0Title: Family Outlives the Season (2/3)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jim Kirk catches wind of a secret operation but is frustratingly thwarted in finding out details of said operation. The crew has agreed that he can’t know, given that by unanimous vote Jim has become their ‘Adopt An Adult’ for the holidays. Amidst ship-side shenanigans, plans best laid but disastrously executed, and one extremely determined starship captain, friendships are strengthened and hearts are won.
Previous Part: 1
Usually Jim Kirk wasn’t a man who stooped to eavesdropping on other people’s conversations, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He had to know what was going on with his crew, for he could no longer deny that they were as involved in an operation he had not approved.
Arriving at the gym early for a morning workout, Jim had discovered the fitness forum was closed due to an event that left the area in need of serious repairs. In the outer hallway, he had tripped over a stick, nearly impaling himself on what appeared to be a broken spear; then he found out all of the gravity boots had been replaced with leather sandals. Wondering if he had gone crazy, he decided he would run around the indoor track a few times—only to find it covered in sand. So, it seemed, whatever had gone on at the gymnasium must have been a jolly good time. But not one of his staff reports mentioned it, perhaps even went out of the way to avoid mentioning it. At some point, his officers had agreed to host events, parties, and such without informing him.
Jim was unsettled, to say the least. He was also determined to find out why.
So it was that when two men unexpectedly entered the locker area, Jim considered it his good fortune. He ducked out of sight around a corner of lockers and strained to hear their conversation.
“—did you know about it?” one of the guys was saying.
“About that Roman festival?”
“That’s old news. I heard Laundry Services got so wasted last night at their after-party to the toga party, they dyed all of D Deck’s bedding. Purple and pink polka-dots!”
“Ah shit, really? I’m on D Deck…”
“Sorry, man. Hey, wanna hear something else?”
Yes, Jim thought, pressed right against a locker.
“Because of the influx of gift requests, everybody in Requisitions quit!”
“What!” Jim cried out, only to slap a hand over his mouth belatedly.
“Hey, I think I heard someone…”
“Should be pretty dead, with the equipment all busted up. Hello?”
Jim took a peek around the corner and saw one of the men moving towards his area. Cursing under his breath, he hastily stripped out of his clothes, tucked a towel around his waist, and backed up into the sauna. Draping a smaller hand towel over his face, he pretended he had just exited it and was preoccupied with scrubbing his hair. Unfortunately, it was so difficult to navigate without being able to see more than the floor at his feet that he walked right into the officer who had come to investigate.
“Sorry,” Jim said in his scratchiest voice.
“No problem.”
Jim started to slip by but a hand dropped to his shoulder at the last second.
The guy remarked, “You look new.”
Really? You can tell that without seeing my face? Jim coughed, realizing that his plan to eavesdrop might not have been the smartest idea. “Uh, yeah.”
“What department?”
Nope, definitely not the smartest. He couldn’t remember what color their uniforms were, so he took a wild guess. “Communications.”
“I didn’t know they’d brought another fellow in. Come to think of it… My pal John over there works in Communications.” The man was starting to sound suspicious of his faceless buddy.
“I’m brand new,” Jim insisted quickly. “Just off the base. I, uh, wanted to check out the digs before I reported in.”
Silence. Then, “That’s not kosher, man. There’s protocol and regulations—”
Now sweating in earnest, Jim pulled away from the guy’s grip. “Yeah,” he agreed, “it was a mistake. Got that now. Bye!”
He fled around the corner, past a startled John and nearly took a dive over a bench in his flight. At long last, he was able to dart through the main door.
In corridor, Jim dragged the towel from his head and released an explosive sigh—only to realize he was now standing in public in a single towel slung across his hips.
A crewman exited the women’s locker room across the hallway and did a double-take at seeing a nearly naked Captain Kirk. Blushing, Jim futilely tried to stretch out the hand towel across his exposed upper torso. She shook her head and walked on by without saying a word.
Kirk heard several voices down the corridor, moving unerringly in his direction.
Uh-oh, he thought. He was in plenty of trouble now!
Loud shouts issued forth from the messroom. The disturbance had a cadence not unlike mutiny and turned the heads of several passers-by. A volley of reports ran up the chain of command; when the volume hit critical mass, the First Officer was notified.
As Mr. Spock entered the messroom, several cries met him almost immediately. People were exclaiming in various degrees of outrage: “This is a sick joke!”
“Nooo, why is this happening?”
“Who’s going to take responsibility?”
“I just wanted toast. Why is there no toast?”
The complaints ceased almost all at once when the crowd finally spied the Vulcan commander. Their silence lasted all of three seconds, and the clamor began anew and with more ferocity. One brazen man pushed to the forefront of the group, latched onto Mr. Spock’s arm and wailed in apparent devastation.
“Mr. Scott!” Spock said in alarm, for he had never seen the human react with such despair.
“My sandwich, Mr. Spock—ruined!”
“Mr. Scott…”
His wail grew in volume. “It’s unforgivable!“
“Lieutenant-Commander, you must get a hold of yourself if I am to assist you,” Spock insisted. “Report.”
The man stared at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Eggnog, sir. Nothing but eggnog!”
The Vulcan’s eyebrows pinched together. “What is eggnog?”
“That!” replied the Chief of Engineer, throwing his arm out wildly to the left.
Spock ordered everyone to stand aside and moved towards the replicators—or rather, half-dragged Mr. Scott alongside him as the man refused to be detached.
