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I don't know anything with certainty, but seeing the stars makes me dream.
- Vincent Van Gogh
Elara's first memory of her father was his hands. They were large and strong, covered in scars and calluses. He worked hard, he always had. And his hands showed it. When she was a baby and he would return from a deployment, no matter how late it was, or how angry her mother would be with him, he would go to her nursery and she would wake up to his rough knuckles brushing against her cheeks, as if memorizing the feel of her baby-soft skin.
As a toddler she would sit in his lap and hold one of his hands pressed against her cheek as she demanded that he tell her stories about his latest trip. About the planets he'd seen and the people he had met. He'd smile down at her indulgently, his clear blue eyes crinkling and tell her story after story. Only stopping when she fell asleep and could no longer demand, one more from him.
Her happiest memory of her father was his voice. Warm and full as he sang to her. He liked the classics, the oldies. He refused to listen to anything that came out after Stardate 2090. His favorite band was ACDC. He had their songs on data chips for when he was deployed, but he also had an antique record player that he would use to listen to them when he was at home. He always said that the music sounded better on the record player - fuller, richer. When he was in a bad mood he would sit and listen to the songs while drinking a glass of scotch. When he was in a good mood, he'd hold his hands out to her and they would dance.
When he was gone on long deployments Elara would sit for hours each day playing his records, memorizing his favorite songs. Her mother hated it, she called them noise and complained about the amount of time and energy credits her father had spent on them. But to Elara they were something special, akin to sacred. They were something she shared with her father, her hero - a man she looked up to and saw too little of.
Her most enduring memory of her father was his back. For the first eight years of her life she saw too little of him. As a young commander, and later Starfleet captain, he was often off planet. His job was important and Elara understood why he had to go, but it still broke her heart every time he said goodbye, every time she looked up to see his back as he left their apartment on base. Every time he left she cried, worried that he wouldn't return. For the first few years her mother tried to make it easier for her, to plan adventures and games and crafts to keep her mind off her absent father. But that ended by the time she turned five.
By her eighth birthday her mother no longer had the patience to deal with her father and his devotion to Starfleet. She asked him, only once to choose her over his command, to choose them. He couldn't - Starfleet was in his blood. His father had been a Starfleet commander, his grandfather, his great grandfather - they had all worked in Starfleet, he had always thought that if he had a son, that son would too. Elara being born a girl had not dampened his belief at all. In fact, he was determined that she would continue his family's tradition as soon as she could. But that wasn't what her mother wanted for her.
She gave him an ultimatum - them or Starfleet. He chose Starfleet. They were packed and moved out by the time he returned home.
After that she saw him infrequently, at best, and for shorter and shorter time periods. Without his wife and daughter at home he threw himself into his deployments - each time he went to space it was for longer, each visit home was shorter. Weekends with him turned into the odd night which later gave way to short, awkward lunches full of quiet, stunted conversations. He was proud of her, loved her, but he didn't know how to relate to her anymore, and he never wanted to come between her and her mother.
Their relationship could have gone two ways. She could have rebelled, caused trouble in an attempt to gain his attention or she could strive for perfection, to excel at everything so that her father would be proud of her. Elara chose the second option. She applied for and was accepted to college when she was fourteen years old, she graduated with a pre-med degree at seventeen. By twenty she had finished three years of medical school and had been accepted into the Starfleet Academy.
She could have remained on earth, there was plenty of need for doctors here, but she was still the desperate, abandoned child who desperately needed her father's approval. She would join Starfleet, not because she wanted to necessarily, but because he did.
Sarah Larson sighed as she zipped her daughter's suitcase, "Your first day at the Academy isn't for two more weeks," she told her daughter, watching as the small redhead hurriedly stuffed a few more belongings in her duffel bag. "Why do you have to leave today?"
"I told you," the redhead told her, barely glancing up at her before she turned back to her bag. "Cadet orientation in Iowa."
Sarah snorted, "Given who your father is, I think they'd let you skip it to spend a few more days with your mother."
"They don't know who my father is," Elara argued, finally glancing up at her mother. "I applied under Larson."
Sarah would never admit that she was touched that her daughter had applied for the Academy under her maiden name. She and her ex-husband had always tried to remain civil for the sake of their daughter, but there was always an underlying animosity. He had picked Starfleet over them and while Sarah had never tried to deliberately come between the pair, she had never hid that his decision was the reason she left him. But from a young age Elara had looked at her father as if he was a hero, she had wanted to be one too.
