AUTHOR'S NOTE: This takes place after Star Trek, but before Star Trek Into Darkness. It should be blindingly obvious that I don't own anything to do with Star Trek in any of its incarnations. All rights in this work are hereby given to those who do.
From finding his alternate self in the middle of an anomaly in space to dealing with a defecting Romulan, it's just another week in the life of James T. Kirk.
James T. Kirk had no idea how long he'd been here - wherever here was. He remembered the maiden voyage of the Enterprise-B, the sudden distress call from a pair of refugee ships, and the ribbon of energy in space that threatened those ships. He remembered Captain Harriman's desperate attempts to save the refugees, and the younger man's panic when Enterprise herself was caught in the energy ribbon. Kirk remembered his mad rush to the lower decks, his desperate attempts to alter the deflector shields to give Enterprise a chance to escape - and then blackness.
Kirk had always known he'd die alone, so when he'd woken up here, alone, he'd resigned himself to the inevitability of death.
Except he hadn't died.
He'd simply lived - no, that wasn't it. He'd simply existed in this too-familiar landscape from - day to day? Week to week? However long he'd actually been here. Alone, not dead (or if he were dead, he amended, the afterlife wasn't anything like anyone had ever imagined), but not alive, either. Which, he supposed, was its own form of death.
The sound of an engine surprised Kirk into stillness, but only for a moment. He'd always been too curious for his own good, and, yes, too adventurous. But after some timeless, endless sameness, even a hint of a distraction was enough to get him racing toward the sound.
And then stopping dead in his tracks when he saw the shuttlecraft.
Jim Kirk wasn't too surprised when he lost contact with the Enterprise. He was more surprised that he'd kept contact as long as he had. There'd been no guarantees when he'd piloted the shuttlecraft out of the docking bay, after all, and there were even fewer now as he guided it into the dancing ribbon of energy that they'd discovered.
Spock would remind him that in a physical sense there could be no fewer than "none," Jim mused, but right now he was focused on one rather than none. One, as in the one life sign they'd so improbably detected. How could anyone, anything, survive in the vacuum of space? Still, Spock had triple-checked his computers and the life-sign reading was still there. It had been only logical that someone check it out.
But before Jim would risk any crewman on such a mission, he'd made sure that every department had scanned the ribbon for anything that might give them a clue, however small, as to what awaited them on the other side. He might take risks with his own life, but when it came to his crew, Jim tried his damnedest to make certain they were as well prepared as it was possible to be.
Then Bones had called up from medbay. "Jim, you gotta see this."
This turned out to be an electro-encephalogram, an EEG, taken of the energy ribbon. ("Why not?" Bones had demanded. "You want every other goddamn test known to man.") The results of the EEG matched Jim's own. So, here he was, over both Bones' and Spock's objections, going into an anomaly in space that seemed to have been designed for him.
The lights on his instrument panel went into a paroxysm of color matched only by the cacophony of alarms as he crossed the threshold of the energy ribbon, and Jim tried to keep the shuttle steady, simultaneously wishing he'd brought Sulu with him and grateful that the other man remained aboard the Enterprise.
"Easy, now," Jim told the shuttle as it lurched beneath him, the sudden movement causing the seat harness to deploy, crossing over his chest and holding him in his seat. The turbulence went on long enough for him to wonder whether his stomach would ever feel stable again, and then suddenly stopped, as he emerged into … atmosphere?
Well, what else would you call it, he wondered, when it looked like blue sky over green woodlands? Jim steadied the shuttle and checked for the life sign. North, he noted, perhaps half a mile. He turned the shuttle northward.
Half a mile north, a clearing awaited him. Jim guided the shuttle into a gentle landing and while it powered down into idle, he studied the landscape around him. Something about it seemed familiar, though he couldn't place it immediately.
The same thing could be said for the man standing at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden in the shadowy woods. Jim watched for a moment, but the man didn't move.
