IMPROBABLE

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, except for the ones I created. Thank you, Mr. Roddenberry and J.J. Abrams, for giving us these characters and for re-imagining them.

Authors' Note: I absolutely loved the Spock/Uhura romance in the new film, but all I could think about was the fact that I hoped in this universe, Kirk didn't end up alone like he did in the Prime Universe. Yes, the Enterprise was his lady, but he's a good man and he deserves the love of a good woman.

CHAPTER ONE

Jim Kirk had made a monumental effort, for most of his life, to avoid any form of introspection whenever possible. He found it humorous – his own private joke – that so many people assumed he never took the time to consider the past or present before acting, when in fact it was the intense effort to not think about those very things that consumed so much of his mind. Even as a child he recognized his own natural tendency to become morose when considering the impossibly tragic events surrounding his birth, his misspent youth, his mother's unhappy re-marriage and devotion to a husband long dead, and now his position in the universe – and Kirk did not like feeling morose. At this moment, however, while clutching a sweating glass of Andorian ale with one hand and pulling at the itchy collar of his dress uniform with the other, he would admit privately that was the exact feeling occupying his mind. Something that displeased him greatly but which he could not, he was even more displeased to note, seem to shake.

He was the youngest Captain in the Fleet, presiding over Starfleet's flagship, the USS Enterprise – and not likely to have that prestigious position taken away any time soon. He led an amazing crew of young, talented, incredibly intelligent men and women that had not only pulled his ass out of the fire during their first mission together, but had continued to do so over their last year together. Minus a few diplomatic "situations" that would dare anyone to try and handle any better, the Enterprise's on-going mission to expand Earth's knowledge and access to the universe was a resounding success both personally and professionally. Despite all of this, he was immensely irritated with himself for being seated on a bar-stool in the corner of a reception, nursing a drink, when he should have been out hamming it up with his buddies and the crewmen he genuinely liked.

He took another drink, eyed the reception's head table with partially squinted eyes, and finally acknowledged what was really bothering him. The sight of Uhura's joyous face and Spock's serene visage at their nuptials was enough to make him want to drink himself silly. Once upon a time, maybe, he had had some feelings for Uhura – but they had evolved into a solid friendship. No, that wasn't it. And it wasn't the supreme irony that the cold-blooded Vulcan (who, he admitted, was now as good a friend as even McCoy) had been getting more action than him in the year since they left Space Dock. It wasn't even the fact that he hadn't gotten laid since before the fight with Nero and his claiming of the Enterprise as its Captain, although he admitted that from a purely physical perspective it was frustrating and was most likely contributing to the foul mood he had been in for the last few days. No, it was none of those things. He was, for lack of a better word, lonely. It made him sound like some pathetic puppy, a thought that he knew drew a short-lived sneer upon his own face – but another drink covered that up and the powerful effects of the Andorian beverage made it difficult to focus on one thought for very long.

"You look pathetic." McCoy sat down next to him at the bar and signaled for the bartender to bring him a glass.

"Thanks for the support." He polished off his glass and picked up the bright blue bottle in front of him to fill both of their glasses. "I'm glad I have friend like you to pick me up when I'm down."

McCoy took a long drink and stared out at the scene in front of them. From the far end of the bar where they were seated, it was easy to eye the length of the Hell. From the head table where Uhura and Spock sat, quietly talking to each other despite the raucous noise around them, to the dance floor where an enthusiastic Chekov was swinging a pretty blonde girl from Stellar Cartography around in his arms, to the table where Sulu and Scotty were clearly having an enthusiastic discussion about something, though the noise level made it impossible to determine the topic. And between each of their good friends were quite a few of the over 400 individuals who made up the Enterprise crew, not to mention Uhura's extended family.

"You had to have known that becoming Captain of the Enterprise would mean your personal life would go to hell." McCoy took a long drink, but didn't look at the man sitting next to him. Kirk grunted in response, but didn't feel the need to actually respond to that statement. He did know that – it didn't mean he had to admit it out loud. "You might have a soft spot for the ladies, but even you wouldn't screw a woman under your own command."

"You don't know what it means to know that you think so highly of me," Kirk responded wryly and McCoy was pleased to note that the smirk on his face was a little less dejected and a little more genuinely amused. "Coming from you, that's practically a compliment."

"Yeah, well, don't start thinking I'm going to give them out any more frequently than I do." McCoy stared at the head table for a moment before sighing deeply. "I really do hope they make it. You know I think that marriage is about the worst thing that mankind ever invented, but I think if anyone can make it work – it's them."