And now she was choosing Starfleet over Sarah as well.
"You don't think anyone knows who you are?" she asked, her eyebrows arched.
Elara shrugged, a quick jerk of her shoulder, "Maybe a few?" she asked. "Most of the professors at the Academy are fairly young, at least comparatively. None of them were teaching when dad was at school and married to you. The council maybe?"
Sarah was quiet for a moment, watching her daughter. She stood from the bed and moved across the room, reaching up to brush a strand of red hair out of her daughter's face, "Do you think you were accepted because the council knew who your father was?"
Something darkened in her daughter's blue-green eyes, a flash of anger quickly followed by doubt and then pain, "God, Ma," she sighed, shaking her head as she stepped away from Sarah's hand. "Do you have to be such a bitch?" She grabbed her suitcase and shouldered her duffel and started to walk out of the room, but she paused in the doorway and turned to glare at Sarah, "I know you hate him and you hate them, but would it kill you to be proud of me?" she asked, her voice breaking around the words. She laughed, the sound hard and cold, "I mean, come on, I'm twenty years old and poised to be Starfleet's youngest medical officer." She gestured toward her chest, "Most kids my age aren't even in med school yet and I've already graduated. I have worked my ass off for this. Would it be so hard to tell me that I deserve it? Not because of him or his name, but because I earned it?" She watched Sarah for another moment, her gaze heavy on her mother's face and shook her head, "Can't you be happy for me?"
"Of course I'm happy for you," Sarah argued, though the words sounded flat even to her own ears. "I just want to ensure you don't get hurt."
"I don't get hurt," Elara echoed, nodding her head sarcastically. "Because my life has been so easy until now."
Sarah sighed, holding her arms out to her daughter, "I love you, Elara," she told her, sighing when the young woman remained standing in the doorway, her shoulders square and tense as if she was preparing for a fight, "I always have. I want only what's best for you."
Elara nodded, "I know," she sighed. "We just have different ideas of what that is."
She watched Sarah for another long moment before she nodded again and lifted her free hand toward her forehead in a sarcastic salute before she turned and left the room. Sarah waited, standing in front of her daughter's bed, hoping that she'd come back, at least to give her a hug. But she didn't. A moment later she heard the apartment door shut and then their home was silent.
Like father, like daughter.
Elara took a deep breath as she crashed out the front door of the Warp Trail Bar, she had never been one for large crowds and the tiny dive bar in the middle of nowhere Iowa felt too crowded for her. It had the look and feel of a place that was normally forgotten, but on their last night of orientation most of the cadets had decided to go out. And for some reason, she had let her roommate drag her out.
The older girl had been preoccupied when Elara snuck out a few minutes ago and now the redhead stood in the parking lot, trying to figure out the best way to get back to the dorms on the shipyard. She had two choices - hitchhike or hotwire a car. Her gaze landed on an electric motorcycle and her brows lifted as she tilted her head, considering it.
She had always liked bikes.
The door behind her opened as she took another step toward the bike. "Where are you going?" a woman's voice called out.
Elara sighed as she turned, her lips tugging up at the corners when her gaze landed on the taller woman behind her. She and Nyota Uhura had been roommates for the last two weeks and she could honestly say that she loved the girl - she thought that perhaps the girl was the first friend she'd ever had that wasn't her friend because of who her father was.
And it was for this reason alone that she had let the older woman drag her to the bar tonight.
"It's getting late, Ny," she told her. "I wanna go to bed."
"No!" Uhura argued, moving forward to grab onto Elara's wrist and tug her back toward the bar. "It's our last night here! By tomorrow afternoon we'll be at the academy, no longer roommates. You'll be busy with all the medical officers!" She jumped slightly, still holding onto Elara's wrist, "And any of the bars around the academy are definitely going to check your i.d. This is the last time we can get drunk together before your birthday."
"Your priorities are definitely in the right place," Elara told her sarcastically.
Uhura laughed as she opened the door and tugged her inside, "I never said they were," she called out over her shoulder, turning to wink at Elara over her shoulder before she turned her gaze forward again. "Now, come get drinks with me! It's my turn to get them for the table."
"That's why you want me back in there," Elara joked, shaking her head as the taller woman pulled her through the crowd. "Because you can't carry all the drinks on your own!"
"Guilty!" Uhura agreed.
