Author's/Artist's name: Linstock
Written/Drawn for: pathsforme
Pairing/Characters: nu!Rand, nu!Kirk
Prompt: nu!Kirk meets his new Yeoman nu!Rand
Does not want: Slash, Dub-Con, Smut.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or profit from this writing. Nor does this story relate to or intend infringement of the movie of the same name.
A/N: Text in italics represent the thoughts of the character concerned. My deep thanks to SpockLikes Cats for beta-ing above and beyond the call of duty. Thanks also to nu-Trek for organising this challenge.
While You Were Sleeping.
Yeoman Janice Rand drooped in her seat. She would have paid good money to lie in a real bed and just sleep. "Maybe a shower with lots and lots of hot water …or a bath..." her mind prompted her. She hardly remembered what a bath felt like. On New Vulcan there'd only been sonic showers and somehow she'd never really felt properly clean. Now even sonic showers seemed like a distant memory. So she sat, a forlorn exhausted creature, on the final leg of the journey that had used the last of the physical and emotional reserves she had left.
Her mother said that you often don't realise how stressful something is until it stops. Mom was right. It was only now she'd finally left the New Vulcan colony she realised the effect those months of gruelling work, in harsh conditions, helping those poor, poor people, had on her.
Janice Rand knew that from now on her life would be split in two, before and after New Vulcan. It was where she'd grown up. Oh, before she went she'd been an adult in terms of years and even training; twenty-three years old, a qualified Starfleet yeoman with a good academic record, well liked by her classmates. But she knew now that before New Vulcan she'd been a child.
Janice Pamela Rand had joined Starfleet, not only on the recommendation of an old family friend for its "good education and exciting career path," but because it had a lot of cute boys, a hot uniform, and her best friend was joining. If people were asked to describe Janice Rand back then they might've used words like "pretty" and "pert"… or "very female" and "a sweetheart, but not the brightest star in the constellation". She'd believed the best of people, that bad things happened to bad people, and that somehow everything would work out just fine. She'd been casually thoughtless about the important things and simply took most of her life for granted.
She'd been raw un-worked metal and New Vulcan had been her forge.
At first she'd done what most of the 'fleet personnel did, kept to their compound, mixed only with her own group and got on with her work; there'd been plenty of that.
Yeoman Janice Rand was one of nature's nurturers and she quickly took her boss Commander Iftikhar in hand. She'd realised he was worn to the edge of endurance and so she took care of him in her own special way.
Commander Iftikhar found the lunches he usually skipped delivered to his desk, a desk that was somehow less cluttered. People stopped pestering him about minor things. His overfull schedule became more manageable and he seemed to get more done in less time. He was able to get eight hours sleep for the first time in months. Cups of herb tea started appearing on his desk in place of the stewed coffee and when there was coffee it was fresh, fragrant and creamy. And there was always a pretty blonde with sparkling eyes who was there whenever he needed something.
At the same time as she took charge of her boss Janice Rand took charge of the seemingly endless office paperwork. She had an eye for details and noticed errors, like paperwork of despatches and arrivals that didn't quite mesh and weight discrepancies in consignments. She started following up in person, chasing the right signatures and checking on consignments first hand and this led her off base, away from her safe little zone of comfort and into the heart of pain.
Janice Rand would never forget the Vulcans. The refugee camp of New ShiKahr was a city of endless tents and prefabricated buildings, and more people were arriving every day. The Vulcans were achieving so much so quickly it was awe inspiring… she could actually see the city starting to take shape around her. It would be beautiful. She'd expected a stark and functional city, but soon discovered Vulcans considered it logical to "maximise the aesthetic appeal of their environment".
On that first day Janice helped an old woman carry her provisions back to her tent and, when the lady had told her softy to "live long and prosper" and offered her a small gift, Janice Rand had burst into tears.
In those first weeks mental "snapshots" of the Vulcans were burned into her soul; the queues where everyone stood patiently with no chatter or jostling … the grandfather who'd felt the death of every family member, all three generations, and now sat rocking in his bedroom all day, but never alone ... the young mother who kept searching for her dead children … the little boy, who never spoke, who took her hand one day and silently walked with her for hours as she did her work.
