Disclaimer- I truly do not own Star Trek.

Okay, let me tell this to you straight: I have no knowledge of Star Trek outside of the 2009 movie and Star Trek: Into Darkness. Since I was always more of a Star Wars person, I never really sat down and watched Star Trek. You know what that means, right? It means that I'll probably (yeah, more like definitely) get some stuff wrong such as: personalities, technology, their terms and other things. But am I going to let that stop me? No! Even if I wanted to (which I kind of do . . .), this plot bunny will not shut up! Well, it's more like an idea . . . Anyway, I hope you enjoy and review.

. . . . . . You know, on second thought, maybe you should just turn back. -_-

Warning- Characters may be OOC (out of character for those who are new to this site's lingo). No, I'm serious. I don't know how well I can portray Spock. *grimace* You Trekkies are going to kill me . . . I just know it.

Note- I have other fanfics (that I seriously need to update) so understand if it takes me awhile to update.

IMPORTANT NOTE- I call him James in the prologue to make it more serious (seriously, I giggled when he died because I called him Jim) and because in my mind, "James" is Jim the captain, JT the Tarsus IV survivor and Jimmy the abused kid all combined to make one, messed up person. Hope you understand!

Prologue

James Tiberius Kirk was tired, so tired of always being the one to save others at the expense of himself. He was tired of being the one capable of pulling off impossible feats and surviving to see the fruits of his labor. He was tired of having the weight of the universe on his broad shoulders, of bearing memories he tried again and again to escape.

He was just so tired.

He just wanted to give up, to let someone else save the day.

But even though James was tired, he knew that he had to save the day just one more time. That's all he had to do to allow himself to pass on peacefully, to finally let go his obsessive need to save everyone and everything. Then he could let go. Yes, then he could let his fire die and flicker no longer.

Just one more time.

Just one more time.

Just one more time.

James kept chanting this in his mind as he fought his dying body, pushing himself closer and closer to the object that save his entire crew. It was dancing in his vision, taunting him with the possibility that James might just not make it, that he might just fail. Grunting, he pushed and pushed his body, unwilling to lose to a thing such as death. No, death could have him after he fixed this problem and knew that his crew, his second family was okay.

Just one more time . . .

Yes, just one, last time . . .

His body protested and ached in ways that James didn't know it could ache. The pain was unbearable but familiar, reminding him of childhood memories that were tinted in blood and cries. His face twisted as he pushed his body to climb, trying to block out those scenes from his life. The climbing took much energy from his body and his lungs burned, screaming at him that they were dying from the toxic air. James smiled grimly for a moment, thinking about he was briefly grateful that he was used to pain and could withstand it.

Because if he hadn't been subjected to such pain before, James would have died before he got halfway to his destination.

Just a little further . . .

. . . last time.

James' body felt like lead as he pulled himself up, kicking at the central component with what strength he had left. After a few weak tries, the thing did not budge and James knew time was running out fast. If he couldn't get it to move, everyone would die and leave families and family members behind. That thought made him sick. What if someone on the ship had a kid? What if the kid was just a baby? What if that kid never got to know his or her parent? What if that kid got the childhood he did?

Just one . . . more . . . time . . .

. . . Please.

Gathering all his remaining strength, James Tiberius Kirk did what everyone had always looked to him to do.

He saved the day.

When James saw the glow and heard the rumble, a faint smile found its way onto his face. He had done it . . . He had done it . . .

One . . . last . . . time.

The edges of his vision turned black and threatened to overtake what strength he had left. But James didn't care. He had done his final rescue, had saved the day for the last time. That was enough. He had no regrets, nothing that he wished to say. James was down for the count and had no intention of getting back up.

He was tired and would finally get the rest he deserved.

As he left his eyes slip close, James felt his body tumble down the way he had come up. His body managed to roll near the inner door, the door he would have to pass and shut if he wanted to live. But why would he? This was his chance to sleep without wondering if he'd wake up back on Tarsus IV with Kodos torturing him for information. This was his chance to sleep deeply without being constantly aware of his surroundings.

This was his chance to stop being James Tiberius Kirk, survivor of Tarsus IV, son of the hero George Kirk and the kid who constantly had something broken.

So, again, why would he want to go back to that? Why would he want to go back to a world where Kodos was still in hiding and his mother didn't care if he lived or died? Why would he want to go back to a world where his own brother thought he wasn't worth protecting?

. . . Why would he go back to a world where he pretended to be a strong man but was actually nothing more but a broken child?

Dimly, James heard Scotty frantically banging on the door and yelling at him to get up, to not let himself die. He wanted to laugh at Scotty's attempts and explain that before he even stepped a foot into this place, James was already dead. He practically had been an animated corpse these past eleven years, dead on the inside but clearly alive on the outside. Sure, these past few years he had gotten better but how long would that last? After all, he was merely pretending to be whole and that it was all an act.

Yes . . . James was broken.

And what do you do with broken toys?

You throw them away.

Right, Mother?

"James, get up!"

James' hands twitched as if they wanted to listen to Scotty's demand but James didn't want to. He just wanted to die in peace . . .

Was that too much to ask?

" . . . Engineering to bridge, Mr. Spock-"

Spock.

That name brought up memories, memories that happened just days ago. These memories spoke of the time that Spock had been willing to die in a volcano . . .

Kind of like how James was willing to die right now.

