Summary: Lieutenant James T. Kirk is forced to make the most difficult personal decision of his life, saying good-bye to the woman he loves.
Disclaimer: Paramount, Viacom and others own Star Trek. This is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. I only wrote it because I love Jim Kirk and I couldn't understand how any woman could say "No" to him.
*************************************************************
Carol by Syl Francis
Today, she'd say good-bye.
Today, she'd break his heart.
Carol saw Jim coming up the sidewalk. He looked so handsome, so vibrant, and so full of life. His confident walk bespoke of his masculinity and of his devil may care attitude towards whatever life might offer.
Jim paused outside as he often did, and looked up towards her window.
He waved happily. His nova-bright smile bringing a familiar pang to her heart.
She'd told him last night. She was pregnant.
Jim had been beside himself with happiness.
"A *baby*?" his joyous voice rang across the miles. He was currently at the Command School in San Francisco. She was lecturing at MIT. He hadn't had access to a two-way visual comm-board when he'd called.
"I just wanted to hear your voice once more before I went to bed," he said yearningly. "Carol, I love you so much. I just wanted to tell you again. I couldn't go to bed before I said it. The past three months have been the best in my life."
He paused. Carol could almost see the smile that always seemed to light up his features.
"In case you didn't know it by now, I just wanted to be the first to tell you, so that there's no doubt left in your mind. I love you, Carol."
"Jim," she'd whispered, her voice choked by unshed tears. "Oh, Jim I love you, too. So much." Her voice caught. She had to tell him. "Jim, I'm going to have a baby. *Our* baby."
She could almost hear the stunned silence at the other end.
"I'm so sorry," Carol said, afraid that she'd made him angry.
"A *baby*?" he whispered, his tone shocked. Then ebulliently, "A *baby*? You're going to have a *baby*? *Our* baby? *My* baby?"
Carol could almost see his handsome features brightening, transforming him as only his smile could.
"Carol," he managed to choke. Was Jim actually crying from happiness, she thought? "Carol, I love you so much. I'll try to get away tomorrow. I've *got* to see you!"
"Jim, I've got to get to bed. I have an exhaustive schedule tomorrow and it's already two a.m. here on the East Coast. We'll talk again tomorrow."
"Of course," Jim agreed quickly. "I don't want you do anything that'll tire you. I'll do everything possible to catch a hop to Boston. And Carol, I love you, remember that."
"I love you, too, Jim," Carol said as she disconnected the commlink.
Looking at his upturned face, which just seemed to glow in the afternoon sun, Carol was close to losing her resolve.
Why did Jim have to be so handsome, so wonderful? Why did he have to be such a considerate lover who always thought of her needs before his own? Why did he have to be so damned perfect?
The door buzzed a couple of minutes later. Carol answered it and was immediately swept into his arms. Jim's welcoming kiss spoke of a man who'd been in the desert without water, and she was what he needed to quench his thirst.
When they finally came up for air, Jim continued to kiss her passionately, over and over, on her face, her neck, her lips.
"Jim . . . Jim . . . please, what will the neighbors think?" Carol desperately tried to stop the assault on her faculties.
"Let them get their *own* girl! Come here, you vixen!" He picked her up and carried her inside, laughing the entire way.
Carol protested helplessly, laughing in spite of herself.
"Oh, Jim, please, put me down!"
"Okay, but first tell me you love me!"
"I love you!"
"Okay, now say it and mean it!"
"I *do* mean it. I love you, Jim." She replied her voice catching.
"Good, because it makes what I'm about to ask you a whole lot easier," he said seductively.
Putting her down gently on the living room sofa, his hazel eyes burning green, Jim looked deeply into hers and lowered himself until he was down on one knee.
Swallowing nervously, Jim took Carol's hand tenderly, and never once taking his eyes off hers asked simply, "Will you marry me?"
Taking a sharp breath, Carol's eyes widened in shock. She hadn't *expected* this! And *why* hadn't she, for goodness sake? Hadn't she told all of her envious girlfriends just what a gentleman he was?
How absolutely perfect?
How absolutely wonderful?
Jim was also absolutely old-fashioned--a dashing Starfleet officer, with dreams of space and an earthbound family, just like his father had before him, and his grandfather before that.
But Carol wasn't capable of that kind of devotion. She couldn't remain earthbound while he went dashing off into space for months even years at a time, and she remained home to raise the children as his mother and grandmother had done.