She started spending every spare minute with the Vulcan survivors. Her colleagues said she'd "gone native".
The illusions Janice Rand had lived by peeled away. She learned Vulcan ways and a little of their language but mostly she learned about fear and forgiveness, loss and love, despair and dignity.
She stayed for nine months before Starfleet compelled her to leave.
Starfleet looked after its people: after a deployment like hers, there was a mandatory period of rest and recuperation, and counselling if needed. Yet here she was being shipped straight from her posting on New Vulcan to a starship leaving on a five-year mission to deep space. She supposed, in a way Starfleet was looking after her. She'd made it clear the only posting she wanted was on a starship, and the personnel officer had was equally clear that this was her only chance. The Enterprise was leaving Federation space and if she wanted to go, she had to go now. There was no time for a break - leave immediately or be stationed dirtside.
There was no family to tie her, so she went, clutching the sealed orders which made her officially the yeoman assigned to the brand new Starfleet poster boy, Captain James T. Kirk, commanding the USS Enterprise.
Janice just bet he couldn't do paperwork worth a darn… those action types never could.
She'd been travelling for six days now. Six days of only catching short naps, awful food and far too much strong coffee. She'd been on a crowded troop transport, an equally crowed cargo vessel, and a scow transporting livestock and finally, a lovely sleek supply runner. She'd just been notified they would soon be in transporter range of the Enterprise.
Janice Rand was so exhausted her only thought was that maybe, on the Enterprise, she could finally get some sleep.
There was a woman in his Ready Room … it was the sort of thing James Kirk noticed. The oversized armchair in the corner of his office was occupied by an unknown young woman, curled up and fast asleep. He checked, from a distance, to ensure she was breathing, then pressed the buzzer on his desk.
"Bones, come to my office, will you? Now."
Dr McCoy arrived in full rant.
"Damn it, Jim, I might be a doctor but I don't do house calls. I'm needed elsewhere. I've got a sickbay full of people needing attention, and they're not patients! I don't know how those excuses for nurses got through their training. Medical personnel need finely tuned observation skills … if I could see the blood on Thomson's bandage from across the room, the so-called nurse.…" Dr McCoy had reached Kirk's desk, raised his head and spotted the occupant of the chair. He stopped mid-rant.
Never taking his eyes of the sleeping form, he leaned sideways toward Kirk and said in a stage whisper, "Jim, there's a woman asleep in your chair."
Kirk whispered back, "Must be your finely tuned observation skills."
McCoy looked at him hard and said, "Care to explain what she's doing there?"
"Well, I don't have your medical training but I believe she's sleeping."
Kirk was enjoying this, but there was a serious issue too. "Bones, I need you to check her out. I want to make sure she's just asleep."
McCoy stood straight and looked hard at Kirk. "Got any reason to believe she's not?"
"None, but you have to admit that it's not every day you find a complete stranger asleep in your office when you're in deep space." He exchanged a look with McCoy. "I don't know who she is or how she got to the Enterprise, or why she's … in here."
Another look passed between the men.
Kirk grinned and shrugged. "I know Starfleet tries to provide for the needs of their Captains but this seems a bit … excessive … even for their current poster boy."
At that McCoy's nostrils flared and he walked over to the girl. He reached out to shake her shoulder when Kirk hissed, "No."
McCoy looked at Kirk questioningly. The captain walked over and both men stood looking at the sleeping woman.
Speaking softly, Kirk shrugged, saying, "She looks so peaceful, she must be exhausted. She hasn't stirred the whole time I've been here. Just scan her or something to make sure she's okay." Brilliant blue eyes locked with brown eyes, and finally McCoy nodded once. He ran the medical tricorder over the young woman.
When he straightened his voice was thoughtful. "She's not drugged or injured, she's simply exhausted." He gestured and the two men walked back to the desk. "I mean really exhausted, Jim. She's got heightened cortisol levels and all the indicators that show she wasn't far from collapse." McCoy looked at Kirk. "I don't know what she's been doing but she's used all her reserves doing it. If she was on duty, I'd order her to take three days off and rest, and that's just for starters."
