Notes: Implied K/S relationship - or everyone being spectacularly wrong. Your call.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek 2009, and I make no profit from this work.
Alison became Kirk's PA only a couple of months after his promotion to Admiral. She'd been thirty then, and mentally shrieked like a fifteen-year-old at getting the job. Hell, it was Kirk. Who wouldn't want the job?
He hadn't been what she'd expected, though. Alison's knowledge of Kirk came from her childhood and silly teenage years, when he was dashing about the galaxy generally being heroic. Admirals didn't do that - every one of them had been a brilliant man or woman, but they were also older and (probably) wiser. And Kirk hadn't been an exception there.
He'd stayed in the captain's chair a very long time - not even with the flagship, but a captain all the same - so he was well into his fifties when he finally stopped digging in his heels and accepted the promotion. He wasn't that cocky little genius from the newsfeeds any more.
Oh, he was still charming. Gave her a smile that was every bit as dashing as those news feeds had promised, and always had a flirtatious compliment ready for her when he appeared in the office. Sometimes they would eat lunch together, and if she really put her foot down about getting a soundbite for the journalists that constantly bothered her, he'd jokingly called her Janice and have the quote ready in a moment. (She had yet to work out who Janice was.)
For all the flirting, though, it was abundantly clear that Kirk wasn't interested. Moreover, he wasn't interested in anyone, it seemed. His reputation had always been that of a ladies' man, but Alison was sure that he wasn't really flirting with anyone, no matter what the situation.
"Well, he's getting on a bit," one of her colleagues had shrugged, when she brought it up in conversation. "Probably realised that a fling here and a fling there just isn't on now. Anyway, you needn't worry. That Janice would have beaten the urge to screw with his yeomen out of him."
One day, she'd find out who this Janice was.
Liz had watched Kirk grow up in Riverside, and then watched him grow up on the newsfeeds. She'd always had a bit of a soft spot for him, despite his attitude and his habit of getting into brawls and upsetting everything locally. She couldn't blame him, with the Kirk name hanging over his head like that, and that dog of a man that his mother had ended up marrying. Liz was sure her own son would have gone a bit wild under those circumstances too, and Magnus was the sweetest boy in the world.
She didn't see Kirk much, these days. He'd come back at a maximum of once a year to visit his mother, and be gone again by the morning. It was as if Winona only had one son - until her death.
Then both Kirks came back, to sort out the family affairs and arrange a funeral. Liz would have thought nothing of it, but for the enduring presence of Jimmy when he was never around normally, and the tall Vulcan man that seemed to shadow his every move. The Vulcan even attended the funeral, though he never said a word, and stood some ten feet back from the mourners gathered around the grave.
She never found out the man's name, or his purpose, and she never saw Jimmy Kirk in person again.
David only met Kirk the once, and never summoned the courage to even say hello. He had been doing his final year of medical training, when his primary tutor turned around and said, "David. You're interested in xenobiology, aren't you?"
"Well, grab your medikit and come with me, and I'll see if I can't work around to writing you a recommendation for that internship on New Vulcan that you're after."
He'd needed no further encouragement, and the realisation that they were on Kirk's property didn't dawn until the Admiral opened the door and let them in. He'd given David a friendly nod and a smile, but no other greeting - though he didn't demand to know what the cadet was doing there either.
"He's in the bedroom," he'd said to Dr. M'Benga. "Thanks for coming all the way out here."
"It's no problem," and that was the end of the small talk.
David hadn't even been allowed to see the patient - privacy, apparently, was a bigger deal for Vulcans than even he'd been lead to believe - and had instead found himself in the hall, waiting for the doctor to finish in the bedroom.
There was a Vulcan artifact - an ancient blade - on the wall opposite the bedroom door, and David didn't know what its presence was supposed to mean.
Cadet Brannan had been a student of Kirk's, and hadn't fared well. He wasn't made for the command track, and only took the mandatory modules before fleeing in terror back to his beloved xenolinguistics. The Admiral had never been harsh with him, or even particularly judgemental, but Cadet Brannan had always felt an acute sense of shame at not being able to live up to the famous Admiral's (admittedly high) expectations.