The Vulcan considered the first replicator thoughtfully before he punched in the food code for salad cubes. To his surprise, he was rewarded with a gelatinous blob in a bowl. He moved on to the next replicator station where he attempted another code. The result, which should have been a cup of water, was a cloudy liquid that no one should be forced to consume.
He turned to the hundred or so crewmen who had been watching his actions intently and experienced the uncomfortable sensation that they expected him to fix the machine malfunction then and there and declare it fit for use.
Out of caution, he directed a question to the engineer at his elbow. “Has Maintenance been informed of this issue?”
“About a thousand times over, I’d say,” came the reply. Mr. Scott wiped his nose on his red shirt sleeve. “Replicators have gone haywire all over the ship.”
“Most…” Spock paused, swallowed the word ‘interesting’. “…unfortunate.”
“What do we do? Everything that monster spits out is made of eggnog!”
“Is… this substance lacking in nutrients?”
For the first time since he had grabbed Spock, Scotty chuckled a little. “Do you want a drunk crew manning this ship?”
He certainly did not.
The chuckle faded. “Mr. Spock, who would be so evil as to take away the sandwiches?” the engineer asked piteously. “We’ll starve!”
“Food synthesizers can be reprogrammed. In the interim, no one shall starve, Mr. Scott.” Spock approached a wall intercom. “Spock to Bridge.”
Uhura answered. “Mr. Spock, I’m not receiving anything clearer than sounds of distress from all quarters of the ship.”
“I have been briefed on the underlying cause, Lieutenant. Please alert Food Service that we will be releasing the ration cube reserves. Each crewmen aboard is allowed two cubes apiece as substitutions for their daily meals.”
A wave of dismay went around the room.
“For those individuals who do not wish to take advantage of the emergency rations, we have two specialty kitchens aboard the ship. A team of chefs shall be assigned to begin food preparation immediately, with dishes to be served until supplies run out. Please notify all affected parties in a communiqué.”
“Yes, sir.”
Spock ended the call. He turned around and blinked in confusion when the crewmen around him burst into applause.
“Given the correct resources,” he announced as the applause abated, “I estimate the replicators will resume proper functioning within the next solar day.”
“You’re a hero, Mr. Spock,” Scotty said, beaming at him.
Spock began to assure the man he had only done his duty but stopped to consider the fact that to humans, apparently, proper sustenance was of the utmost importance. “You are welcome,” he replied. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to the Bridge.”
The Vulcan left the messroom at a quicker pace than usual, but he did not anticipate that the news of his solution would travel faster than the intra-ship communications; so when crewmen continually stopped in the corridors upon spying him to applaud his quick thinking, he found himself altering his course. There was one person who would say, “Good job, Spock,” and let him have his peace.
It surprised Spock to learn that Jim was not where Spock assumed he would be—that Jim had, in fact, not been seen that day and was keeping to an erratic schedule. Considering this unusual news, Spock returned to bridge duty.
Jim stepped off the path and squatted down by a closed flower. “Hello, Gertrude. Are you well?” He stroked the outer skin of the bloom’s petals, and she rustled. “I hope you don’t mind my company today. I embarrassed myself earlier and need to hide for a while.”
Jim sat down at the edge of the flower bed and sighed. Looking upwards, he shielded his eyes from the artificial sunlight. “It’s not the same, is it?”
A petal cautiously peeked open.
“The light gives no warmth,” Jim explained, lowering his hand. His fingers touched the ground, shifted through loose particles of dirt. “Space is the coldest place a person can go. Sometimes the unfriendliest. Do you miss your home planet, Gertrude?”
He pulled his personal PADD out of his pocket and flicked on the screen. “Here,” he said, turning the holographic image of a group of people towards her. “That’s my mom, Sam, and me. Sam’s the kid with the goofy grin. I’m not grinning because he had just invented a new nickname for me. Scrubby.” Jim snorted. One of Gertrude’s petals unfurled. “His version of calling me short and dirty.”
He studied the fourth person in the background without naming him, then swiped to the next hologram. It was a miniature of a man in a cadet uniform, back straight, blond hair neatly combed, but blue eyes twinkling. “My father,” Jim said, “at his Academy graduation. He looks real. I never met him.” The next holo-pic made Jim face away for a moment. “Christopher Pike,” he said, voice tight. “Also gone.”
Gertrude quivered and peeled back two more petals.
When the last hologram in the group appeared, the lines in Jim’s face disappeared. Moving the PADD closer to Gertrude, he pointed at the figures and smiled. “Now these two, if they knew I had this, I would be dead.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Can you say ‘blackmail’, Gertrude?” He grinned, finally admitted, “Okay, okay, I’m not that evil. But it’s a fantastic picture, right? Bones is even drooling a little on Spock’s shoulder.”
Jim lifted to the hologram to his eye-level and rotated it in his hand. “The best part is they’re all mine. No one else is allowed to see them this way.”
Gertrude’s flower-head was fully open now, her stem bent towards Jim and the PADD.
Jim crossed his legs and set the device in his lap, its projected hologram still floating on air.
“Family is all we have, Gertrude. For a long time I had convinced myself I could do without it but… Well, let’s just say if you leave and manage to come back, you’ll see things differently. Not everything, of course. Just some things, little things. Like how you think of someone, or how much you like him. Them. You realize a second chance isn’t to be taken for granted. I don’t intend to waste my second chance.”
Deactivating the hologram, Jim made a sound of amusement. “Even if my plan isn’t moving along as quickly as I would like. Stubborn bastards.”
