Don't believe in no-win scenarios

The stack of PADDs on Jim's desk keeps incrementally growing as more and more collect there. Problems the Enterprise's captain doesn't want to deal with right now. Possibly ever. A pity 'never' really isn't an option for most of these.

"It is Starfleet's opinion regarding Captain James T. Kirk's record based on the following signatures of recommendation that the captain, serial number SC937-0176CEC be promoted to the rank of vice Admiral following Starfleet Regulation 87.3A--"

Impatient fingers fumble for the volume switch before prodding until the recording stops. Jim sets the data pad aside and leans back in his chair with a heavy sigh. What's he supposed to do?

This is the sort of thing people look forward to, right? So why does the thought fill him with dread? But what else is there to do? How long can he keep staring out into the vast endless void before him and continue to find purpose? Jim Kirk is only one man and hardly perfect. He has watched his crew grow closer since the onset of their five year deep space mission. Has signed more requests for transfer too than he cares to admit.

How long can any of them keep fooling themselves that this is forever?

Jim picks up another PADD and switches it on.

Request for transfer--

No.

He sets it aside. Selects another. Sets it aside.

Repeats. One by one each of the tasks is skimmed over once again and each one takes a bit more out of Jim to read. Injury reports, problems with the ship they have no way of fixing until the next star base, shift alterations.

The last one is the final straw. Jim pushes himself up and away from his desk, slamming his hand onto the terminal next to his door harder than he meant to.

"Scotty. It's Jim. You got time for a drink or three? Maybe a game of cards?"

He has to get out of here. Needs a distraction. Anything. He leaves the PADD with a photo of a simple piece of jewelry cast aside on his desk. Maybe later, he can stand to go through all of this.

Maybe.

Fighting with Verity had done something for Jim despite all the vitriolic feeling swimming around his system. It had made him determined to go home. It wasn't as though he couldn't anymore. He knew exactly where the doorway leading back to the Enterprise stood. It was just...making himself open the door. Jim stands in the long hallway lined with doors to other worlds, staring intently at the 'Caution: Radiation risk' etched into the glass of his world's door. Shaking fingers reached for it, to push it open. Retracted.

He couldn't do this. No, bullshit. He was Jim Kirk, he could open a stupid door. Just. Not at the moment. Apparently. Jim shouts a string of fluent Orion curses at the door before stalking back off into the Nexus. To the plain door with the sideways 8 on it that leads to CLint's world. He pulls up a chair and waits. Clint would come sooner or later. He'd ask him to come with. Been meaning to show him around the ship anyway, might as well do it now.

Why couldn't his time have comms anyway? Jim smacks the back of his head against the wall while he waits, idly replaying the argument between himself and Verity in his head. What better way to kill time than to hate yourself?