goldchekov:

Jim has felt numb ever since he woke up (was brought back to life) from the Khan incident. Sure, he’s shown emotion, but it’s been three years since he’s had true, deep feeling. He’s forgotten what it’s even like, just going through the motions day in and day out.

And then he’s rattled, shaken to his core, as he stands at the comm console, holding tight because he realizes that if he lets go he’ll lose the Enterprise forever. He gives the order to abandon ship and the ship’s entire life flashes through his mind.

The Enterprise is one of the only things he has left from his life before Starfleet. They almost grew up together- he’d seen her from the day she started construction in Iowa, rode past her every day as she became a part of the town’s landscape, snuck into the ship’s shell more than a few nights for a quickie. Had looked up at her hull as he’d taken off into the shuttle the day he’d left for Starfleet. Had become her captain and gotten to know every inch of her more than anyone except maybe Scotty could. Had spent the happiest days of his life roaming her corridors.

And now she’s falling apart.

It isn’t until he’s staring down at her screaming, crashing saucer from the safety of his Kelvin pod that the Enterprise, the true love of his life, was the only thing in the universe capable of making him feel again.

Years of repressed emotions come rushing back at once, and he knows he has a job to do, a crew to save. But he feels alive. And he gives one last pained glance at the ship responsible for giving him all of that, sets his jaw, and gets to work.