Warning: this chapter contains the mention of a very terrible thing being done to a child. I personally hate anything that dims the light in little children's eyes, but I have added it to this chapter because I think it is a very important piece of characterization, as I think it explains a lot of the traits that both of my Kirk's have (the incident in question takes place on Tarsus IV, if that gives anyone a hint). That said I don't by any means condone violence or sexual intent towards children, and I believe that anyone who perpetrates such acts should be punished to the full extent of the law.
Disclaimer: Star Trek and the boys belong to Gene Roddenberry, who I am not. I am only borrowing them with the greatest respect, and promise to return them in (mostly) pristine condition.
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"The revolution... is successful. But survival depends upon drastic measures. Your continued existence is a threat to the order we have restored; your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. I, therefore, have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered, signed Kodos, governor of Tarsus IV."
- Anton Karidian (Kodos in disguise) reading a copy of Kodos' death pronouncement (The Conscience of the King)
Kirk: Euh... look... I-I don't know you.
Spock: I am Spock.
Kirk: ...Bullshit.
Spock Prime and Kirk; Star Trek 2009
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"Enterprise to Captain Kirk, come in Kirk." The crackled message broke through the absolute silence that had fallen after his announcement like a shout, but his younger self didn't even move in response, his eyes instead fixed on Jim's face, a dumfounded expression gracing his own.
"Enterprise to Captain Kirk, come in Kirk," the messaged repeated again, only this time the speaker was male and subtly (but clearly) agitated and they both broke their impromptu staring contest to stare instead at the communicator. Jim's heart gave a tiny quiver at the voice, because even through the overwhelming static of the message, it was clearly Spock's voice and after all the time he had spent without it, he could think of no sound more beautiful in the all of the galaxies.
But then in the next instant his heart sank slightly, as reality (or at least some facsimile of it; reality was a bit subjective at this juncture) caught up with him as he realised that yes, while it was Spock, it most certainly wasn't his Spock. And though almost every cell in his body was screaming at him to pick up the communicator and just talk to Spock, he'd come too far to simply accept another substitute and so he instead turned his gaze back to his alternative self and said quietly (as not to startle him; he didn't think it would take much at this point), "If you ever want to get off this planet, I suggest you get that."
His younger self's head whipped back towards him and Jim saw some of the fog clear from his eyes as he nodded in response and reached for the communicator. Never taking his eyes off Jim's own face he answered, "Kirk here," into the device, voice heavy with both irony and incredulousness that Jim hoped wouldn't be picked up by Spock or anyone else on the receiving end (he was going on the assumption that this was one of those things that needed to be explained in person).
It apparently wasn't, thank god, as after a moment Spock's voice crackled through the communicator, tone clearly showing a hint of relief, but still tenser than normal. "What is your status? Are you completely functional, or have you been injured?"
"I'm..." his younger self began, and then paused for a moment and stared at Jim, the irony that was in his voice now crystal clear in his eyes, "fine," he finished, only to continue a second later. "And don't give me any of that crap about fine being unacceptable, because right now those variable definitions are pretty damn appropriate." And Jim had to physically shove one of his knuckles into his mouth to make sure that no one heard his laugher at the response, because if this was what all of his own interactions with Spock had been like then he finally saw why Bones had been always either laughing or trying to pull his own hair out in exasperation.
"We have triangulated your position using the communicator's signal," Spock's voice proclaimed after a moment of silence, clearly ignoring the latter half of his younger self's response, but Jim could hear in his voice as he continued the relief born of the knowledge that his Captain was alright (the not knowing was always the worst part). "However the planets gravitational shifts make extraction impossible for another 3.27 hours. Will your location remain stable for that duration?"
"We should be fine until then," his younger self proclaimed, relief also evident in his voice but Jim felt himself cringe, because there was no way that Spock (the sharpest crayon in all the crayon factories in the world; the box was just too small for his brilliance) hadn't picked up on his slip. Sure enough a moment later Spock's voice piped through the communicator again, the faintest hint of puzzlement and caution (Jim imagined he was worried that his Captain had cracked and was requesting transport for his imaginary friend, though that might actually be more believable than the truth) evident in his tone.