Only a moment. Then Jim stood and moved to the aft hatch, his hand patting his hip to confirm the phaser he'd brought still rested in its holster. The hatch opened, and Jim inhaled clean air, a moist scent of the greenery around him, a scent he could only enjoy on Earth. But this clearly wasn't Earth ….
He stepped outside and circled the shuttle so he was in plain view of the man in the woods. From this angle, and without the glare of the shuttle's cameras, Jim could see patches of color, white and dark red, probably the man's clothes, but still couldn't quite make out his face.
Well, Jim had never been accused of being shy. He summoned a grin. "Hi. I'm Jim."
"So am I," came the response, and as the man stepped into the sunlight, the red and white resolved into parts of a formal uniform. "Captain James T. Kirk."
So that's why the man seemed so familiar, Jim thought. He supposed he should be more surprised, but after meeting the Spock from an alternate future, it seemed only logical that he'd meet an alternate Kirk. At least the other man should get his sense of humor.
"Imagine that," Jim said. "I'm James T. Kirk, captain of the starship Enterprise."
And he got to enjoy the look of surprise on his counterpart's face before it settled into cautious acceptance. Jim extended a hand. "Good to meet you."
Kirk eyed his hand warily. Jim had to grin. "It's okay," he said. "I have it on good authority that we won't destroy space-time if we shake hands."
"That sounds like there's a story behind it." Kirk clasped his hand. Jim was only a little relieved when space-time did not, in fact, implode at the contact.
"There's a story behind this, too." Jim nodded to indicate their surroundings. "Care to share them aboard the Enterprise?"
A slow grin spread across his counterpart's face, quickly replaced by a puzzled frown. "You're sure we can get out of here?"
"We got in, didn't we?"
"I was sucked into space. I don't recommend it as a method of travel."
"And I came by shuttlecraft," Jim said, although that was obvious. "Should be able to leave the same way."
Kirk considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Let me just lock up."
Jim followed him through the wooded area. "You do realize none of this is real."
"Always lock up when you leave. Didn't Dad teach you that?"
Whatever answer Jim might have made died in his throat as they emerged from the woods. It was the house he'd dreamed of since he was a boy - a cabin in the woods. He forced himself to wait outside while his counterpart went to secure the house - he wasn't ready, yet, to see what his other self might have imagined.
But his older self emerged from the house moments later, a maroon jacket slung over one shoulder, and secured the door behind him before joining Jim.
"You know," Kirk said as he fell into step with Jim, "I've always wondered what I'd say to my younger self if I ever had the chance. Now I have the chance and I have no idea what to say to you."
"No words of advice?" Jim asked, grinning. "Like, 'be careful,' or something?"
"You flew into an unknown energy field in space. Would 'be careful' actually stick?"
Jim chuckled. "Probably not."
They broke through to the clearing that held the shuttlecraft, and Jim was glad to see it remained where he'd left it. He took the pilot's seat while his older self sat beside him.
"Maybe there is one thing," Kirk mused.
"What's that?"
"Never take a desk job."
"Oh, hell no." Jim laughed. "They're already dumping too much paperwork on me as it is."
"Any paperwork is too much paperwork."
"More than normal."
"More than normal?" Kirk echoed with an inquiring look.
"About thirty percent more, according to Spock."
"For the love of - why?"
"Something about being the youngest captain in the fleet, and a bunch of stick-up-their-asses admirals not being sure I can handle the job." Jim nodded toward the disruption in the sky before them. "Ready to see my Enterprise?"
His counterpart's grin matched his own.
Spock did not drum his fingers on the armrest of the captain's chair. That would have been a useless display of concern, and therefore illogical. The concern itself, however, was not. Not when Jim Kirk had flown a shuttlecraft into an anomaly in space with apparently the barest of thoughts for his own safety.
