Title: Along Comes a Stranger (9/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: AU. Jim’s life in Riverside is uncomplicated until two men, both equally mysterious and compelling, arrive in town, bringing with them the promise of change.
Previous Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Part Nine

“Hi,” Jim says, smiling as he bends down to the girl’s level. She peeks at Jim from behind her brother, and Jim is smitten with her shyness and wide brown eyes. Chekov says something in Russian to his little sister. Sasha Chekov, as Pavel introduced her, shakes her head vehemently and repeats a phrase with insistence. Poor Pavel looks defeated by the eight-year old.

Jim attempts to appear non-threatening but he is fairly thrumming with curiosity.

Pavel sighs. “I told Sasha that you are a friend but she refuses to leave our room unless…” The young man is embarrassed. “Unless you promise to buy her an ice cream cone.”

Noting the trash bin full of take-out boxes and the obvious lack of other food items in the small motel room, Jim is determined that Pavel and Sasha cannot continue to live at the Star. He realizes that he hasn’t replied in regards to Pavel’s disguised plea, and he turns to Sasha, grinning brightly.

“There’s no way I’d offer to take a girl out to dinner and ask her to skip dessert,” he says with mock appall. “And since you are the cutest girl I’ve seen in a while, you can have at least two scoops of ice cream.” He exaggerates looking her over and says seriously, “You like chocolate, don’t you?”

Sasha shakes her head, pigtails flying.

Does Pavel braid her hair? Jim wonders.

Jim widens his eyes. “Vanilla?”

Her second rejection is fiercer than the first.

He makes a show of thinking hard. “Okay, okay. Not chocolate and not vanilla. Strawberry?”

Sasha ducks behind Pavel again. Pavel smiles at Jim. “Yes, strawberry is her favorite flavor.”

“Great,” says Jim, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. “Do you think Sasha wouldn’t mind a burger and fries if I solemnly swear to stop for ice cream afterward?”

Sasha skips past the men to peek out the open motel room door at the parking lot. Jim takes that as a good sign. Pavel escorts his sister to the truck and helps her climb in, situating the girl between Pavel and Jim. When Kirk catches Sasha eyeing the truckbed over her shoulder, he whispers conspiratorially, “Next time you can ride in the back—but only if we are outside city limits. There’s a silly law that says people aren’t allowed to ride in the truckbed when in town. Okay?”

She pretends not to understand him, but Jim can tell by the mischievous sparkle in her eyes that Sasha does, quite well. He will ask Pavel later how much English she knows—if she can speak and read it. That leads him to think of school, which a girl her age should undoubtedly be enrolled in. Yet Sasha stays hidden in the dingy motel, and Pavel looks nervous as they ride through town with Sasha in plain sight.

There has to be a way, Jim thinks, that Pavel and Sasha can have a good life in Riverside and avoid trouble with whatever authorities they obviously don’t want looking their way.

Then he is distracted by Sasha’s fascination and avid pointing at the playground of the Burger King Jim pulls the truck into. She scampers out of the truck with enthusiasm, only hesitating at the entrance to glance back at Pavel. Her face is almost pleading.

Jim squeezes Pavel’s shoulder and says quietly to him, “Go on. You watch Sasha while she plays and I’ll order the food. Deal?”

His heart twists at the naked gratitude in Chekov’s eyes. Jim makes his way to the counter and orders several items from the menu, thinking that what they don’t eat they can take to go. Then, Jim grins to himself, it will be time for the Ice Cream Shoppe.

Jim is the guy who knows everyone and whom everyone knows. He leads the three-person expedition through the door of the shop with marching steps (which Sasha tries to copy, going stomp, stomp, stomp and making her twin braids bounce in the air).

“Betts!” Jim calls out. An older woman rounds a long counter display of ice cream, crying joyfully, “Jimmy! You terrible child, I haven’t seen you in ages!” Meaning he hasn’t stopped by in the last few weeks and shame on him! Then she catches sight of the round-eyed Chekov’s—both with almost comically identical expressions—and makes an hmm noise.