"We, Captain?" And now his younger self winced and whipped his gaze to Jim's, but since Jim really couldn't think of anything constructive to add to the situation (this wasn't exactly something he had a lot of experience in, baring that one fun time with the mirror universe) he simply shrugged his shoulders in response. His younger self rolled his eyes minutely before directing his attention back towards the communicator and replied, "Yeah. I met a fascinating new friend who saved my hide. I thought the least we could do was to give him a ride in return for saving my much beloved captainly ass."
His younger self then followed his words by pressing the communicator into his neck in an effort to muffle the sound and whispered, "You do want a ride, right?"
Jim just gave him a look in response, which he hoped was dripping with the force of his sheer incredulousness at the question (because this planet was the absolute literal definition of a 'tourist trap' and not somewhere he wanted to spend any more time than absolutely necessary). His younger self at least had the grace to look abashed as he mumbled, "Thought I should at least ask," before he took the device off his shoulder.
"That seems...logical," Spock's voice proclaimed in response and Jim was willing to bet that the reluctance in his tone was because he didn't want to admit that his Captain was capable of such a thing, although he supposed that it was also possible he was simply worried about his Captain being in the company of a stranger for three more hours (he could understand that; he'd been known to get into some serious trouble in that amount of time).
"Great, so now that we've got that all settled, I'm going to take some time to get to know my new friend." His younger self proclaimed, and continued in the same jovial tone, "See you in three hours," before turning off the communicator and setting it down on the ground. He then crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back against the wall; the picture of relaxation before he locked his gaze on Jim's and spoke.
"Ok, so we're safe from all those fun-loving psycho natives, and we've got a whole three hours before the Enterprise can beam us up. Want to tell me exactly why I'm supposed to believe you're me?" He enquired and Jim knew the sound of his own voice well enough to know that it was more of a demand than a request (though it was bit shrill for a demand but he was going to attribute that to the fact that his younger self was a bit freaked out; he could relate). Though he supposed he couldn't really fault the tone; he doubted his own patience would have even lasted as long as this young Jim's had in this particular situation, and wasn't like his younger self didn't deserve the truth.
But even in light of that knowledge he hesitated for a moment longer, because despite the obvious fact that there were clearly changes in this time line there was still one thing that he knew had happened. He'd seen it the first time he'd looked into the eyes that were too blue to truly call them his, as clear as day to him (though he doubted anyone one else could see it) and it was the only thing he knew he could offer up as proof, but he desperately wished otherwise. It was still his monster in the closet and he'd had far longer to deal with it than this young Kirk and (as an added bonus) he'd Spock to help him cope; to hold him during nightmares and to sooth the bleeding wounds it had left in his soul. This Jim had not yet had the time or the love that he himself had been given and so he knew that this was going to hurt more than anything else.
But still, it needed to be said and so he looked up and met the impatience on his younger self's face and he fought down the terribly all encompassing urge to stay silent and the words clawed up his throat and escaped as a whisper that echoed like a shout in the silence that followed them.
"I know what happened to you on Tarsus IV."
And as he looked at his younger self's face Jim knew he was right; nothing had ever hurt like this before. As he began to speak he had to brace himself, because he knew the pain was only going to get worse, even though it was practically unbearable now.
"You were thirteen, and Sam was sick." And he petered off for a moment before he forced himself to continue; desperately wishing he could take back every breath. "He was so very sick, and you knew if you didn't get him medication he was going to die. But everyone was starving, and there wasn't any food, much less medication. The only one who had much of anything was...Kodos," and at the name his younger self's head whipped up, and he uttered "No," harshly, in what could have been either a denial or an order to stop, but Jim continued on, the words coming faster now.
"He liked you, you'd always known it. He'd give you extra food, he'd spend time with you, call you special. You were his special boy. But it wasn't free; nothing was. At first you didn't get it, didn't notice he was brushing up against you, didn't think anything of the fact that he'd stare at you out of the corner of his eyes. And because you didn't see it, you went to ask him for medication for Sam. And then you got it; then he made it very clear for you."
"No," his younger self said again, but Jim was beyond stopping; now the words were spewing out uncontrollably, more painful than any wound that could be inflicted on the body.
"He gave you a lollypop, and you hadn't had candy for such a long time, so it tasted sweeter than anything ever had before. But you needed the medication and so you asked, because Sam was going to die and he was your brother and all you had on that planet. And after you asked he came and sat beside you and put his hand on your thigh, and he told you he'd give you the medicine if you'd do one thing for him."