"Do you not think it strange that of all the possible readings we might have gotten from this anomaly, it perfectly matches your own brainwaves, Captain?" Spock had asked, with the slightest emphasis on the title to remind Jim of the duties and responsibilities that came with the rank. "The odds of such an occurrence are -"
"Impossible," Dr. McCoy had finished for him.
"Vanishingly small," Spock corrected.
Jim just looked between the two of them. "We're out here to explore, and that thing out there's begging to be explored," he said. "And as for impossible, well, we haven't made it up to believing six impossible things before breakfast yet, but I'm sure we'll get there. Take care of my ship, Mr. Spock - I'll be wanting her back."
And then Jim had disappeared into the shuttlecraft and then into the energy ribbon, and they'd lost contact with him. Even the bond Spock shared with his captain had faded to the thinnest, most gossamer hair of a thread.
So, yes, concern for the captain's well-being was perfectly logical under the circumstances, even though he'd been out of contact for less time than it had taken him to cross the distance between the Enterprise and the anomaly. Only a few minutes, in fact.
But with Jim Kirk, a few minutes could be an eternity, and everyone aboard knew it, to judge by the tension that filled the bridge and sent a tremor through Spock's fingers, making him want to tap them regardless of how illogical the gesture was. He stretched his fingers along the armrest, stilling the tremor in the process.
The tension was only sharpened by the announcement from the woman currently serving at the science station. "Mr. Spock, the anomaly's readings are shifting."
"To what, Ensign Richards?" Spock turned in the chair so he could face his relief.
"If I could tell you, sir, I would. Look." The ensign tapped a command to send the readings to the main viewscreen, and Spock studied them intently, pleased that Ensign Richards had also ordered another EEG of the anomaly.
"Send that to Dr. McCoy, as well," he said, the whoosh of the turbolift door opening barely registering in his awareness.
"Send what to Dr. McCoy?" came the question in a Southern accent. Then, "What the hell is that on screen?"
"The most recent readings from the anomaly, Doctor," Spock answered. "Since you associated the previous readings with an electroencephalogram, perhaps you can explain these."
McCoy moved to stand beside the captain's chair, muttering under his breath. Spock chose not to comment on things he obviously hadn't been meant to hear, and instead breathed in and out in a silent pattern normally reserved for the beginning stages of meditation. He couldn't meditate now, but the pattern brought calm to disordered thoughts, and so it was appropriate at this time.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say I was looking at a schizophrenic with a split personality," McCoy finally said.
Spock's fingers trembled again, this time with fear. Had Jim had finally done it, taken the one risk he couldn't master? If so, would he and McCoy be able to repair the damaged mind before them?
"Doctor -" Spock began, but Uhura cut him off.
"Incoming transmission, sir." She routed it to his station without waiting for the order.
"Kirk to Enterprise."
"Enterprise. Spock here," Spock replied, and that was not relief edging his tone, not at all - merely satisfaction that the captain had returned and sounded, at least for the moment, quite sane.
"Estimated docking time, four minutes. Have a medical team meet the shuttle."
"Doctor McCoy is on his way," Spock answered. The other man had started for the turbolift even before Jim had finished saying the word "medical," muttering about goddamn space anomalies and stubborn starship captains.
"See you in four, Enterprise. Kirk out."
Spock notified the shuttle bay to expect the return and then, because it was only logical for him to check on the captain's condition, he said, "Lieutenant Sulu, you have the conn."
Nobody even blinked when he rose and headed for the turbolift.
Spock was slightly surprised that he arrived at the shuttle bay before McCoy, but then surmised that the doctor's delay had likely been caused by a stop in medbay to pick up a med-kit. That deduction was confirmed when the doctor arrived only half a minute after he had, said med-kit in hand. True to form, though, McCoy gave Spock a look full of compassion and hope.
"He sounded fine."
"Indeed." Spock made no other reply as the two men waited for the airlock to finish cycling.