She remembered meeting his mother, Winona. A petite woman with eyes the color of her son's, her hair the same wheat-spun gold, Winona had displayed a longing sadness when she spoke of her husband. He'd been dead these past six years, lost to her forever on an alien planet circling a distant star.
Jim, holding his mother's hand tenderly had had difficulty holding back the tears. He'd adored his father, he'd often told Carol. He'd spent most of his childhood missing him terribly, wishing him to come home to stay. But George Kirk had had wanderlust and a love for space, plus the danger that came with it.
Winona Kirk had made up her mind upon first marrying her Starfleet husband that she wouldn't do anything to change him. She'd relied on her love to be the anchor that always brought him back to her after a long mission. They'd been married the better part of thirty years, when she and her sons had received the tragic news.
Jim's godfather, Robert April, had personally delivered the news to them. He'd volunteered to escort the remains home, but the family wouldn't hear of it.
"Dad was a Starfleet officer. He'd spent the greater part of his adult life in pursuit of his dreams and the exploration of space. It was only fitting that he received a burial in space. Uncle Bob took care of all the arrangements for us. We knew it was what he would have wanted," Jim had explained.
So now Commander George Kirk's family didn't even have a grave that they could visit. Winona had no earthly remains of her absent husband. The stars had finally claimed him for all eternity.
Well, that *wasn't* what Carol had in mind for herself. She wasn't selfless and noble. She was selfish and scared. Scared for herself and her baby.
She didn't want him to grow up yearning for an absent father, heartbroken that his father loved space more than he loved his own family. She didn't want her son to grow up lonely like Jim had done.
More importantly, Carol didn't want her baby to grow up and want to follow his father into space, just like Jim had.
No, she *had* to say good-bye. She had to end the relationship now, because if she didn't, then she'd never have the strength of will to do so.
Shaking her head regretfully, Carol said the word that for the rest of his life would bring a piercing pain into Jim's heart.
"No, Jim, I *can't* marry you. I'm so sorry. I just *can't*."
"I don't understand," Jim's look of utter confusion at the rejection almost broke her heart. "You said you loved me. You're having our baby."
She placed two fingers on his lips to shush him. She took his hand and pulled him gently up on the couch next to her, and then snuggled close to him, letting him hold her. Jim was dumbfounded by the unexpected turn of events.
"Jim, I'm not like your mother. I can't wait here patiently while you're gone, accepting the danger you'll be constantly facing. I'm just not strong enough. I'm sorry."
"Carol, we can make this work. I *know* we can." Jim smiled, arguing persuasively. "Thousands of Starfleet officers have families, both men *and* women. How do think the fleet keeps growing? We're a prolific outfit."
Carol smiled at his weak attempt at humor.
"And who says you have stay earthbound? Haven't you heard of space stations and colony planets? Officers who're assigned space duty are authorized family member relocation to the colony and/or Starbase nearest to his or her ship's patrol area."
Jim continued eagerly.
"I admit there'd be *some* separation, but it wouldn't have to be like what Mom and Dad went through. They decided that that was best for them and their two boys. Mom's a xenoagribiologist. Her research kept her here; it's what she *wanted*. The farm's been her laboratory.
"Dad offered countless times to relocate us to a Starbase just so's we could be closer. Mom always refused, though. She felt that Sam and I needed stability, and Riverside provided that. Besides, she didn't want us growing up on some colony world orbiting a strange star. She wanted us to grow up with roots."
He sat back thoughtfully; thinking about the great sacrifices his mother must have gone through to provide that stable environment for her two boys.
"Mom's a strong woman. Her love for Dad and Sam and me sustained her." He looked at Carol, longingly. "You're strong, too, Carol. Together we *can* make it work. I *know* we can. The love I feel for you and our baby will sustain me while in space. It'll be the anchor that binds me to you wherever we are."
Kirk caressed her cheek tenderly, his eyes smiling gently, his love enveloping her in its warm embrace.
"Please say yes to us, Carol," Jim breathed, his eyes pleading quietly.
*Yes*! Carol wanted to shout joyfully. *Yes*! I love you, and want to spend the rest of my life with you!
Her heart fell.
But then we wouldn't be spending the rest of our lives together would we? You'd be off in space, I'd be home worrying about you, wondering if our good-bye kiss would be our last one, if your wave good-bye would be the last image I had of you. Mostly I'd worry about our son growing up heartbroken, missing his absent father.