"Don't," his alternative self begged, and the sound was magnified as it echoed in the cave but to Jim it sounded a million miles away, so faint it was barely audible and he continued like he hadn't even heard it.
"Just one simple thing really, because there were so many other people who needed medicine, but if you just did him this one, tiny favour then he'd give it to you so you could save Sam. And you still didn't really get it, but then he made his move, and then you got it and you pulled back, because god, he couldn't want that! But he did and he grabbed you and he told you that if you left Sam would die and it would be entirely your fault, but if you did what he said, Sam would live."
Now his younger self didn't make a sound, just stared at him in horror and Jim wanted to take back every word but he couldn't, and so he stared into his younger self's eyes and made himself finish.
"So you did; you stayed because you needed to save Sam. You made yourself numb, and after you left you gave the medication to Sam and he got better. And you didn't say a word about it, not to Sam and not to anyone; you just pretended it had never happened, and by the time the Federation arrived three weeks later you had nearly convinced yourself it hadn't."
He paused for a moment and waited until his younger self's pain filled eyes had risen from the ground and met his own before he continued. "This is the part you really need to listen to; the really important thing. It wasn't your fault. It never was. It was his; you were a child and he was an adult and he took advantage of you, of your desperation and of your love for your brother. It was entirely his fault and I don't want you to ever believe otherwise."
There was silence for a moment, the most terrible silence Jim had ever felt and then his younger self answered, voice so quiet he almost missed it. "I said yes. I could have said no, I could have told him to keep his disgusting hands to himself, but I didn't. I'm sure there was another way; if I'd just looked harder I could have found another way, but I didn't. I said yes."
Jim took a moment to stare at his younger self in an attempt to gage how damaged he was and after he'd concluded that while he was fractured he wasn't shattered (a good sign, as fractures could be healed) he continued, his voice serious and unwavering. "So did I. There was no other way, and he used that to his advantage; to force you into doing something that you wouldn't have under any other circumstance. You were not in the wrong, he was. And believe me, I know it feels like you'll never be able to talk about it, but trust me, because I'm speaking out of experience here, one day you'll have someone who'll love you enough you listen when you're ready."
"Thanks," his younger self finally said after another moment of silence, "I guess that actually means something coming from you, huh?" And Jim nodded, before responding, as quietly as his younger self had, "Bank on it, kid."
After he finished speaking there was a long period of silence, where both he and his younger self stared at anything but each other in an attempt to move past the terrible pain and heaviness of the previous topic. After Jim was finally ready (it was never gone, but he no longer felt like he was struggling to breathe) he returned his gaze to his younger self, and found that his younger self had done the same to him, and was staring rather pensively at him.
"I got old," his younger self said after a few minutes observation, and Jim chucked, mostly because in spite of the fact he was pretty sure he'd just been insulted his younger self was clearly beginning to focus on other things, but also partly because it was such a him thing to say and so he replied, sarcastically but not completely seriously, "Thanks, mini-me."
His younger self looked up at his tone and Jim was surprised to see the slightest flush of embarrassment bloom on his neck and then move upwards to settle on his cheeks. "I didn't mean," his younger self began, nearly stuttering as he furiously back paddled to get his meaning across, "I mean...I didn't. It wasn't supposed to come out like that."
In reply Jim arched an eyebrow in what he considered a decent homage to the work of the master (and they both knew exactly who that was) to show his disbelief, because he wasn't exactly sure how many other meanings could have been derived from his younger self's original statement. Although he wasn't really angry in the least because it wasn't like he didn't get it; getting old wasn't something he was enjoying now, much less something he'd enjoyed thinking about before it had happened. Although with what he knew now, he could truthfully say that it was definitely better than the alternative (you know, not getting old because you were stuck in a temporal anomaly).
"I just," his alternative self continued, and Jim directed his attention back to him, as he paused for a moment in what Jim imagined was an effort to group his thoughts. "I just guess I never thought I would, you know?" His younger self finally declared and his voiced pitched lower, as if he was letting Jim in on a secret he'd never told anyone else, "I thought I'd be long dead before then."
