Mischief (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
katydidmischief) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cjs_own2009-07-19 08:56 am
katydidmischief) wrote in cjs_own2009-07-19 08:56 am
Fic: Different, 1/1. Kirk/Spock.
disclaimer. Not mine. Never have been and I'll only ever be playing in the sandbox.
title. Different
rating. PG for some cursing
Pairing. Kirk/Spock
summary. Sensory overload, Spock had first theorized.
warnings. Discussion of Asperger's Syndrome.
notes. Written for this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
st_xi_kink.
"I wouldn't be where I am today if I were neurotypical
because I would have been interested in social things."
By the time Amanda was six, it'd become far too apparent that something wasn't right. Not that something was wrong or that she was challenged - she was just... different.
She reached all her milestones on time, so nothing out of sorts there and, in fact, she seemed to excel in certain areas. She was content to spend time in Engineering with Scotty (but not Keenser which was a bit odd) or practice languages with Uhura, and she could read any PADD dropped into her lap in under two hours no matter if it were an age-appropriate fantasy novel sent by her Grandmother or a technical manual on Shuttle repair. Curled up in the Captain's chair (where she wasn't really supposed to be, but Command didn't know so it was not a problem), the little brunette girl would flick through book after manual after transcript after biography.
That wasn't what was bothersome, not since she was the daughter of two highly intelligent people. No, what had caused a growing concern between her adoptive aunts and uncles was her behavior around children and child-like peoples - hands over ears, elbows up by her scalp, she'd panic silently with her eyes resolutely closed.
Sensory overload, Spock had first theorized - children of most races could potentially be overwhelming to a child used to the peace and calm of a Federation Starship. He'd then postulated that perhaps it was the fact that she was a touch-telepath and without formal training aside from Spock's attempts to teach her rudimentary shielding from unwanted or stray thoughts, the inadvertent touches of other youths were agitating her.
Of course that didn't explain the child-like races; they merely looked like children, not acted like them, and she'd still react by putting her arms against her head and closing her eyes. And crowds were simply a no for Amanda because then they'd find her in a full-blown, hyperventilating, balled-up-in-a-corner panic attack.
The latter of which finally made Jim snap, his chest pained at the very sight of his child gasping for air while Bones administered the anti-anxiety hypospray he kept within reach for the girl.
"That's it, we're done - I want to know if she's just a high stress kid or we're dealing with some thing else and I want to know now," he declared, ignoring the pulse of irritation in the bond because Spock was concerned as much as he was - Vulcan logic simply stated that any issue with offspring was to be discussed in the privacy of their home.
Bones, however, had the medical knowledge and the time to dedicate to figuring out why a girl as intelligent as she clearly was balled up in terror at things most people wouldn't bat an eyelash at. And in truth, McCoy'd been worried about his goddaughter for some time, quietly gathering evidence for the diagnosis he was sure he already had.
Still, he told Jim and Spock, "I'll have Jennie speak with her to confirm, but I think I know what we're dealing with already."
"Which would be what, Doctor?" Spock pressed.
"Asperger's Syndrome."
The words hit Jim like a punch to the gut - his mother had struggled with Asperger's; it was why their tenuous bond had always required effort on both their parts, though his youth had been filled with fuck ups from each other them. At least, until he'd matured enough to understand the syndrome.
He ached to think of Amanda struggling as Winona had: a handful of friends who never really understood her, a wild son that disrupted her routines and destroyed the work she put long hours into, and a second husband that left a few years into the marriage because he couldn't connect to her. She'd gotten better as the years went on, learning ways around the worst of her symptoms, but she was still Winona Kirk, oddball of Riverside, Iowa in her friends minds'.
"Look, go back to your quarters. I'll bring her home once Jennie's spoken to her, but I think you both should go read up because this isn't something that will go away with therapy - this is how she is going to be," Bones said, breaking into Jim's terrified thoughts. He looked at Spock, who was staring at the girl like he was suddenly seeing her, and asking, “You gonna be all right?” in a gruff voice.
