A/N: So, in conjunction with continuing my Spock/Elyse story (I would NEVER give up on them!), I will be writing another story with similar moving parts. This time, however, it will involve Kirk and an original female character. If you're struggling to picture her by my descriptions, it will help to know that the woman I have in mind for her is Ksenia Solo with dark hair and bangs - not the straight-across ones that she had in Lost Girl. I picture them longer and side-swept. I hope that helps, and I sincerely hope that you all will love her as much as I do, since I've had her in mind for several years. Enjoy, and, as always, reviews are most welcome! :)

::::

The Starfleet Academy campus bustles with students as you exit the taxi cab and pay your fare with a kind farewell to the driver. Your eyes swim in the sundrenched view before you, flurries of red uniforms, indicative of cadet-status, swirling around you in hasty maneuvers towards the next class or to the dormitories.

A kind of familiar warmth envelops you as you make your way to the main building. You straighten your plain black tunic, suddenly self-conscious of the way you look in the wake of tidy appearances of those who would soon become colleagues. You are thankful that the San Francisco Bay has kept the wind away for the day, that way your long, straight raven locks can remain kept-together and neat for your interview.

Your small stature is rather dwindled in comparison with some of the men passing you by, but you don't mind that. You've always been on the short side of humanity, but you've never been troubled by it. As your father would say, "Fact is fact." Too right he was.

You enter the large building in the center of the campus, a sure-fire sign that this was the administration and board offices. Callum had told you that in one of his many letters, as well as the size of the main forum hall. Of course, he had probably just been excited about his learning experiences and needed to gush about it all, but you like to think that he had been preparing you for the day when you, too, would become a Starfleet cadet.

That was years ago, and now, here you are, entering the administration offices with as proud of a stance as you can muster. The administration offices are just beyond a clump of cadets standing in a semi-circle and planning the next outing to a local bar. Your subconscious eye-roll turns quite physical, and you perform the understandably frustrated gesture without thinking twice.

"Somethin' to say, townie?" one of the males in the cluster says, and his voice catches you off-guard. You know that voice...somehow, you knew the face it had spilled from even before you stop in your tracks just outside the administration doors and your eyes find his face. Your already wide blues were undoubtedly even wider as you glanced up and over at the voice who had spoken. Your intuition had been exactly correct. It was him.

Your gaze halts and your expression remains blank as you watch his proud grin turn into a look of amazement at the sight of you. How you had managed to find him all the way out here, so many thousands of miles from Iowa, was beyond you, but you dared not to question the cruel trick which Fate has decidedly sprung upon you at this moment. His icy stare is knowing and sad at the memories shared between the two of you, but you did not flinch, daring not to give him a leg up where you knew he didn't deserve one.

"Not at all, asshole," you retort once you gain your composure back and begin to enter the main desk near the central offices. You can hear his cronies muttering sets of 'oh, burn' and 'she got you' and 'who is that,' and you can feel his eyes. The heat of his stare is drilling holes into the back of your skull, but you swallow your saliva as the receptionist gives you a smile.

"Hello," he greets warmly, and you note the single, skinny, silver stripe adorning the bells of his uniform sleeves. "Name?"

"Reiko Slannen here to meet with Lieutenant Commander Walter," you recite as professionally as you could. "I have a three o'clock appointment, Lieutenant Junior Grade Pearson."

He scans the board in front of him, pressing the screen a few times. "Very good, prospective cadet. Have a seat. LC Walter will be with you shortly."

You do as instructed, careful to take a seat with your back to the main entrance. You know that his eyes are still on you, and when you turn your head to check for certain, your assumptions are correct. His friends have all gone, but he is still standing there with the same awestruck expression as before. You hope he can feel your indifference. You hope he can feel how different you are, how much more grown-up you are than you were. You hope that he can sense that the tables have turned and that you are not the same doe-eyed youngster who had once fallen for his icy eyes and bad-boy reputation.

You clear your throat, and that's when one of the offices' doors whiz open, much like the lift doors you can recall from the U.S.S. Treva your father once served on.

A woman emerges with a paper file in her hands. She is dressed in all black, the top she wears bearing the Starfleet Delta upon it and you can see the symbol in the middle with the Engineering emblem embedded within it, so you know that her main focus was in the Engineering block. She has long, bushy curls of ginger, and her eyes are a wide and bright shade of brown. She has attempted to keep her hair kempt by plaiting it into a braid, but her curls are rebelling and you find it endearing. Perhaps the appearance reflects the woman within.

