James T. Kirk groaned as his head spun, the dim interior of the escape pod flickering in and out of focus. The crash landing on Delta Vega had jarred him, but that wasn’t the part that really had him pissed off. No, what got under his skin was the sight of Damian, knocked out cold next to him, looking like they'd been dragged through a storm.

Kirk’s mind was still racing, replaying the scene on the Enterprise—Spock's icy,Cold,Command, the way he'd just removed him from the bridge, as if Kirk had no say in the matter. And then there was the whole mess with Damian—trying to step in, to defend him, to stop Spock’s order. Hell, if Kirk was being honest with himself, part of him appreciated the gesture. But another part of him was furious. Furious that Damian had put themselves in harm’s way just because they thought they could change Spock’s mind. It wasn’t fair to them, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were now in this mess because of him.

He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temples as his gaze shifted back to Damian, their unconscious form making his stomach churn with a mix of guilt and anger.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Kirk muttered under his breath, his voice thick with irritation. He reached over, giving them a quick shake. "You know better than this, right? Spock’s not gonna—ugh, damn it!" He slammed his fist into the console, but quickly regretted it. The last thing he needed was to break something more.

Kirk paused, exhaling deeply, and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I should’ve handled this better. Shouldn’t have let Spock push me like that... Shouldn’t have let you get involved.”

Kirk leaned back against the pod, momentarily closing his eyes. He was furious—at Spock, at himself, and somehow even at Damian—but underneath it all, there was a quiet, simmering concern for the person lying beside him.

His voice softened, almost to himself. "You Alright!**? Please be Alright!*.."