Gertrude straightened her stem and upturned her face to the sunlight.
As Jim watched her, he mused, “I wonder who was your family, if you miss them.”
A delicate quiver ran along the flower’s stem.
He said kindly, “Well then. No worries, my dear. In this family, there’s always room for one more.”
The main event commenced in two days. As the time drew nigh, some of the crew grew frantic; others, calmer. For Spock, he had a list and he was checking it twice. The list had been shoved into his hands at lunchtime by a harried Leonard. “Help me out, hobgoblin,” the doctor had pleaded. “I’m going crazy!”
Spock found checking items off the list to be very calming. With this attitude, he walked into the recreational room that had been designated as the venue for their celebratory affair—and nearly lost his grip on his padd.
A lieutenant in a parka shuffled past him, rubbing his hands together. For a moment, Spock’s body had no inclination to move forward. Luckily, the officer he had been seeking came to him.
“Mr. Jaeger,” he began.
“Mr. Spock! Good to see you, old chap.” Lieutenant Karl Jaeger beamed at him good-naturedly from beneath a knit cap topped with ear muffs. “You’re here to check on our progress, yes? We’re almost done setting up.” He swept his mittens outwards. “What do you think?”
Spock checked the item on his list again. “Mr. Jaeger, what was the description of your task?”
“What do you mean, sir? This is my assignment.”
A cry of “What in hell is this?” overrode any response the Vulcan might have given.
The exclamation heralded the arrival of McCoy. The CMO’s expression would have been a comical sight if the men and women in the room didn’t already know his question was a prelude to an frightening explosion. Spock had the inkling it would take more than an explanation to calm his partner down.
Jaeger, however, appeared quite unconcerned as McCoy stalked across the room towards them. The louder the doctor’s boots crunched across the floor, the darker his expression became.
“Karl!” McCoy snapped. “Have you lost your mind? I’ve got crewmen coming into Sickbay with frost-bite and sudden onset of hypothermia!”
Karl frowned. “Dr. McCoy, I gave you what you asked for.” He waved his mittens around again. “Snow.”
A vein throbbed in McCoy’s forehead. “Good god, man, I didn’t want real snow!”
The other man pursed his mouth in dismay. “I am meteorologist, sir. I don’t do fake weather.” He looked to Spock but Spock wisely did not pick a side.
Karl huffed, turned on his heel, and strode off.
Spock watched a snowflake land on the tip of Leonard’s nose. “With scientists, it is often wiser to be specific with your request.”
McCoy pressed his mouth together and continued glaring at Jaeger’s back.
Spock exhaled quietly and activated the nearest wall comm. “Please evacuate Rec Room II for repairs and clean-up, and reset the environmental controls for the deck.”
“Great,” muttered McCoy, white air pluming from his mouth. “Just great.”
Spock sensed a different type of storm brewing than the one in their current location and followed Leonard to the corridor.
Leonard stormed ahead of his companion into his personal quarters. “Disaster—it’s all a complete disaster!”
“Computer, lights forty percent,” said the Vulcan on his heels. “There have been a few setbacks.”
“A few?” snapped McCoy incredulously. “The ship has no food other than eggnog, half of G Deck in experiencing a blizzard, I’ve got people in Sickbay with allergic reactions to glitter, apparently Jim decided to visit the gym in the nude yesterday, speaking of which I’ve more than eyeful of greased up naked bits because the whole damn Security department went crazy over playing Spartacus!”
Spock commented wisely, “There are some details which I should never know, Doctor.”
Leonard whirled around and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t patronize me!”
“I am not.”
“Argghh!” he cried, extremely close to grabbing at his own hair in frustration. “You don’t understand, Spock. This was supposed to go off without a hitch!”
Spock merely raised an eyebrow.
Damn the Vulcan, thought Leonard. He took several deep breaths and laughed bitterly. “Fine, I admit that I should have known. When has anything ever gone according to plan on this godforsaken starship?”
The Vulcan came forward, then. “Leonard, it is evident to me that you are distraught for reasons other than recent mishaps. I am here to listen,” he reminded the man.
Leonard closed his eyes. “Damn. I can’t hide anything from you anymore, can I?”
Spock, his tone equally soft, challenged, “Why try to?”
The Vulcan removed his hands from behind his back and relaxed his stance ever so slightly.
Leonard’s eyes stung as he recognized the silent invitation. He moved forward into the Vulcan’s embrace.
Spock lightly cupped Leonard’s elbows, and Leonard leaned into him.
“You cannot expect perfection. No one will expect it of you.”
“I didn’t want it would be perfect, Spock, just special. This is not special.”
“Is that for you to judge?”
“What do you mean?”
“The person who receives the gift decides whether or not it is special.”
Leonard murmured, “Jim’s going to laugh.”
Spock held silently for a moment, then said, “Ten credits.”
Leonard pulled back far enough to look at him. “I can’t have heard you right.”
“Ten credits,” repeated the Vulcan. “If Jim’s reaction is positive, you will pay me ten credits. If I am wrong, I will pay you ten credits.”
“You are uncannily human sometimes, Spock.”
“I do not believe my offer calls for an insult, Leonard.”
Leonard huffed, grinned, and said, “Sweetheart, you’ve got a deal.”
Figuring the ‘I accidentally exposed myself to my crew’ fiasco was forgotten (no one had dared to look twice at Kirk for some reason in the corridors), Jim tried to distract himself with paperwork. He hated paperwork, so maybe it wasn’t his best choice of distraction but he was lacking in other captain-ly duties to perform as of late.