This . . . different . . .

Yes, this situation was different. Spock hadn't been tired like James was right now. He hadn't experienced what James had, hadn't learned how to survive with little food and most certainly hadn't been thrown off a roof twice by his stepfather.

But . . . maybe there was a similarity.

Someone didn't want him to die.

James' face twisted as he groaned, turning over to drag himself a few yards to the second door. How could he expect his crew to let him die when he hadn't been willing to let any one of them die? How could he expect for them to not feel the same way? How could he let them think that he didn't try hard enough to live?

That was just it.

He couldn't.

That was why he was dragging himself closer and closer to the door. He would at least try to live but he was sure that he wouldn't.

But at least he would try.

". . . Better hurry."

Just as James reached the second door, Spock came jogging to it and demanded that Scotty open the door.

Same old Spock.

James could feel his body begging to stop this torture, to shut his eyes and let death finally take him. But James couldn't do it now. He remembered now that a few days ago, he had wished he had the words to explain to Spock why he couldn't just let him die. He needed to get it off his chest before he would allow himself to pass on. Spock needed to understand that James had reacted like any other friend would have, like any human friend would have.

Gasping for air he simply didn't have, James pulled the lever that would close the inner door and allow his confined space to be decontaminated. He knew that this action was pointless since he was already halfway dead but he knew that they would wish to retrieve his body. Also, he needed them to think that he tried, that there had been nothing else he could have done. Yes, they needed to think that Captain Jim wasn't an act, that it was his true face. They didn't need to know that Captain Jim was just the one part of James that was kind of okay. They didn't need to know that he had more sides to him than Captain Jim. They didn't need to know how much he had suffered in his short life span. The truth would only hurt them.

Forcing his eyes to open, James turned his head and looked up at Spock.

"How's our ship?"

He couldn't help but delay the emotional conversation they would surely have. He had never been good with emotions and getting them out in the open . . .

And he had never liked goodbyes either.

Spock, blinking a couple of times out of what James thought was surprise, answered James. "Out of danger."

"Good," James breathed out, trying to keep his pain hidden from Spock.

Spock gazed at him with a flicker of emotion in his eyes. "You saved the crew."

James was tempted to give Spock a look and say "no, really?" but he didn't. He knew that it wasn't the time and that Spock needed someone to tell him that he had done a good job because he looked like he was about to cry. That terrified James. Surely Spock wasn't blaming himself for James' condition?

"You used what he wanted against him," James whispered, desperately trying to show Spock that he was ready to step up in his place. "That's a nice move."

Spock's expression softened just a bit as he slightly shook his head. "It is what you would have done."

Spock couldn't have possibly been more wrong. Since James saw too much of himself in Khan, he wouldn't have been able to do it. He would have seen himself in a completely different light . . .

He would have seen himself as Kodos.

But James knew what Spock meant. James definitely would have found some way to trick Khan and would have succeeded too.

"And this," James breathed out, locking his eyes with Spock's once again. "This is what you would have done. It's only logical."

James used Spock's L-word in the hope that he would be able to convey that Spock needed to think like himself and James at the same time. He needed Spock to understand that while sometimes you need to be strategic and logical, you also needed to be tricky and emotional too. Both ways would come in handy.

"I'm scared, Spock . . . Help me not be."

Those words slipped from James' tongue and tumbled out into the air. He hadn't meant to confess this certain fear but it had found its ways out of him, letting Spock see it. But James hadn't wanted anyone to know because they would ask him why and he couldn't tell them without telling them about Tarsus IV.

And that was something he could never do.

Seeing that Spock was desperately trying to hold back his emotions, James tried to distract him. "How do you choose not to feel?"

After a moment of silence, Spock shook his head with lines on his face that screamed emotion. "I do not know. Right now, I am failing."

James heard Spock's thick voice with emotion and wanted to kick himself. He was making Spock, the emotionless half Vulcan, show emotions that seemed to be sadness and grief. How heartless could you get? Now he wished that he hadn't dragged himself over here. Then Spock wouldn't be on the verge of losing control and wouldn't have to watch James die.

But if he hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to explain something very important to Spock.

"I want you to know why I couldn't let you die . . . why I went back for you."

"Because you are my friend," Spock said as he looked at James, his face showing too much.

So he does understand . . .

James had thought that because Spock hadn't had any friends as a child on Vulcan, he didn't understand how strong the bond of friendship was. As friends, James couldn't let him die when he knew that he could save him. At the time, he thought that Spock could never understand that but he had been wrong.

Spock did understand.

Feeling his heartbeat starting to fail, James grunted as he pressed his left hand against the glass and watched as Spock did the same. Moving his fingers to match Spock's, James looked up at an emotional Spock and tried to get just one more sentence out that he hoped would ease Spock.

I'm sorry.

But he was unable to get those two mere words out, to make Spock feel better. So he tried a smile, a smile that he hoped would resemble his signature one that made everyone laugh.

Unknown to James, his face was unable to make one, last smile as the darkness took over his eyes and the light died in his eyes. His left hand fell from the glass and joined his side, causing the Vulcan to feel a whirlpool of emotions.

James Tiberius Kirk was no more.

A/N- So . . . How was it? I figured I'd start here since it's one of my favorite scenes in the movie. Please review! This was published on 10-7-13 and had the length of 2,555 words.