"Slannen?" she says, raising her eyes from the file and you rise from your chair, snapping immediately to attention, a fact she notices. "Come." She retreats back into her office, and you follow behind her. She presses a button on her desk as she takes a seat and the door whizzes shut behind you. "Have a seat."

You do as instructed, placing your bag beside your feet. Your hands instinctively fold into your lap, and that's when your worries fly away. You had been dreading this day for some time, running over the terrible anxiety you knew you would be feeling, but you were no longer feeling that way. Instead, you felt welcome. You felt like you had come home.

"Alright," LC Walter says on an exhale, eyeing your file with some intense form of scrutiny, "Reiko Flaversham Slannen."

"Yes, ma'am," you respond.

"Is that truly your middle name?"

You nod. "Yes, ma'am. Flaversham is an ancient family name and this is how we keep it alive."

She appears impressed, but she is also a professional, so she continues reading. "'Slannen.'" She looks up from your file and makes eye contact. "Are you Callum Slannen's sister?"

Your heart pangs at the mention of his name and you nod. "I am his younger sister, ma'am, yes."

LC Walter's face falls and she straightens her spine in her chair. "I was very sorry when he passed," she laments, and you can tell that she truly means that. "He was one of my favorite students, and certainly among Starfleet's finest."

You feel your chin quiver slightly, but you blink back such darkness. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Making a connection between yourself and Lieutenant Callum Slannen has me wondering whether his involvement in Starfleet has inspired your enlistment or not." She pauses, once again giving you her full attention. "Explain how you made such a definitive decision."

You shift the muscles in your legs for comfortability's sake before you begin speaking. "My brother was the most wonderful person I have ever known. He consistently wrote to me while he was a cadet here, and he spoke of your teaching often, ma'am, if I do say so. He loved Starfleet more than anything and often claimed that it was the best decision he had ever made. He was certainly the largest deciding factor for me, ma'am."

The set of brown orbs across the room narrow in orientation as she continues to gaze at you. "I am sensing that he is not the only deciding factor for you. Your father was also a Starfleet Officer, was he not?" You merely nod, not allowing your expression to falter as she mentions your father. "If you were forced against your will to enlist, we would have to take that into consideration - "

"Ma'am," you interject, "if I may..." She gestures for you to continue. "My father did not force his hand in anything. If I could speak frankly, I want to better myself and I believe I have much to offer Starfleet."

She is impressed with your fortitude and honesty. To be fair, you also did not wish to continue speaking of your father. You wanted to forget him.

"I believe you do, Reiko," she compliments, "and I am not just using Callum as a reference point. You seem put-together and exceedingly intelligent." She gives you a smile and glances over your file. "Now, there is a matter of selecting a major. Have you given any of that a thought?"

You have been ready to give this question a resolute answer for some time now, and you give her a gentle nod. "I have selected the School of Arts and Sciences as my main school."

She presses a few buttons on a screen embedded in her desk, dragging a few things around. "What have you chosen for a focus, if you have selected one?"

"I have, ma'am. I wish to double major."

Her brown eyes are surprised as she glances upward from the screen. "Truly?" she questions, and you do not move. "I was not expecting that, I will admit, though I admire your initiative. I, too, double-majored as a cadet."

"I can see that Engineering was your main focus," you point out, and she appears to be impressed at your observant nature.

"Indeed." Her expression turns to one of a pensive tone before she glances back up at you and clears her throat. "Now, which majors are you selecting?"

"I wish for my first major to be Xenobiology, and for my second to be in the Command School's Department of Intelligence."

LC Walter smiles. "So, you wish to be a scientist by-day and an espionage artist by-night?"

You chuckle at her joke. "Yes, ma'am, something along those lines."

She swipes a few more times onto her desk screen, and then looks over your file once more. "It is quite helpful that you have already taken a few courses in the Tactical sector, so you are exempt from those required by the Command School. However, I will be willing to go over these courses with you in a few short meetings so that we can justify your credit exemption." She continues swiping and pressing things with her fingers, and the grip between your locked hands tightens. "Have you chosen a language to focus on?"

"Yes, ma'am. Andorian. I would like to take some elective courses on other languages, if that is possible."

"Of course! Let me adjust that..." her teeth sink into her lower lip as the screen flashes a few more options for her to evaluate. "Which other languages were you thinking? You may pick one more major species' language, and one minor species' language."

"I would like to study Vulcan and Deltan."

"We have an opening for another language course in Elementary Klingon for your second semester. Is that permissible?"

"Of course, ma'am. I want to learn as much as I can in linguistics."

"If all goes according to plan, you will have a double major and also have a minor under your belt by the time you graduate."