"Well at least she's okay," Kirk said thoughtfully as he sat in his desk chair and contemplated the third party in the room. "Now all we have to do is find out who she is."
"I can help with that," said McCoy was staring at the tricorder and something in his tone of voice made Kirk expect the worst, "According to this she is Jonathon Percival Rand Yeoman Third class!"
Captain Kirk leaned back in his chair and watched "Jonathan Percival Rand" as she slept. It wasn't the first mistake ever made by Starfleet's Personnel Division, but as mistakes went this was a doozy.
Kirk thought back to a conversation with Admiral Pike not long before his departure.
"Not everyone is pleased with your appointment, Jim."
"I gathered that," replied the young captain with a rueful grin. As if he could have missed the venomous glances by some of the brass at the reception.
"They think you haven't paid your dues."
"They're right," said Kirk, looking down at Pike.
"Damn it," snapped Pike, "stop thinking like that. The Enterprise is yours now. Wiser heads than yours decided you can command her - and not just because you're flavour of the month. So damn well do it, and stop apologising. Just remember, not everyone on our side is your friend."
Pike nodded thoughtfully. "I've got your back, remember that."
"I will sir, and thank you."
"Dismissed Captain Kirk," snapped Admiral Pike.
Life in a wheelchair was not improving Pike's sunny disposition, mused Kirk as he walked away, but it was good to know he had an ally – however temperamental - in high places.
Now, as Kirk watched the sleeping Yeoman, he wondered if she'd arrived here via friend, foe or pure award-winning bureaucratic incompetence.
His door chimed and Commander Spock entered.
"I have the duty rosters for the next two weeks, Captain," Spock said as he approached. He walked around the desk to stand beside Kirk. When the first officer raised his head he paused, making the quick, tilting, birdlike movement with his head that Kirk had come to realise indicated confusion.
"Yes, Mr Spock."
"The chair in the corner of your office is occupied by a sleeping a woman, of Caucasian extraction, approximately twenty-three years old, sixty kilos, five feet, five inches tall."
"Correct, Mr Spock." Kirk was enjoying this.
"Captain, I know all personnel assigned to this ship but I have received no orders concerning this young woman."
"Spock. You're mistaken."
"You say you know all the personnel on the ship, yet admit that you do not know about this woman, therefore - logically - you do not know all the personnel on this ship."
God, the look on Spock's face… priceless. Kirk was fighting to suppress his grin.
Eventually Spock said slowly, "Indeed."
"I suggest, Mr Spock, you make it your business to find out who she is and how she got here."
"And what she is doing in your office?"
"No need, Mr Spock, I already know."
One eyebrow rose questioningly.
"Evidently," came the dry reply.
"Mr Spock, you have your instructions, report to me as soon as you've solved the mystery of the sleeping beauty."
Spock favoured Kirk with a raised eyebrow and left. Kirk permitted himself a soft chuckle. Really, Yeoman J P Rand was providing more entertainment fast asleep than most companions did fully awake.
Kirk studied the orders on his desk. He'd overlooked them when he first arrived. Now, as he sat looking at the official transfer papers for Jonathon Percival Rand, Yeoman Third class, this "mistake" looked less like a personnel error and more like something deliberate.
Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms and watched the woman sleep. It was very soothing. If he listened he could just hear her soft even breathing.
She really was lovely. Pale blond hair hung around her shoulders and her skin was creamy and clear, except for the dark shadows under her eyes. She filled out her uniform very nicely. He wondered what colour her eyes were … green, or possibly blue? On the whole she was a lethal package; just the sort of lure someone wanting to cause him problems might place in his path. After all, he'd had a certain reputation as a cadet and some people might think he'd be unable to resist temptation if it was in his way everyday.
"It's damn strange, Jim. You know how this works? All personnel have their medical files linked to a profile of unique biometric readings so doctors can identify unconscious patients."
Kirk sat on the edge of McCoy desk and nodded. "Very useful, especially if the unconscious patient is allergic to just about everything."