She clucks at Kirk, “I see you brought customers.”

Jim pouts. “I’m a customer too.”

She pats his shoulder before motioning Sasha and Pavel to go over to the counter. “Silly, you’re family. Though even family has to pay,” she tacks on with a grin.

There is a warm curl of happiness in Jim’s chest. Luckily Nyota isn’t around to hear her aunt’s words. She would toss up her hands and say, “Why him?“

Elizabeth ‘Betts’ Uhura turns toward the backroom of the Ice Cream Shoppe and shouts for her husband. A man scurries out, jamming a small folded white hat onto his head.

“Customers, Joe,” says Betts. She points emphatically at the little girl and purses her lips as if to say how could you possibly be idling in the back at a time like this?

Joesph Uhura fiddles with the cash register a moment then clasps his hands patiently together while Sasha presses her nose against the display glass and mutters over the different selections of ice cream. Mr. Uhura winks at Jim the moment Betts turns away to smile at other customers seated at tables and booths.

Kirk grins when Joe asks, “What’ll it be, Jimmy?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What’s the new flavor of the month?”

“Black cherry chocolate.”

“That sounds good,” Jim says, rocking back on his heels and pretending not to notice Pavel shooting side-long glances his way. “But then again, so does pistachio almond. Or mudpie. Oooh, bubblegum!” His grin widens when Sasha effectively elbows him out of the way to look at the bright blue, bubblegum ice cream.

“So,” Joe remarks dryly, “the usual for you.” He is already scooping out plain chocolate ice cream as he says this.

“Don’t forget the whipped cream,” Jim adds, completing their tradition.

“‘Course. Extra whipped cream for little Jimmy Kirk.”

Technically Jim isn’t little anymore but the Uhura’s never let him forget his first trip to the Ice Cream Shoppe. He had been seven years old and tried to rock the counter to “make the ice cream come out!” Winona had taken her boy firmly in hand but Joe had laughed off little Jimmy’s enthusiasm and obediently followed all the boy’s loud directions on how to make the perfect chocolate sundae—extra whipped cream included.

Sasha can’t decide between the strawberry and the rainbow sherbet and seems shocked when Mr. Uhura says, “Why not both?” She accepts a cup containing a scoop of each flavor, complete with a scattering of sprinkles, and skips happily to a vacant table. Pavel takes twice as long as the rest of them to decide what he wants, finally settling on vanilla with hot fudge.

Pavel has simple, classic tastes, Jim decides. Interesting.

While Pavel’s sister swings her legs and looks at her surroundings curiously, Pavel notes, “This is a wery nice place but it is not new. It has been here a long time, da?”

Jim savors the last bite of his sundae (he always inhales ice cream; it’s a bad habit) and nods. Using his plastic spoon as a pointer, he indicates Mr. and Mrs. Uhura. “That’s Nyota’s aunt and uncle.”

Pavel makes a cute O-shape with his mouth. “Why does she not—?”

“Work here?” supplies Jim. “She did during the summers, until her senior year in high school. That was her rebellious period.” He remembers those times fondly. “She takes classes over at the tech college in the next town part-time. Bob—I mean, Mr. Wesley, the guy who owns The Diner, is pretty good about school schedules and stuff. And of course I think she’s sick of ice cream, at least the family business part of it.”

“Oh,” says Pavel. “You and Nyota went to the same schools?”

“Not many choices around here.” Jim shrugs. “I was two years ahead of her, but we’ve known each other a long time. She came to Riverside when she was close to Sasha’s age.” Jim glances at a corner booth, reliving a memory.

It was the summer he was ten when he first met Nyota Uhura. Jimmy had successfully convinced his babysitter—a teenage girl named Helen—into an ice cream run. (More like threatened to go by himself, which he undoubtedly could have achieved, and she had given in.) Being a talkative and nosy boy, he left Helen at the front counter (his babysitter was batting her eyelashes at the young man hired as summer help and talking in a giggly voice that Jimmy found disturbing) and, upon surveying the other customers, found himself watching a miserable-faced girl not bothering to eat her ice cream cone. So he did what he was apt to do at that age (and any age, really); Jimmy invited himself to her table and slid into the booth opposite of her.

