[ There is nothing in what she's said that makes Jim think of her as weak. As broken. If anything, it's only proven to him what he already suspected: her strength, the iron core she's got in the center of her, was forged in fire and loss. There is no one who would judge her for retreating after the things she experienced, no one who would blame her for just turning tail, finding a nice planet somewhere and never looking for danger again. But instead. Instead. Instead she's flung herself into the stars to keep other people safe, protecting more than just his brother--protecting all of them.

It doesn't escape him that she's the security officer. She could have gone into sciences or engineering or hell, even piloting, but she lost everyone close to her and so she fights to keep that pain from anyone else.

At least--that's what he assumes. What he pieces together with the information she's sharing with him that he knows must cost her. Sharing something like that, her brother's name, what happened to him. What happened to her.]

I hate the idea that things happen for a reason [ he says, after a pause to digest her words, fingers still working gently through her hair to keep him from just gathering her completely in his arms. ] The idea that some entity causes pain and hardship to teach us a lesson. I'm not--I don't think that's it.

But I know the people you brought home today? The fifty three people with families and kids and parents who aren't getting letters from Captain Pike tonight? None of them would be here without you. Maybe that's what your past made you: the kind of person that brings people home from a situation no one was supposed to survive.