Third Person: Some aches were better than others. There was a fine line you could toe between pain and pleasure and he’d strode most of it at one time or another. He was there again today, triumphant and proud, grinning, but every move ginger, like he’d had One of Those Days. Maybe because he had. Negotiations went sour, things got violent. He’d thought, for one terrifying moment, he was going to be looking for a replacement First Officer.
But Jim and his crew aboard the Enterprise were nothing if not persistent. So even though the odds were never in their favour, they still got what had to be done done. They picked up a few war wounds along the way, but everyone lived. That was important.
Every single muscle and ligament and bone and particle of skin on Jim’s body hurt like hell. But it was a good ache, a winning ache. He glanced to Spock, right where he ought to be, at his station. Spock, right on cue, turned to share a look with his Captain, then give a nod. A quick check in with Engineering and Jim’s girl was ready to leave this planet behind her.
“Helm,” Jim commanded, “Take us out of orbit. Let’s get some distance between us and this place.”
“With pleasure, sir.” A shared grin between helmsman and navigator didn’t quite escape Jim’s eye as the Enterprise’s engines thrummed to life, powering up so much more to break orbit than to maintain it. Jim loved that sound, that feel. He was perhaps a little less fond of the way pain shot through his shoulder and down his back when Bones squeezed his shoulder, but simply having the doctor give that little gesture made up for it.
He wince was more pronounced than he’d hoped, apparently, because all of a sudden, he had a small tirade coming at him about not reporting to medical immediately after away missions. Jim caught Spock’s glance again, then stood, his body protesting its use. “Alright, Bones, you got me,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m on my way to Medical with you right now. And, Spock, you’ve got the chair. Keep up the great work.”
“Thank you.” With an incline of his head, Spock gave one of those looks that Jim could just tell was a smile, no matter how hidden by stoicism. Jim grinned and left the bridge with Bones, leaning against the wall of the turbolift once he was certain the bridge crew couldn’t see.
“Where does it hurt?” Such a doctor question.
“Everywhere.” Such a Kirk response. But he was smiling, that dopey little grin that was reserved for special occasions. Most of those occasions seemed to find him in pain, but he could live with that, so long as it kept being good aches.
Re: Jim Kirk (4/4)
But Jim and his crew aboard the Enterprise were nothing if not persistent. So even though the odds were never in their favour, they still got what had to be done done. They picked up a few war wounds along the way, but everyone lived. That was important.
Every single muscle and ligament and bone and particle of skin on Jim’s body hurt like hell. But it was a good ache, a winning ache. He glanced to Spock, right where he ought to be, at his station. Spock, right on cue, turned to share a look with his Captain, then give a nod. A quick check in with Engineering and Jim’s girl was ready to leave this planet behind her.
“Helm,” Jim commanded, “Take us out of orbit. Let’s get some distance between us and this place.”
“With pleasure, sir.” A shared grin between helmsman and navigator didn’t quite escape Jim’s eye as the Enterprise’s engines thrummed to life, powering up so much more to break orbit than to maintain it. Jim loved that sound, that feel. He was perhaps a little less fond of the way pain shot through his shoulder and down his back when Bones squeezed his shoulder, but simply having the doctor give that little gesture made up for it.
He wince was more pronounced than he’d hoped, apparently, because all of a sudden, he had a small tirade coming at him about not reporting to medical immediately after away missions. Jim caught Spock’s glance again, then stood, his body protesting its use. “Alright, Bones, you got me,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m on my way to Medical with you right now. And, Spock, you’ve got the chair. Keep up the great work.”
“Thank you.” With an incline of his head, Spock gave one of those looks that Jim could just tell was a smile, no matter how hidden by stoicism. Jim grinned and left the bridge with Bones, leaning against the wall of the turbolift once he was certain the bridge crew couldn’t see.
“Where does it hurt?” Such a doctor question.
“Everywhere.” Such a Kirk response. But he was smiling, that dopey little grin that was reserved for special occasions. Most of those occasions seemed to find him in pain, but he could live with that, so long as it kept being good aches.