Written in the Stars

Chapter 4

May 2, 2258 – The Study Room, San Francisco; California, Earth

"My life is over."

"That's just a little hyperbolic, don't you think?"

Regina concealed the instinctive little flutter of panic with standard dispassionate sarcasm, scanning the cadet who had collapsed dramatically in the seat before her- his cheek resting atop the surface of the table she had claimed and been waiting at by the coffeehouse's front window, overlooking the city streets - for any sign of injury.

Once assured that he probably wasn't dying of internal bleeding in his chair, Reginna relaxed, and signalled to her favourite waitress for his usual coffee order- adding, in the rudimentary Trill sign-language she had picked up over the months of patronage, for her to also please bring a slice of treacle tart.

If James Kirk was depressed, the only viable medicine was treacle tart.

"You don't understand, Queenie." Jim murmured, voice muffled and agonised. "I mean it. My life- is over."

"You look reasonably alive to me."

Jim groaned pitifully in reply, and Regina prodded his shoulder with her index finger. The last time she had seen even a remotely similar reaction from him was during the first year that they had known each other, and he had received only 92.5% on a test, introducing her to the work hard side to Jim- having, up until that point, mostly experienced the play hard- when he spent a good hour and a half analysing in detail what he might have gotten wrong.

The result was Regina helping him study to retake it, resulting in a 98.75% score that boosted his already magnificent average, and James had all but begged her to let him take her out to dinner as a thank you (come on, it'll be great, I promise to behave myself and I know this great oceanfront place and they serve the best steak in the city and you'll love the appetisers, come on, please).

It was great, actually (and definitely not a date, no matter what Gaila said gleefully when she asked for advice on what to wear).

The food was as fantastic as promised, the view of the bay under the slow-fading summer light was perfect, and the company- simply put, by dessert, Regina was aching from smiling and restraining outbursts of laughter.

Incidentally, that was the same night she found out about treacle tart being amongst James favourite comfort foods.

"Alright, James. I have no idea what has made your usual sense of blind optimism crawl into a shallow grave but, whatever it is, I have the utmost faith that it is nothing you can't work, fight or talk your way out of."

She paused, leaning back as the waitress set down a cup of coffee and a plate bearing a thick slab of tart, attended by a melting sphere of thick vanilla ice-cream.

Once she had retreated to a safe distance, Regina's hand slid over Jim's shoulder again, head dipping in an attempt to catch his gaze.

James finally raised his eyes to meet hers, despondent.

"James."

Jim straightened, pinching the bridge of his nose. Regina retracted her hand and stripped off her jacket, draping it over the back of her chair, leaving her in the sleeveless black shirt underneath, and handed a slim silver fork to Jim.

He caught sight of the dessert in front of them and laughed, twirling the fork between his fingers for a moment before sinking it into the tart. Regina watched him, her hands lacing together and forming a bridge under her chin.

Taking a bite, James said, "Okay… alright, but, first- how are things with your father. You two still not talking? Or have you switched to doing that passive-aggressive thing that makes me want to kill myself whenever you do it to me?"