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Jim Kirk was okay.
He always was; he had to be.
He didn't have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity like he had seen so many before. His life moved too fast to allow him even a moment’s reprieve.
He didn't grieve. He didn't reflect. He simply survived.
For his entire life, Jim Kirk had survived.
Despite a multitude of disadvantages, he forced himself to thrive. He was a genius after all. Geniuses didn’t waste time on trauma.
For the longest time, Jim Kirk didn't truly exist. It wasn’t until he was forced to become J.T. to survive that he realized what it meant to live.
Cass had taught him that.
Ever the voice of reason, she remained in his mind, buried as his consciousness, long after they had parted ways.
He hadn’t seen her since he was 15, but he could imagine her standing directly in front of him. He remembered her voice; soft like rain during the summer, but commanding. She never shouted, but everybody listened.
Jim remembered her smile. She had always smiled, even when there was nothing to smile about. All she wanted was to distract the others.
She had confided in Jim as an equal; truly the first person to speak to him as Jim, not an extension of his father's legacy, and not what he was born as.
He missed her.
They hadn’t spoken in years, losing contact in the brutal aftermath of everything. It was the one thing that Jim Kirk regretted about his life.
Sure, he had made some stupid choices along the way, but he had learned early that regret just got you dead, or dumped in a ditch.
However, he still regretted losing Cass. They had been through so much together. He should have tried harder to stay in contact.
It was only at moments like this, when Jim was drunk enough, that he found the strength to even think about the girl. Or rather, to think about the memories surrounding the girl.
It hadn't exactly been preferable circumstances for their meeting.
Jim sucked down another gulp of whatever drink he had ordered. He was too hammered to even really remember what it was, but he knew it was strong.
As the liquid burned down his throat and settled into his empty stomach, Jim sighed.
He was okay.
He repeated the words silently to himself, a mantra, using it as a way to count the seconds until the burn faded and he could take another drink.
Some time ago, a bunch of people had stumbled into the bar. It was strange to see so many people in a place that wasn't usually so busy, or maybe that was the alcohol talking, making him see double.
It wouldn't be the first time he miscounted.
Or hallucinated...
Jim blinked, dropping his glass to the bar with a soft clatter, and rubbed at his eyes. He had had way too much, obviously.
He had seen a flash of black hair and a familiar smile among the group of people cluttering the bar.
Obviously, he was beginning to see things. Cass was far away. There would be no reason for her to be spending her time in some random bar in Iowa, drinking with a bunch of Starfleet cadets.
She was a doctor, not a soldier.
At least, that was what she had always told Jim. Even at 14 years old, Cass had known she was going to be a doctor. She had sworn to him that she would never sit back and watch people suffer again. She would learn to heal anything.
Of course, childhood dreams often died over time, but for some reason, Jim had believed her. He still believed her.
She would be the best doctor and she would help those who were powerless to help themselves. She would not willingly enlist in a militarized, peacekeeping force that she had made her distaste for clear.
Jim was startled out of his memories by the arrival of someone new at the bar. She was wearing a Starfleet cadet uniform and Jim smirked.
Cadets were easy pickings. They were so completely stressed that they would do anything to relax.
And Jim Kirk would love to help them relax.
“That’s a lot of drinks for one woman," Jim remarked as the woman finished her order. His words were slightly slurred, but he didn't sound as drunk as he had originally thought himself to be.
The woman simply rolled her eyes and a smile blossomed on Jim’s face. He would never turn down a challenge.
He would conquer this one and he would not think of Cass again.
He would survive.
No, he would thrive, as he had always done.
Jim Kirk was okay.