She said nothing of his sudden appearance or invasion of her personal space.

“Whatcha doin’?” Jimmy asked as he licked chocolate ice cream from his spoon.

The girl had a short ponytail and pretty dark eyes. Jimmy pushed his sundae across the table at her. “Your ice cream’s meltin’. Want some of mine?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

“I don’t have cooties,” the boy insisted. “I’m Jimmy Kirk. I live on a farm.”

“Go away,” said the girl.

“We have a pond,” he continued, “near my house ‘n it’s good for catchin’ fish.”

“Fish are slimy.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy agreed, grinning. “We can go fishing.”

She glared. “No.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I’m a girl.”

“My mom’s a girl and she fishes with me all the time.”

“I said I don’t want to.”

Jimmy was hardheaded, a fact well-known by the residents of Riverside, Iowa. “Maybe if you told me your name you’d want to.” Ah, boy-logic; his mother professed not to understand it.

Apparently neither did this girl. “That’s dumb.”

“Where are your parents?” Jimmy leaped to the next best subject since she refused to introduce herself. Her bottom lip wobbled, and he asked, surprised, “Hey, did they leave you here by yourself?”

“No,” she said. “I’m staying with my auntie and my uncle.” She turned and her eyes tracked the movements of the couple behind the cash register.

Jimmy caught on quickly. “Oh! I know them, and they know me!” he said proudly. “Mr. Joe is really nice.”

She nodded, eyes downcast again, and ignored Jimmy.

He shoveled the rest of his ice cream into his mouth since she didn’t want any of it. “Why are you staying with them and not with your parents?”

At that age, Jimmy wasn’t adept at reading people and he certainly had no idea that this girl’s mother had left when she was a baby and that her father had recently died in a car accident. Hence he was rather dumbfounded when she burst into tears, dumped her melted ice cream cone into his lap, and ran off.

Young Jimmy had felt extremely bad after that because it wasn’t nice to make girls cry. For two weeks, he persistently trailed her, learning that her name was Nyota Uhura (her uncle was her father’s brother), whenever he managed to slip away from his babysitter. Nyota finally cracked one day, rounding on him and shouting that if he was going to hang around and be a nuisance, he might as well annoy her while they played pirates rather than skulking behind her aunt’s rose bushes. Turns out that Nyota was better at climbing trees than Jimmy and looked ten times more innocent when they were caught sneaking into an R-rated film at the local movie theatre; she felt the same way about never knowing her mom that Jimmy felt about his dad; and she could punch like a boy.

They were good friends, and stayed friends in spite of puberty sneaking up on them. Nyota began to hang out with girl friends and talk about makeup, and Jim spent hours on the basketball court with guys and eventually discovered that the opposite sex was great for entirely different reasons than faking tears and making the policeman feel sympathetic for the two kids after they had taken Joseph Uhura’s brand new Pontiac out for a test drive, and Jim had driven it onto the sidewalk and into a post office drop-box at the age of twelve.

Even now, Kirk and Uhura maintain a good balance between long-time friendship, brother-sister teasing, and adult flirting. In some ways, he thinks Nyota Uhura knows him better than most people. He thinks he knows her that well, too.

Jim is pulled back to the present when Sasha, having finished her ice cream, says something to Pavel. Despite Pavel’s obviously gentle reply, her shoulders slump. Jim looks questioningly at Pavel.

“She said she did not want to go back to the motel.” Pavel’s face is both pensive and sad. “But I told her it vas not safe to be outside for too long.”

Jim taps his finger on the tabletop. “What if,” he begins, “we took her to the diner? She can look around the kitchen. Sulu won’t mind,” he adds, hoping that the mention of Sulu would be enough for Pavel.

It must be because Pavel says, “Yes! Dis we can do. She vould be safe with Hikaru.”

Jim isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He ushers Pavel and Sasha back to his truck. Within minutes, they are parked near the back of The Diner. Jim gives a perfunctory knock on the kitchen door before he leads Sasha inside. The girl seems to like him better now that she has a Whopper, fries, and ice cream in her belly. Her hand feels tiny in his hand.

Sulu doesn’t look at them until he has finished transferring a grilled chicken breast onto a bun piled with tomatoes and lettuce. Pavel hurries past Jim, grabs a rag to safeguard his hand, and helps pour fresh french fries from the oil fryer onto the plate.

Sulu thanks Chekov and slides the meal through the kitchen window, ringing the bell so the waitress knows the order is ready. Then he looks at Pavel for a long moment before turning.

Hikaru’s eyes skip Kirk and land on Sasha. He bows as he says formally, gravely, “Hello. I am Hikaru Sulu.”

Sasha curtsies. “I am Sasha Chekova. Hello, Mr. Sulu.” She asks immediately, “Are you Chinese?”

She knows English, then, despite her heavy accent. There is a small smile on Sulu’s face. “I am Japanese,” replies the chef.

Jim silently applauds himself for his grand idea.

He lifts Sasha onto a stool. “Do you think you will be bored if I leave you with Mr. Sulu, Sasha?” he asks the child.

“No, Mr. Kirk,” she answers shyly. It’s the first time she has spoken to him directly. He leaves her in the care of Pavel and Hikaru.

Jim almost knocks over Uhura on his way out of the kitchen. She smacks his arm with a wet dishtowel. “If I break a plate, it’s your head that will roll, Jim” he is informed smartly.

Jim sidles to the other side of the counter, out of her reach, and quirks his mouth. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Uhura.”

“So that time I kicked you in the balls was an accident?”

No. “I take it back, you would hurt me—just not in front of witnesses.”

She refills two tea glasses, looking amused. Jim decides to retreat farther. Now where can he go, who can he…?

And there is one person, out of everyone available, that his eyes land on and refuse to leave. He swallows, walks over to an occupied booth, and asks carefully, “Is this seat taken?”

Spock doesn’t bother to look up from his legal pad. “You may join me, Mr. Kirk.”

One minute Jim is smart; the next he is stupid. This is probably one of his stupider moments. Spock barely acknowledges Kirk’s presence, answering the mundane “How are you?” with “I am hale. Thank you for inquiring.”

Silence stretches between them, interrupted only by Uhura exchanging a hot cup of tea for the cold one near Spock’s left hand. The look she levels at Jim is no less Is this wise? but not overly judgmental, simply concerned. She couldn’t know half of why Jim ought to leave Spock alone, yet Nyota is astute enough to pick up on his nervousness. (James Kirk, nervous. An unusual occurrence.)

Jim rubs a thumb along his eyebrow. His knee bounces until he realizes he is fidgeting and makes an effort to remain motionless.

After what seems an interminable time, Spock makes a last note on the paper before him and tucks away a fountain pen. “How may I assist you?” the lawyer asks.

Now speared by Mr. Spock’s full attention, Jim is at a loss for words. He shrugs and unconsciously begins tearing apart a paper napkin.

“Then you do not seek me out because you wish to talk?”

“I—no. No, I don’t think so,” he says slowly, surprised at the truth. “I thought… you might want company?”

Jim thinks he sees Spock’s shoulders lower just a fraction; though it is might simply be his imagination.

“I am not adverse to the suggestion,” Spock replies, and yeah, Jim has done something right because Spock seems less like a frightening lawyer now. Of course, Jim has not forgotten that beneath that polished and unruffled veneer, Spock is very human. A man in love—and a man willing to love unselfishly.

Jim balls up the tatters of the napkin and hides them in his jacket pocket. “Hey, Spock,” he asks without thinking, “do you know how to bowl?”

Spock’s short silence is indication that he did not expect such a strange question. “I am aware of the mechanics of bowling.”