No, she shook her head, in sudden resolve. That wouldn't happen. She'd rather that her son never *know* his father, than have him grow up the way Jim had, wistfully staring out at the night sky, willing his Dad to return to him, only to have him die on some backwater colony planet, his body consumed by a distant star.
She had to be strong, for herself and for her son.
"I'm sorry, Jim. This is the way it has to be. I can't marry you. Please understand."
"I *don't* understand!" Jim cried, jumping up.
He turned away from her, holding back tears that had suddenly sprung forth, with his thumb and forefinger. Regaining control, he turned to face her and spoke in slow, measured tones.
"Carol, what we have is good. Millions of people across this galaxy spend entire lifetimes searching for what we've found in each other. To just throw it away, without giving it chance to grow . . . Carol, it would be a travesty . . . you *know* that!"
Carol refused to look him in the eyes. It was hard to argue against someone with whom she desperately agreed.
"Carol, please, don't say no to me, to us! I *love* you! I want to be with you, to share my life with you, and our baby. I want him to grow up knowing he has a father who loves him desperately, as desperately as I love his mother. Please, give us chance, Carol. Give *me* a chance."
Carol couldn't see his expression anymore, because streaming tears blurred her vision. She kept wiping her eyes, but the tears kept coming of their own accord. What was the *matter* with her? Jim Kirk was pleading with her, and she was unable to respond.
She loved him as desperately as he loved her. It would be *so* easy to capitulate, to surrender to his pleas. How many women today could say that their husbands had proposed on bent knee?
But no! It would be wonderful for a short while, until Starfleet took Jim from her, from his son. Then the waiting would start and the worrying. She'd end up hating him for putting her through it.
No, it was best for all of them that they end it now, today.
Carol managed to dry her tears, the baby growing inside her providing her with the necessary strength to do what she had to do.
She stood up and moved away from Jim, needing to put space between them. She walked towards the balcony windows and stood looking for a seeming eternity out onto Boston Harbor.
She could see the lights from Logan Spaceport blinking in the distance, the orbital shuttles taking off and landing regularly.
"I'm sorry, Jim. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you. You're a wonderful man . . . you care about people . . . *really* care . . . you're capable of loving me with the same passion I see in your eyes when you talk about space . . . but I'm selfish, Jim. I *don't* want to share you with the stars. If *you're* willing to give up space and remain Earthbound, then yes, I'll marry you. But only that way."
Carol hated herself for saying it, but there it was. If Jim *really* loved her, he'd be willing to give up his life-long dream of going into space, of commanding his own ship.
An annoying voice told her that the reverse was also true. If she truly loved him, she'd accept him as is. The way his mother had accepted his father. Only the most selfish of women would ask the man who loved her to give up everything he'd ever worked for or dreamed of.
So now it was squarely on Jim's shoulders. Would he stay or would he leave? His words stunned her into shame.
"If that's the price I have to pay, Carol, then so be it. I *love* you, Carol . . . as you are . . . even if *you* don't love me enough to accept me as I am. I want my son to grow up knowing he has a father who loves him. But most importantly, I want his mother to know that no sacrifice is too big for me to make in order to love her."
Jim had walked up behind her as he spoke, and cautiously took her in his arms, her back to him. He began to caress her sensuously. He kissed her on the neck, then her cheek, his hot breath sending electric currents through her heightened senses. She was about to lose herself in his gentle lovemaking when jealous reality finally struck.
It wasn't *she* that he loved, but their child. He wanted so desperately to be allowed to be a part of his son's life that he was willing to sacrifice his career in Starfleet.
Typical male!
That's all he wanted, her irrational temper told her, to strut around and show the world what his virility had helped produce.
Well, she was having *none* of it!
Jerking free of him, Carol quickly moved away, hugging herself fiercely.
Confused, Jim made a move to grab her, but she reacted as if his touch were poison!
"No!" she cried out intensely. "*Don't* touch me! Do you hear? Don't *ever* touch me! You don't *love* me! It's the baby isn't it? You just want to be near the baby! Well, I *won't* let you! I *won't*! He's *mine* do you understand?"
"Carol, what are you talking about?" Jim asked bewildered.
He came up behind her and tried to take her in his arms again, to show her his sincerity, but she quickly pulled away.
"Of course, I want to be near the baby, but I also *love* you!"
"You *say* that now! But what about five years from now? Ten? You'll grow to hate me, despise me for forcing you to choose. No, Jim, you don't love me. You love the idea of fatherhood and of having a traditional family like your parents did."