“Yes, Doctor, I will be fine. Please alert us when the counselor is done with Amanda so a meal will be ready for her arrival,” he answered, then moved to Amanda's side and ran two fingers over her cheek. “Be good for Uncle Bones,” Spock told her, managing to use the girl's name for McCoy without amusement in his tone for the first time since she figured out how to speak.
"Having a little autism helped me achieve my goals and
not miss what most people thought I was missing out on."
Nothing really changed in the aftermath. Amanda was still a bookworm that ate up the written word like it were the only sustenance she needed and she still couldn't bear to interact with other children or face a crowd, but they knew why now and once Spock talked Jim into sticking to a routine for her sake, they actually noticed her need to be on the Bridge with Jim lessened a bit.
No one thought to call her anything but “different” if only due to the fact that she was still the Amanda they'd loved, who'd never been like other children and they were fine with that. Especially when Nyota and Bones took it upon themselves to teach her how to react to certain situations, what a particular face meant, what a particular word meant... She never seemed to grasp the idea of not staring but not refusing to look at all, but that was never that important anyway.
“You know, I don't think I ever apologized for the things I did,” Jim admitted to his mother one afternoon, watching her face on the screen.
Spock was on the Bridge and Chekov had stolen Amanda from Jim, saying it would be good therapy to watch the colors Scotty's face could cycle through when a prank was played on him. Jim had smirked and handed her over, having been wanting to make this particular call for nearly a year now but never able to for a myriad of reasons.
“What things?” Winona asked, smiling.
“You know the things, Mom – I know you had a hard time raising me when I destroyed your plants or made you drop everything to get me from the jail. I'm sorry for all that,” he said, feeling lighter for it.
“James, you could not have comprehended nor accepted the differences between myself and other mothers. You were a boy and I've never held it against you, you know that.” She leaned back in the chair, sipping the coffee she'd made earlier and added, “You know that decaf coffee still has caffeine in it? Legally they only need to remove ninety-seven-point-five percent of the caffeine to call it decaf.”
Jim grinned in response and listened as she dropped off into one of her plant-related lectures.
title. Different
rating. PG for some cursing
Pairing. Kirk/Spock
summary. Sensory overload, Spock had first theorized.
warnings. Discussion of Asperger's Syndrome.
notes. Written for this prompt at
st_xi_kink.because I would have been interested in social things."
By the time Amanda was six, it'd become far too apparent that something wasn't right. Not that something was wrong or that she was challenged - she was just... different.
She reached all her milestones on time, so nothing out of sorts there and, in fact, she seemed to excel in certain areas. She was content to spend time in Engineering with Scotty (but not Keenser which was a bit odd) or practice languages with Uhura, and she could read any PADD dropped into her lap in under two hours no matter if it were an age-appropriate fantasy novel sent by her Grandmother or a technical manual on Shuttle repair. Curled up in the Captain's chair (where she wasn't really supposed to be, but Command didn't know so it was not a problem), the little brunette girl would flick through book after manual after transcript after biography.
That wasn't what was bothersome, not since she was the daughter of two highly intelligent people. No, what had caused a growing concern between her adoptive aunts and uncles was her behavior around children and child-like peoples - hands over ears, elbows up by her scalp, she'd panic silently with her eyes resolutely closed.
Sensory overload, Spock had first theorized - children of most races could potentially be overwhelming to a child used to the peace and calm of a Federation Starship. He'd then postulated that perhaps it was the fact that she was a touch-telepath and without formal training aside from Spock's attempts to teach her rudimentary shielding from unwanted or stray thoughts, the inadvertent touches of other youths were agitating her.
Of course that didn't explain the child-like races; they merely looked like children, not acted like them, and she'd still react by putting her arms against her head and closing her eyes. And crowds were simply a no for Amanda because then they'd find her in a full-blown, hyperventilating, balled-up-in-a-corner panic attack.
