AN: This is a long overdue five and one dedicated to Lavalata. Sorry it took me so very long!

Warnings: Bad things ahead dears….don't say I didn't warn you.

Disclaimer: If I owned it well the regular uniforms would be from the Mirrorverse and Kirk and Spock would never be allowed shirts…..needless to say I don't own it….

Speed Limit

Or

The five times Kirk drove a vehicle that did not belong to him and the one time it actually did.

First Gear: Despair: When we have lost everything, including hope, life becomes a disgrace and death a duty.

He was not allowed near the car. Wasn't even supposed to touch it without permission. He had touched it once when he was younger, around seven or so, and the bruises that Frank had given him in exchange were hardly fair. The Corvette was old but lovingly maintained.

He hated the damn thing.

Frank babied it just like Samuel and Winona did, cared for it like his child when it didn't even belong to him.

They would take it out on the rare Sundays they were together; ride through town with the top down and the breeze rushing through their hair. He was not allowed to go. Instead he would sit at home alone and work on his calculations and his survival skills. He would take the time granted to him by their absence to sneak food and hide it, or to actually use the hot water in the bathroom.

In many ways he was grateful for the car, but he still hated it.

He is staring at it now, eyes running over the gleaming red paint with an almost hunger in his gaze. His hands are itching to take it. He wants it, wants this. So he does. It's easy, almost ridiculously so. He knew the pass code, it was actually his birth date. Winona had chosen that series of numbers because it was the day George died and she could never forget that. The fact that she actually had a son born on the same day was never an issue.

He burns the tires on his way out of the garage. It doesn't really matter because some part of him knows that neither he nor the car are coming back. He just isn't sure if not coming back means leaving or death. It doesn't really matter either.

He had always concentrated on surviving; had always worried about how he was going to stay alive another year, another day. Never once had he considered simply throwing in the towel and giving up. Never once until now. Speeding down the road watching as corn field after corn field swept by he gave serious thought to dying.

James could still feel his hands on him. Could still smell Frank's breath and that cheap aftershave he favored so much.

He should have known it was going to happen, should have been aware of it. He had seen the signs; felt Frank's hands lingering over his skin after the beatings, heard his breath catch in excitement. He had witnessed them all but the last bit of hope that he had held within himself had refused to consider the possibility.

He had fought with everything in him; had punched and kicked and screamed at the older male. He had clawed and even bitten at any vulnerable area of flesh until he had managed to get away. Desperate he had struck out, attempting with all of his strength to hit Frank in the face. He had wanted to do it hard enough so that he could break the nose bone and shove it deep into his brain.

He had only been half successful but he had managed to escape and for now that was all that really mattered.

So now he was soaring down the road trying to go fast enough to leave everything behind. He wished it was night time so that he could see the stars, see where he had been born. Instead the sun was out, shining down on him with the harsh heat of an Iowa summer.

He wanted to fly. Wanted to stretch out his arms and feel the sky embrace him. He could almost imagine what it would be like. He was brought back down to earth by the sound of a police siren somewhere to the rear of him.

He ignored it, used to the feeling of being chased, of being relentlessly pursued. This time though he wasn't going to stop, wasn't going to allow himself to be caught. Something with urged him to keep going, to ignore the sign he had just passed and to keep on driving until the road disappeared.

He almost did.

At that last second possible, right when he had accepted the fact that his death was near something within him screamed that he survive. So he jumped and for just a few precious moments he got his wish and knew what it meant to fly.

It didn't last and he hit the ground with a jarring thud but it was beautiful.

At last when he looked up at the automated officer he knew in the depths of his soul that he was going to jail.

He had managed to fly today so jail really did not seem like such a bad idea. At the very least the rest of his family would never be able to drive his fathers car again.

It seemed like a fair trade.

Second Gear: Revenge: When you embark on a journey of revenge dig two graves.