As he entered his office, he welcomed a distraction to his distraction, which came in the form of tin canister sitting innocuously on his desk. The note attached to it read: For Captain Kirk, From Secret Santa.
Jim had to think long and hard for a few seconds to recall what a Santa was, but once he did, the package became twice as intriguing. Lifting the lid, he was astonished and thrilled by the contents: two dozen cookies. The majority of the cookies, strangely enough, had red eyes and green frowns but the first two tasted delicious.
Jim double-checked his surroundings and ate another three cookies with his back to the door just in case someone—namely a certain doctor—happened to stop by unannounced. Bones would rant about bad food choices once he saw them.
It seemed to Jim, then, that the only reasonable action was to finish off the tin before he was caught. After all, a communiqué in his inbox the day prior had stated that all replicators were on the fritz, and everybody knew how awful ration cubes tasted. Satisfied with his rationalizations, he dug in.
An hour later, his fingers only found crumbles at the bottom of the tin. Since the sweets had helped him get through the paperwork, he decided an afternoon in the office wasn’t a terrible way to spend a day. In fact, now that he thought more about it, this Secret Santa person by rights should become his official cookie baker.
So how to find out who it was?
His door chimed, and his yeoman Janice Rand came in.
Jim groaned when he saw the stack in her arms. “Not more paperwork.”
As she came forward, her walk slowed considerably. “Paperwork is a captain’s livelihood! Wait, is that—did you—?”
He saw she was looking at the empty tin on the corner of his desk. “Oh. Someone left me cookies!” He surreptitiously wiped the corners of his mouth. “I, ah, had one or two.” How horrible would be to admit to eating all of them? Wait, he couldn’t do that. Rand could very well inform McCoy of how naughty he’d been.
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs nonchalantly. “I shared the rest with the bridge crew.” He blinked, frowned as her face changed color. “Janice, what’s wrong?”
“You,” the woman started, stopped. She firmed up her lips, came forward, and practically threw the reports in his lap. He hugged them close to his chest so they didn’t scatter.
“Cookies are bad for you, Captain,” the woman chastened him.
Jim’s eyes widened.
Rand leveled her finger just under his nose. “You’ll never see another cookie as long as I’m your yeoman. Understand?”
Clearly telling her about the cookies had been a grave tactical error. “But,” he began.
The woman snatched up the tin and stomped out of his office.
Jim slumped into his chair and said morosely, “I’m sorry, Secret Santa. I could have loved you!”
“Spock? Spock, are you in here? I just had the weirdest conversation with Jim’s yeoman…”
Leonard fell silent once he reached the wall partition that separated Spock’s bedroom from the main cabin of the First Officer’s quarters. Because the lights weren’t on, he had guessed that Spock wasn’t there.
How wrong he was.
Strange movements in the dark drew him farther into the cabin. There was light: it licked off the furniture and walls, elongated shapes, sent them dancing. Spock’s shadow was the only thing that stood quite still—as did Spock himself. At first he appeared mesmerized by the lit candles on the desk, but as Leonard came farther into the cabin Spock murmured his name.
Leonard’s instincts told him to proceed with care, and so he did, not saying anything for a long minute.
Eventually he had to ask, “Is that a menorah?” The man winced afterwards, for the question had sounded dumb to his own ears.
But Spock answered him. “Quite correct. This chanukiah was given to me some years ago by my mother.”
“Oh,” said Leonard. “I didn’t know your mother was Jewish.”
“Mother was not Jewish,” Spock explained, “but she considered it appropriate to observe a tradition that once held special meaning for her ancestors. When I lived at home, I would light the candles for her if she was traveling with my father.”
Leonard circled the desk, pressed the intercom, and murmured, “Jim, Spock’s quarters.” Then he said to Spock, already having an inkling as to the answer, “Is this the first year you’ve lit the candles since her death?”
A different kind of shadow flickered across the Vulcan’s face. “Affirmative.”
Leonard nodded slightly and took a seat on the edge of Spock’s bed. Moments later, the door to the cabin slid back, admitting Kirk. Leonard beckoned him over to the bed.
As Jim took a seat, he directed a question to Leonard in a hushed tone, reading the situation as Leonard had. “The menorah?”
“For Amanda,” Leonard replied, voice equally soft.
Jim turned his face towards their Vulcan, who looked at neither man, only at the candles. Leonard found Jim’s hand and laced their fingers together.
The occupants of the room shared a moment of silence to honor the memory of a remarkable woman, a mother who had raised a son of two worlds with unfaltering love and left their universe too soon.
In the end, Spock left the candles burning and came to them, accepting their wordless consolation. None of them had ever, or would ever, spurn each other in his grief.
For the first night in two weeks, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy had shared the same bed. Jim woke to find Spock and Leonard still sleeping. Something inside him demanded acknowledgement, became implacable. He was not going to lose them. Only a fool refused to fight for a love like theirs.
And so, when one of them roused, Jim was lying in wait for him. A bleary-eyed McCoy stumbled towards the bathroom and found himself locked out. Once he spotted a fully dressed Kirk seated across the room, he complained, “I think your door’s stuck.”
“It’s not stuck,” Jim replied evenly.
Leonard looked at him strangely, then tried the door again. Jim heard the mumble, “What the hell?”
Cranky now, Leonard pulled on a pair of pants, no doubt thinking he would have to go through Spock’s quarter just to relieve himself.
