Warnings for chronic illness and pseudoscience (because I know nothing about how medicine works now, let alone in the future.)
Chapter 14: XX-XXI
When he's twenty, Jim learns a few things.
(He learns about challenges, though that's nothing new, but mostly he learns about himself.)
(He's stronger than he thinks.)
Winona tries to downplay it in front of Jim, tries to act like nothing is the matter, but she can't hide the fact that she can't even bring herself to get out of bed on the morning of Christmas Eve. It passes in time for them to celebrate the holiday, but it's back before New Year's Eve, and Jim is done listening to platitudes.
"Look, Mom. You may be right, this could be nothing, but if it's something treatable, don't you want the doctor to look at it and help you get over it faster? Besides, if it turns out to not be 'nothing' you'll be glad to know sooner, rather than later."
With a sigh, she sits at the kitchen table, gripping her mug of coffee like it's a lifeline, inhaling the steam in an action that is part habit and mostly an attempt at comfort. "Alright, Jimmy. I'll call Dr. Ross and see if she can come by tomorrow, okay? We'll get this checked out, you two can catch up, and she can settle this matter for us."
She's got that tone in her voice, the one that popped up so many times during his childhood, the one that clearly says, "I'm the adult and I know best, but I'll humor you, just to prove I'm right." Growing up, Jim always hated that tone. It still rubs him the wrong way, but he's grown accustomed to it by now. They'll just have to wait and see who's right.
They make the call at ten, don't even have to wait to speak with Dr. Ross, and get an appointment set for eleven the next day. After that it's a matter of passing the rest of the day, playing chess and watching holovids and pretending nothing is wrong.
Dr. Ross pulls into the drive five minutes early, her dark hair up in a bun, coat flaring out behind her as she walks up to the house.
Jim opens the door as she steps up to it, and offers her a smile as he says, "Dr. Ross, thank you for coming on such short notice. Come in, she's watching some old show in the living room."
As they walk in, Jim notices her looking around, taking in what's changed, and doesn't quite expect it when she says, "You know, Jim, you really don't have to call me Dr. Ross. We've known each other for far too long to stand on formalities."
Jim laughs a little. "But, Lizbeth, what if I just can't stop calling you Dr. Ross because I'm so impressed that the girl down the road I always had a crush on is now a real time, fancy doctor? I'd say it's pretty noteworthy."
When Winona sees Lizbeth, she grins. "Oh, it's so nice to see you again. I still think of you as the little girl who always sold me the scout cookies, and yet here you are, all grown up. I'm sorry to make you come out here on such short notice."
"It's my job to come out here, Ms. Kirk. It was no trouble at all. Now, let's figure out what the issue is, shall we?"
The first twenty minutes are spent going over the symptoms, explaining how long they have persisted, and taking baseline measurements. "Your blood pressure and temperature are within normal range. I have a few thoughts of possible roots of the problem, and we can do the first tests right here. We'll start with evoked potential tests, to see how your nervous system is doing. We'll figure out what's next from there."
At the start of the visual test, Jim leaves the room, leaving them to their tests while he cleans the breakfast dishes and starts in on picking up the rest of the house, too. It's mostly mindless work, and not nearly enough to stop the constant flood of /what's wrong can it be fixed what will we do if it can't how will I tell Sam?/ that's going through his head. At one he starts making lunch, and brings three servings out on a tray when it's finished. Lizbeth and his mom appear to have moved on to regular conversation now, and he receives a smile when he brings out the meal.
"I hope it wasn't too presumptuous of me to assume that you'd be staying for lunch?"
Dr. Ross laughs and smiles as she responds, "Oh, not at all, Jim. We've just been catching up for a while now, and I see no reason why we can't eat and talk at the same time."
By the time Lizbeth finally leaves, they're all caught up on her life and Jim's "Marvelous Adventures," which he altered more than a little to stop his mother worrying any more than usual. He's home now, so really her worry wouldn't do either of them any good anyway.
On her way out the door, she reminds them both, "I'll see you on Monday at the hospital for the secondary tests. Don't forget!"
"I'm not just going to let you rush into a decision like this, Jim. The situation is not so dire that you have to make any decisions right now, and refusing to stop and think never did anyone any good."
Jim sighs, agitated at the continuation of this argument. "Look, mom. You heard Dr. Ross. This isn't going to slow, and until they find a treatment that takes, it isn't going to get better, either. You've already started to have the memory loss, the vertigo, the coordination issues. How much longer before you admit you need help?"
"Now Jim," Winona admonishes, not budging an inch in the face of his stubbornness. "You know just as well as I that she said it would be months, maybe even a year or two, before it really started to impede my daily life. I am not going to let you sit around here, providing help I do not need yet! Go and visit Michael again, or something, anything is better for you than sticking around here. We both know you don't like being in Riverside for very long."