He had been curious and out for revenge. Truly some of his more damning traits. Though in all honesty the guard really should have known better than to taunt an inmate with his I.Q. and a history of grand theft auto.

Clearly it had not been one of Haken's smarter moments.

When the older male had taunted James about his famous father and the mother who had allowed him to be thrown away he had not responded. He had refused to given him the satisfaction of a response when he had struck James for simply stepping out of line. The guard had neglected to notice the fact that not only was James at the end of the line but he had already received his meal tray and had been trying to find a seat.

Yet when Haken had insulted James by commenting on his intelligence level he had vowed to even the score. The guard had taunted him, called him names, sworn that James would never amount to anything. He had even went so far as to dare the younger male to prove him wrong.

That was exactly what James had set out to do.

The first thing he had done had been to study up on the most recent models of motorcycles. He paid particular attention to the X-2267 type with an extra light frame and handling so easy that a child could steer. It was the bike Haken had been boasting about for weeks. A quick bump and an altercation later he had managed to retrieve what he need from Haken as well.

It was no trouble at all for him to memorize the guards rotation pattern since he had done that within his first week. Then he had managed to rewire the electronic lock on his door to open on his command. After that he had used all of his considerable skill to sneak past the guards, Haken included, and into the main parking facility for the staff.

It had taken him a while to rewire the electronic security device so that it would not sound an alarm or alert Haken to the bike's usage. When he had finished he simply rolled the lightweight bike out of the garage and onto the street. Straddling the machine he had flicked his wrist to start it and was off.

It was late so he wasn't really all that worried about being seen but he knew he had to work fast. That did not stop him from enjoying it though. Riding that bike was the single greatest sensation he had felt in years. It had been like flying all over again except it lasted for much longer and there was no sudden stop at the end.

He could see the stars like he had wanted to that day, could smell the sweet night air and feel the balmy breeze rushing over his skin. He didn't want to go back, almost decided not to. He only reconsidered after he weighed the thought against the consequences of actually escaping from a juvenile detention facility, instead of going on a short road trip like he intended.

That did not mean he could not enjoy it as he went about ruthlessly performing his self appointed tasks. 'After all', he thought as he patted the wallet in the front of his pants, 'he had all of the information he needed right here.'

He traveled quickly, making all of the stops that he needed and before the next guard rotation was scheduled to start he was back in his own room, safe and undetected.

The beating he received the next morning when Haken discovered that his recovered credit chip had been drained at the same time he received a bouquet of flowers with a card signed simply, "Love J." was well worth it in his opinion. The month of solitary confinement he had been granted when his deed had come to light had been a blessing in disguise. It gave him time to heal and time to reflect on that beautiful feeling of flying again.

He swore to himself that one day he would own a bike just like that only better since he was already planning to make a few minor adjustments. The hefty sum of credit that he now had stashed in a lifetime storage facility would go a long way to making that dream come true.

Third Gear: Guilt: From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.

He had succeeded in his quest but it would haunt him for the rest of his days. When he had awoken from his short rest period he had been enraged to learn that a couple of the older children had defected. He knew that only capture and death awaited them in the city, and that they were not skilled enough to avoid either.

So with a hasty set of instructions delivered to the others he had set off, armed and intent on finding them. It had not taken him long to pick up on their trail. They were clumsy children not hardened survivalist such as himself.

He followed them easily through the woods, barely containing his growl at how quickly they had abandoned his teachings and taken to the trail. It wasn't long after that before he came upon signs of a struggle. Broken twigs and disturbed leaves, hand prints and a small spot of blood against a nearby tree that was still wet. They were not all that far ahead of him and he knew that whoever had taken them would be slowed down by their presence.

That was until he found the tire tracks.

He recognized the treads as belonging to the all-terrain vehicles that the colonists tended to favor. He knew that while they were faster than him they would not be going far. He set off, his pace quick, almost a run as he followed the signs he could find. It takes him a few hours but the day is young so he is not concerned.

