Author's Note: I haven't exactly placed when this little scenario would take place, but soon (if not immediately) after the episode 'The Paradise Syndrome.' Major spoilers for that if by some chance you haven't seen it. And thank you for Foxcat93 for your input. :) Enjoy!

"Thank you, Admiral. Kirk out." Jim stood. "Spock, you have the bridge. I'm not to be disturbed for anything short of full-scale Klingon invasion, got it?"

Spock raised one eyebrow. "Indeed, Captain." He watched as his captain left the bridge. Though Jim insisted he was fine, Spock knew differently. Jim had suffered from amnesia and both gained and then lost a wife and child on the planet Amerind. No one would be completely unaffected by that, not even a Vulcan.

Jim strode to his cabin, ignoring every crewman he encountered on the way. Once inside, he retrieved his personal supply of Romulan ale. He filled a glass with the blue liquid. He was tempted to throw back the whole thing at once, but he was in no mood for a trip to sickbay, so he settled for slowly sipping it.

Jame Tiberius Kirk. Kirok. Even as an amnesiac I can't have a successful relationship. I screwed things up with Carol. I have a son I've never met and may well never meet. I'm already a failure as a father. If Miramanee had lived, we wouldn't be together. I'm a starship captain and I can't ever be anything else. I wouldn't have been able to stay there with her. She wouldn't have come with me back to the Enterprise either. She wouldn't leave her village without its priestess. Not that it matters now. She's dead because of me. Our child never had a chance to live because of me.

Jim gulped the last of his drink and threw the glass at the wall. Gambling with other people's lives came with the job. It bothered him that he had sent numerous crewmen to die, but they had knowingly joined Starfleet. They'd accepted the possibility of death when they chose to put on the uniform. Miramanee hadn't done either of those things. She was supporting her husband and the father of her child and died for it.

He slowly stood up and walked to where the shattered glass lay. He looked down at the pieces. That's the story of my life.

After he'd cleaned up his mess, he sat back down in front of his computer terminal. He pulled up a file of old video messages and played them as he had another glass of the potent liquor. Carol sent Jim a short message and a picture of David on his birthday every year. His son was seven years old and all Jim knew about him was that he had an adorable toothy smile and curly blonde hair.

Jim switched off the video. He once again gulped the remainder of his drink. "Lieutenant Uhura, get me Delta station and put it through here."

"Aye, sir," the communications officer replied. After a few moments, Kirk was speaking to a secretary of sorts at the laboratory on Delta station. "Doctor Carol Marcus, please."

"One moment."

Jim waited apprehensively. He'd never taken the initiative to contact Carol before. He didn't know how she would react or what he was going to say

"Hello?" Carol's face appeared on the screen.

"Carol, it's Jim."

"I can see that. To what do I owe theā€¦pleasure?"

"I know I deserve the sarcasm, Carol. I don't really know why I called. It may have something to do with the Romulan ale I've been drinking."

"Jim, if you're drunk dialing me, you can just hang up now-"

"No, no, that's not what this is. I just needed to see you, to make sure you and David are doing well."

"We're both fine." She studied Jim's face. "What's wrong?" she asked in a softer tone.

Jim took a deep breath. "Something happened. It was bad. It just reemphasized to me how much of a failure I am at some things. I needed to know you're fine despite having been involved with me."

"Jim-"

"No, Carol, this was a bad idea. I should just let you get on with your life. It was good to see you, and I want you to know that I appreciate the pictures you send. Goodbye, Carol."

"Jim," she tried again. Seeing he wasn't going to talk any longer, she simply said, "Goodbye, Jim. Take care of yourself."

Jim ended the transmission with a sigh. He eyed the bottle of Romulan ale again. He frowned. He was going to regret this in the morning. He poured another glass.