They were in front of the bar now. "Excuse me," Uhura apologized before she gently shoved two male cadets out of the way so that she and Elara could take their seats. There was an alien sitting to Uhura's left, she smiled sweetly at him before she turned to the bartender, "Hi. I'd like a Klabnian Fire tea, three Budweiser Classics, two Cardassian sunrises, and -"
"Try the Slusho," the bartender recommended. "It's good."
Uhura glanced up at him and smiled as she nodded, "The Slusho mix, thank you."
"That's a lot of drinks for one woman," a voice called out to Uhura's left. It wasn't the alien, but a human that sat to his left, he leaned around the alien, smiling at both Uhura and Elara.
Uhura ignored him, elbowing Elara gently in the ribs and nodding toward the bartender, silently telling her to order something. Elara rolled her eyes, but leaned over the bar, yelling slightly to catch the man's attention. "And a shot of Jack, straight up!"
The bartender nodded and threw a thumbs up over his shoulder to let her know he'd heard her.
"Make that two," the blonde man told the bartender, jerking his thumb toward Elara, "her shot's on me."
"Her shot's on her," Elara told the bartender, shaking her head. She turned, forcing a smile onto her lips as her gaze drifted over the blonde's face. He was young, maybe only a year or two older than her. And he was beautiful - bright blue eyes, strong jaw line, something told her this man had never met a girl who wouldn't bend over backwards for his attention. It was a shame for him that she wasn't interested. "Thanks, but no thanks," she told him, her gaze moving over his face again.
"Come on," he slurred as the bartender brought over the shots, the easiest things for him to make. He handed one to the blonde before he slid the other down the bar to Elara. "You don't even know my name and you're already rejecting me?"
"Sorry," Elara apologized even though she didn't feel the least bit sorry. "Uh - drunk and sloppy isn't really my type." She glanced toward Uhura, mouthing sorry at the girl before she took her shot, dancing slightly in her seat as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. She didn't pause before she placed the shot glass on the bar and hopped out of her seat, leaving Uhura to carry the drinks back to their table before the guy could try to hit on her again.
"I'm hurt!" he called out, glancing over his shoulder at her. "I thought you could be my future wife."
Elara turned, walking backwards as she playfully grimaced, "If that's the case, the divorce papers are already in the mail," she told him. She lifted her hand to her lips and blew him a sarcastic kiss before one of the other cadets pulled her down into a seat at their small, crowded table.
Uhura watched out of the corner of her eye as the blonde shook his head, laughing to himself. "I like her," he announced to no one in particular, "she's a firecracker, I can tell." His gaze lifted to Uhura's face and after it focused on her he smiled, "You are too," he told her, pointing an index finger just to the left of her.
Uhura shook her head, "So you're the out of sight, out of mind type, huh?" she asked sarcastically.
The man nodded, "Yeah," he agreed with absolutely no shame. "Jim," he told her, gesturing toward himself. "Jim Kirk." There was a pause where he waited for her to tell him her name, but Uhura let it draw out. He chuckled again, undeterred, "If you don't tell me your name, I'm gonna have to make one up," he told her.
"It's Uhura," Uhura sighed, shaking her head.
"Uhura?" he echoed, smiling, "No way! That's the name I was gonna make up for you!" Uhura smiled, shaking her head, he was smooth, she could see how this whole routine would work for him. She glanced over her shoulder toward their table, Elara was playing some game with the other cadets, someone had brought over a bunch of shot glasses and arranged them in a circle, the cadets were taking turns spinning a bottle and shooting whichever shot it pointed to.
Elara looked happy, Uhura liked that. The redhead didn't talk a lot about her family in the last two weeks, but Uhura had the feeling that her childhood had been lonely. She was glad the girl was making a family here.
"What name are you going to make up for her?" she asked, jerking her chin toward Elara.
The man's blue eyes landed on her and they both watched as the girl leaned forward in her seat to spin the bottle. The cadets around her cheered when it landed on a double shot of some amber liquid. She didn't even flinch as she took the shot, though she did grimace a bit when she put the glass back on the table. The blonde's lips tugged up in a smile as he watched her, "Red," he told Uhura with a nod.
"Red," Uhura echoed, rolling her eyes. "How original."
He didn't seem to notice her sarcasm, nor did he seem to care, "Little Red," he told her with a nod. His gaze drifted back toward Uhura, raking over her red cadet uniform, "So," he drawled, "you're a Cadet, you're studying … what's your focus?"