McCoy pulled a face to indicate how much he'd suffered as a result of the Captain being, as he said, allergic to just about everything. "Exactly. Yet the medical records attached to her readings show she is Jonathon Percival Rand Yeoman Third class. If we believe the medical records the yeoman in your office is a twenty-five-year-old male with a history of brawling." McCoy gave Kirk a wry look. "Yeoman Jonathon Rand has had a series of breaks and scrapes over the years and several disciplinary charges."
"Why is that in the medical record?"
"Because the attending doctors wrote reports for Rand's commanding officers. Some psych' evaluations too. His profile yells troublemaker; problems with authority, possible binge substance misuse, harassment and an incident of stalking. He's tagged unsuitable for long missions. Frankly, Jim, I can't understand why someone like Rand is still in Starfleet, let alone why he'd be assigned to the Enterprise. He'd more than a liability, he'd be a disaster. "
"Maybe that was the point, Bones."
McCoy cocked his head. "You think it was deliberate?"
"Maybe, but which part - assigning the potentially disruptive and violent crew member who was obviously not suited to a deep space mission? Or substituting sleeping beauty?"
Kirk was back in his office. It had been four hours since he discovered his new companion and still she slept. She had shifted position while he was away and now she faced more into the back of the chair and her pert rounded bottom was clearly visible. It didn't help Kirk's concentration. For the sake of her modesty and his sanity he'd taken the risk of draping a blanket around her and she hadn't even stirred.
The door swished open and Chekov entered.
"Keptin, I have the information you requested. "
"Thank you, Mr Chekov." Kirk scanned the lists of figures and watched Chekov out of the corner of his eye. Chekov's eyes darted curiously around the office with their usual high energy - and widened when he saw the sleeping woman. It was a wonder he didn't fall over, his eyes were flashing from the girl to Kirk and back so rapidly.
"This appears to be in order, Mr Chekov, thank you. You're dismissed."
Chekov did not appear to hear.
"Mr Chekov?" prompted the captain.
The young man dragged his eyes from the woman to the captain and stammered, "Vy is a girl sleeping in your office, Keptin?"
"Well, Mr Chekov," Kirk said, slowly leaning back in his chair, "Because she is completely exhausted."
Kirk watched the blush creep up the younger man's his neck until his face and neck had turned a rich shiny shade of pink.
"Dismissed, Mr Chekov." repeated the Captain.
"I'll nae stand for it, I tell ye!" bellowed Scotty as he burst into the captain's office.
"Mr Scott?" said Kirk calmly.
"I'll nae hae that pint-sized skunner telling me how to run my department."
Kirk was almost holding his breath waiting for the moment. Scotty looked around … and … no, he turned back to the captain, tapping the desk with a forefinger, demanding, "What are ye going to do about it?"
"Perhaps if you could tell me what the issue is…"
Scotty drew in a breath to calm himself and turned to pace down the office. He stopped mid-stride, turned quickly to the captain and sotto voce, said, "There's a blonde lassie asleep in yon chair."
Yes! Kirk did a mental arm pump.
Kirk looked over, raised his eyebrows, and replied in feigned surprise, "I believe you're correct Mr Scott."
Scott looked like his train of thought had been completely derailed. He stepped closer and peered at the sleeping woman, "She's a comely wee thing." For a moment, he seemed lost in a fond memory, then he began to say something, thought better of it, and turned to the captain and said, "I'll come back later … I don't want to disturb the lassie," and strode from the room.
Kirk looked at the sleeping woman currently referred to as Yeoman Jonathon Rand and murmured, "You're already making the ship run more smoothly - I wonder what you can do when you're awake?"
An hour and a half later Kirk was back in McCoy's office.
"Are you sure she's not drugged? She's still sleeping —it's been six hours."
"I wouldn't be surprised if she slept for days, Jim. Like I said, she's exhausted."
Kirk shook his head. "Well, Bones, what did you find out?"
"Firstly, I tracked Jonathon Percival Rand, Yeoman Third class, by his medical records. It seems he's currently in custody on Earth, charged with assaulting a superior officer … he put the man in the hospital. I reckon he'll be doing time, Jim. All I can say is, whoever sent you Beauty instead of the Beast is your friend."