In the wake of his hushed statement Jim looked at him for a moment, taking in the contours of his own face and the eyes he didn't recognise and as he did so he thought about his own life. He thought of all the missions that he'd barely come back from and of all the times that Bones had fixed him up afterwards, nagging him back to life. Next, he thought about all of the times after those missions where he'd sat in his quarters and wondered if the next time would be it; the one where not even Bones would be able to pull him back from the brink and even as he'd done so he'd been aware of the fact that if he had known the answer; if he'd known which one would be the last, he'd still have gone on that mission.
After a moment of silence he replied, in the same soft tone that his younger self had used, "I thought the same thing once." And after he spoke he raised his eyes to meet those foreign ones of his younger self and in that moment he knew that they understood each other perfectly and that, for the first time since he taken off the helmet his younger self completely accepted who he was (there weren't just stages to grief, there were also stages to acceptance and figured that the acceptance of an alternative self was one of the highest, so he'd been willing to give him time).
"What do I...? What should I...?" His younger self started and then trailed off, but Jim easily picked up gist of the half statement, and so he interrupted, "James. I'll be James, you be Jim."
Jim looked at him for a moment, and James knew he was being sized up, before he replied, "You sure? I have a funny feeling you've never been a 'James.'"
He chuckled, low and quiet and so desperately welcome in light of the heaviness that had accompanied their previous discussions, because truer words had never been spoken. James was for doctors, lawyers, bureaucrats and his grandfather and he most certainly was none of those things (although in this universe he was old enough to be his own grandfather) and so he nodded his head in acknowledgement of the point, before replying, "This is your universe, kid. It's your turn to discover what being Captain Jim Kirk of the USS Enterprise is all about." And he accompanied his words by taking his younger self's lead and leaning back, arms folded behind his head as he felt some of that damned heaviness dissipate.
"Besides," he continued, his relaxed state seeping into his voice, "Maybe it's time I gave being James a try. Who knows, it might even suit me," and although Jim chuckled in response, clearly not convinced, James was almost surprised to realise how much he actually meant it. In a way he'd lied to his younger self, because if he was going to be completely honest he had been James before, in the privacy of shared quarters where secrets and love had lived, and he'd give anything to have those times again. Besides, he'd already done everything that being Jim entitled; the missions, the responsibility, the youth and he didn't miss it (alright, he missed the youth a bit, but other than that he didn't miss anything).
"I thought I, I mean you – us, whatever were dead in your universe," Jim said and James broke out of his contemplations at the words and he felt himself tense back up a bit. It was a completely instinctual and illogical response as he could see that Jim hadn't asked because he wanted to wound, but rather because he was curious in a morbid sort of way and as James couldn't see any harm in informing him he sat for a moment and thought about all the things he could say. He could tell him of an eternity stuck in a nightmare world; the aloneness of a life spent surrounded by near perfect facsimiles of all the people he'd ever loved, but in the end there really weren't any words to explain that kind of horror and even if there had been he doubted that he could have forced them out of his throat.
Instead, he simply decided to go with the easy answer and so he fixed his eyes on his younger self's shocking blue ones (he was almost jealous, those probably would have made all those seductions he'd accomplished so much easier) and said, "I was, in essence," and he continued in a carefully casual tone when he saw Jim's mouth open to query. "Hypothetically, if you reached my age and found yourself with an invitation to attend the maiden voyage of the Enterprise-B, I would strongly suggest you decline. Hypothetically speaking, of course," he finished and he figured that he must have gotten his point across (or maybe Jim had seen something in his eyes) because his mouth snapped shut and he dropped the subject without another word.
But of course, Jim's question also gave him an excellent opportunity to turn the conversation towards the topic that had been burning at the tip of his tongue since he'd arrived on this planet and so after a moment he turned his head back towards Jim's and casually enquired, "Who told you I was dead?"
Personally, he enjoyed the look on Jim's face as he spluttered and attempted to back track a great deal (he could see why Spock had occasionally attempted to derail him; it was rather hilarious) and so if he hadn't been so anxious for some confirmation of his theory he would have let it go on for a while, but as he was he asked again, "Who?"