When he finally does managed to catch up with them he is enraged at what he finds. There are at least three guards and his handful of children, four if his calculations were correct. Three of them he could see from the tree line, their faces bloody and their bodies beaten. He could hear the screams of the fourth from behind the hastily erected shelters.

The guards who had captured them had set up camp earlier than necessary in order to spend some quality time with their captives. He will make them pay for their deeds in blood.

He is silent when he sneaks into the camp, a snake in the grass, a wolf in the fold. He slinks between the buildings, knowing that he needs to take out the guards first before he can worry about the children. His knife is drawn, the sharp blade cutting through the flexible material of the thermal enclosure easily. Within seconds he has a peep hole.

His fourth child is lashed to a makeshift post, an old fashioned and yet effective means of restraint. The boy, Taranas if he remembers correctly, is shirtless and already J.T. can see the welts rising on his skin. They are whipping him for the sheer enjoyment of it.

He wants to charge in there at that moment but he knows that if he isn't careful things will end badly for his children. Instead he takes his time to plan, trying to devise the best way to do this without loss of life on his side.

His figures and calculations go out the window when the older male guard drops the whip he had been using and spoke.

"You know men this one is kind of cute, so is that nice young female out there. Now I say we are hard working officers and we deserve a little fun every now and again. What do you boys think?"

There is a general roar of approval from the other two and with lecherous grins all around one of the guards begins to leave the enclosure. J.T. slinks back into the shadows of the tent like structure as he turns and begins to take the back way to where the other children had been tossed. He arrives before the guard and stations himself just off to the right so that the guards back would be facing him.

The other male arrives, his stride arrogant, his steps sure. He has no issues with the rape he is about to commit, no concerns for the young lives he is about to steal. J.T. is not sure if he can kill these men enough.

J.T. waits until the man is directly in front of the girl, waits until his fly is open and his intent is completely clear before he attacks. He is lightening quick, flowing out of the shadows knife in hand. His blade bites deep and true, sending blood arching out across the ground. The second knife he keeps comes into play when with a heavy down swing he instantly makes sure that the guard would never be able to harm another in that manner.

That is of course only if he managed to survive this encounter. Staring down at the bloodied body and gashed open throat J.T. knows that that is not going to be happening.

Quickly he slashes the bonds that keep his children bound, regretting that he hand decided against doing so earlier, it was a mistake he would not make again. Motioning for them to remain quiet and to head to the tree line to wait for him he sets off for the other side of the camp where Taranas was being held.

When he peeks in through the opening he is unable to stop his cry of rage. Element of surprise now lost he dashes forward, leaping into attack mode. His first strike catches one of the guards in the stomach, his second knife embedding itself deep into the mans leg, severing the femoral artery sending them both crashing to the ground.

He is up as quickly as he went down and in a flash he is on the last male. The guard was still in shock at seeing a young boy slaughtering his companion and thus he is an easy kill. J.T. does not stop there. He drives his blades deep into the mans body over and over again. Long after he stops breathing J.T. continues to hack at him, blood spraying out to cover his own form. Making his skin match the crimson rage that clouded his brain.

Finally sobbing breaks him out of it. Taranas is conscious and the other children have disobeyed him once again and now stand in the door way staring at him in awe.

Taranas is the one crying, relief at seeing J.T. and lingering pain making him unable to control himself. When J.T. looks at him he wants to kill those men all over again, just as he once did for Kevin.

He had been too late to save Taranas the agony of rape.

He staggers to his feet, collecting and sheathing his bloody knives, unconcerned with the blood that coats his form. Instead he gently wraps his arms around his boy, pulling him close and speaking softly into his ear.

"I am sorry that I did not make it in time. So very sorry. I want you to know that I would change it if I could. You are safe now, all of you monsters are dead." Taranas's sobs grow louder at his words and J.T. can only rock him and whisper nonsense in his ear.

It is only later when J.T. is driving one of the stolen a.t.v.'s back towards camp because the children are too wounded and sore to walk does it really hit him.

He had succeeded in retrieving the children but he had failed to keep them safe. It was a burden that he would never allow himself to be free of.

As much as he had always enjoyed driving, as much as he relished the feel of the wind in his hair and the reminder of what it had felt like to fly so long ago, he hated this particular ride. His hands rubbed soothing circles across Taranas's back as they passed through the woods. He would have to take the a.t.v. back as soon as he dropped the children off at the cave but he had not had a choice. He would deliver them safely and then return to the guards camp and erase any signs he had left about his location. He would pay extra attention to erasing the vehicles GPS system and the tracks it had made.

For now though he would simply ride along in silence, offering what comfort he could to a violated child.

It was almost humorous that his best memories of Earth, the ones he had always cherished, involved him speeding down the highway in a vehicle that was not his own. Now one of his worst about Tarsus IV would involve him creeping through the woods on a vehicle he would have previously yearned to lay hands on.

It really was funny sometimes how the world worked.

Fourth Gear: Friendship: A faithful friend is a strong defense: and he that hath found such a one hath found a treasure.

To say their friendship was unique would be an understatement. Jim and Bones had a friendship that was legendary around the Academy campus. There were not many who had not heard stories of them, or actually heard them in their legendary fights around the dorm.

Fights that were mainly the older doctor yelling obscenities at the younger cadet that seemed to revolve around "insane escapades, damn foolish behavior, and suicidal forgetfulness." Needless to say the other cadets tended to avoid the irrate doctor and slightly smirking blonde at those times.

All the yelling and fighting aside they were close. They shared a level of friendship that neither of them had ever experienced. They were family and so much more. They shared with each other, cared for each other, and protected each other in a way that no one had ever done for them before.

So when Bones was denied access to his daughter on her birthday by his bitch of an ex-wife Jim stepped in. It was late, around two or three in the morning when Jim shook his friend awake. Shuffling the grumbling doctor into some clothes and out of their dorm he led his friend to the landing dock and with a quick nod to the security officer posted outside they slipped in.

Bones was confused but he trusted Jim enough to get onto the shuttle craft he was motioning to. Ignoring his friends questions and grumbling he strapped the doctor in and set about firing up the engines and pulling out of the dock.

"Jim what in the hell are you doing! You're going to get us both expelled and probably arrested!" Bones was irrate, practically frothing from the mouth at what he had determined to be his reckless friends newest hair brained idea.

"Relax Bones I have this all under control. We aren't going to get expelled or arrested, I arranged everything with our friendly neighborhood security." Jim was all grins, that razor sharp smile he was famous for out in full force.

"Just how did you manage that?" Bones was by turns furious and curious, wanting and yet not wanting to know how his friend had managed to bypass security with only a nod.

"Well there were these twins you see and they were both smokin-"

"Never mind Jim, never mind." At that precise moment the doctor glanced out of the window and was barely able to swallow down his hysteria at the sight of the ground disappearing beneath him.

Jim simply patted his friends shoulder and settled down for the long ride. He relished the feel of the controls in his hands, the humming of the engines beneath his body, and the sight of the sky rushing past him. Everything about flying was breathtaking and awe-inspiring. The thrill of control such a machine surpassed almost anything he had ever felt in the past. It was beautiful.

The teary smile and crushing hug he received from McCoy when they landed on his ex-wife's front lawn and Joanna came rushing outside was well worth the price he had been forced to pay.

After all Bones had always been there for him. Sometimes it was nice to show the older man his appreciation in a more obvious way.

Fifth Gear: Destiny: Piloting a Starship has always been your first, best destiny.

Elder Spock had told him, in those moments before they had been separated that the Enterprise was his destiny. Normally he would have railed against it, fought against the idea of some aspect of his life being set in stone. Yet he could not bring himself to disagree with the old Vulcan.

Ever since he had first seen it being lovingly crafted in that shipyard in Iowa he had wanted it. He had been determined to have her for his own, no matter what ships were built before or after her the Enterprise would be his.

Now it seemed as if he had finally gotten his wish, if even only for a moment in time. He had taken the ship, been given the title of Acting Captain and while he relished it he also despised the manner in which he had achieved it. He had hurt Spock. While he knew that it had been necessary he hated the very thought of what he had said. Hated the disrespect he had been forced to show for the other males grief.

His hands gripped the side of the chair, fingers turning white as they clenched around sturdy metal. He would apologize, would forget his own pride and cast it aside as nothing if they managed to survive this. He had much to make up to the Vulcan if only they managed to survive this situation.

Staring around at the bridge he could not help the swell of emotion that rose in his chest. He may hate the circumstances, may hate how he had arrived at this point, but he would never forget this moment. She was as smooth as a dream and sounded like music. He stared through the view screen and words escaped him at the sight of the stars rushing by.

In those moments resolve hardened his spine. He would give everything he had, would give all of himself to protect this view, to protect this ship and its crew. If he had to drag Nero down to hell himself he would do it so long as the Enterprise lived on.

This ship had his soul and its crew had his heart.

Warp Speed: Togetherness: Perhaps only those people who are capable of real togetherness have that look of being alone in the world.

Spock really was an enigma.

He occupied the majority of Jim's thoughts that were not dedicated to the ship. He was everywhere and in every thing that Jim thought of, or did. Even now, months into their first five year mission, months after Jim had apologized, months after Nero, he still fascinated him.

There was something so aloof about Spock. Something that went beyond the distance that Jim had witnessed in other Vulcan's, something so totally Spock that he could not tear his attention away.

At first he had assumed it was because of the trial, because Spock had been the one to bring him up on charges. Then he had decided it was because of his relationship with Uhura. Yet as time passed and he grew closer to his First Officer he knew that was not the case. There was something about Spock that called out to him. Something that he could not ignore.

Days rolled by, hours spent together over paper work and chess building different facets to a relationship forged in the fires of combat. The more Jim learned about Spock the more questions he had, the more things he longed to know. Their time together increased until they practically lived in each others pockets and Uhura began to glare at their huddled forms.

Her relationship with Spock did not last the first year. Spock told Jim that it was a mutual break, that their schedules and interests differed too greatly for them to be a appropriate match. Jim tried his best to offer them both comfort, to show that he was supportive and appreciative of their efforts. It took all of his control to hold back his inner glee.

Without anyone else to warrant his attention Spock seemed to focus himself even more intensely on Jim. The Captain found that he deeply enjoyed it.

Their partnership grew even more, until the thought of seeing one without the other was unusual for the crew. To the point where Jim was not sure if his crew would recognize him without the stoic Vulcan beside him. He was not sure if he would recognize himself.

He never wants to find out.

When he is on the bridge it is like everything is right in his world. When he sits in that chair nothing can touch him, he can overcome anything and everything that comes at him. Yet he finds that he can not function correctly, is not the captain he knows he is when Spock is not in his place. When the Vulcan is not in his place at the science station, or standing at his elbow ready to dispense knowledge Jim is less than he should be.

He does not know when and he does not know how but Spock has become a part of him that he can not function without. Even the glory of finally having the Enterprise as his own was dimmed when he had been without a First Officer. When Spock had exited the turbo-lift doors it had been as if everything had finally been set right. As if every moment and every hardship in his life had been leading up to that moment.

Even now, staring out into the vastness of space, Spock standing dutifully at his side he knew that without the Vulcan things would not be right.

Some how for the first time since Tarsus a single person had become so important their worth could not be measured. He had long ago come to the conclusion he would give up anything for Spock.

Including the Enterprise.

He just hoped that one day the Vulcan would feel the same way about him.

Staring up into deep brown eyes that practically sparkled with hidden warmth and humor he was fairly certain that day was not too far off.