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I found a subfolder in Googledocs with some more WIPs that I abandoned! AWESOME. Also, this is the only Star Trek story you will ever see from me.

WIP: Star Trek XI, Kirk and Spock.

***

It's not that hard, remembering how to be a cadet. The halls are a little emptier, debriefings instead of classes. Kirk waits for the court-martial to begin. It doesn't. He spends his evenings with Bones, drinking until the tumult in his gut is the honest burn of whiskey. Bones doesn't say much about it, just quietly tells him how his crew is doing. Not his crew - Pike's crew. Kirk doesn't think too hard about that part.

He loses track of Spock for a while, both of them caught up in too many details. It bothers him in unexpected ways - he keeps turning to look over his right shoulder, expecting something that isn't there. There's no good reason to expect anything, but he does anyway, constantly looking for a dry humor Kirk has no right to know. It bothers him.

Kirk honestly forgets about the whole Kobayashi Maru thing until he actually sees Spock again, catches a glimpse across the quad. It seems so utterly ridiculous that after all this, the tipping point might very well be whether he cheated on a test. It's stupid. He starts obsessing about it. Out of all the crazy shit he's pulled in the last few days, out of all the insubordination and half-cocked missions, it's the Kobayashi Maru that's most likely to screw him over. He can tell himself that saving Earth will probably get most of it glossed over, but the court martial for the hacking already started. Any way he looks at it, he's fucked. Screwed. Totally boned. Maybe they already kicked him out and just forgot to tell him. It's possible.

"It's not possible," Spock says severely. He doesn't even look up from the chess game he's playing against himself.

"Oh, well, thanks for the reassurance," Kirk says. It might come out a little more biting than he'd intended. Maybe. "I mean, they'd tell you, right? Since you were the one bringing the case and all?"

"Your concerns are not even valid. Starfleet regulations do not allow dismissal from the service without a completed trial."

Kirk folds his arms and puts on his Captain face, scowling across the board. "Spock. Stop avoiding the question."

Spock looks up, finally, with a familiarly stern look of irritation and dislike. "No."

"No what?" Kirk wants to scream, bites it back to a teeth-clenching whisper. "No, you won't stop avoiding the question? No, they wouldn't tell you?"

"No, you have not been dismissed from Starfleet." Spock's attention returns to the game, studying the layers of pieces. Kirk's gut has almost unclenched for the first time all week when Spock adds, "Not until the court martial has been concluded, at any rate."

"Don't you even joke about it," Kirk says. He's shaking, hands in fists. "Don't." There's a tight screaming knot in his chest. Spock looks up, politely surprised at his too-sharp tone, and Kirk wants nothing more than to punch him or maybe shake him or maybe just scream until he's hoarse.

"You are being irrational," Spock says, still maddeningly calm. "Post-traumatic stress disorder is not uncommon after events such as the ones we have recently experienced."

"PTSD? Are you kidding me?" Kirk laughs, sharp and loud. He's still angry. It burns in his throat. Spock's shoulders draw back in anger Kirk would never have been able to read a week ago. "After all we've been through, Spock, I think even you would agree that a little emotion is due. Do you even realize that by the time we got back, the entire command staff was acting, promoted as our commanding officers died? Seven ships destroyed, Spock, every single one filled with cadets and professors - gone! The Enterprise nearly cracked apart into that singularity, do you understand that? Earth nearly - Vulcan is dead, Spock!"

"I believe you have forgotten what you're saying," Spock says tightly. In anyone else it would be a fist to the face.

"I know damn well what I'm saying," Kirk says, but it lacks entirely the bite he'd intended. He gives in, shoulders slumping, and asks, "Goddamnit, Spock, would it kill you to show some grief? You can't just carry on like nothing happened."

Spock looks like he's not quite sure if he should be pained or still angry. "Please don't act like your irrational behavior is somehow meant to be for my wellbeing."

"It's not -" Kirk squeezes his eyes shut, wishes he could close his mind against the memory of Vulcan crumbling, dying beyond the gentle clouds. It had been a clear morning. It snowed that afternoon. "Christ, Spock, I just - How can you -" How is this not destroying you, he wants to say.
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