“But you’ve never been bowling,” Jim guesses.

“I have not experienced this sport, no.”

“Hmm,” Jim hums. “Let’s go bowling.”

Does Spock practice in the mirror to get that perfect arch of his eyebrow? Jim pictures the scenario and breaks into a grin. He stands up, decided. “Me and you. C’mon.”

“Mr. Kirk, I do not think it wise—”

“Jim, remember? And why not? Do you think you’ll lose? ‘Cause that’s entirely likely.” He waggles his brows. “I’m unbeatable.”

Mr. Spock neatly packs his briefcase and stands, too. “Then I must observe your flawless skill, Jim.”

Excited beyond reason, Jim tells the man to wait by the door and he’ll be right back! Before Jim can hurtle through the kitchen door, Uhura blocks his path and catches his arm.

“You’re leaving?” she asks with a frown.

“Yeah,” he says, pulling out of her grip. “Yeah, I just have to see if Sulu will take Pavel and Sasha—”

She waves his babbling away with a careless hand. “I can do that. I’m off-shift in ten minutes.” Nyota almost says something else but shakes her head. Instead she tells Kirk, “I thought you might want to go out tonight.”

“With you?” Jim asks dumbly. That sounds worse coming out of his mouth than in his head. He flinches but Nyota rolls her eyes.

“No, with the Easter bunny. Of course with me. And Christine—and Leonard.”

He hasn’t seen Bones since the night at the farmhouse. “You’re… going out with Bones?” He tries not to think of the implications of that, but his mind is suddenly filled with images of Bones and Uhura: holding hands, laughing together, then Bones pulls out a ring and—

Jim feels sick.

Nyota plants a hand on her hip, clearly tired of waiting for his brain to catch up with the rest of the show. “Christine suggested dragging Leonard to a bar for after-hours drinks. She said we could have a small welcoming party—and that he looked like he needed to unwind. Although, Dr. McCoy’s grumpy bedside manner seems to be permanent.” Her mouth curves in a wicked smile. Jim relaxes. “Apparently Jan’s father came into the clinic, being the dick that he is, and Leonard snapped on a latex glove in the middle of the lobby and told Frank prostate exams were half-off this week and that even sheriff’s deputies knew the value of regular checkups, didn’t they?”

Jim’s stomach aches from the struggle not to laugh. Uhura looks smug. When he is straight-faced again, Kirk sighs with real regret. “As much I love drinking with gorgeous women, I think—I want to go with Spock, okay?”

She steps back. “If that’s what you want, Jim.” They say no more on the subject and Jim offers a hasty farewell to Pavel and Sasha. Sasha is too busy making cookies under Sulu’s direction to pay him much attention. Pavel, on the other hand, leans in and says, “Thank you for today, Jim.”

He smiles. “No problem. She’s a great kid, Pavel.” He hesitates. “It’d be okay if you brought her here once and while, you know. Just keep her in the back and stuff. I used to stay back here sometimes while my mother worked.”

Chekov returns his smile. “She vould like that. Me, too.”

Jim exits the kitchen in high spirits. Spock is standing, ramrod straight, by the door with a coat draped over one arm and his briefcase in hand. Jim holds the door open for his soon-to-be bowling buddy. (He plans to trick Spock into participation if necessary.) “My truck’s around back.”

“Your mother’s vehicle,” corrects Mr. Spock.

He laughs. “Are you always so stubborn?”

Spock settles next to him in the cab of the truck and hooks in his seat belt. “I suspect we are of a similar nature, Jim.”

“Then we have something in common.”

Spock is somewhat serious when he replies, “It is the second thing we have in common.”

Jim glances at Spock out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I guess it is.”

Next Part

Related Posts:

• Along Comes a Stranger (28/28) – from July 10, 2011
• Along Comes a Stranger (27/28) – from July 9, 2011
• Along Comes a Stranger (26/28) – from July 5, 2011
• Chapter of Doom – from July 4, 2011
• Along Comes a Stranger (25/28) – from June 30, 2011