It was not until the Admiral walked in on Cadet Brannan in an empty xenolinguistics lab, practicing his Vulcan translation, that the cadet began to view Kirk as more than simply a very intimidating hero from outer space.
It had just been a passing comment. "Excellent pronunciation, Cadet." That was it. An offhand comment, tossed over the Admiral's shoulder, as he'd found the translation text he'd been looking for, and then he was gone again. Brannan wasn't even sure that the Admiral had paused to note which cadet he'd complimented.
Still, it was worth it.
Yulia worked four days a week in the campus coffee shop - not for the credits (although it helped) but for the gossip. Yulia's Standard was not yet very good, and she found the endless gossip that she picked up at the counter about the Academy staff helped her social life (and command of the language) beautifully.
She wasn't above a little eavesdropping anyway. It was never terribly interesting - merely scandalising. She'd known (and so had most of her year in the engineering school) before the papers had when Admiral Nogura had finally, finally sacked that whingy little PA of his. She'd even known the exact words used. (Her social standing had been stupendous for a good three weeks.)
So she kept an ear out when Admiral Kirk came in with Captain Sulu. Sulu, as far as Yulia knew, had once served under Kirk, and they had remained (as far as anyone knew) quite good friends. She had never seen Sulu in person, though, as he was always in space, so she took the opportunity to listen as they sat down near the windows with their drinks.
"It's not so bad," Kirk was saying as she cleared up a table nearby. "I can't deny that I get itchy for space sometimes, but it's not so bad."
"Is Spock here as well?"
"Not at the moment," Kirk shook his head. "He's on New Vulcan."
The Captain had looked curious, and Kirk chuckled. It was that deep, warm sound that let Yulia believe all the rumours about the Admiral's old womanising ways.
"Paperwork," Kirk waved a hand. "You know how traditional Vulcans can be. He has to show up in person for citizenship amendments."
Sulu had merely nodded, and Yulia was left without understanding.
How frustrating when people wouldn't explain themselves fully!
Lieutenant Emmett vs. Lieutenant Kavka
"I'll telling you," Emmett said, "it's a felony. We'll have to report it."
"Report what? Relationships aren't illegal - never have been!"
"Relationships involving the Captain are," Emmett insisted. "It's just like the three-ranks-below-you rule. Because a captain could use his position to coerce people into it!"
"Captain Lawson would never...!" Kavka began indignantly, and Emmett cut her off.
"I know he wouldn't. You know he wouldn't. But not everybody does. All it takes is one accusation and bang, he's out of the 'Fleet and up on rape charges against the Commander."
"It would be," Kavka said dryly, "a very foolish and suicidal man who tried to take advantage of Commander Alloran."
They both smirked guiltily at that - the very idea of anything getting the better of their XO was, frankly, laughable. It would be easier to coerce an angry Klingon into doing something that they didn't want.
"But I don't think we have to report anything," Kavka insisted, standing her ground. "Nobody reported Kirk, and nothing ever happened!"
Emmett blinked. "Kirk?"
"As in Admiral Kirk?"
"...Susie, Kirk had flings alright, but not relationships."
"Of course he did!" she snorted, and crossed her arms under that ample, science-blues-coated bosom. "With his First Officer."
"I don't know where you got that from, but..."
She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Emmett, wake up. Kirk and Spock had a thing going for years and nobody ever reported it. Or accused Kirk of anything untoward. So why should they attack Captain Lawson and Commander Alloran?"
Emmett stared at her blankly. "...Because Lawson and Alloran are screwing like rabbits every spare moment that they've got, and even Kirk's powers of seduction wouldn't get a Vulcan into bed, even if Kirk wanted him there. Which I bet he didn't."
"Womaniser. What part of that confuses you?"
"Bisexual. What part of that is so impossible?" Kavka sniped.
"What's going on in here?"
The door hissed back to reveal Commander Alloran's distinctly unamused face, and the conversation was hastily dropped without resolution.
Three days later, Lieutenant Emmett reported Captain Lawson and Commander Alloran to the admiralty for breach of conduct.
Erica Martinez took over the role of Admiral Kirk's PA only two years before his retirement. She liked her boss immensely, despite his roving eyes, and found it an unusual delight to help him when he required it. He was fair, easy to talk to, and didn't pry into her personal life like some of the other Admirals would have done.