"Let's hope so," muttered Jim, "Did you find out anything about her?"
"I'm a doctor not a detective … but I might consider a change in careers. I searched Starfleet medical records using the biomedical parameters on my tricorder and found Janice Rand, Yeoman First class." Bones pointed to the picture on the screen. Kirk moved around and peered over Bones' shoulder at the picture of the pert blonde. And she had smoky blue eyes, by God.
"Damn, that's her all right."
"That's what I thought. So I contacted the person listed as her last supervisor, one Commander Elan Iftikhar on New Vulcan."
Jim raised his eyebrows, "She's been on the colony? How long?"
"Just over nine months."
"I thought they had six-month ceiling on tours there. The burnout's supposed to be incredible."
"That's what I heard too, so I contacted Commander Iftikhar. He was very interesting. Evidently our Yeoman Rand is a genuine miracle worker. According to Iftikhar even the Vulcans loved her. She only has to walk through a room and the paperwork sorts itself out and the figures all balance, the coffee becomes fresh and the sun damn well comes out from behind the clouds."
Kirk was looking sceptical.
"That's what I thought too, Jim. He said it was easy to underestimate her and write her off as just a cute lil' thing, but she has a core of steel and a way of organising you don't even realise is happening. He swears while she was there he halved his coffee consumption, ate better, and got enough exercise and sleep; now the poor guy looks like hell."
"Did he mention that she walks on water?"
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Doubt there's enough water on New Vulcan for a stroll. But she sounds like an exemplary yeoman."
"Either that or he had other reasons to sing her praises. He wouldn't be the first commander to get rid of a lemon by giving a glowing reference."
"Except, when I first contacted him he jumped to the conclusion that she might be coming back after R&R. When he realised she wouldn't be coming back he looked kinda … desperate."
"Personal relationship then?"
"I don't think so, Jim."
"Well," said Kirk, "We have an exemplary, almost magical, yeoman who just served nine months in one of the highest stress situations around and is transferred here without leave or even decent night's sleep. What the hell is that about?"
The chime sounded on the doctor's door and it opened to admit Mr Spock. He nodded to McCoy and turned to the captain.
"Captain, the computer informed me I would find you here. I have ascertained that the person in you office is Yeoman ..."
"Jonathon Percival Rand?"
"Indeed. However, I believe this is incorrect. "
"Really," drawled McCoy, "what gave you that idea?"
Spock looked nonplussed.
"The gender of the person is incorrect."
"She could have had sexual reassignment surgery, Spock - it doesn't bar Starfleet personnel from active service."
"True, Doctor; however, as the personnel record on Jonathon Percival Rand shows him as male six months ago I logically concluded that, in the case of sexual reassignment, the post-operative exclusion period would still be in place."
"What?" said Kirk, who was enjoying watching Bones wind Spock up.
"Starfleet personnel cannot serve in space for six months after sexual reassignment surgery and they must wait two years before embarking on deep space missions," replied Spock.
"Purely on medical grounds Jim," said McCoy. "The effects of altered gravity on the blood flow to the newly created ..." As he spoke he made a series of quite descriptive gestures, his long surgeon's fingers naturally mimicking the shapes of the body parts.
Kirk held up a hand and said, "Too much information, Bones."
McCoy grinned wickedly.
"In addition," continued Spock, "Jonathon Percival Rand's records indicate he is six feet, one inch tall, doctor, and the person in the captain's office is five feet five inches tall. Even in the event of sexual reassignment the difference in height …."
Kirk took pity on Spock and broke in before McCoy could wind him up any more. "Have you found out who she really is?"
"Indeed, and I can see from the doctor's monitor you have reached the same conclusion as myself. I checked the transport manifest. Along with the cargo beamed over today, there was one new crew member purported to be Yeoman Jonathon Percival Rand, but who is evidently Yeoman Janice Pamela Rand."
"Okay, so far so good," said Kirk.
"The yeoman, upon arriving on board, proceeded directly to your office, presumably to present her orders, and she has never left. I surmise that she sat down …"
"And the poor kid fell asleep," finished McCoy.