"Xenolinguistics," Uhura told him, shifting away from him. He had stood from his seat and moved to her other side so that he could stand next to her. "You have no idea what that means."
He watched her for a moment, "The study of alien languages," he told her, sounding surprisingly sure of himself. "Morphology, phonology, syntax." He paused, smirking at her, "It means you've got a talented tongue."
"I'm impressed," Uhura admitted unwillingly. "For a moment there I thought you were just a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals."
"Well," he sighed with a smirk, "not only." She laughed as he glanced over his shoulder, his gaze returning to Elara, "Your girl," he told her, nodding toward the redhead, "She's quite the … chick."
Uhura couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her lips when she caught his double meaning. Jim Kirk was clever, even when he was wasted. And he couldn't keep his eyes off Elara, not that she blamed him. The girl was beautiful.
She was shorter than all the other cadets, standing just over five feet, and small. They'd never talked about their weights, but Uhura would guess she weighed a little over one hundred pounds. She was slim, but strong. Her skin smooth, and tan, with a light dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks. But it was her hair and her eyes that always caught people's attention, the bright red of her hair that seemed almost unnatural, and the clear blue-green of her eyes - like a mountain lake. Her age made it all worse, she was so small and so young that many of the cadets already felt protective of her.
She had caught several of the male cadets' eyes locked on Kirk as he gazed at her. If he kept watching her, he was gonna be in for some trouble.
"Is this towney bothering you?" a voice asked.
Nevermind, she thought, he was already in trouble.
Uhura laughed and shook her head, "Beyond belief," she told him, she couldn't remember, but she thought his name might have been Jason. "But it's nothing I can't handle."
"You could handle me," Kirk told her with a wink and a smirk, "That's an invitation."
"Hey!" the other cadet snapped. "You better mind your manners."
"Relax, Cupcake," Kirk told him, rolling his eyes as he clapped his hand on Jason's shoulder. "It was a joke."
He turned his back on him, no doubt to start flirting with Uhura again, but Jason wouldn't let it go, his hand fell to Kirk's shoulder and he jerked him back around to face him again. "Hey, farm boy, maybe you can't count, but there are four of us," he gestured to three other cadets behind him. "And one of you."
"Well," Kirk drawled out, stepping closer to Jason to show him that he was taller, "find some more guys and then it'll be an even fight." He smiled condescendingly before he lifted his hand to Jason's face and sarcastically patted his cheek. He started to turn, but it was too late, Jason pulled back and punched him in the face, sending him careening into the bar behind him.
Elara glanced up at the sound of a bang and breaking glass. She had missed the first punch, but she didn't miss when the blonde from the bar kicked one of the male cadets in the chest and sent him crashing on his back onto a table behind him.
"What's going on?" she asked, starting to stand from her seat as three more cadets stepped in, an unfair fight, no matter how strong the blonde was.
"Leave it, El!" one of the cadets told her, reaching up to wrap a hand around her wrist and try to pull her back into her seat. "They're fighting because of you."
"Because of me?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting.
"Yeah," another one answered. "He's been watching you all night." She gestured around the table, "We've all noticed."
"And that's a crime?" Elara asked, pulling her wrist free and standing again. "They're going to kill him," she told them, watching as one of the cadets grabbed the man by his shoulders, holding him in place before they brought their knee up, slamming it into his face.
Without thinking she grabbed the empty beer bottle from the table and rushed toward the fight. "Elara, no!" Uhura ordered her, but it was too late, she had already launched herself at the closest cadet, a burly blonde she thought was named Jason, but she could have been wrong. She came at him from behind, jumping onto his back, her legs wrapped around his waist, holding on tight as she swung the empty bottle up and around his big head, before she brought it down, breaking it across his forehead.
She knew it cut him when it broke because blood gushed quickly from the gash, dripping warm and wet onto her hand as he moved, quickly trying to throw her off of him. He wasn't paying attention, too focused on the fight now because if he had he would have realized that he was swinging at the girl he had been fighting to protect.
When she was younger her father had taught her how to fight. She held her hands up, one guarding her face, the other prepared to swing and weaved around him, trying to evade his punches. For a few moments she thought she would be able to hold her own until she misjudged one of his swings, bobbing right when she should have gone left. His fist caught her square in the jaw, a gaudy gold ring he wore on his pinky cut her skin open, and sent her reeling to the right. The blonde from the bar caught her before she could crash into a table, his arm snaking around her wrist and tugging her gently behind him as if he meant to protect her too.