"Hear, hear." Kirk tipped his glass toward the doctor's and allowed himself to finally smile when they clinked together.

"So, what? You sitting here feeling sorry for yourself because Spock managed to marry the one woman you chased but could never catch?" McCoy smirked. "Feel like you're slipping?"

"No, that's not it." Kirk's voice was more serious than the conversation really called for and McCoy's ears perked up. Jim was his best friend, but that didn't mean Kirk opened up anymore than he did. Sometimes when a man's past was that painful, he had to hold it within himself rather than let it consume him. "To tell you the truth, Bones, I just don't have that itch the way I used to, and I'm kind of glad for that."

That surprised his drinking partner. "What are you talking about? You love playing the field – I've seen you do it for years now and you never seemed to care that nothing was deeper than just a fling. Hell, if you ask me, that's the way to go – better than getting your ass dragged across the pavement by a divorce lawyer."

"I asked Spock – you remember the older one I told you about?" Jim was gripping his glass now with both hands, tightly, and McCoy only nodded, afraid he would stop talking. "I asked him what I was like in the other reality. He didn't want to answer at first."

"Probably for a good reason. That's not who you are, Jim. Or who you will ever be."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Kirk took a long drink and carefully gripped the cup again with both hands. "I ended up alone there, Bones. No wife and no family. I had my friendship with Spock and you, and my ship – and that's it."

"That doesn't sound too bad to me." McCoy sighed. "I'll say it again, Jim, that's not you."

"But it very well could be," Kirk sighed. "Dammit, Bones. Spock's gone and gotten married. He and I will be best friends the rest of our lives, but he has a family now. And one of these days you're going to realize what an ass you're being about women and get remarried."

"Don't bet on it."

"Oh, I do." Kirk grinned at him, although it came out lop-sided. "One day you will realize how all those indecently attractive nurses in Sickbay look at you like you are their own personal Messiah, and one of them will be smarter and better looking than the others – and you'll be hooked. And I'll be left with the ship and my own thoughts for company."

"I'm sure Scotty will stick with the girl as long as you will." McCoy gestured towards the table where Scotty had stood up and was wildly gesticulating, obviously determined now to win the argument with Sulu, who appeared just as determined to continue laughing his ass off. If their previous conversations were anything like this one, they were probably talking soccer. Sulu couldn't resist teasing Scotty over his personal team's continued failures in the Earth League.

"That's not a comforting thought. The man's best friends are a starship and a small, rather disturbing green man." Kirk poured himself another drink, despite the fact that he could feel himself definitely becoming drunk. "Drink more of this before I get completely shit-faced and make an ass of myself."

"Don't get depressing on me, kid. What do you want? Assurances that you won't end up alone? You sound like a 13 year old girl." McCoy knew Kirk and knew that the best way to get him out of a funk like this was to irritate the shit out of him, something he knew he could even on a bad day. There was a reason that the two of them got along so well. "And I've seen you make an ass out of yourself when you're stone cold sober, so I know you just don't want to be drinking alone. Still," McCoy still poured himself another drink, "I've never been one to overlook an open bar."

"Aw, shit. I don't know." Kirk stood up a bit wobbly and gestured towards the head table where Spock and Uhura were rising. "They're getting ready to take off. Come and help me say good bye without falling down and then I'm catching a shuttle back to the ship. It's gotten to where I can't fall asleep without the engine noise. "

McCoy laughed but stood up, as well. "You think you're gonna have time for a woman in your life when you have the Enterprise?"

Kirk stopped and looked at him, his serious expression one that McCoy had seen only a few times before. "I don't want to end up like that, Bones. I love being Captain of the Enterprise – I love being a leader. But I'm not going to sacrifice my life for a ship. My Dad gave his up for the woman he loved and for me – maybe I want to love something that much."

McCoy slapped his hand on his shoulder and held on when he went a bit more wobbly than before. "You're not going to end up alone, Jim. Hell, if we're both 50 and single, we'll buy a goddamn duplex and move in together."

"You really are the worst friend, you know that?"

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The first thought that Lieutenant Lyla Stone had when she woke up was that her head was killing her. Smoke caught in her nostrils and throat and she coughed, her lungs burning with the effort to inhale enough oxygen to survive. She could feel the heat of what she knew had to be fire near her, but her limbs were so heavy that she couldn't seem to move them. The blare of the red alert was deafening, but it was trailing off, as if the computer couldn't continue making a sound. A harsh, guttural noise reached her ears and she struggled to open her eyes. With a rush, everything came back: the attack on the space station, the Klingon warbird, the desperate race to push the children into the weapons locker –the only place on board with sufficient shielding to protect them. Her eyes opened and she felt before she saw the tiny hand lying limp against her thigh – she wanted to close her eyes again but knew she couldn't. Get up, get moving.