Jim said nothing as McCoy passed by. It was a long minute later when the man returned, finally looking more alert.
“Jim,” he demanded, “what in blazes is going on?”
Jim said, “Lockdown.”
His lover was taken aback. “I didn’t hear an alert.”
“You should wake Spock up,” Jim suggested.
“Of course,” McCoy replied automatically, hurrying to a side of the bed. “You should have gotten us both up! I can’t believe I would sleep through a klaxon, let alone that Spock would…” The man’s sentence trailed off suddenly, but it was too late. He had brushed his fingertips against the side of the Vulcan’s face.
Spock’s eyes opened. His voice was rough but aware as he identified the man leaning over him as Leonard.
Jim drew in a quiet breath, shifted to lock his hands over knees. Now it could begin.
McCoy stared at Spock briefly before he said carefully, “We have a problem.”
Spock sat up. He turned his head when he caught sight of Jim at the small work station by the wall.
Leonard straightened up and turned partly towards Jim too. His voice had an odd flatness to it as he said, “Jim’s locked us in.”
Spock came out of the bed, then, looking terribly alert for someone who had been in a deep sleep only seconds before.
Jim experienced a moment’s guilt. By protocol, the only reason to lock down a crewman’s quarters was in the event of enemy infiltration. Spock, like McCoy, would be horrified to awaken and find that something disastrous had happened to the Enterprise while they were unaware.
“It’s not the ship, Spock,” he said.
Leonard started forward. “Jim, whatever this is, unlock the doors first. Then we can talk.”
Jim pressed his mouth into a flat line. “No.”
Spock looked between them before he gave Jim his full attention. He sounded close to pained when he said, “Your behavior is unreasonable, Captain.”
“I’m not your captain right now,” Jim told them. “I’m the man you’ve been dating for the last ten months, who suddenly you decided you didn’t want anymore. Both of you owe me an explanation. We’ll stay here for as long as it takes for you to give it.”
“Jim,” Leonard began.
“I’m done, Bones. No more disappearing acts, no more lying or distraction.”
“Leonard,” Spock said softly, “it is time. He must be told.”
Jim expected McCoy to react in one of several different ways but he didn’t foresee the man dropping to the edge of the bed and putting his head in his hands like Jim had just given him horrifying news.
“My god. One more day. We were so close.” McCoy peeled his hands away from his face, revealing a glare. “Damn it, Jim!”
…Damn it, Jim? Damn it, Jim?
Jim hesitated. “This doesn’t sound like a break up.”
“It’s the sound of me wanting to throttle you!” cried Leonard, who jumped up and looked like he would have done just that if Spock hadn’t stepped in his way.
Jim came to his feet, hands splayed. “Whoa there. Why are you angry with me? I’m the victim here. I should be angry.” The more he thought about it, the more righteous he felt. “That’s right, I am angry. At you!” He pointed his finger. “And you! I’m so angry I could—”
Solemnly Spock lifted his hand, index finger and forefinger extended.
Jim backed up, his angry diatribe faltering. “What are you doing?”
The Vulcan tilted his head. “Is this not the kiss-and-make-up part of the argument?”
“No, I’m—damn it—I’m yelling at you.”
“Oh.” Spock lowered his hand. “You may continue.”
Jim sputtered and looked to McCoy, whose expression was far less upset than it had been moments ago. “Can he do that?” he asked incredulously.
“He probably thinks our yelling is illogical,” Leonard said dryly.
“But I was having a moment!”
“Moment over,” countered the man. He darted forward, grabbed Jim’s arm, and reeled Jim in. “C’mere, you.” Leonard tucked his face into Jim’s shoulder, murmuring, “Sorry I yelled.”
Jim’s anger, the stupid thing, had abandoned him. He wrapped an arm around McCoy’s back, grateful to be able to pull him in closer. “You scared me,” he admitted.
“I know. I guess this whole plan really was a bad idea.”
Jim lifted his head. “What plan?”
Leonard’s sigh stirred Jim’s hair. Leonard pulled back, but before he had a chance to speak, Spock cut in with “Leonard, if you will recall the strategy I shared with you. It did account for an expedited timeframe.”
McCoy’s face suddenly brightened. “The contingency!”
“Correct.”
“I’m still lost here, guys,” Jim pointed out.
Leonard turned to him. “Jim, can you wait for answers until the end of today’s shift?”
Jim had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Why can’t you give me an answer now?”
“Darlin’,” the man drawled, “I will cry if I’m not allowed to surprise you at least a little.”
“Consider me completely surprised, Bones.” He hesitated, finally nodded. “I can wait.”
Leonard kissed him, and the kiss convinced Jim that he had made the right choice.
Spock held up his hand again. This time Jim obliged him.
“The Captain has arrived!”
The call did indeed herald Kirk’s arrival. He was closely followed by Spock and McCoy.
“There he is,” said the woman leaning against the Bridge’s upper platform railing. “The man I want to strangle.”
Jim stopped dead. “You can’t strangle me, Uhura.”
“Oh, I can,” she said. She indicated the others on the Bridge. “And I have plenty of hands to help me bury the body.”
“Easier to eject it into space,” pointed out McCoy.
“I’m not liking this surprise so far,” Jim decided.
Nyota rolled her eyes. She said to the man next to her, “I stayed up all night to finish a day ahead of schedule because somebody had ants in his pants, and all I get for my trouble is sass.”
Leonard deadpanned, “Welcome to my world.”
Jim crossed his arms and studied each member of his alpha bridge crew in turn. “Do I need to pull out the Captain card?”