Jim took a moment to visible compose himself before he finally answered, slightly hesitantly (it was almost as if he expected the world to end if he said it), "Spock." And James felt his own heart start to beat faster in response, because now he was closer to finding Spock than he'd been in eons, but he made sure to keep his own voice calm (no need to give away how anxious he was) as he asked, "I don't imagine you're talking about the Spock that serves as your first officer, are you?"
Jim chucked a bit in response and continued with little to no hesitation (James figured he'd realised the universe wasn't going to end, or whatever he'd been afraid of wasn't going to happen), "No. But I have the strangest feeling I might be referring to the one that served as yours. Although he's a good deal older than you are," he younger self finished and James had to physically keep the giant, mile wide cheek splitting smile off his face his face, because that was the confirmation he'd been looking for.
"That makes sense," he said aloud in answer to the question Jim had not quite asked, because it actually did; he might have been trapped in temporal anomaly but Spock hadn't and so he would have aged, which made the Spock that Jim was talking about a prime candidate for his Spock (and he meant that in the most literal of terms).
Jim opened his mouth to query but James cut him off, mostly because he still didn't have any words that would explain why it made sense and so he said "Another time, maybe." And Jim thankfully dropped the subject without another word. Suddenly, another thought hit him with the force of a sledgehammer (and twice the pain of the impact) and so he asked, a slight urgency in his voice, "How much older?" because 'a good deal older' was a bit terrifyingly vague and all the possible implications of it were sending his mind to some very scary places.
Jim, who clearly possessed enough maturity to realise the seriousness of his query (and to not hold his own vagueness against him) promptly replied, "I'm not really good with the whole Vulcan age thing, but he seems like he's still got a lot of living to do," and James couldn't help but let out a tiny sigh of relief, because although he would have taken Spock even if he could have had only one more day; one more hour with him he was intensely relieved that it appeared that fate wasn't so cruel as to give them only that (another fact to support that 'the universe was trying to pay him back theory', as in his experience fate was almost always a cruel bitch; at least now they were getting closer to his preferred method of repayment).
So it was with a much more relaxed air that he asked, "I'm sure there's an interesting story behind his presence here. I'd love to hear it," and then he felt his relaxation falter as Jim got very serious and quiet for a moment, before he slowly and solemnly gave him exactly what he'd asked for, and he realised exactly how wrong he'd been, because there was nothing about it that he loved.
He listened with a heavy heart as Jim told him about Nero, the Romulan who'd blamed Spock for the end of his planet, and who in his madness had opened a rift, creating this universe. And although his heart had already been hurting it nearly broke when Jim then told him, quiet and haltingly about the loss of Vulcan and of the Amanda Grayson of this universe, as he mourned the loss of so many lives that shouldn't have ended. And then, when he finally told him of how Nero had made Spock, his Spock watch the whole thing, in some sadistic ploy to cause the maximum amount of pain he was sure he felt his heart simply shatter as it struggled (and largely failed) to try and bear the pain he knew his gentle lover would have felt at such a sight.
It had been at that point that he'd had to speak, and his pain had escaped in a gasp had formed the word "T'hy'la," almost without his direction. Thankfully it had been too quiet for his younger self to hear (because there was no way he was going to be able to explain that before the Enterprise beamed them up and it most certainly wasn't a conversation he was going to have in front of a crowd), who replied quietly, "He was pretty broken up. It was like Nero knew just how to hurt him," and James nodded slowly in response before speaking.
"That would have been the way. Spock once refused to help me to cut down a Christmas tree unless I agreed to plant a new one in its place. The man who couldn't allow tree homicide would have been crushed to think he'd caused the deaths of all those people." And now he met his younger self's eyes, "And he did blame himself for their deaths, didn't he?"
Jim nodded as he answered, "Yeah. It wasn't logical, but he did it anyways. It was very...human of him." And despite the unbearable pain he felt he had to laugh a bit at the puzzlement in Jim's tone, because a Spock who was in touch with his human side was always an interesting sight to observe. "He can be that way sometimes. It can be the most infuriating dichotomy, but it's what makes him Spock."
Jim was just in the middle of nodding his agreement when Spock's voice piped through the communicator again. "Enterprise to Kirk. Stand by for transport, Captain," and Jim chuckled in response and muttered, very softly and clearly in jest, "Speak of the devil and he shall appear. I guess time also flies when you aren't having fun, huh?"