Her heart was beating quickly and she could feel the sticky residue she knew was her own blood. Lyla's vision was blurred by the smoke, but she could see what she knew must be Klingons moving around the hallway. Lwaxana's tiny hand lay against her thigh – and she didn't need to turn her head to know that the rest of the children were most likely nearby, lifeless. The small ability granted to her by her minor Betazoid heritage was enough that she could sense the joy of a child's mind when it was nearby, unguarded. There was no joy around her now – only silence where there should have been laughter. Where the pleasant presence of her crewmates should have been in the back of her mind, was now silence. She vaguely recalled the door to the weapons locker bursting open and her own firing, the screaming of the children. Lyla recalled taking out two Klingons before a third shot her in the shoulder and everything went black. You have to check and see if there are any children left alive.

When she tried to move, the agonizing pain that shot through her shoulder caused a wave of black to roll across her vision, and she panicked momentarily. She had to move now, see if any children were alive, and get to a computer console. The space station crew had desperately sent out a distress signal when the first Klingon ship appeared and attacked without warning. By the time the third ship appeared and Lyla was hustling the children down the corridor from their lesson in Hydroponics, the red alert was wailing and smoke was pouring through the hallway, the entire facility shaking from the impact of the attack. Only a few minutes had passed for them all. Lwaxana had looked up at her, her lower lip shaking, and Lyla hadn't hesitated before pulling her up into her arms and running, the older children moving behind her, screaming in terror. The guttural noise moved closer and she knew that the Universal translator was broken. She spoke enough Klingon to pass her first year courses at the Academy, but that was it. Not enough to understand what was happening. Lyla's hand flailed at her hip and wondered silently when she found her phaser still in the holster next to her right hand. A slight groan caught her attention and she finally opened her eyes, focusing them.

Lwaxana's eyes were open and staring at her, terrified. Tears streaked through the dirt and grit on her cheeks, and blood poured from an open cut on her forehead. Lyla gripped her hand tightly and hauled her closer, whimpering as her shoulder protested vigorously enough she felt the wave of blackness almost overtake her again. The soft whisper of Lwaxana's more powerful Betazoid mind touched hers and she tried to soothe the child. "Shhhh…" Lyle put her finger to her lip with one hand pulled out her phaser with the other. Lwaxana nodded and slowly moved to huddle next to her, not seeming to notice the body of her good friend Kestral lying next to her. Lyla shifted, gritting her teeth against the pain. Her lip broke as she bit down and tasted fresh blood. Her left arm hung uselessly at her side, her right gripping her phaser tightly as she dragged her body across the floor to the nearest computer console. Lights indicated it was still powered. Thank God. The distress signal had gone out and someone had received it, although how long until help arrived, she would never know. And the Klingons were still here.

Their only chance was to make it to the sub-locker under the weapons room. The Klingons would never make it in there, and all they would have to do was hold out until help arrived. Lwaxana appeared at her side, as if summoned by the thoughts of what was necessary, and the two slipped and slid across the blood covered floor. Klingon language was coming closer, and Lyla dialed in the code as quickly as possible, the door sliding open with a hiss. Lwaxana dropped in immediately and Lyla maneuvered her feet in, as a Klingon appeared through the smoke, bat'leth raised and running toward them. She fired her phaser, hitting him in the chest. She screamed as her shoulder protested, and fell forward into the open locker. Lwaxana slammed her hand against the control and the door slid shut, angry Klingon footsteps and yelling above.

Lyla dropped the phaser and pulled out her communicator, the familiar sound of its activation echoing through the quiet of the sealed locker. Lwaxana removed her small jacket and pressed it firmly to Lyla's shoulder, and couldn't help it, she screamed in agony, but Lwaxana didn't move or let up she continued pressing against the bleeding wound.

"If anyone can hear me, this is Lt. Lyla Stone. I and one of the children are locked in the weapons room sub-locker. The Klingons who attacked are still in the Station. I don't know if anyone else is still alive – I don't believe they are. Please help us."

Lyla didn't know if the message would get out to anyone, but she knew she had to try. They had limited air in the locker and no way of knowing if the Klingons would be waiting for them if they tried to open the hatch. She gripped her phaser tighter and Lwaxana looked on silently. Now they would wait, and if the Klingons tried to come through the hatch she would fight until she couldn't fight any longer. They weren't going to kill any more children if she could prevent it.