The people around him groaned. The hand that dropped to his shoulder belonged to McCoy. Jim let himself be steered to the Ready Room off the side of the bridge.
“Just so you know, we have something more elaborate planned for tomorrow,” Leonard was saying as they filed in the room. “This is just from a few of us because, well, partly because you gave me the ‘you hurt my feelings’ speech and also because Spock’s amazing at planning for all scenarios.”
Jim would have replied if his ability to speak hadn’t been blown away by a brilliant floor-to-ceiling evergreen.
“Yes, he’s speechless!” Pavel high-fived Scotty.
“What is this?” Jim managed to ask.
McCoy’s hand slid away from him.
Jim stepped forward, stopped, went forward again. “What is this?” he repeated, taking in the rest of the room. The walls, the floor, the tree, the tables—all of it glittered with color, a sharp contrast from the usual stark white of the ship’s decor. The tree itself was bursting with ornaments of hues to match their uniforms. Jim had never seen anything like it in his life.
He had to turn away just to give his brain time to adjust. He looked at the men and women gathered behind him.
“What is this?” he asked for the third time.
“Christmas!” crowed Scotty.
“Hanukah,” Spock added more quietly.
Nyota said, “Giving thanks.”
“Yuletide, Saturnalia, turning of the seasons. Any old plain reason to celebrate will do, Jim,” Leonard told him, “because what we call it doesn’t matter.” He shared a look with Spock before he finished, “It’s for you. Happy holidays, Captain.”
They all joined in, echoing, “Happy holidays!”
Scotty, looking cheery in a Christmas vest nobody had imagined he owned, threw out his hands. “And may your days be merry and bright. Now on to the presents!”
Jim’s brain had lapsed again at the part where Bones had said they had done this for him. He was herded by Pavel on his left and Sulu on his right in Scotty’s wake. A nicely wrapped gift was stuffed into his hands.
Jim just held onto it.
Leonard showed up in his peripheral vision, pointing at the Chief Engineer. “This man is going to have an apoplexy if you don’t get with the program, Captain. He’s done nothing but talk about how amazing his present was going to be.”
“That’s not my present,” said Scotty.
Jim still had a hard time forming words around the lump in his throat. “I don’t… know what to say.”
Uhura hugged his side. “So don’t say anything. Just open it.” She smiled. “It’s from me.”
His hands moved of their own accord, picking at wrapping and tape. When the packaging fell away, fabric unfolded in his arms.
His brain caught up in real time. “It’s a sweater.” These crazy people had decorated his Ready Room and gotten him gifts. This sweater was his. From Uhura.
He turned to the woman beside him, his face lit by a wide grin. “You gave me a sweater.”
“I made you a sweater,” she corrected.
A laugh burst out of him. “Oh my god!” He inspected it more closely.
“I think it’s lopsided,” Sulu said critically.
Nyota’s sigh was loud but she seemed no less enthused. “Yes, Hikaru, it is lopsided. I tried, okay?”
Jim’s eyes sparkled. “You certainly did.” He tugged the sweater over his head. The knitted material pinched like a band around his chest, flared out at the ends, and one sleeve was distinctly longer than the other, making him look one-handed. He laughed again, with delight. “I love it!”
Nyota considered him. “It’s not nice to lie, Captain.”
Jim flapped his arms and cackle-laughed.
“I don’t think Jim’s lying,” Leonard remarked dryly. “He has atrocious taste in clothing.” The man winced as soon as the sentence left his mouth.
But the woman only rolled her eyes. “Atrocious or not, I hope he keeps the damn thing. I didn’t labor for days under Lt. Moreau’s supervision to have it thrown in the recycler. Besides, it was my first knitting project.” She flipped her ponytail, declaring staunchly, “I’ll do better next time.”
Scotty murmured to McCoy, “Och, I feel bad for the poor bastard who has to wear the next one.”
“I’ll make a hat for Scotty,” Nyota decided.
Leonard smirked and patted his friend sympathetically on the shoulder.
Jim was handed the next present, an easily recognizable shape wrapped in colored paper. Once he removed the wrapping, he inspected the unlabeled bottle by uncorking it and sniffing it. Eyes wide, he leaned back and remarked, “Strong.”
“Should be strong, Keptin,” Chekov said cheerfully. “Zhat is real Russian vodka!”
Immediately Leonard tried to take the bottle away. Jim, of course, refused to give it up.
His CMO said suspiciously, “Where’s this from?”
Pavel looked innocent.
Spock disappeared momentarily and returned with a working tricorder. After scanning the bottle, he handed the device to McCoy.
“Pavel,” Leonard gasped, “this percentage could kill a man!”
The young man shrugged one shoulder. “Tis vat we drink in my family.” He told Jim, “I noticed your chest lacks hair, Keptin. Zhis will cure you. My grandfather swears by zhe recipe.”
Jim self-consciously rubbed a hand against his chest as he gave McCoy a pitiful look. “Can’t I keep it, Bones?”
Leonard’s mouth pressed into a flat line. He said grudgingly, “You can have a taste… under my supervision.”
Jim high-fived Pavel and happily stuck the bottle on a table and sat down. When Scotty gave him a rectangular box with a bow, Leonard murmured, “That’s from me,” and seemed to take a step back.
Mystified by this reaction, Jim carefully removed the bow and the lid. At first he thought Leonard had bought him a large old paperbound book—until he opened the cover.