Eventually, the monitor chimed a ready signal and the door to the docking bay slid open. Spock allowed McCoy to precede him as the two men crossed to the shuttlecraft. The doors opened, and Spock would never admit to the relief that coursed through him at the sight of Jim standing framed in the hatch, straight and apparently healthy.
Instinctively, Spock sought the link that had formed between him and his captain - no, his friend - over the months they'd served together. And, yes, there was Jim's presence, his essence, as brash and cocky as ever, and Spock allowed himself to hope that the "schizophrenic with a split personality" might not, in fact, be Jim.
Doctor McCoy, however, wasn't as certain. He was already in Jim's space and face with his instruments. "Goddammit, Jim, what the hell did you think you were doing, heading out into who knows what for no reason? I do not want to have to explain that to your mother."
"D'you think she doesn't know already?" Jim tried to block McCoy's efforts. "What are you doing?"
"The doctor is merely endeavoring to do his job," Spock said. Jim shot him a dirty look, so he added, "You did request a medical team, Captain."
"Loss of short-term memory," McCoy muttered. "Not good."
"Not for me," Jim said. Spock let one eyebrow rise in inquiry. Jim jerked a thumb toward the hatch he'd just exited. "For him."
Spock's gaze traveled past Jim to the hatch, and the second figure filling the opening. Even at this distance, Spock could see the resemblance in the facial features, though the two men's bodies were distinctly different. A result of age, perhaps, Spock thought, picking up on Jim's conclusion and silently concurring.
McCoy, however, took a moment longer. "What about him, Jim? He -"
"He's me," Jim finished, and turned to gesture their guest aboard.
The other, older man hesitated. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?"
"Permission granted, Captain," Jim replied easily. "Welcome to the Enterprise. Is it safe to assume you recognize Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock?" he added as the other man stepped down from the shuttle into the docking bay.
"It is," Captain Kirk replied with a nod of greeting to himself and McCoy. "It looks like we have a lot to talk about."
"After you're cleared by the chief medical officer, who happens to be me," McCoy said. "Both of you."
"I'm fine, Bones."
If Spock had been fully human, he would have smiled at the harmony in the response, however unintentional it may have been. He stepped forward.
"Both of you appear to be healthy and whole," Spock said, and the elder Kirk's expression brightened. Jim simply looked wary. "However, given the description of the readings Dr. McCoy provided, it would be prudent to examine you both to be sure."
"Readings?" Jim asked.
"While you were inside the anomaly," Spock clarified. "I believe the exact phrase was 'schizophrenic with a split personality.' It would be remiss of me to return command to you until you are cleared."
Jim regarded him steadily, and though Spock knew that the Jim who'd come back was the same Jim who'd left thanks to the bond they shared, that wouldn't be sufficient explanation for Starfleet. He met Jim's gaze without flinching, without blinking, either physically or mentally.
Finally, Jim gave a silent sigh. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?"
"You are not," Spock said at the same time McCoy said, "Hell, no."
Jim looked to his elder counterpart. "Is your Bones as terrifying with a hypo as this one?"
Captain Kirk looked resigned. "I suppose I'll find out."
"See you on the bridge, Mr. Spock," Jim said, and then pointed at Bones. "No hypos."
"No promises," McCoy shot back as the three men left the docking bay.
After a last glance at the shuttle, Spock followed. He took the turbolift back to the bridge and relieved Lieutenant Sulu. To Uhura's quiet inquiry, he said, "The captain will join us when Dr. McCoy has finished his examination."
The only question was whether he'd arrive alone. If the elder Captain Kirk shared many of Jim's traits, the answer was a foregone conclusion. What was not a foregone conclusion was what the other captain's arrival meant.
His own alternate self's arrival had sparked the destruction of Vulcan. It was not, therefore, illogical to wonder whether this alternate Kirk's arrival would have similar consequences for Earth.
However illogical hope might be, Spock found himself hoping history would not repeat itself.