[Sometimes Alone, Sometimes Never] - [Kirk and ???]
Kirk walked silently from the party, his stomach churning violently. He didn't stop at anything, not even quiet comments in the hall directed towards him. He walked straight towards the bridge, needing it in a way he didn't even fully realize himself. It was his place to center himself.
When he got up to the bridge, there were only two people there. One who was keeping track of space around them and making sure their orbit stayed steady, and the other was on the communications console, looking bored. He gave a thin smile to both, "At ease, if you would." He gave a gesture with his head, "Fifteen minutes, please."
They got the clue at least, and within the minute, the bridge was his. Alone, silent except for the beeping of the consoles around him. Kirk took a long, deep breath and walked across the bridge, fingers caressing as he went along chairs and consoles until he sat down in his chair.
God dammit, his ass groove felt off.
After a few squirms, Kirk settled down into the faux leather and closed his eyes. It felt like being home. This was his home, now. This ship, this bridge, this seat. He let himself just... sit. Breathe.
When he felt himself relax, almost half asleep, he realized something he had to do. "Computer. Last known date and time when Yeoman Harold Lee was aboard this ship."
"Last known scan of Yeoman Harold Lee - One week, two days, sixteen hours, and forty-two minutes."
Kirk's heart fucking stopped in his chest. He knew it wasn't keeping exact track of any one person on the ship so that number wasn't quite right but... but... How could someone have been off the ship for so long and no one noticed!?
He dropped his head into his hands and let out a small sound. Because of me. They were so worried about George and me that no one even noticed.
"Computer. At my location, give me a list of all transports on or off the ship in the last two weeks." It took only moments to bring up things he already knew, and a few he didn't, but none of them were unknown to the ship or had been marked as safe. (Another one to the Narada... he hated it.)
Harold Lee had not been beamed off this ship, but wasn't on it anymore. "Fuck." He whispered, leaning back in the chair, trying to think. Harold was from another universe to begin with... could he have ended up back there? Could Harold still have his padd? Would sending a message work? So, Kirk gave it a shot. it wasn't a huge surprise when within seconds he received a message saying the padd was unreachable.
...Harold, be okay. Fuck. If he wasn't beamed off, and a quick check said no shuttles had come or gone except Ephram Green's... there seemed little other reason. Fuck. He needed to talk to Spock about this...
Spock. Fuck. Another thing he didn't know how to deal with.
The other Spock was dealing with Nero and the Narada... Bones had his mother and daughter to deal with...
Kirk opened his eyes and looked around the empty bridge, and winced. This was home, but right now, he couldn't be here.
"I'm sorry." He whispered to no one, feeling frustrated. He gave a loving stroke over the armrest of his chair, then left the bridge entirely. In the morning, he could deal with everything, including Harold, including Spock, including Bones.
Wasn't this party supposed to have been restful and fun, or something similar?
Kirk went up to his room, stripped down, tugged the mask off, and just fell face forward into his bed. Just want to sleep.
When he got up to the bridge, there were only two people there. One who was keeping track of space around them and making sure their orbit stayed steady, and the other was on the communications console, looking bored. He gave a thin smile to both, "At ease, if you would." He gave a gesture with his head, "Fifteen minutes, please."
They got the clue at least, and within the minute, the bridge was his. Alone, silent except for the beeping of the consoles around him. Kirk took a long, deep breath and walked across the bridge, fingers caressing as he went along chairs and consoles until he sat down in his chair.
God dammit, his ass groove felt off.
After a few squirms, Kirk settled down into the faux leather and closed his eyes. It felt like being home. This was his home, now. This ship, this bridge, this seat. He let himself just... sit. Breathe.
When he felt himself relax, almost half asleep, he realized something he had to do. "Computer. Last known date and time when Yeoman Harold Lee was aboard this ship."
"Last known scan of Yeoman Harold Lee - One week, two days, sixteen hours, and forty-two minutes."
Kirk's heart fucking stopped in his chest. He knew it wasn't keeping exact track of any one person on the ship so that number wasn't quite right but... but... How could someone have been off the ship for so long and no one noticed!?
He dropped his head into his hands and let out a small sound. Because of me. They were so worried about George and me that no one even noticed.
"Computer. At my location, give me a list of all transports on or off the ship in the last two weeks." It took only moments to bring up things he already knew, and a few he didn't, but none of them were unknown to the ship or had been marked as safe. (Another one to the Narada... he hated it.)
Harold Lee had not been beamed off this ship, but wasn't on it anymore. "Fuck." He whispered, leaning back in the chair, trying to think. Harold was from another universe to begin with... could he have ended up back there? Could Harold still have his padd? Would sending a message work? So, Kirk gave it a shot. it wasn't a huge surprise when within seconds he received a message saying the padd was unreachable.
...Harold, be okay. Fuck. If he wasn't beamed off, and a quick check said no shuttles had come or gone except Ephram Green's... there seemed little other reason. Fuck. He needed to talk to Spock about this...
Spock. Fuck. Another thing he didn't know how to deal with.
The other Spock was dealing with Nero and the Narada... Bones had his mother and daughter to deal with...
Kirk opened his eyes and looked around the empty bridge, and winced. This was home, but right now, he couldn't be here.
"I'm sorry." He whispered to no one, feeling frustrated. He gave a loving stroke over the armrest of his chair, then left the bridge entirely. In the morning, he could deal with everything, including Harold, including Spock, including Bones.
Wasn't this party supposed to have been restful and fun, or something similar?
Kirk went up to his room, stripped down, tugged the mask off, and just fell face forward into his bed. Just want to sleep.