Part of it was Kirk's own immense privacy. In those two years, Erica was told stories about his brother, or his three nephews, and even met one of them - a tall young man with reddish hair called Peter - a time or two. She heard most of all about his missions in space, and met several of his old command crew and friends from the flagship.
She did not, however, hear a thing of his current personal life.
The PA was always the target of journalists, and she could honestly say she knew nothing about how he went about his days outside the Academy now. Occasionally, he would take trips to New Vulcan and Amaris Prime, but most of the Admirals had friends on various planets by Kirk's age, and it was hardly a frequent occurrence. He did not linger in the Academy or the office longer than he had to, but nor did he take days off to spend with children and grandchildren, the way some of the other Admirals did.
Erica never even saw Kirk's home - it was just an address in her files, and a privacy she felt guilty about broaching as Kirk never seemed to breach hers. So she never investigated, though she could have done, and left him well enough alone.
The only hint she ever had was one evening approaching March, when Kirk had stopped her on her way out of the door.
"Erica, a small favour. I'm running a bit late - you wouldn't happen to be able to pop round the imported goods store on the corner and grab me a packet of Vulcan spiced tea?"
"Certainly, sir. Any particular type?"
He'd said no, and she'd puzzled over it for some time. Not only did Kirk not even drink Vulcan tea, but to not even specify a brand or type or flavour struck Erica as unusual.
He never mentioned it again, though, and eventually she forgot the incident entirely.
Even in civvies, Andy knew who the old guy in his cafe was, and he couldn't help staring. Kids like Andy had been raised on the stories of James T. Kirk and his exploits. Hell, it was still going on - Andy's sister told her twins bedtime stories of Kirk and the Enterprise and all of that stuff. So yeah, Andy knew who that guy was, and while he respected him enough to stay away, he couldn't help but stare.
It was a Sunday morning, summer, brilliant and warm, and Kirk was animatedly explaining something to a middle-aged Vulcan that was with him. Andy wasn't keen on Vulcans - too stern, too stiff, never allowed themselves to live - but Kirk clearly wasn't bothered. He kept talking, waving his hands a lot, and ignored the lack of response that he was getting.
Eventually, though, he did pause, and that wrinkled face cracked into a gentle smile.
"You're not even listening to me, are you?"
To Andy's surprise, the Vulcan bowed his head and replied, "Unfortunately not, Jim. I find myself...distracted."
Kirk had frowned, tilting his head. "Everything alright?"
"Quite, Jim," the Vulcan had responsed, tone still completely flat. "It is merely the sun."
Andy didn't get that, but Kirk suddenly grinned, and stood.
"Well, come on, then. If the sun's going to be a problem, we'll just go somewhere else."
And then they were gone, without further word, and Andy was left to his bacon butties and puzzling on how to best brag about having the James Tiberius Kirk in his cafe.
Sarah had lived opposite Admiral Kirk for thirty-six years before he died.
She saw the funeral procession leaving the house, and the wake return, and cried a little for the loss of such a hero and - moreover - such a kind man. She'd spoken to him several times, about banal things, and he'd always been a nice man.
The house, however, never went up for sale.
She assumed, at first, that he'd left it to someone in his will. Kirk had lived alone, though his visitors could be regular enough to be recognised - the Southern gentleman with the wonderful voice, the Vulcan man in authentic Vulcan robes, the redheaded young man in Academy reds. She knew them by sight, if not by name.
But nobody came to claim the house, and it did not deteriorate, as if trapped in time.
It wasn't until Sarah's son, Michael, came to visit from San Francisco, and laughed at her notions, did she get an explanation.
"No, Ma, he's not left it to anyone," Michael said. "Spock lives there. The Vulcan. Always has - you just didn't notice him is all."
Sarah was perturbed by the idea that she hadn't noticed a second man in Kirk's home - but then, she'd never been inside. Merely stood at the gate and talked to Kirk, admiring the roses in the garden.
"They're not mine," he'd said. "Not much one for gardening."
So maybe she had noticed.
She never saw the Vulcan man again, as long as she looked and as long as she lived - but the rose garden remained pristine in the warm California breeze, and didn't seem to age the way that she did.