescribe for a lonely, bitter divorcé on what would have been his tenth wedding anniversary?”
“Drink,” she says, decisively, “and company.” She turns back to the door and then looks over her shoulder at him. “C’mon, Bonesy. Let’s get you so drunk you can’t even remember her name.”
#
McCoy - Bar
“If she hadn’t left you, we’d never have met,” Jen says quietly several hours and more than several drinks later and leans over to wrap one arm around him. “You know I need you, Bones. Couldn’t do this without you.”
“I know,” he says. “I’m source of little visible delight.”
She nods and smiles the way she always does when he says something she thinks is particularly clever. “But necessary,” she tells him and kisses him sloppily on the cheek. Then the moment is gone and she leans away and says, “You want to drunk comm your ex? Might make you feel better.”
He seriously considers it for a moment. There are so many things left unsaid between himself and Jocelyn and he could maybe bear to talk about them now, with his body full of whiskey and Jen there to take his side, but he knows he can’t risk it. There’s Jo to think about, after all.
“I can think of better ways to spend my time,” he says and slides off of the bar stool, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her into his arms. She surprisingly graceful for someone who’s drunk as much as she has and he spares an idle thought for the effects of alcohol on the human body.
“Let’s take this pity part somewhere more private,” he says and she leers. “Restroom private or dorm room private.”
“Restrooms, Jen? Don’t you have standards?”
“Sure,” she says. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He supposes that’s true. He’s just never asked what her standards are.
They stumble back to their dorm and she lets them into their room. She turns to face him and smirks.
“My place or yours?” she asks and he looks at the beds. Hers is still covered in PADDs, which pretty much answers that question. He pushes her down onto his bed.
“Mine,” he says and then he kisses her and says, “mine,” again more softly.
“For tonight,” she says.
“For tonight,” he agrees and kisses her again to shut her up.
He’s too fucked up to do much but kiss her until he feels lightheaded and push her down into the mattress, but that’s okay because he knows she’d rather be held than anything else and he has her, if only for tonight. He holds her tight and enjoys feeling close to somebody, no, to her.
He’s about to fall asleep when he hears her say, “I expect reciprocation on my birthday, okay?” in the smallest voice he’s ever heard from her.
“Hell, kid,” he mumbles, “I don’t even know when your birthday is.”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “You’ll figure it out.” Then she yawns and says, “Sleep,” and he kisses her on the forehead. He drifts off to sleep with her hair tickling his nose and forgets that he ever felt alone.
#
McCoy - Morning
She’s gone in the morning, but that’s okay. There’s a glass of water on the table and a note that says, “You’ll have to get your own hypospray. I’m a cadet, not a doctor.” He snorts and drops a hand down the side of his bedframe to the emergency hangover cure he keeps there. He’s pretty sure she knows about it, but you could probably fill a whole computer with the things she knows but won’t talk about.
#
Spock - Kobayashi Maru
Spock has heard of Jennifer Kirk before he ever sees her and, while it would be illogical to judge her solely on rumour and the accusation of others, he cannot help but lend some weight to the testimony of cadet Uhura, who has been his friend and assistant for two years. He trusts Uhura’s judgement, even as he is surprised by the harsh words coming from her mouth and when she points out a girl walking across the courtyard, he mentally makes a note to avoid her.
“She’s brilliant,” Uhura says. “It’s just that she’s arrogant, selfish and rude.”
They both look over to where Kirk is standing. She’s leaning against an older cadet, one arm wrapped around his shoulders. He looks exasperated. As they watch, she takes a large bite out of an apple and offers it to her friend. He shakes his head and she says, “Good idea, Bones. Don’t want to be thrown out of Eden.”
Her friend shakes his head and says, “That was a quince, not an apple, but I was actually more concerned about catching something horrible from your saliva.”
She grins widely, leans in and licks his neck. Spock looks away.
It isn’t too difficult to avoid her after that. Their paths haven’t crossed before, after all. Jennifer Kirk does not take any of his classes and they do not seem to enjoy any mutual interests. After a while, he forgets all about her and, if he does notice her, it is only as a face amongst the crowd, a too bright smile that does not belong, a voice that is too loud to be drowned out.
She does not come to his attention again until it is time for her command track class to take the Kobayashi Maru test. He watches her just as he watches all of the cadets who take the test and he does not see any trace of the girl Lieutenant Uhura descibed. She is confident, but not arrogant. She is polite to her crewmembers and she performs admirably enough.