"I should mind my manners?" he asked, glaring at the cadet. "You just punched a girl!"
He launched himself at the man, but was stopped when another cadet grabbed him and threw him onto the table Elara had almost crashed into. He began punching him in the face, over and over again, his knuckles turning bloody. Elara couldn't tell if it was the cadet's blood or the blonde's, probably both.
"Guys!" Uhura called over the noise. "He's had enough!"
They weren't listening to her though. Elara moved quickly, jumping onto this one's back. She didn't have a beer bottle in her hands this time, so they closed around the cadet's throat, trying to choke him just enough that he'd stop punching the blonde. "You're gonna kill him," she growled in his ear as she wrapped her legs around him too, trying to dig her heel into his groin.
A shrill whistle sounded through the bar, one many of the cadets would recognize anywhere and the cadet stopped punching the blonde, his hand frozen in mid-air as he glanced toward the door.
Captain Christopher Pike stood in the doorway, his blue eyes drifting over the scene in front of him. They landed on Elara for a split second, his lips tugging down into a frown, before he continued his sweep of the room. "Outside! All of you!" he ordered.
No one moved.
The cadets began to move quickly now. Elara quickly let go of the cadet's neck and slid down to the ground. She tried to sneak past the captain with the other cadets, but he reached out, his hand wrapping around her forearm as she tried to pass him. "You," he ordered. "Stay."
She waited until the cadets had all left before she lifted her gaze to the older man's face, "Hey Dad," she sighed quietly.
He let go of her arm, lifting his hand to her cheek, his knuckles brushed against her skin, light and soft like he had done when she was a baby. She winced when he put a little more pressure against her skin, there would be a bruise there in the morning. "Go see medical," he ordered her when he dropped his hand.
Elara rolled her eyes, "I'm a doctor, Dad," she told him. "I'll take care of it myself."
He shook his head, "Go." he ordered her.
She watched him for a moment before she nodded. She glanced over her shoulder toward the blonde, "What about him?" she asked.
"I'll take care of him," her father promised her. "You make sure someone takes care of you."
Elara shrugged as she moved away from him, she turned, walking backwards so that she could smile at him, "It's just a scratch," she told him, her grin widening before she turned and walked out of the bar.
Jim still wasn't sure he had made the right decision as he boarded the shuttle the next morning, but his determination grew stronger when he walked past the four men he had fought the night before. They were all bruised, like he was, one of them had a gash across his forehead that had been closed up with stitches.
He smirked, saluting at them mockingly, "At ease, gentlemen," he told them as he moved forward, looking for an empty seat.
There were two left toward the middle of the shuttle. Next to a redhead that he recognized from the night before. He smiled as he dropped down into the seat beside her. "Was that beer bottle standard Starfleet issue?" he asked her as he began fumbling with the seatbelt straps.
She glanced up at him, rolling her eyes when she recognized him. "About as standard as your leather jacket," she told him, her gaze dropping down over the clothes he was wearing. For a moment he felt self conscious that he was still wearing last night's clothes. He couldn't even pretend he wasn't, his shirt had blood stains on it.
She turned away from him, catching the other girl's eye, Uhura if he remembered correctly. The sunlight fell on her left cheek, highlighting the dark bruise that covered her skin from eye to jaw, the angry gash across her cheekbone. Jim let out a low whistle as he reached out toward her face, "He got you good," he whispered, his fingers brushing her cheek, just under the cut.
"He got you worse," she told him, nodding toward his own bruises.
Jim nodded, "He did," he agreed. "I had him on the ropes though."
"Of course," she told him with a nod, her gaze drifting away from him.
He wanted her attention, wanted it in a way that he had never wanted a girl's attention before. Then again, he could count on one hand the number of women who had been uninterested in his advances and they were both on the shuttle with him. "The name's Kirk," he told her, drawing her attention back to him as he held his hand out to her. "Jim Kirk."
Her brows furrowed, "James Kirk?" she asked, shaking her head slightly, "As in the son of George Kirk, from the Kelvin?"
Jim rolled his eyes, "Jim," he stressed. "And does everyone here know about the Kelvin?"
"Yeah," she told him with a nod. She took a breath and settled into her seat, looking a bit more comfortable, "My dad's kind of obsessed with your father," she told him with a shrug.
"That makes one of us," Jim told her. He watched her, "You haven't told me your name," he added, nodding toward his hand that still hung in the air between them.