The latter of which finally made Jim snap, his chest pained at the very sight of his child gasping for air while Bones administered the anti-anxiety hypospray he kept within reach for the girl.
"That's it, we're done - I want to know if she's just a high stress kid or we're dealing with some thing else and I want to know now," he declared, ignoring the pulse of irritation in the bond because Spock was concerned as much as he was - Vulcan logic simply stated that any issue with offspring was to be discussed in the privacy of their home.
Bones, however, had the medical knowledge and the time to dedicate to figuring out why a girl as intelligent as she clearly was balled up in terror at things most people wouldn't bat an eyelash at. And in truth, McCoy'd been worried about his goddaughter for some time, quietly gathering evidence for the diagnosis he was sure he already had.
Still, he told Jim and Spock, "I'll have Jennie speak with her to confirm, but I think I know what we're dealing with already."
"Which would be what, Doctor?" Spock pressed.
"Asperger's Syndrome."
The words hit Jim like a punch to the gut - his mother had struggled with Asperger's; it was why their tenuous bond had always required effort on both their parts, though his youth had been filled with fuck ups from each other them. At least, until he'd matured enough to understand the syndrome.
He ached to think of Amanda struggling as Winona had: a handful of friends who never really understood her, a wild son that disrupted her routines and destroyed the work she put long hours into, and a second husband that left a few years into the marriage because he couldn't connect to her. She'd gotten better as the years went on, learning ways around the worst of her symptoms, but she was still Winona Kirk, oddball of Riverside, Iowa in her friends minds'.
"Look, go back to your quarters. I'll bring her home once Jennie's spoken to her, but I think you both should go read up because this isn't something that will go away with therapy - this is how she is going to be," Bones said, breaking into Jim's terrified thoughts. He looked at Spock, who was staring at the girl like he was suddenly seeing her, and asking, “You gonna be all right?” in a gruff voice.
“Yes, Doctor, I will be fine. Please alert us when the counselor is done with Amanda so a meal will be ready for her arrival,” he answered, then moved to Amanda's side and ran two fingers over her cheek. “Be good for Uncle Bones,” Spock told her, managing to use the girl's name for McCoy without amusement in his tone for the first time since she figured out how to speak.
not miss what most people thought I was missing out on."
Nothing really changed in the aftermath. Amanda was still a bookworm that ate up the written word like it were the only sustenance she needed and she still couldn't bear to interact with other children or face a crowd, but they knew why now and once Spock talked Jim into sticking to a routine for her sake, they actually noticed her need to be on the Bridge with Jim lessened a bit.
No one thought to call her anything but “different” if only due to the fact that she was still the Amanda they'd loved, who'd never been like other children and they were fine with that. Especially when Nyota and Bones took it upon themselves to teach her how to react to certain situations, what a particular face meant, what a particular word meant... She never seemed to grasp the idea of not staring but not refusing to look at all, but that was never that important anyway.
“You know, I don't think I ever apologized for the things I did,” Jim admitted to his mother one afternoon, watching her face on the screen.
Spock was on the Bridge and Chekov had stolen Amanda from Jim, saying it would be good therapy to watch the colors Scotty's face could cycle through when a prank was played on him. Jim had smirked and handed her over, having been wanting to make this particular call for nearly a year now but never able to for a myriad of reasons.
“What things?” Winona asked, smiling.
“You know the things, Mom – I know you had a hard time raising me when I destroyed your plants or made you drop everything to get me from the jail. I'm sorry for all that,” he said, feeling lighter for it.
“James, you could not have comprehended nor accepted the differences between myself and other mothers. You were a boy and I've never held it against you, you know that.” She leaned back in the chair, sipping the coffee she'd made earlier and added, “You know that decaf coffee still has caffeine in it? Legally they only need to remove ninety-seven-point-five percent of the caffeine to call it decaf.”
Jim grinned in response and listened as she dropped off into one of her plant-related lectures.