When she leaves the room, she looks pale but there is nothing to suggest she would not do well in command of a ship. He notes as such on her records and then forgets all about her.
She does not seem to forget about the test.
Less than a month later, she is back in the testing room. He had heard that one of the cadets was making a fuss about wanting to take the test again but he did not realise that it was she.
#
Jen - Kobayashi Maru
The first time she fails the test, she goes back to her dorm room and gets drunk. She wakes up on the floor some time later to see Bones scowling over her.
“M’fine,” she says.
“Fine,” he says, flatly. “You drank all of my bourbon because you’re fine.”
“All that I could find anyway,” she says. “You’re sneaky. I’m sure you’ve got some hidden away where I couldn’t get at it.”
He does, it’s true.
#
Spock - Kobayashi Maru 2
The second time Jennifer Kirk takes the Kobayashi Maru test, she does not perform admirably. It’s sound reasoning, Spock supposes, that makes her forgo diplomacy entirely and start out on the offensive. It is logical to attempt a different approach.
If there hadn’t been a mind - his mind - guiding the test, perhaps she might have won. She somehow coaxes things from the ship that should not be possible. She fights until there is nothing left for her to give and some of her moves are completely and unpredictably brilliant.
Still, she fails because there is no way for her to do otherwise. It is the Kobayashi Maru and nobody passes. Even Jennifer Kirk.
She does not seem to understand the purpose of the test. It is not an examination of her resourcefulness or bravery, but of her understanding and maturity.
Her performance this time throws a different light on her previous efforts and he is forced to note this in the official records.
#
Pike - Pre-academic hearing
Christopher thinks they might have overlooked her flagrant disregard of the rules this time if she hadn’t been accused of cheating before. They may have considered it a testament to her flexibility and original thinking. She has been accused of cheating, though. Many times. It is an accusation that follows her around.
No-one is quite sure when she has time to do her work to the standard she consistently achieves. She gives very little outward sign of her intelligence. Christopher has lost track of the number of times he’s had to calm down an irate member of the faculty on her behalf. Many of them refuse to believe in her aptitude, thinking that she has simply never been caught.
The deciding factor this time - the thing that actually brings it to the attention of the review board - is that the accuser is Spock. No-one could possibly reproach him for letting his wounded pride take control of his actions. As a Vulcan, he is considered above such behaviour.
Chris isn’t sure that this is true.
#
Jen - Academic Hearing
When Commander Spock walks down to the lectern, she thinks ‘so there’s the man who programmed the unbeatable test’ and hates him a little. He’s not a man at all, really. She feels uncharitable for having the thought. It’s not really like her to judge by appearances but this test has been bothering her for months and now she knows what sort of person would come up with a mindfuck like that.
#
Jen
The past isn’t just a foreign country, it’s an uncharted planet in the delta quadrant, and she’s not the girl she was then. You can call Jen Kirk many things, but never say she makes the same mistake twice.
#
Jen - Delta Vega
She wakes up in a pod with an insistent beeping noise pulling her into consciousness. The computer advises her to stay put but she isn’t locked in and she’s never been one for doing what she’s told.
#
Jen - Enterprise
There are 493 souls on board the Enterprise and most of them aren’t bridge crew so it seems to take most of that first year before all of them know and trust her. It’s important to her that she knows them all; their names and specialities. She knows to ask Masters how his date went, as they wait the turbolift together, and to sympathise with him when he tells her it went badly.
She’s read a lot of theory about what makes a good captain and, as far as she’s concerned, it’s all a pile of shit. Machiavelli can go fuck himself. What makes her a good captain is that she cares about every single person she’s responsible for; she knows them and she cares about them. Devotion is more easily won through love than through violence, she thinks. She’s experienced it the other way around and she knows that it never took with her.
Anyway, it’s pretty hilarious that it all goes to hell just as she’s really started to get comfortable in her captaincy. If by hilarious she means completely fucking shitty.
#
Jen - Prison Cell
There’s an unexpected welcoming committee when they beam down to the planet. One moment, Spock is talking to the elders and they seem to be getting along fine, the next she and Uhura and being pulled away from the party. They stun Uhura and Jen reluctantly follows at phaser-point, unwilling to leave her behind.
She can hear Spock’s voice in the background, questioning the Lilrivarians’ actions. He’ll get help. He’ll come for them. She and Uhura just have to wait it out.
Jen sits in the cell, watching the door and waiting for Uhura to wake up. She has faith in Spock, she does, but this feels a little too familiar for her liking.