“The images are flat,” he said dumbly as he turned one decorated page after another, filled with pictures of his crew.
“Centuries ago, there was an archiving technique called scrapbooking,” Spock replied, for Leonard had scooted around to the far side of their group. “Many Terrans seemed to enjoy this activity, as Leonard has.”
As Jim studied the contents of the book more closely, the story became clearer: Scotty balanced precariously on a ladder by the tree, tinsel draped over his shoulders; Spock’s staff of scientists sitting in the main briefing room, piecing together a delicate gingerbread house; people looking confused at snow gently falling in a corridor; a man sliding across an icy floor on his stomach. In one photo, Bones was asleep with his head buried in his arms, the makings of the scrapbook next to him; in another, Spock surveyed a banner with his name on it held up proudly by the group of officers Jim had come upon playing cards.
He looked up, once again at a loss for words. A flash caught him by surprise.
Leonard lowered a camera model Jim had only seen in carefully preserved advertisements from the twenty-first century. “Another memory for the book,” claimed the man, who fiddled with the device without looking at Jim. “I know, it’s a little old-fashioned.”
“It’s perfect,” Jim said, meaning it.
Leonard glanced up. “Now you don’t have to worry about what you missed in the last two weeks. It’s all there, good and bad.” He grimaced slightly. “More bad than good, actually.”
Jim flipped to another page. “I don’t think so. Holy… Uhura, is that what you used to make my sweater?”
“It’s called a loom, farm boy.” Nyota flushed. “Something that looks so simple shouldn’t be so complicated.”
He chuckled, then snapped the scrapbook closed when Scotty reached for it. “All mine, buddy, sorry.”
“But I want to see if I’m in there!”
“Da,” Pavel echoed. “I did not realize Dr. McCoy vas taking pictures…” His eyes widened suddenly.
“Don’t have a heart attack. I held back the more incriminating evidence,” the doctor remarked dryly.
Jim raised a hand. “Hold up. Chekov did something incriminating?”
Spock interceded. “In the spirit of goodwill, a small amount of leniency would not be remiss. After all, Captain, who here has not engaged in some unauthorized activity for the sake of festivity?”
Leonard rolled his eyes while Jim flickered his gaze from one boyfriend to the next, wondering if they knew what he had done. But no one commented further on the matter, and he certainly wasn’t going to be the man to cast the first stone. Chekov looked relieved.
Sulu cleared his throat and looked at Scotty, asking, “You or me?”
“Eh,” replied the engineer offhandedly, “be my guest.”
Sulu nodded and skirted around the large evergreen tree to an area Jim couldn’t see. “It would have been rude to wrap this particular gift, Captain,” the man said as he returned with said gift in his arms.
Jim clambered to his feet. “Gertrude!”
Gertrude waved her petals back and forth, then snapped at Sulu’s arm.
“Uh oh,” Sulu said. “She’s mad.”
Jim hurried forward to take the flower. “That’s because you stuck her in the corner like a naughty child. My poor Gertrude,” he soothed, “did mean Mr. Sulu mistreat you?”
“Oh lord,” said Leonard. “It’s worse than I thought.”
Gertrude purred.
Spock raised an eyebrow.
Sulu grinned. “Looks like I was right. She really likes you, sir. That sound signifies a mating interest.”
Leonard placed a hand over his face, his voice coming out strangled. “Jim, did you seduce a sentient plant?”
Jim paused. “Maybe?” He chuckled. “I swear I wasn’t trying to. She looked lonely in her flower bed, Bones.”
Spock turned to Sulu. “As you have removed… Gertrude from the gardens and presented her thus, are we to assume she is now classified as a house plant?”
“It sounds like a form of enslavement when you put it like that, Mr. Spock.”
“To remove a being from its natural habitat for the pleasure and prosperity of others is slavery, Mr. Sulu.”
Sulu wasn’t ruffled by the assertion. “This could be the best solution for Gertrude. Though her species is mostly solitary by nature, she wasn’t thriving in the garden. It has been a quandary for the botany department for some time. She didn’t adjust to living among other sentients, nor did she appreciate her solitude when she did have it. We were on the verge for sending her home to the Institute for re-introduction in her native world when, miraculously, her stats—and her temper—began to improve.” He smiled at Jim. “Sir, I would like to thank you on behalf of the staff. As it turns out, Gertrude was merely being fickle about the company she kept. We are of the opinion that if she lives with you, she will prosper.”
Jim smiled at Gertrude. “And I’m certain I will prosper too.”
Spock nodded ever-so-slightly, seeming mollified.
Leonard cautiously came to Jim’s side. He murmured, “Does she know she’ll be sharing you?”
Jim winked at him and transferred Gertrude to the table where she could be the center of attention.
“Can’t top that,” decided Scotty as he came forward, “but I’ll sure try.” He retrieved a small package from under the tree and presented it to Kirk with flourish. Then, as Jim began to peel back the brown paper of the box, his expression sobered. He said, “This is not a gift for just anyone, Capt’n. I crafted this wee bit of tech myself, for someone I knew could handle the responsibility and the power.”
Jim paused in pulling at the lid. “Power, Scotty?”
“Aye, power.”
Everyone drew nearer, clearly intrigued. From the box Jim drew out a plain, squarish device with a single jewel-like knob in the middle.
Scotty leaned forward, eyes alight. “You’ll never have to worry about someone coming up behind you again. It’ll track any living person, anywhere with the accuracy of a long-range scanner. Then one little push of this button and boop! They’re gone.”