She shook her head in silent denial of his offer of love and eternal commitment.
"But you don't *love* me. You love space, the dangers of exploration, and the chance of commanding your own ship. You *can't* give that all up just for me. It would eat in your craw . . . maybe not soon, but eventually."
Finally, she turned to face him squarely.
"Your mother always says how much you're like your father, how even as a small child you used to want to sleep outside under the stars just you so could be a part of them, like your father was."
Carol bit her lip to hold back the tears that were threatening again. She shook her head again, took a deep breath, and spoke quietly, calmly.
"We'd *both* end up hating each other, Jim. No, I was right from the first. It's best for us all that we end it now, before we do something that we'll regret for the rest of our lives."
"Carol, listen to yourself. You're not making any sense. The only thing I'll regret for the rest of my life is walking out that door tonight. Don't you see? We're standing at the edge of a chasm right now. We can either plunge in together and take whatever chances life offers us, or we can back away and always wonder what might have been."
Jim paused, then deliberately held out his hand to Carol. Offering to add his strength to hers, to help her through the unknowns that life might place in their path.
"Please, Carol, take my hand. Together we can do anything, beat whatever odds are out there. Please."
Jim's hazel eyes burned intensely, his quiet determination slowly melting away her perseverance. Just as she was about place her hand in his, the beeping of an incoming signal interrupted them.
Jim tried grabbing her hand, but she slipped by him and went to the desk pickup in her home office. It was Carol's mother just calling to chat. Jim heard Carol's quiet voice coming from the next room, her mother's inane chatter going on for a seeming eternity.
Finally, Carol signed off.
She walked back into the living room. Jim was outside in the balcony quietly having a drink. He was looking up at the stars.
She smiled wistfully. He can't even spend five minutes alone without the stars calling to him.
"I'm sorry about the interruption, Jim. But perhaps it was for the best."
"You won't even give me chance will you?" Jim asked bitterly.
"I'm sorry, Jim. But I'll have to ask you never to call me again. It's how it has to be."
Jim threw his glass in a sudden fit of anger. They heard its tinkle a few seconds later as it finally smashed several meters below.
Carol could see Jim's shoulder muscles bunching. He looked like he wanted to hit something, anything. Instead, he closed his hands tightly on the balcony railing. She could see his knuckles whiten, his rage barely under control.
When Jim finally spoke, Carol heard his voice breaking, a reflection of how his heart was being torn in two.
"No," he choked, "it's not *how* it has to be. It's how *you* want it to be . . . because you're frightened . . . you're frightened of the unknown . . . and you're frightened of failure . . . you won't even give it a chance . . . you're so convinced that something terrible will happen to me in space and that you and the baby will end up alone, that you'd rather just *be* alone. Better this way, than possibly facing hurt later, right?"
Jim turned to her, his eyes blazing green, and grabbed her by the arms.
"Right?" he repeated. "You're frightened of *life* for crying out loud."
Swallowing, Jim took a long labored breath, calming down.
"Carol, don't you see that life isn't like that? You don't hide from it, you *live* it! To the fullest and enjoy the ride while it lasts! It's a crazy universe, Carol! I could fall in the shower and break my neck, just as surely as I could die on some godforsaken planet like my father did."
He held his hand out her, touching his fingertips gently to her cheek.
"But I'd still be just as dead. The only thing that makes life worth living, Carol, is our ability to love one another, to live for each other, to share our hopes and dreams *with* each other."
Taking her in his arms, he held her desperately to him. Holding his cheek next to hers, he pleaded once again.
"Carol, please, let me love you. Please, let me share my life with you. I promise you I'll do everything in my power to make you happy. I'll give up space, Starfleet, everything . . . if you'll only say you'll let me in. I love you."
His voice breaking under the strain, Jim kissed her in quiet hopelessness, knowing that this would be the last time. Carol returned his kiss sadly.
Their tears fell unchecked, mingling, the salt a disconsolate testament to her heedless refusal of the precious gift he had so joyfully presented a few short hours ago.
Later, when they bid their final good-byes, neither could bear to look at the other.
"Will you at least let me know when the baby is born?" Jim asked quietly, facing the open door.
Carol nodded her head, unable to articulate an answer. Realizing that he couldn't see her response, she finally managed to choke out, "Yes . . . I promise."
Jim nodded. Then hunching his shoulders against the cold Boston drizzle that had suddenly started to fall, Jim walked out of her life forever.
The End
####