"Elara," she told him, slipping her smaller hand into his. "Elara Larson."
He was about to say something else, but a flight officer caught his attention, "You need a doctor!" her voice rang out as she pulled a scruffy-looking man out of the restrooms.
"I told you people, I don't need a doctor," the dark-haired man told her, rolling his eyes, "I am a doctor."
The flight officer shook her head, "You need to get back to your seat then," she argued.
"I had one. In the bathroom. With no windows."
Jim chuckled as they continued arguing as the flight officer continued to herd the man toward the empty seat to Jim's right. He sat down begrudgingly, grumbling to himself as Pike's voice announced over the intercom that they had been cleared for take off. "I may throw up on you," he warned Jim, glancing at him. The hard set of his chin told Jim that he wasn't joking. He grimaced.
Elara leaned around Jim and smiled at the man, "Hey McCoy," she told him, "How are you doing?"
"Not good, El, not good," the man answered, leaving Jim to wonder how they knew each other. He shook his head, his sharp gaze landing on her cheek, "Remind me to take another look at your cheek when we get to the academy, assuming we don't crash."
"I think these things are pretty safe," Jim told him, meaning to assure him.
His glare deepened as he turned to Jim, "Don't pander to me, kid," he growled. "One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in thirteen seconds. A solar flare might pop up and cook us in our seats. And wait until you're sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles. See if you're still so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding. Space is disease and danger after darkness and silence."
He said it all in one quick breath, an unending litany of worries and fears. Jim glanced toward Elara, his eyebrows raised, silently wondering how to deal with the man.
Elara smiled and reached around Jim to drop a hand onto one of the doctor's, "Dr. McCoy's a bit of an optimist," she told him sarcastically.
Jim nodded, "I hate to break this to you," he said, turning toward the man, "but Starfleet operates in space."
"Yeah," the man nodded, "well, got nowhere else to go. The ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce. All I've got left is my bones."
Jim turned in time to see something darken in Elara's eyes. He heard liquid sloshing around to his other side and turned back in time to see the doctor lift a flask to his lips. "I'm Jim Kirk," he told him.
"McCoy," the man told him, lifting the flask to his lips again, "Leonard McCoy."
He handed Jim the flask. Jim took a sip, grimacing around the cheap liquor before he turned, offering it up to the redhead sitting next to him. She shrugged before she reached for it, but McCoy stopped her, "Hey!" he muttered, shaking his head as he snatched the flask back. "You're too young for that."
"Too young?" Jim asked, lifting his eyebrows.
A blush burned its way across her cheeks, bruised and tanned alike. "I'm only twenty," she told him.
McCoy nodded, "Yeah and she's the Ca-"
"McCoy," Elara cut him off, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "Why don't you tell us more about Andorian shingles?"
Jim chuckled and shook his head. He was in for an interesting flight to California. It was made even more interesting when McCoy's hand closed around his, squeezing tightly when the shuttle took off. McCoy wasn't so manly that he was ashamed to hold on to Jim for most of the flight.
He would have shook him off, but his tight grip was a welcome distraction from the redhead to his other side who had fallen asleep shortly after take off, her head resting on his shoulder, her hair tickling his nose every time he turned his head.
She smelled like honey.
Hello! I'm back!
If you read any of my other stories, I promise you I am slowly working my way back to them. This year has been rough for me, I think it's been rough for everybody, but it hit me in a way that just sucked any creative energy out of me.
The husband and I had a baby this year (yay! but also exhausting!) and I went back to work. For those of you that don't know, I work in the health care system so going back to work was definitely difficult. At first I thought that when I came home sinking into something creative like my stories would be a welcome distraction. But I was so tired, soul-crushingly exhausted to be honest, and everything that I wrote was too depressing to share. I was uninspired, unmotivated, and unhappy.
But that's a story for my therapist, not for you guys!
Another thing you guys might not know about me is that I'm a Trekkie (you should know that, I think somewhere I've talked about my cat Seven of Nine ...) and me and the baby were watching Star Trek recently and the creative juices started flowing again. And this came out of it. I don't know if there are any Trekkies out there still looking for fanfiction, it's been a hot minute since the last movie. But if there are ... here you go!
And if not, maybe this story was just for me ... to jumpstart my writing again!
Either way, if one person or a hundred read it. I hope you enjoy!
And if you have a few seconds, maybe review?
Until next time,