"Exactly," concurred Spock. "No other record of her being here exists. We have not received any notification from Starfleet, no pay clearance has been sent to the bursar and she has not received a room assignment."
"If she'd accidentally stepped out of an airlock no one would ever have been able to trace her," mused Kirk.
"While what you say is essentially correct, accidentally stepping out of an airlock would be a highly unlikely occurrence, Captain." Spock said, his brows drawn together.
"Really?" started McCoy but caught the warning look Kirk was giving him.
"Did you find out anything more, Mr Spock?" asked Kirk.
"I contacted some associates at the Academy. They speak very highly of the yeoman. Her clerical skills instructor said she "Looks like … 'a blonde … bombshell', sounds like 'a blonde bombshell', but does paperwork like a …" Spock paused again as he repeated another seemingly incomprehensible human idiom ... " 'a Vulcan on speed'." Spock raised an eyebrow.
"There's a frightening thought," muttered McCoy.
"I also spoke to my counterpart on New Vulcan, intending to request that he make some enquiries, but he knew Yeoman Rand personally," continued Spock, ignoring McCoy.
"Probably two of them," drawled the doctor.
"That was in fact the case," replied Spock. "He said the one in this timeline and the one in his original timeline where 'the same, only different'. Most illogical."
Spock appeared offended that "he" could have said such a thing. "He informed me that this yeoman is very well thought of. She spent her off-duty hours assisting the Vulcan women and children and was accepted to a remarkable degree. The children responded most positively to her. She also performed a useful role in liaising between the Vulcans and the human support staff. There were inevitably misunderstandings and she showed considerable skill in dealing with these."
"High praise indeed."
Something in Spock's manner made Kirk prompt, "Did he say anything more?"
Spock appeared reluctant to reply. "There was a violent incident that he witnessed. He said the yeoman was not much help in such a crisis; indeed, her training notwithstanding, she spent the time hiding behind some furniture. She was, however, remarkably compassionate and helpful assisting the two Vulcan women who were assaulted."
McCoy frowned, "One of the 'fleet's personnel became violent with Vulcan women?"
"No, doctor … it was a Vulcan male."
"A Vulcan man," repeated Kirk slowly and incredulously, "violently assaulting Vulcan women? Spock, what was that about?"
"Captain, further discussion of this incident is not relevant to the matter at hand." Spock looked acutely uncomfortable.
"Well, it seems miracle woman is no action hero." said McCoy, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I suppose you can't have everything."
"Did he say anything else?" Kirk prompted.
"One thing," replied Spock.
Kirk raised both eyebrows in enquiry.
Spock was almost frowning. "He said if she has one fault, it is that she … nibbles."
"And he knows she 'nibbles', how?"
Spock's face was flushed with a faint green tinge and he spoke hesitantly. "He claimed … his personal experience supported the assertion."
Kirk and McCoy exchanged loaded glances.
Spock continued, "He further stated that although he could tolerate this …practice… he believed I should exercise caution in this regard and suggested it might be prudent for you to be vigilant as well."
"Meaning what?" asked McCoy.
"I have no further comment on the matter," replied Spock. "I must return to my duties." With a nod to both the captain and McCoy, Spock left before Kirk could sufficiently order his thinking to respond.
The two men sat frowning, one thought in their minds … "nibbles"?
Kirk was heading for bed. Before retiring, he looked at the peacefully sleeping yeoman. While he'd been away she had moved again, turning right round in the chair. The blanket had been carried with her and was now tangled around her in a seemingly impossible manner. Her lovely face looked less drawn than before. She must be starving, thought Kirk, and immediately another thought popped into his mind … nibbles?
Damn it, what was Spock - both of them - thinking, dropping a statement like that? She nibbles? What the hell does that even mean? Spock, this Spock, certainly doesn't want to discuss the matter. In fact Kirk had seldom seen the Vulcan so … embarrassed. Damn. How am I supposed to sleep knowing that on the other side of the wall is a woman who "nibbles"?
