Disclaimer: I am disclaimed.
welcome to infinity.
i've lost my way, but
i will go on, until the end.
At first you believe this is StarFleet's way of getting back at the two of you for daring to become first an item, then a married couple, and parents, not once, but twice.
Because you knew, as surely as you knew that the sky was blue on Terran Earth and your name was Winona Kirk nee Lewis, that if George died you would, too (because when you are without him for even a day it hurts, so an eternity must kill you).
So obviously this was some kind of simulation that was a little bit meaner than you were used to. And maybe you thought that StarFleet was done with testing the two of you, done with convincing themselves that you working together and being together wouldn't interfere with your work (it wouldn't not ever not even when George almost died and your heart stopped and you took over as First because that's what you do when you're in StarFleet you keep going on even when you break).
And so you go about things like you would if it was real life (even though it isn't because George can't be dead can't be can't be can't be) loving little Jimmy (but he looks too much like George, George who isn't here and you sometimes can't bear to look at him but you hold back the tears and the anger except in your own room, where StarFleet would never dream to spy on you) and taking care of Sam.
Then you meet Frank and date him (you don't love him, he isn't George, your George, he's Frank but he's steady and stable and you need to be gone) and the orders come from StarFleet that they are so sorry for your loss and that they cannot let you retire, but would you come back for this nice pay?
You accept (can you do anything else? Little Jimmy looks more and more like George and Sam is growing old and you want the life outside of this cruel simulation but StarFleet hasn't granted it yet and you know if you ask they never will).
Anything to get out of the house where George's voice in Sam and his eyes in little Jimmy haunt you. You marry Frank and give the boys to him (knowing he hurts them even when you are there but they are George, are like George, and they can handle themselves, never mind they are five and eight, never mind they are your children because they aren't really this is all a simulation).
Then you leave to StarFleet and you are among the stars and you think that maybe, if this simulation was real you could feel better because this is where George died (except he really didn't because that was all fake memories and he is alive just waiting for you to finish this one last test and you can be done and together and have the real Sam and Jimmy and George always George). And even though this isn't real, you still feel better among the stars, where your life really began and where you met George.
When you get the call from Frank that little Jimmy ran George's car over the ravine you are in shock, and guilt creeps in (it shouldn't, though, because StarFleet is running this, it isn't a life and that isn't the baby you had been carrying for almost nine months when this whole thing began) but you push it away and tell him to send Jimmy to your sister on Tarsus IV Colony A.
You continue on your way into the stars, content in the knowledge that little Jimmy (who isn't your Jimmy, but you are not to be blamed if perhaps you have begun to care for the little boy who is George and not, for you once were a mother and that doesn't go away) will be safe with sim-Theresa, for she is more motherly than you ever were and she will love him like you won't.
The Observation Deck that you stray to on the ship-nights when you can't sleep brings back bittersweet memories of George, and you often collapse boneless to the floor, tears streaming down pale cheeks. The stars stream by and you think that maybe sim-George is out there, and it makes you feel better (because even sim-George is better than no George, as it has been for so long, and gods curse StarFleet for doing this to you, why can't they let you go home?) .
"Winona." Your name being spoken makes you look up, heedless of the tears that are still on your cheeks, not yet dried, not yet forgotten. It is Chris, who is Captain of this ship now, a friend of George's. The pity in his eyes makes you look away.
"Chris." You return, and then say nothing more, resolving to ignore him, no matter that he is Captain and friend. He is not truly Chris, and that is all there is to it. (Because if he was truly Chris then there would be no pity, because George is not dead and little Jimmy is not somewhere on Tarsus, but with you, and Sam, oh Sam – Sam is who he was meant to be, not who you made him into.)
Sharp teeth dig into fleshy lips before he speaks again, and your eyes are drawn to the reddened area, where the blood lies just below the surface, and you tune him out. He is saying nothing (nothing that you want to hear, could hear, this isn't real, damn it, it can't be real, and it's not your fault) that matters, after all. Tarsus was safe – they'd all told you it was safe. They'd promised.
And then you look into his eyes, a dark green like nothing you had ever seen in space, only on earth and in the places he'd loved and that was probably why – and you saw the truth.
And you broke.
Because this wasn't reality, it had never been reality, but now it was and you can't handle it. You can't you can't you can't youcan'tyoucan'tyoucan'tcan'tcan't and it feels as though you are falling apart. His arms are around you, something in you realizes it, but you are too busy screaming at the world and the life that you've lived and –
Black.
Black.
Black.
Blue.
Jimmy's eyes.
The blue that you've only seen once before in one other person (the love of your life, and you could never forget George never never never, but this wasn't the simulation you'd thought it was and oh God just let you die because this can't be happening) is your anchor, and you cling to it, because there is nothing else, is there? But even those eyes (those beautiful eyes) they aren't what you thought they were – there had been innocence there before, and now there wasn't, just a world-weariness that should never have existed, and a hint of something like hate.
When you blink open again, he is still there, and thin – so thin, oh God so thin – and there is that hate that he had before, but it is dulled, and someone else has healed him. "Mom." A word, a single word, since when did it have the ability to make you pay attention?
"Jimmy." And you see a cringe, and it's so familiar ("Maybe I'll just sleep with Chris fucking Pike, then, George, if you're going to be – No, I didn't mean it, please –") and you push the thoughts away; there is something in the air and you cannot afford to be under again, not like you have been for – for how long?
You ask. The answer is not one you want, and a keening builds and builds and builds in your chest, and you push it down, dammit, because you will not be that weak. He is going into the sky, now, and you want to cling to him, but you can't – he won't let you, because touch is like poison, that much has seeped through the blanket you cling to, and to touch him is to provoke the response you've tried so hard not to get – and so you cling to sanity instead, and it's all that there is.
A hard swallow, and he leans forward and he hugs you, and you can feel the way it both saves you and breaks you, and then he is gone – and you know that he is never coming back. When you leave this time he won't come to bring you home again, and that is okay, with both of you, all of you, with him and Chris and Sam and oh, God, with George, that is what he told you.
He gave you permission.
And then it is black.
Fin.