When they come for Uhura, she fights. She tells them that she’s the one in charge; that Uhura doesn’t know anything and that she isn’t as attractive anyway. She throws herself at them with kicks and bites and does everything she can think of to make them notice her instead. It worked for her with Frank and it works again with the Lilrivarians.
When they come for her instead, she doesn’t fight them and when they throw her back in the cell, Uhura looks at her like someone faced with a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.
“I’ve seen you fight,” Uhura says. “You always fight. Why would you just go with them like that?”
“Lieutenant,” she says and Uhura looks at her. “I’m only going to say this once and if you don’t understand me, you’re not the communications officer I thought you were.”
She pauses for breath; she never talks about it, barely thinks about it and she isn’t going to let it hurt her now but the words still try to stick in her throat.
“I know I’ll be okay,” she says. “I don’t think you would be.”
She breathes out a bitter laugh. “Sometimes you have to do the smart thing.” Her face twists and she adds: “It was logical.”
It almost makes her wish Spock were here. Almost. He’d understand.
“How do you…” Uhura starts to ask and then cuts herself off, turning pale. “Oh, god.”
Jen remembers the mandatory course at the academy. It had warned female cadets about possible offworld dangers. She and Gaila had sat at the back and gone out drinking after. It was real for them but not something either of them wanted to talk about. She thinks it was probably never a real concern for Uhura until now.
“Don’t worry,” Jen says. “I just had to buy us some time. Spock’ll find us before it gets to that.”
She lets herself be taken the next time they come, and the next and it’s almost worse to go back to the cell and see Uhura’s face; her concern. She wishes she had her own cell, that she could put herself back together in private. Most of all she wishes she didn’t have the burden of Uhura’s sympathy.
When she hears an explosion along the corridor, she is so pathetically grateful that she feels for a moment like she needs to resign her captaincy, then it passes and she wakes Uhura up.
“Come on, lieutenant,” she says. “Screw your courage to the sticking place. It’s time to get out of here.”
When Spock opens the door, they’re ready for him and he hands them phasers. Jen knows she must look bad from the way his gaze lingers on her but, although his eyebrow lifts a little, he doesn’t say anything.
#
McCoy - sickbay
She’s their queen bee, and they all want to see her and touch her and reassure themselves of her continued existence. Which would be great, McCoy thinks, if she weren’t so obviously trying not to flinch whenever one of them touches her. She’s got it locked down pretty well, but he knows her enough to know that she’s freaking out.
“Mister Spock, I’m taking the Captain for medical treatment,” she says. “Please see to it that we aren’t disturbed.” He takes Jen by the arm and then turns back towards Spock and adds, “Or there will be consequences.”
He hustles her into his office and closes the door, then tells the computer to lock the doors and screen the windows. She relaxes the minute sickbay disappears.
“So,” he says. “Anything you want to warn me about before I start, or would you prefer it to be a surprise?”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, Bones, but I’m fine,” she lies.
“Bullshit!” he says. “I don’t even have to scan you to know that you need some serious medical attention, Jen. You could probably do with a pysch consult as well, but we don’t have one of those on this boat, so it’ll have to be me.”
“You know, I’m pretty sure you should be asking me if I’d prefer a female physician,” she says and he snorts. It’s just like her to admit what happened without telling him shit.
“I know you, sweetheart, and you can’t even talk to me. I’m not stupid enough to think it’d be easier with anyone else.”
“Well, no,” she concedes, “but you should have asked.”
“If it were anyone but you, I would have,” he says. “These people are your subordinates. You want them to know how fucked up you’re feeling right now?”
She shakes her head and looks down at her hands and he feels bad for pushing the issue. He unlocks his bottom desk drawer and pulls out a bottle of bourbon. “Here,” he says, handing it to her.
“I really am fine,” she says, taking a large swig from the bottle, “or I will be, anyway. There’s nothing that won’t heal fine left alone.”
“It won’t hurt to be sure,” he says and scans her with his tricorder. He doesn’t like what he sees.
#
McCoy - post-lilrivar
He takes her off active duty for four days. If he thought he could get away with longer, he’d do it but she doesn’t want time and space to work through her issues. She wants work and company to distract her from them.
It’s not like he can say anything. He’s just as bad. He was so desperate to get away from the ruins of his life, he joined Starfleet.
#
Untitled
“You’re mine,” he says, pulling her into his arms and kissing her.
“For tonight,” she tells him, pulling away and he shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “Forever.”
So, yeah, sorry it isn't finished.