Kirk had discussed Yeoman Rand's continued occupancy of his office chair with Dr McCoy. McCoy had re-checked the scanner readings, confirming she was sleeping deeply and, seeing the chair was very soft and generously sized, thought it best to leave her until she awakened naturally. He recommended Kirk leave a low light in the office in case she woke. He reassured Kirk that she was unlikely to suffer much with hunger, but, with a wicked twinkle in his eye, he advised the captain to lock the door of his quarters in case of nocturnal "nibbling".
The next morning Kirk found Janice Rand still asleep in his chair. He was just completing his monthly report when he heard a soft murmuring sigh, "Hmmm". It almost sounded like "Jimmm". He looked up to see the yeoman rubbing her face softly against the upholstery on the chair's arm. She wriggled sightly, resettling her position. One shapely leg appeared from behind the blanket. She sighed again.
So did the Captain.
The next time he looked up his eyes met a smoky blue gaze, soft with sleep.
Yeoman Rand smiled softly and dreamily and yawned as delicately as a kitten.
It was like a punch in Kirk's gut.
Her eyes drifted closed again and she slept.
Kirk had filed his report and was reviewing requisitions when he heard a gasp. He looked up to see a pair of grey blue eyes locked on his face.
"Good morning. Yeoman Rand, I presume? Pleased to meet you. I'm Captain James Kirk."
He saw the realisation of where she was, who he was and what she had been doing, hit. Yeoman Rand tried to stand and snap to attention, a move impeded by the blanket and the fact that her foot had gone to sleep. As a result there was a rather undignified tussle with bedding and balance until Yeoman Rand stood, delightfully sleep-flushed and dishevelled in front of Kirk's desk.
She saluted smartly. "Yeoman Janice Rand reporting for duty, sir."
"Welcome aboard, Rand." replied Kirk formally.
"I look forward to working with you, Captain, and," she paused, blushing.. "I apologise for falling asleep."
"Think nothing of it, Yeoman, as long as you don't make it a habit."
"No sir. I mean yes, sir. Of course not sir, not with you sir, I mean with you present sir, or in your office, not on duty sir, only in my own quarters sir, not in yours, I mean only in my own time only sir."
God, she is delectable when she's flustered.
Rand seemed to realise she was just making things worse, paused, took a breath and said, "I look forward to getting to know you, sir. Uncle Chris said I would find service with you invigorating."
Yeoman Rand blushed prettily. "Sorry sir, I'm so used to thinking of him that way, it just slipped out - it won't happen again, sir. I meant Admiral Pike, sir."
Kirk felt cold prickles up his spine.
"Admiral Pike is your uncle?"
"Not exactly, sir." Rand seemed awkward, "He and my mother …" Rand shrugged, "were friends, very good friends, up until her death. Ever since I was a child, I've called him Uncle Chris. He's always kept in touch and looked out for me; he's such a sweetie."
Kirk felt his brain stall. Had he really just heard the word "sweetie" used in reference to "Admiral Pike"?
"I see." Although he knew he really didn't, the ramifications of this particular revelation were too complex and appalling to grasp in so sort a time.
At least I know she was sent by an angel, albeit an irascible, manipulative one with multiple agendas.
Kirk pulled himself together and grinned his 1000-watt grin.
Rand seemed to think something more was required and repeated, "I look forward to getting to know you sir."
Kirks grin moved from dazzling to roguish.
"And I feel like I already know you."
"We became acquainted ... while you were sleeping."
Her frown was adorable too; it was definitely going to be interesting around here from now on.
Kirk watched thoughtfully as Yeoman First class Janice Pamela Rand left the captain's Ready Room to report for duty and receive her room assignment…
Nibbles? Damn Spock...both of them.
A/N: My meticulous research for this fic, which involved watching three YouTube vids on Rand, showed that she does, in fact nibble. Check it out and you'll see what I mean, several times when delivering a food tray to someone she nibbles their food. Given that canon (at least since "Enterprise") says Vulcans don't so much as touch food with their hands, I figured the idea of someone else using their hands and nibbling their meal would be a no-no to nuSpock, even to SpockPrime, who is pretty used to humans…and personally I wouldn't be too thrilled either. I figure the comment will give Kirk a problem for quite a while…until he figures it out.
Your comments and constructive criticism are always greatly appreciated.