"Wonderful." You begin to feel relief until you remember your encounter from earlier. Is he still out there? Is he waiting for me to be finished?

"Alright," LC Walter's voice says, snapping you back to reality. "So, your first major is in the Arts and Sciences School, focusing in Xenobiology. Your second major is to be in the Command School with emphasis in Intelligence, and then you will minor in Language. Does that sound correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," you say, smiling at how wonderfully relieved you are that your status is official.

"Excellent. You will begin classes two weeks from this coming Monday morning. Prep-squad begins on Monday bright and early. I have sent your schedule to your dormitories by import. You can then download what you need from it to your tablet, an item necessary for coursework and correspondence with other cadets, as well as your instructors, of which I am one. Your tablet is already waiting for you in your dormitory." You understand that she is reciting off the information you need right away, so you listen intently and respectfully. "Your roommate is a female Ocampa named Tallis, and she has already moved into your room. You are living in a co-ed dormitory, unless that is unwanted. I can push to get you transferred to a female-only dormitory."

"That will not be necessary, ma'am. Co-ed is just fine with me."

LC Walter smiles at you. "Once you and your roommate become acquainted, you both can proceed to the - "

"Lieutenant Commander, if I may," you interject once more, and she is surprised to hear you speak up in such a manner, but she gestures for you to continue. "Why am I allowed to select my focuses and course schedule now, when prep-squad has not even started yet?"

She nods as if she was waiting for that question to arrive. "You are not exactly a cookie-cutter cadet, to borrow the ancient phrase," she begins. "With your family record of enlisting each member in Starfleet, it stands to reason that you are, as another ancient phrase is delighted to point out, 'ahead of the curve.' Unlike many other cadets present on this campus, you have been saturated in intergalactic protocol and subspace technologies since infancy, whether by your wish or not. You have been born into and raised by people who were also ahead of the curve, particularly your brother. You are intelligent and well-grounded in basic Starfleet knowledge, which exempts you from many courses considered to be a part of the core curriculum, per the results of your exemption-exams. Once prep-squad is complete, you will immediately begin classes. It is far easier for me to assign your courses now than for you to wait and select them later. Kinks found now may be ironed out prior to conflicts arising later. Does this make sense to you?"

You respond with a simple nod. "Affirmative...and I thank you for being so caring about my needs, ma'am."

She smiles a kind of sympathetic way, and you are glad to accept such a look. "You remind me of a wide-eyed, bushy-haired cadet who was once in your position. I keep her within myself as a reminder of how far I have come. Now, I sit on the other side of the desk." She laughs, and you share in her humor. "It is time for you to meet your roommate and settle in to your room." She rises from her chair, and you follow suit, standing at-attention to salute her.

"Lieutenant Commander," you state, snapping your arm to salute her properly.

"Cadet Slannen, welcome aboard," LC Walter returns with her own salute. She presses a button on her desk, and the doors whiz open once more. "Speak with Pearson at the front desk. He will give you the location and number of your room."

"Thank you again, ma'am," you say, exiting the room with the strap of your bag over your shoulder. Pearson flashes a smile and hands you a small laser pointer with your room number and location shown at the press of a button.

As you begin to leave the administration office, you almost walk directly into a cadet blocking your way. You had forgotten about him. Him and those eyes.

Your eyes find his and he just continues to visually scan you. You want so desperately to shove him away and to verbally let him have about grievances from times past, but you don't. Instead, you sigh and blink a few times until the wall that you have spent years fortifying is ready to take him on.

"Pardon me," you say, side-stepping out of his direct grasp. "I have to go and meet my roommate now." You start to walk away and you are certain that he is following you. Stopping and turning back, you are correct. He is there. "Do you have something to say to me, James?"

He visibly winces when you say his name. "I just...I can't...I believe you're actually here."

You shrug. "You are here, too. Notice how I'm not saying anything about you being here? It's because I'm not here for you. I'm here for me, and I have to go." You turn on your heels, proud of yourself.

"Reiko," he breathes, and you can hear his voice through the nosie of passersby and the bustling of bodies. It's as if your ears were tuning out everything that wasn't him. You stop walking, closing your eyes and hoping with every ounce of your being that he doesn't come near you, doesn't touch you. "...I'm glad you're here."

You don't turn back to look at him. You blink away the tears threatening to fall and straighten yourself, continuing on your way.

You don't know if he followed you, and you don't care. Right now, you're off to meet Tallis, your Ocampan roommate who will, hopefully, provide some much-needed comfort in the wake of old shadows being stirred.

James Tiberius Kirk. Who the fuck do you think you are?