Enterprise Bridge

Her head snapped up, glinting dangerously.

"My pity?" she asked, voice cold. "You misunderstand me, Jim. I did not offer you pity. What I feel is sorrow. Sorrow that you have spent your whole life being beaten. Sorrow that nothing I will ever do can erase that. And I feel rage, at the hands that dealt you this. I feel rage at the mother who stood idly by while her son bled onto the floor of the only home he knew. I feel many things, James Kirk, but I did not voice my pity."

She stood a little straighter. "While we speak of it, however. You do not need my sympathy, and yet you have it. I am an empath. A telepath. I have felt secondhand the fear of a striking hand, of the impending nature of what you fear most, and I pity that a child had to feel that. That it was all that child ever knew."

"You are the strongest man I have ever known," she said simply, her fingers going to the scar at his ribcage. "I have known men who won wars and men who lost them bravely. I have known many men, but I know you as well, and I stand by what I have said."

Her fingers moved back up, to the corner of his mouth. "Beneath my fingertips now are your laughter lines, and that is why I claim you as such. You have seen so many horrors that you have a right to be broken, and yet you laugh. And that is the strongest thing I have ever seen. And that is why I am proud to love you."

He had no words for what she had said. He couldn't see where she was coming from, couldn't believe her just yet. Maybe someday, Pock would have finally beat it into his head.

As it was, he pulled her in close, wanting to feel her in his arms. To remind himself that he wasn't that little defenseless boy in Riverside, Iowa. He'd gotten away from there. It had taken a while, and lots of hard work, but he'd done it. And he was all the better for it.

Sometimes, he wasn't sure what he had done to deserve this wonderful woman standing in front of him.

Pock wrapped her arms around his torso and let him cling to her, resting her head against his shoulder. She pressed a light kiss there, sighing.

She loved him, and that was all there was to it.

Jim clung to her for a few moments longer before pulling back. He backed up and put his black shirt back on. Her words made it seem unlikely that she would leave him because of this information.

But one never knew what was actually going on in the mind of another person.

Pock watched as he clothed himself once more, and she seated herself at the end of the bed, pulling her boots off. There was a distinct tension in the air, however, as if something remained unsaid.

Jim sighed, seating himself near the middle of the bed. Close enough to her that it wouldn't be odd, but far enough that she could get up and leave if she wanted to, without feeling awkward.