“Gone?” Leonard echoed, frowning.
“Out of existence,” Scotty clarified.
Jim blanched.
“Mr. Scott,” Spock said in a sharper tone.
The engineer stared at his companions for a few seconds more—then burst out laughing. “Ahahaha, they fall for it every time!” he cackled to Keenser. “I cannae believe Capt’n Perfect Hair thinks I’d build him a Weapon Of Doom! Who do ye think I am?” He waggled a finger at the whole group. “I’m the man who resigned his commission over stowing an armed missile aboard this ship!”
“Good point,” McCoy muttered.
Nyota placed her hands on her hips. “Scotty, that was cruel.”
Jim turned the gift over in his hands. “So, if it doesn’t take out my enemies, then what does it do?”
Scotty took it away from the man. “That’s just the gag gift, Jim. Your real present is over there.” He pointed behind Kirk and the gang.
They all turned.
Jim’s heart leaped at the same time his stomach turned uneasily.
A woman stood at the threshold of the room, having slipped into the Ready Room unnoticed while everyone’s attention was on Scotty’s mad-scientist act. Silver hair graced her temples; years of laughter and sorrow had carved lines around her eyes and mouth. By her hesitation, it was clear she was uncertain of her welcome.
“Mom,” Jim said.
“Jim,” she replied.
A knot loosened in his chest, and he stepped forward. Dying had a way of granting forgiveness for many wrongs.
If Winona Kirk was surprised that her youngest son came to her so swiftly and pulled her into a hug, she didn’t show it. She returned the embrace with equal fierceness.
When the hug ended, they studied one another.
Winona brushed back a tiny errant lock of Jim’s hair. “You look like your father,” she said.
For the first time, Jim heard her words as the compliment she meant them to be. Still, he couldn’t help but add, “I look like you too.”
She touched her own face and smiled wryly. “Let’s hope not. I’m getting much too old.”
He gave her wink as he stepped aside and raised his voice, drawing her toward the others. “If you want to meet someone who is truly old at heart… Bones, c’mere!”
“Ha ha, Jim,” said Leonard as he came forward. He shook Jim’s mother’s hand.
Winona’s countenance brightened. “Hello, Dr. McCoy. Good to see you again. And you as well, Commander Spock,” she said to the Vulcan who joined them. “I hope my boy hasn’t been giving you too much trouble.”
“More like finding too much trouble but that’s a discussion for another day,” answered McCoy.
“While nursing a few consolation drinks?” she suggested.
Leonard grinned. “I do like your mother, Jim.”
“I can see that,” Jim said slowly, looking between his partners and his only living parent. “How, exactly, did you meet my mother, and when were you planning to tell me?”
Winona laughed softly and moved past the three men, casually greeting the rest of the party as though she knew them equally well. Standing to the side, Keenser next to him, Scotty looked on with evident pride at his handiwork.
Jim crossed his arms. “Gentlemen, your captain asked you a question.”
Spock locked his hands behind his back, looking at ease. “Dr. McCoy, should I answer the Captain’s inquiry?”
“Go for it.”
“Admiral Pike introduced us.”
The floor shifted under Jim’s feet for the briefest moment. Leonard laid a hand on Jim’s shoulder to center him.
“Pike?” Kirk repeated.
“He connected us to Winona before the five-year mission. At the time, you and your mother were estranged.”
“We weren’t—”
“Jim,” Leonard said.
He swallowed the lie. “Go on.”
“I admit, I thought it was unusual that the Admiral wished to have personal reports made to your mother. I also did not understand why the assignment had to include both of the senior medical officer and myself.”
“I remember you voicing that opinion,” Leonard said fondly. To Jim, “You see where this is going, don’t you?”
Jim’s throat had closed up, so he nodded. Christopher’s gift to him had been to set the three of them in motion, on a path towards each other. Why now, he wished he knew, did that gamble bear fruit when Jim couldn’t thank him?
“Jim…” Leonard started to say, only to shake his head. He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Go enjoy yourself, kid.”
Jim was grateful that McCoy was offering him a chance to step back from heavier emotions. He knew this wasn’t the time or place to express them, if ever. He quirked his mouth, saying smartly, “This party could be livelier, you know. Drinks, dancing…”
Leonard rolled his eyes.
Spock said, “Tomorrow’s event should satisfy you, then.”
“About that,” Jim said. “How did an entire crew manage to withhold a secret from their captain?”
Scotty joined the conversation. “We’re just damned good at our jobs!”
He laughed. “I know you wrote that program, Scotty.”
“So fire me… Ah-ha! You can’t because I’m the best, and you need the best!”
“You’re all the best,” Jim agreed, “except for Spock. Spock didn’t give me a present. What the heck, Spock?”
“Infant,” declared McCoy with a shake of his head.
“Not like I volunteered for this special attention, Bones… although it is pretty awesome.”
“Timing matters. You must wait, Jim.”
Both Jim and Leonard turned slightly towards Spock, the latter lifting his eyebrow while the former said, “Seriously?”
Spock only raised an eyebrow of his own before moving away to join Winona, who was talking to Uhura and Sulu.
“That’s my cue,” Scotty decided. “Pavel, break out the alcohol!”
“Yes!” cried Jim, hurrying to follow him, a medical doctor hot on his heels.
Related Posts:
- [Masterpost] Family Outlives the Season – from December 25, 2015
- Family Outlives the Season (3/3) – from December 25, 2015
- Family Outlives the Season (1/3) – from December 23, 2015