"You've been spending too much time with Bones," he stated equally quiet and at the thought he felt himself lighten slightly. "Besides," he continued, a bit more jovial, although the pain most certainly wasn't gone yet, "You don't have anything to complain about. At least they give you a warning before they beam you up. In my day they'd just do it, although I still think that was because Bones and Scotty had a running bet on how many times they could beam me up without all of my clothes."
Jim laughed outright in response as he picked up the communicator and stood slowly, the sound especially pleasant in the melancholy atmosphere of the cave and James stood as well, slowly mirroring his posture. "Ready," Jim announced into the communicator after they were both standing, and Spock's voice piped through the device in response. "Affirmative. Fifteen seconds to transport."
Just as the light of the transporter appeared in front of his face Jim asked, "Who won the bet?" and James chuckled for a second before he answered, "Bones did. He always knew to bet on the high side," and then he closed his eyes and let the strange full body tingling that always accompanied transportation carry him away.
When the weightlessness had disappeared and he could feel solid ground beneath his feet again (it had felt too much like being inside the Nexus again to be truly comfortable) and the twinkling light of the transporter had finally cleared from his eyes he opened them and his first sight made him freeze because in front of him stood his crew, as if it was golden days of their five year mission all over again. And though he had been aware, at least academically that they would be and that they weren't really his crew per say, they were the closest he'd had in an eternity and nothing could have really prepared him for the sight of all his old friends (his family), so young and vibrant before him.
And they were all there; Chekov (who looked about twelve) and Sulu, both so god damn young and not even in love yet. There was Uhura, of the beautiful singing voice and the fiery spirit, who was somehow even lovelier then he'd remembered her, and his favourite crazy Scotsman, who'd always had a miracle ready to pull out of his ass when they'd needed one. And there was Bones, his oldest friend and the man who'd loved bourbon (but not to excess) and his daughter and who'd beaten all the odds to keep him in one piece over all the years (not an easy to task, by anyone's standard). And of course, last but never least there was Spock, for whom no words would every truly suffice in explaining how much he'd missed seeing him (even if he wasn't exactly the one he was looking for).
He was brought of his observations by the sound of Jim's voice (and he only just barely stopped himself from raising a hand to his mouth to see if it was moving; there were apparently still some things he needed to adjust to), which broke the complete silence that had fallen in the transporter room. "Hey guys, look at what I found! Another me! Can we keep him, please?"
And Jim couldn't help but laugh aloud, because while he'd seen his crew (and by default this crew) at the absolute best and worst of times, he didn't think he'd ever seen them this gobsmacked (even this universes Spock was gaping, and that didn't happen often, despite all the crazy things he'd done to warrant it). So, it was with a tremendous smile on his face and laugher staining his voice that he turned his gaze towards Bones, who was still supporting his younger self, although his limbs had gone slack with shock and gestured with his head towards them.
"I wouldn't drop him, Bones," he said, jest clear in his voice. "I don't think he needs anymore head trauma, do you?" And he ignored Jim's half hearted protest of, "Hey!" to instead turn towards Spock, because there was one phrase that he'd been dying to borrow for a very long time.
"And yes, Mr. Spock, it is quite fascinating," he announced, and then he took another look at the group and smiled once again, because yeah, this promised to be a very interesting ride.
A/N: So, that was my interpretation of Tarsus IV. For anyone who isn't familiar with TOS, Tarsus IV is actually canon for Kirk (it is mentioned in the TOS episode The Conscience of the King), however what he experienced there is unknown and so the incident with Kodos that I mentioned is entirely my own creation. I think the quote I selected explains the situation relatively well but if not then here is a ten second explanation. Kirk was sent to a planet called Tarsus IV around the age of 13. Due to a loss of resources the colony leader (Kodos) decided to execute half of the civilians to allow the other half to live. Kirk survived and was one of only 9 people who were able to identify his face (which is important in the TOS episode).
As previously mentioned, if anyone had a problem with the implications that I made I am sorry, but I feel that an experience like that would help to create the wonderful Kirkian determination they both have. The next chapter will be lighter, as well as being in new Kirk's point of view. Also, I'm going to always refer to new Kirk as "Jim" and TOS Kirk as "James" from now on, in an attempt to decrease the confusion between them (although it might actually end up increasing the confusion, so please let me know if it does).