Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way associated with, Star Trek.

AN: This is a response to a prompt over at the where_no_woman community on LJ. I've been debating posting it here for a couple of weeks but then J.D. Salinger died and I thought, why not? I hope you all enjoy.

Prompt: If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. - J.D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye

If You Really Want To Hear About It...

When Nyota asked her why she liked him she said he was good in bed, but that wasn't really it. If she wanted good in bed she could find it elsewhere (though Jim Kirk would be hard to beat). Why she really liked him was something she didn't like to think, let alone say aloud.

He didn't ask. Ever. It was probably a sign that he was a selfish ass who didn't care enough to bother, but she preferred to be optimistic. Jim was the first guy she dated/slept with/whatever who never asked, never even really looked at her like he wondered. Which was nice, because after the guy asked it was always the same. She'd push him off her, or push the restaurant table into him, or push him off a bridge (whatever was most convenient, really) and storm off, ending the relationship in that one, swift use of force. Just because she was an Orion didn't mean she had ever been a slave!

Okay, maybe, technically, she had been. Slave traders started counting their new slaves the moment they were conceived, it made for better profits all around. Gaila could do the math, knew enough about genetics to know the human man who was her father wasn't really her father and that the date her mother had been freed and made a Federation citizen was actually several weeks after her conception. So she'd been a slave for those few weeks, her identity signified in a trader's account ledger by a number and a question mark where her sex would be.

But that didn't make Gaila a former slave. For those few weeks she'd been busy with cell dividing and growing a nervous system and limbs and all that, blissfully protected from the outside world by her mother's body. So when she pushed those men she wasn't angry for herself, she was angry for her mother, who had lived so many years of hell, only to come to heaven and find turned up noses and men whose only thought of her was that she'd be good in the sack.

That was why she liked Jim. He was shallow enough that wondering how good she'd be in the sack was normal, he thought it about everyone (she knew his reputation long before she let him buy her that drink), but he was also smart (and, she hoped, caring) enough to know better than to ask.

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