tampered | Log; Complete

When; Saturday night
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Rachel Grey

starchilde_lost and James T. Kirk

starfleet_pimp
Summary; Rachel has some issues, Kirk's about to find out how far they go. Sorry, Captain.
Log;

With Niko and so many of the others out she'd been glad to pick up the extra closing shift at the Lux even if it meant walking home in the raging blizzard. It meant less time to dwell on things, less time to worry about home, less time to face the nightmares when she slept. She knew Kitty was worried, she knew Logan was worried, hell, by now people she didn't even know were probably worried, but how could she explain it?

How could she explain that all the progress she'd made before leaving Earth was suddenly gone, suddenly swept away by finding herself back in a place where she couldn't fight back. Not against the people who murdered most of her family or the despot that wanted to murder the rest. That these days she felt as broken as she had the day it had happened, maybe even more so. How could she explain the horror of seeing her family killed over and over again every time she closed her eyes to sleep? That the only way around it was working until she couldn't think anymore and then praying, praying, she would be too tired to dream. After everything they'd done for her, how could she tell them she was falling apart?

And then there was her other problem, minor in comparison, but an added problem nonetheless, stacking chairs across the room while she was finishing behind the bar. James T. Kirk, Captain of the freaking Enterprise, and still looking too much like someone she lost a long time ago. Looking like, and these days acting like since he'd started hinting that she was working too hard, maybe she should take a break, not wear herself out... Worrying about her and looking out for her, just like Franklin always had.

Like she needed those wounds re-opened. At this rate she was going to bleed out.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rachel ignored Kirk's first comment. He was right, so was everyone else who'd been telling her to take a break, but that didn't help her when there weren't any other offers on the table. As for the rest?

"You are not going to contort with tweezers, that sounds more painful than the splinters. Take your shirt off." Rachel stood up and walked to the bar, pulling a glass off the shelf. Before she returned, she looked at Kirk.

"'Scrapper' was a nickname for someone I grew up with. His real name was Franklin Richards. You... you look like him. Not, like, exactly like him, but it's scary close sometimes."

Kirk wisely didn't say anything about her telling him to take his shirt off, despite how tempting it was. Instead, he merely did as he was told, wincing as he did so.

"Is that why you stare at me all the time when you think I won't catch you?" he asked.

Rachel caught the wince and reached out telepathically, dulling the pain a bit. Only fair, she reasoned, since she'd caused it. As she was walking back to where Kirk was sitting his question made her stop.

Busted.

"Yeah, kinda." She resumed walking and started examining his bruised and splintered back. "Sometimes you do stuff that he'd never do and it's like seeing this weird reflection of him, and other times... well, it's just..."

Kirk didn't know what she did, but suddenly his back felt a lot better. He could still feel some of the splinters, but it didn't out and out hurt as much as it had.

"He meant a lot to you, didn't he?" Kirk asked her. You didn't stare at someone for as long as she had if they just looked like a casual friend.

Rachel slowly began telekinetically removing splinters, working methodically from one side of his back to the other, using the bar glass as a magnifier when it was necessary.

"We grew up together, our families had certain... activities in common so we'd end up staying together at his place when my folks were out, mine when his were out, another family's when both were gone. We went to the same school, and after everything went to hell, we still managed to find each other again... he's the only guy I've ever loved."

Edited 2009-06-21 08:41 (UTC)

He could feel her removing the splinters from his back and it was an odd situation feeling them pull out by themselves. Still, it was damn effective.

"Loved? Why didn't you say something before, Rachel?" he asked. Kirk thought back to all the times he had flirted with her, flirted with others in front of her. "I wouldn't have bugged you so much if I knew."

"Because it's not your problem, Captain. It's not your fault who you look like and I can't ask you to change because of it."

Rachel finished removing what she hoped were the last of the splinters, and stood up to go get the bar-tender's first aid kit. Some of the splinters had gone pretty deep and she needed some bandages.

"Don't put your shirt on yet, I'll be right back."

"But I could have made it easier on you," he said. And that was true, for all she'd gone through she didn't need seeing him look like her dead love.

"Let me take your next couple of shifts," Kirk said as she went to get the kit. "I can pour drinks just fine and it's easier to find help to bounce the doors in this place than it is the tend."

Rachel's not sure she believes that it would have been any easier had he known, he just would have carried the guilt for it instead, but she nods along anyway.

"You don't have to do that, besides I need those shifts to cover the price of the table and chair I used you to break."

She returned and began pulling out the antiseptic and bandages. The advantages of being treated by a telepath? You don't have to worry about the stinging.

"No, I'm taking your shifts," Kirk said. He wasn't backing down from this, Rachel needed to take some time to deal with this and not hide behind work.

"You can't keep putting off dealing with all that," he said. "Or at least starting to. You can't tell me that it didn't help just now, talking about it."

"Is that an order, Captain?" Rachel kept bandaging the scrapes on Kirk's back, and tried to keep her tone civil.

"And I know talking about it helps, I've done the whole therapy thing, but the problem is that back home I can still save lives and fight the bad guys and feel like I've accomplished something. Here I feel like I'm spinning my wheels."

"It's just a friend's strong suggestion," he said. What was it with people here and being so reluctant to ask for help?

"I know supposedly remembers this place," he continued. "But you've gone through a lot. More than anyone should. Taking time here to rest and deal with and process everything is doing something. You never know if it will help when you go back, you might have a clearer mind to deal with everything."

Rachel finished with Kirk's back and sat, her hands folded in her lap, looking down.

"I'll take a week. I have no idea what I'll do... but I'll take the week."

She paused. "Thanks, Captain. For... I dunno, just thanks."

"Good, I'm glad you'll take the week," he told her. "Try and have some fun. Look, I know I don't know your family but they sounded like good people. Like they would want you to remember them without all the anger and sense of loss and guilt. So maybe try to work towards that, as difficult as that sound."

Kirk pulled his shirt back over his head and stood up, offering her his hand.

"Come on, I'll clean this up and you head home."

"They were the best."

Rachel took his hand and stood. "But you don't have to clean this up alone if I can carry your shuttle across the city, I'm pretty sure I can manage a busted table and chair."

"Then take the week to think about how you could best honor them," he suggested, pulling her up. "Remember what you know about them. I'll hurt, but it should help work through it. And no, you get out of here, I'm cleaning this up."

Impulsively, Rachel wrapped her arms around Kirk in a hug. "Thank you again."

Kirk was a little shocked at that, but he hugged her back tight.

"You're welcome," he told her. "Just don't wait so long next time you need someone to talk to."

"I promise to try."

Rachel released him and headed to the door, stopping along the way to grab her purse from under the bar.

Log; Complete

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject