Archive of Our Own ^beta

“But why do I  have to go?” I’m complaining. “It’s a party to celebrate the crew-”

“Callie, I swear to god, if you try and say you’re not a part of this crew…” Jim growls. 

“It’s your guys celebrating one year out on assignment, that’s for everyone like you and Bones who have been here that whole time!”

“And our families! If it wasn’t on a space station, Eleanora and Joanna would be coming. You just don’t want to go shopping, admit it.”

“100% I don’t! Nyota and Christine are dragging me to every formal shop on the station today, then we have to choose somewhere to get our hair done and ugh, Jim…” I whine, barely stopping short of stomping my foot.

He comes over and grabs my shoulders, my right one healed nicely from being dislocated, and shakes me gently. “Let them love youuu…” 

I dramatically shake in his arms before sighing deeply. “Okay. Alright. Fine.” 

“Atta girl!” He claps his hands. 

“This is so not fair. You just get to wear a tuxedo and be done with it.”

“I mean, you can wear a tux too if that’s what you really want…”

“Not the point.” 

“What is the point?”

“I’m lazy.”

He looks at me appraisingly, concerned. “Is this… Are you… Depressed?” He asks gently. 

I play with my hands self-consciously, “I think that’s still getting better,” I say quietly. 

“Good, that’s good,” Jim beams. “I’m proud of you for sticking with the meds, you know that?”

I nod to my hands, exhaling a little shakily. “Thanks,” I say, rocking from one foot to the other. “But that might have something to do with why I don’t want to go to the party. I don’t like… A lot of people.” 

“Get in line,” Jim snorts. 

“You love people, you thrive on people!” I object. 

“ Certain people,” Jim shakes his head. “It’s not like I love glad handing and making small talk! Even when it’s my own crew it’s hard, let alone when there are admirals who don’t like me there.” 

“Everyone likes you.”

“Hardly.” 

That takes me a bit aback. Who could possibly dislike my brother? Only people who don't really know him, surely? 

I sigh. “What are you doing today?” 

“You think you’re the only one with wardrobe fittings to endure? I have to get my dress uniform pressed for the speech half of the evening, polish my boots, trim my fingernails…”

I can see him fight the urge to chew on one nervously. It’s then I can really tell he’s nervous about this event just as much as I am. “I’m sorry if it’s not quite up your alley, either.” 

He shrugs, “all part of being Captain, I’ve come to accept.”

“Doesn’t make it not hard,” I counter. 

“And you accuse me of spending too much time with Bones.”

“I have to do all my tests in medbay where someone can see me to prove I’m not cheating!” I immediately object. “If I’m going to test out of my prereqs, I’ve got to get all these done asap so we can start my actual first year of classes.”

“If you start drinking coffee and scowling at people, I’m running an intervention.” 

“Please do.” 

“Stupid… Fricking… Boobs… AUGH!” I blow my hair out of my face and throw myself on my bed in a huff. 

Going on birth control to regulate my cycle blew my boobs up by two cups practically overnight and I’m not happy about it. Getting them to fit completely inside my dress is a task in itself. 

“Callie?” Christine knocks on my door.

“Ugh, count to five then come in,” I call back, turning my back to the door. “Can you zip me up?” I ask her over my shoulder. “My tits will just not be calmed.” 

She snorts and helps me finish zipping up the dress she and Nyota helped me pick out. It’s a floor length, forest green lacy number, with spaghetti straps and a delicate scoop neck. “Whoever decided these things need to be formal deserves a court marshall,” she says ruefully, moving to adjust her own dress after helping me with mine. 

She’s stuck with her signature white, and her floor-length, tulle, form-fitting, strapless gown hits her narrow body in all the right places. 

“You say that like you and Nyota didn’t enjoy dragging me to three different shops before we settled on this dress!”

“Hey, you could have chosen the first dress in the first shop that we liked-”

“Hot pink and sequins?”

“-but you had to be difficult,” she smirks. 

I roll my eyes dramatically and place my hands on my hips, looking down at my bust. “I hate these things.” 

“Mood.” 

“I hate these things too, but are we ready to go?” Jim calls from outside, clearly having missed what we were actually talking about (thankfully). 

Christine and I share an eyeroll and I follow her out into the living room where everyone is waiting.

Jim is in his dress uniform, and everyone else is in their formalwear, sipping various pregame drinks. “Anyone care to make me a drink?” I grumble. 

“I’ve got drugs,” Bones pipes up from behind me. 

I turn and give him a stink eye, “I don’t feel like sleeping through Jim’s speech.” 

“You sure about that?” He counters with an eyebrow raised. 

When I smirk, he comes closer and drops his voice, “seriously, you doing okay? Need anything before we leave?” 

I return his look, before shaking my head. “I’m…” I nod to myself, “I’m okay,” I admit. “I’m not… I’m not bad tonight,” I find myself saying. 

His eyes practically sparkle with the smile he gives me, and I fight another eye roll. “We might have reached a good base dosage,” he finally says. 

I smile back as best I can, “maybe.” 

We’ve been messing around with my meds for about a month, since everything with Vos happened. Once a week I meet with Bones and we talk about how I’m feeling. He keeps an eye on my mealcard to see how I’m eating. And he glares at me if I start lying about nightmares and sleep. I’m sleeping better, but the nightmares are still bad. I’m eating better, but still not a lot. Being in medbay all day, meeting new people is helping me be less anxious in the mess hall, but I still fight off panic attacks there. 

I think Bones likes that I spend so much time in medbay now, because he can keep an eye on me much more than he could previously. It’s like why he harrasses Jim and the command crew on the bridge every day. 

I have this fear that instead of adding another medication like he’s been talking about, Bones is going to suggest therapy, and that’s something I absolutely don’t want. 

The mission to Niribu keeps getting pushed back, but it’s coming up next after this celebration dinner on DS3. Jim has been dealing with some first contact revisits that have gone awry and we’re the closest ship to help. That’s given me time to work on testing out of my prereqs to start before I move into nursing school courses with Christine’s help. 

I have this fear Marcus is going to pop up, start making accusations again, but so far it’s been quiet. 

Despite my claims I heard his voice when I was kidnapped, since I didn’t see him, no one outside the Enterprise crew believes me. Because why would Admiral Marcus be involved in something so nefarious? It had to just be someone who sounded like him. At least that’s what the official report says. 

I’d already spent more time in medbay than I’d wanted to after everything with Vos happened, so I’m a little surprised I’m fine being there for learning. After dislocating my shoulder for a fourth time, Bones was gently insistent on operating on it.

At first, back aboard the Enterprise after an emergency beam up, I was not having it. “ No , it does not need to be operated on!”

“Yes. It. Does.” Came the clipped but worried response. 

“No-”

“Cal, please, let me show you the scan,” he said, holding one of those clear padds. “Look, see how torn this is? And look here, see how this looks darn-near shredded ?”

I grumbled something affirmative. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he harrumphed. “I can’t just pop it back in and if I did, Cal, you’d need weeks of physical therapy and I don’t want to put you through that when I can just fix it .” 

I grumbled in response. 

“Callie. Use your words…” Bones teased. 

I glared at him. “Can I have drugs yet?” 

“Once you give your clear consent for treatment, I’ll drug you up good,” he promised. 

I moaned. “What would surgery entail?”

Bones softened, in a way. He brought over his padd and patiently explained the entire surgery to me, including that it would be quick and that recovery would be expeditious. When I asked questions, he answered them honestly, even when they were graphic. Because of course I asked the graphic questions. And he never got annoyed or frustrated or showed a drop of getting tired of me and my questions. 

But then another worry hit me, and I had to turn to Christine for that one. 

“Chris… it’s like… my boobs will be in the way… I don’t… I don’t want anyone seeing…” 

She waved a hand in a downward motion, trying to get me to calm down. “Cal, listen to me. You’ve seen one boob, you’ve seen them all. And I will be there, I will make sure you are as covered up as possible, okay? There’s no medically necessary reason for anyone to be looking at you there, and we won’t.”

“What if there is some medical reason you find?!”

“Callie, take a breath, please. Listen to me, okay? Whatever weird things your mom taught you aren't relevant here, okay? We aren’t the enemy, we aren’t going to do anything inappropriate. You are safe, alright? Can you repeat that back to me?”

“I’m… I’m safe.” 

“That’s right, you’re safe, honey.” 

“ You’re safe,” I said to her, searching her eyes for some sign I was right. 

I found it when she smiled at me and nodded, “I will be safe for you, I promise.” 

And she was. They both were. From when I started having a psychogenic seizure and sobbing when going under, to when I woke up and couldn’t stop crying for Jim, they were both patiently, caringly, and lovingly there. Even M’Benga showed me a side of himself I had yet to see when he wiped my tears off my cheeks and soothed my hiccuping cries, preop. 

A month later, in my spaghetti strap gown, the scar can’t even be seen and my shoulder, for the first time in many years, doesn’t ache every time I roll over in bed. Still, I self consciously roll it and look down, amazed and slightly disbelieving that my body is actually working for once. 

“Shoulder okay?” Bones brings me out of my thoughts. 

“Oh yeah,” I nod, watching Jim pick up his glass. “Just still shocked it can feel this good.” I snort.

“Well, on that subject-” Bones begins, before being cut off by Jim.

“Everyone,” Jim calls, holding his glass up. “Can I please propose a toast?”

“See, I need a drink!” I hiss at Bones, who huffs and picks up what I assume is a mocktail and hands it to me. 

“To us,” Jim is saying. “To this crew. To this moment. To this night, and all the other celebrations they’ll hold for us in the future.” 

“To us!” Everyone choirs, even me, shockingly. 

I find myself getting more and more comfortable here, especially the longer I’m on medication. So when I find myself joining in on toasts, private jokes, silly stories, it still surprises me, because it’s so entirely new. 

I dug into that section of my nursing books hard, the psychopharmacology part, and made myself understand what was going on in my head and how the meds work. The problem is, I don’t know what I’ve been diagnosed with, officially, and I’m too afraid to ask. 

Jim yanks down his dress uniform jacket and nods to us all, “ready to beam down?” 

He’s met with a chorus of yeses and we all file out together, a sea of tulle, tuxedos, and lace. Jim’s grey uniform leading the way. 

Bones can’t help but whine about the transporter, but we beam down without incident. 

Nyota walks over to me and pats my hair approvingly, “gorgeous!” She whispers. 

“Same to you!” I whisper back, taking in her cerulean blue, glittering, floor-length, nearly bodycon dress. She poses briefly, and we giggle together before Spock comes over and offers his arm like he’s been told ahead of time that that’s what he needs to do. 

As we all head to the back entrance of the ballroom, the one that leads to the head table where Jim will give his speech, I see Jim fidgeting. I see his hands and fingers jerking around. I see his wrists rolling in circles. I see his shoulders slightly shaking. I can tell he’s nervous, and my heart goes out to him. I wouldn’t want to give a speech either. 

My mind wanders back to what he said before, that he doesn’t thrive on people that way I thought he did. It makes me question a lot I think I know about my brother. It makes me worry about him. 

But I can’t worry about him long, as we enter a large room full of life and tables. Our table, at one end of the large and long room, is rectangular and long as the head table. The rest of the room is full of round tables with huge centerpieces and a ceiling draped with gossamer. 

I force myself to take deep breaths and focus on finding my chair. To my terror, it’s right next to the head chair, Jim’s chair. Bones sits down on my other side, and Spock sits at Jim’s other side. 

“Breathe,” Bones whispers to me.

“I’m trying!” I hiss back. 

“What’s that?” Jim asks. 

I smile sweetly and shake my head, “nothing!” I sing as he sits down, straightening his jacket and removing his dress uniform hat. 

The room is abuzz, full of people, but the table we are at is slightly elevated and there’s no way around it. It works as a barrier from the people which is nice, but I know if any of them choose to approach the table, I’m stuck. But no one is going to want to talk to me… Right? 

Thankfully, we’ve arrived in the knick of time, and as Scotty and Chekov fight over whose fork is whose, Jim stands up and tinks a knife against his water glass to get the attention of the room.

He gives a rousing speech full of references to things I wasn’t present for, people I don’t know, and things I’ve never seen. He makes it sound like they’ve had a pretty crazy first year. 

By the time he’s done and we all clap, dinner is being brought out. 

Jim shakily sits down and pulls at his jacket, like he desperately wants out of a straightjacket instead of a dress uniform. “I’ll get outta this after we eat,” he says to me, and I nod understandingly. 

The food they bring us is… Unidentifiable, really. I can tell they’ve tried to go with a Midwestern menu, but DS3 is mostly non-earthlings, and I can tell none of them have ever actually had green bean casserole, because this beige lumpy thing made with peas is… not it.  

I look over at Bones who's also trying to identify the food on his plate. “Don’t come at me for not eating this, okay?” I mutter to him. 

“Darlin’, I wouldn’t put this slop out for the farm animals to eat…” 

“Is that supposed to be fried chicken?”

“I’m… not sure, to be totally honest.”

“What do you think Spock’s vegetarian option is?”

We both lean forward to look past Jim to Spock’s plate. He seems to be poking at his food just as warily as we are ours, and it’s just as unidentifiable. 

“Well,” I say, straightening the napkin in my lap. “What do we think the yellow stuff is?”

“‘Sposed to be cornbread,” Jim says, through a mouthful. “But it’s more like a cross between grits and cornpone.”

Bones and I make the exact same face and slowly push the yellow stuff to the side of our plates. 

I feel Jim tense beside me suddenly, and I look over with concern. “Jim?”

Bones hears my concerned tone and looks too, “Jim? You good?”

A slight head shake signals something major to Bones, who is immediately jumping up to get Jim out of there. 

“Should I- Do I-” I have no idea if I should go with them or give them space, and I’m bouncing in my chair as I try to decide. 

Bones waves a hand as he ushers Jim out, who has turned a worrying shade of pale green. 

“I’m going to go help the Captain change, now that his speech is over.” Bones announces a little loudly, and everyone barely turns to acknowledge them, like it’s a normal thing for Bones to be ushering Jim out of an event. 

I nod too, and helplessly watch them leave, all too aware my brother is fighting off some sort of flashback, and I can’t help.

“Just breathe for me, Jim. Just breathe, kid. You’ve got this. You’re all right,” Bones soothed as they rushed to the space station’s transporter room. He had one hand around Jim’s back, the other under his arm supporting him.

“It was… The texture… I can’t…” Jim was working hard not to gag, and Bones moved to rub large circles on his back. 

“Just keep breathin’, kid.”

Jim was a dangerous shade of green, and Bones didn’t even gripe about the transporter as it sent them straight to Jim’s quarters, per CMO instruction for emergency site-to-site.  

“Do you want an antiemetic?” 

Jim shook his head, jaw tight. 

“What do you need, kid?” He asked gently. 

Jim shook his head again, squeezing his eyes shut. “To not puke,” he said shakily. 

“Alright, I can help with that,” Bones started rubbing big circles on his upper back again. “You’re doing great, Jim. Just breathe, swallow, there ya go, see? You can swallow fine, you’re going to keep dinner down.”

“It wasn’t just the food, the texture…” Jim shook his head. “It was the speech, it’s Callie, the admiralty, it’s… it’s all of it.” 

Bones reached forward and undid the top fastener of Jim’s dress uniform jacket. “Should we get you out of this monkey suit? Would that help?”

“And into another one?” Jim breathily laughed. 

“We don’t have to do anything you want to do, we can stay here for the rest of the night if you want,” he offered. 

Jim shook his head, “no, no, I’ve gotta go back for Callie.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy to come back for the evening.” 

“Well then I’ve gotta go back for the crew! It’s a party to celebrate them! I need to be there! I need-”

And then he gagged. 

“Woah, there,” Bones’ circles got firmer. “Think down, think down. Start humming,” 

Jim moaned, but did as he was told. 

But it wasn’t long before his hums turned into tears. 

“Oh, Jim,” he tried to soothe, realizing they were still just standing in Jim’s living room. 

He moved them to sit on the couch, grasping Jim’s upper arms to steer him there. 

“God, Bones,” Jim cried, tears freely falling. “I’ve been keeping it together for so long, since Winona first told me she was sick, and now… now…” 

“ Now everything is spillin’ over because you kept it held in all these months,” Bones explained ruefully. 

“I had to be strong for Callie,” he said through the tears. 

“You can be strong for someone else while still taking care of yourself,” Bones said gently. “You have to prioritize yourself, kid. Or else this happens.” 

Jim looked at him, raw and vulnerable and he wondered if he had said the wrong thing. “Jim, I’m not mad at you,” he corrected himself. “I’m not disappointed or upset, I’m just worried. I don’t wanna see you push yourself too far here.” 

Jim took in his next breaths too fast, and it set off a chain reaction of him trying and failing to catch his breath. 

“Jim, Jim -" Bones was trying to get through to him, and he was failing. He got down on his knees in front of Jim on the couch and took Jim’s hands, pumping them quickly, trying to ground him. “Jim, you need to breathe, do you hear me?”

A nod.

“Alright, good. Now come on, let’s box breathe, in for four…” 

Jim struggled, gasping through the breathing exercise until Bones had to give up. 

He moved to get up, “that’s alright, it’s okay. Let’s try something else,” he moved to the replicator to get a glass of ice. “Here,” he dug out a cube and shoved it in Jim’s hand, “hold.”

Jim did, fist shaking as the ice melted in his pale hand. 

“You comin’ back to me?” 

A head shake. 

“This is a bad one, huh?”

A big nod. 

“Yeah…” He stifled a sigh. He was running out of options that weren’t pharmaceutical. 

“Okay, I’m going to grab onto ya, alright? Fair warning,” he told Jim, before hauling the kid into his arms on the couch, Jim’s back to his front. 

Jim shook, tears starting up again, as he continued trying to get his breathing under control. 

“Breathe with me , Jim, alright?”

A nod. 

“Okay, here we go,” and he took a big enough breath that Jim could physically feel, and prayed the kid was doing the same. “In… and out…” 

Jim laid his head against his upper arm and he watched tears leak into his tuxedo jacket. “Kid…” he murmured worriedly. 

“I just… There's so much, Bones. There’s so much on my shoulders and I put myself here, but… but god , it’s all so much ,” he choked out. 

“I know, kid. I know.”

“My sister was kidnapped and Starfleet was involved, the head of Starfleet and yet no one wants to believe it! In escaping the kidnapping, she caused the death of someone who tortured me as a child. Frank is in a Starfleet lockup. My birth-giver is dead. Spock is back to questioning every move I make. And I gave that stupid speech and then couldn't even eat the food on my plate like I’m the infant you say I am. And I just- it’s just-" He took in more gasping breaths, earning a, 

“Hey-hey-hey,” from Bones. “You got triggered. It happens. You’re a great captain, I never doubt that. And Callie, we’re keepin’ her safe, right? We’ve got her and yeah, Dr. Rex Vos is dead and Frank is locked up, but that helps us keep her safe. If you’re worried about the ramifications of her causing his death, well… that’s why I want to get her into therapy so badly. She just runs anytime the conversation goes that way.” He shook his head ruefully. “The brat.”

“Family trait,” Jim said shakily. 

Bones chuckled, patting his arm and letting him go, sitting Jim up to look him in the eye. “So. Tell me the Kirk secret to get her to agree to some therapy?”

“Psh. You can’t even get me to agree to therapy.”

“Yeah well, we’ve agreed I’m not your therapist, otherwise, I would.” 

They had long had an agreement that Bones couldn’t act as his therapist or even be the one to determine him psychologically fit, for fear of claims of skewed judgment because of their friendship. But it didn’t stop him from offering up therapist advice. 

“Would you be Cal’s?”

“If she wants me to be, of course.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I’d be happy just if she’d even talk to Chris about some stuff. She’s a certified forensic trauma nurse, after all. She’d be good to talk to. But even she can’t draw her out. Can’t get her talking about what happened to her.”

“I can’t either,” Jim admitted, breathing slowing as he was given possible solutions. “It’s like she’s determined to forget what happened instead of dealing with it.”

“Wow, where have I heard that method before?”

“Shut it.”

“You know I went to check on her one day, right after it first happened. She was in medbay, studying for a test, or so I thought. Turns out she was reading the forensics report from when they recovered his body. She was…” he shook his head. “She was as pale as a sheet and looked like she was genuinely about to pass out. Shaking, tearing up. She said she needed to know what she did. What she caused.” He ground his teeth without meaning to. “I tried to explain to her that she was protecting herself but… it was weird, it was like she glazed over and just shoved everything into a box as she handed me the padd. I don’t think she’s dealt with Vos’ death one bit.”

“I don’t either, and I’m really worried.”

“I can tell. You’ve not had an anxiety attack that bad in a hot minute. Feelin’ better yet?”

“Getting there.”

“I’ll keep talkin’, then. Now, if you wanna talk the hobgoblin questioning you, that’s another subject entirely…”

And one by one, Bones went through Jim’s worries and dismantled them best he could. They talked until Jim’s shaking ebbed and his color returned. They talked while Jim changed into his tuxedo, and they talked on the way back to the transporter. 

“I’m proud’a you, kid.”

“For what?” Jim nearly spat, climbing the transporter steps. 

“You’re juggling a lot of really crazy things at once and you’re doin’ a great job.” 

“…thanks, Bones.”

“I know how hard it is to take care of a kid on your own and it’s daunting. But you’re doing that and running this ship and doing a fine job, kid. A fine job.”

Jim nearly blushed as he looked at the floor and gave the order to energize. 

When they returned, Callie was stuck talking to Admiral Archer. (And Scotty had conveniently disappeared.) How the guy was even still alive was a medical marvel, but pretty much no one enjoyed getting stuck talking to him. “Talking” to him meant getting talked at by him, usually about his dogs. 

When Bones approached and inserted himself into the conversation, it wasn’t hard to get the elderly man to leave when he and Callie started talking about what part of her nursing school books she was into. Mentioning the prostate was gold on her part, because the man was long gone after that. 

“I’m not sure how long your brother wants to stay,” he said to her lowly. 

“Psh, fine by me,” she shook her head. “Y’all left me to go change and I keep getting cornered by creepy old men!” 

“Sorry about that…” Jim added in, approaching, finally looking grounded. “Getting out of one monkey suit and into another took a little longer than expected.” 

Bones shot a look at him, signaling that he thought he should have been telling the truth about where he was at mentally, but didn’t say anything. 

“The truth is,” Jim admitted, getting closer to Callie and Bones. “I… I had a moment. I needed a minute.” 

Callie looked at him appraisingly, but understanding washed over her features like a tidal wave. She placed a hand lovingly on Jim’s upper arm and rubbed it a couple of times. “Do you need to leave?” She asked gently. 

He shook his head, “I’m going to stay for the crew, for at least a little while.”

She nodded understandingly. “Do you need to… go mingle?” 

Jim took in the crowd, his command crew’s empty seats, and sighed. “Yeah, yeah I should. It’s my crew, after all.” 

When they finally left, they took the long way back to the transporter room to see some more of the station. 

When they started smelling food cooking, all of their stomachs growled. They stumbled upon a burger restaurant on the promenade, and Callie was the most intrigued. 

“Oh my gosh, burgers ,” she breathed, running over to the end of the line in her bare feet, holding her heels in one hand. She spun around to face them, “can we get burgers? That food was disgusting ,” she pulled a face. 

Bones snorted, but felt his chest swell with warmth. She was asking to eat . When had they finally gotten to that place? This was absolutely going in her chart. 

As she happily hopped from one foot to the other, holding up her dress in one hand and her burger in the other, the warmth continued to swell. She was happy . 

She was traumatized and still needed some therapy, but she was happy . 

He bit into his own burger and looked down at it with approval. It was a good burger, and seeing Callie’s happy-dance for it made it even better. 

He looked over at Jim, still spent, still desperately trying to mask. 

“Keptan!” Chekov ran out from the ballroom towards them, excitedly. “Keptan, you must return to ze ballroom, zey are doing, what you call, line dances?”

Through the open doors, the Cupid Shuffle blared.

“Everyone says that you will know all ze dances!” 

Jim looked sheepish, “Pav, why me?” 

“Because all we have to do in the Midwest is line dance and pop out kids.” Callie piped up, still munching on her burger, but curiously looking through the doors.

“Are you admitting to knowing how to line dance?” Bones asked her, eyebrow raised.

Her eyes went wide. “Erm… No…” 

The eyebrow went higher.

“Well I’m not poppin’ out kids, am I?!”

Now that was yet another fun conversation she had to have with Bones, when he put her on birth control. 

“Now, birth control doesn’t protect against STI’s, it’s not 100% effective, either, so if you start having sex, make sure you use-”

“Oh my god, can you please,”

“Callie, this is my job-”

“But, dude, I, I’m…” 

He softened and turned his full attention to her immediately. “You’re… what , sweetheart?”

She had held her breath for a moment, gripping the sides on the biobed she was sitting on before she bit out, “Bones… I think I’m asexual.” She went from gripping the biobed to playing with her cuticles. “I’ve never told anyone… My mom would have told me that that’s not even a real thing… But I… I just… I don’t… God, how do I say this…”

“You don’t have to say anything, darlin’,” he had reassured. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’m a psychologist and xenophysician, remember? I know all about all orientations.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud.” She had admitted quietly. 

Bones moved to sit on the edge of the bed while she played with her hands. “I just… don’t feel certain ways.” She finally said. “I don’t feel certain things. And I’m pretty sure I never will. I’ve never understood… Crushes or… desires for more. I’m like. I’m not aro, I might… I might like to meet someone someday, but beyond… Beyond… I just. I’m not interested. And I know I’m still like, really young and stuff, but…”

“Callie, you’re not too young to know how you feel.” 

She looked shocked when she looked up at him and couldn’t see through the tears. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” 

“Because maybe you didn’t expect to be heard the first time you told someone this?” He said, all too knowingly. 

She nodded, chewing that lower lip. “My mom would have said it’s silly. Just immature.” 

“Well, I’m not your mom.” 

“Thank god.” 

He couldn’t help but be relieved that teen pregnancy wasn’t a worry he was going to have with her, but he knew how hard coming to terms with being ace can be for some people, and he was naturally a bit worried for her. 

He was always worried about her, in some way. 

But when she couldn’t stop herself from bopping along to the beat, seeing her happy against her own will, some of those worries did lift from his chest. “Well lead the way then, dancing queen,” he smiled at her. 

She shook her head emphatically, “oh no, no no no. Just because I know every line dance in existence doesn’t mean I want to do them!” 

“Every line dance, huh?” He smirked. 

She rolled her eyes, “I didn’t mean- not like that- I- UGH!” She shoved the rest of her burger in her mouth, brushed off her hands, and put them on her hips. “What about you?” She smirked at Bones. “You’re from the South, you really going to tell me you don’t know how to Boot, Scoot, ‘N Boogie?” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Darlin’, we ain’t talkin’ ‘bout me, here.” 

“Uh, we totally are,” Jim piped up, coming back to life. Or pulling his mask back on, Bones couldn't exactly tell. “Answer the question, Bones,” he smirked. 

Bones rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh my- yes, of course I know my line dances, I went to college at Ole Miss. Joce dragged me out line dancing more than once.” 

“Ah! So you should come along too, zen!” Chekov piped up excitedly. “Da, come, come!” And then he was dragging Bones and Jim back into the ballroom, a reluctant but curious Callie following. 

When they entered, they saw the room had been dimmed and there were hidden neon lights in the drapes of the ceiling. A DJ had set up at the side of the room, and a large group was trying to keep up with the beat.

Chekov ran back to the dance floor, leaving the three of them to watch, painfully. “...Do we go show them how to do it right?” Jim finally asked. 

“I’m not sure there’s hope for that…” Callie pitched in as the song ended. 

The next song to play had Callie’s face lighting up immediately, and Bones couldn’t help but call her on it, “you know this one!”

“We’ve established that I know them all!” 

“No, there’s something about this one, though,” he smiled at her until she caved. 

“I may or may not have practiced this one in my bedroom all night once, before a party I ended up uninvited to.”

Jim and Bones looked over worriedly, and she shrugged.

“I wasn’t the same age as my classmates, it happened a lot. They'd invite me to a birthday party, then uninvite me because they said I was too young for what they had planned. And I mean, I never was, that was always a lie, but… Whatever. Anyway. There was a dance party someone had planned for their sweet 16. I got uninvited last minute, but I sure did learn all the popular dances, and this was one.”

“Well… show us!” Jim urged, to which she quickly waved him off. 

“Nahhh…”

“Yes!”

“Jim.”

“Callie.” 

“No way!” 

“The people need you!” He motioned to the dancefloor, where people were desperately trying to keep up with the song. 

She laughed, and Jim gently grabbed one hand and pulled, “come on…” 

To Bones’ and even Jim’s great surprise, she let him pull her all the way to the dancefloor. 

Nyota bounced over to her, asking to be shown the proper steps, and Callie shockingly obliged. 

Jim loosened his shirt collar and took a breath, looking around.

The admiralty was gone, all the higher ups. It really was just his crew left there. 

His crew. 

His heart swelled as he watched them, before he was pulled into the dance as well. 

And they danced. They all danced. 

And the look that Bones and Jim shared over Callie’s bouncing head… 

Neither Kirk may have felt like they belonged anywhere, but oh, how wrong they were about that. 

They were both right where they belonged. 

With their family.