Jim stops for a moment, searching for a compromise they'll both agree to. "How about I stick around for the rest of the week, see where you need help, and all that. On Saturday we'll reassess, see how the treatments are going, and I'll either leave for a few weeks or I'll stay. If I end up leaving, we can keep doing this until you admit you need my help."
There's a pause, like she's trying to think of alternatives, before she gives him a rueful answer and concedes, "Okay, fine, Jimmy. Let's do that for now. But I promise you, I will not need your help for a long time yet."
She's got the same set look on her face that has preceded some of Jim's most elaborate and impressive escapades. This deep-seated determination is all too often attributed to his father by people who like to think they knew him, but his mom – oh, she is a force to be reckoned with.
Jim knows this compromise is the only sensible way to resolve their dispute, but as he's leaving on Saturday, he can't help wondering if all he's really done is give her a reason to hide any difficulties she may have. Still, he's going to take her suggestion and go visit Michael for the three weeks they've agreed he'll be away.
He gets into Salt Lake City three days and more than a few almost-speeding tickets later, and even though they've gone longer apart, seeing Michael relaxes something in him Jim had forgotten was even wound.
They meet up for breakfast in a diner, since Michael has to work in an hour, and though they don't have as long as either would really like, Michael manages to cut to the root of the problem.
"Jim, why are you here? Usually you stay home for a month at Christmas time!"
The answering smile is rueful as he finishes off his coffee and signals the waitress for another. "Well, it wasn't exactly my choice to leave, but it's too long a story to get into now. I'll tell you later, okay?"
He has barely let himself think the words since they came out of Lizbeth's mouth, certainly hasn't let himself consider all the implications they carry, so he has to stop himself from physically sighing in relief when Michael lets it drop. Instead, they fight over whose time it is to pay the check before Jim goes to find things to fill the day with while Michael is at work.
He explores the city, stopping in on galleries and stores and museums, whiling away the hours and keeping track of where he may want to make an extended visit later in the week.
He's at a shelter, playing with the animals when he gets a message with an address and a time for dinner. It turns out to be a local bar, filled with regulars who just want a quiet drink and some company after work, and the owners keep some damn fine local craft beers on tap. The food, though standard bar fare, tastes all the better when combined with the atmosphere and the drinks.
When they sit down, they fill the air with chitchat; Jim's trips since he last stopped in town, Michael's work between semesters. It's easy, something they've done enough times before to get into a rhythm and let the words flow.
Jim waits until he's feeling the buzz before he starts talking, the words making their way out in a rush now that they're not being choked down. "It started to become serious right around Christmas, but I don't know how long the minor symptoms were present before that – she's too stubborn about being sick to ever admit to it, you know?"
He takes a sip of his beer but otherwise doesn't wait for a response, and Michael seems to be aware of just how rhetorical that question was. "She's too stubborn about most things, really. I guess we have that in common. But as soon as the first round of vertigo passed I started insisting she set an appointment with Dr. Ross, to see what could be done. After a whole battery of tests, we finally got a conclusive answer: Multiple Sclerosis."
Michael's face becomes thoughtful, waiting to see if Jim will go on before he asks, "But that's – they have a cure for that, don't they? I remember learning about how they found a way to stop it during the remissions so that it never comes back… So why would she send you away?"
"Well, we Kirks can't ever be anything approaching ordinary, so it shouldn't surprise you to hear she's got Primary-Progressive, which doesn't go into remission, just keeps getting worse and worse." There's a look of sympathy directed his way, but it feels too much like pity to Jim, so he pushes on, "They offered up a few different treatment options. For now, we're on the one where they grow back the myelin that her immune system attacks, but they can't promise to successfully grow back as much as is destroyed, and the bi-weekly injections hurt like hell."
Michael frowns. "So she's still going to be getting worse? Aren't there any other options?"
"There're a few experimental treatments out there that the doctors mentioned, but they can be pretty debilitating and mom is determined to stay strong enough to not need my help, so we'll see how long it takes for her to give in and try one."
Michael squeezes his shoulder, conveying everything he can't quite articulate, and they let the subject drop.
Two hours and approaching triple that many drinks later, and Jim finally finds the articulation he needs on their walk back to the house.
"I think I'd be able to handle it better if we knew for sure, one way or the other. If we knew the treatments would work, or if we knew exactly how long she has left. But we don't. And it's just so much 'Hurry up and wait,' that I think I might go a little mad before the end of it. I mean –" He pauses, trying to catch his thoughts amongst all the disgruntled, warring emotions.
"When you're stuck waiting, there's nothing you can do. You can't plan for the future, because you don't know if there will be one, or when that would be. You can't do much of anything to help, because there's nothing to help with, yet. It's all tests and waiting and inconclusive results and useless treatments, and I'm so fucking done with it all. There's no way out and there's no way through it and you're just – you're just stuck in the middle with no hope of finding your way."
For the rest of the walk home, he stays quiet, and though Michael has no idea what words he could possibly say to help, the way his fingers easily entwine with Jim's go a long way towards making things better.
He spends the rest of his three weeks with Michael, leaving late in the evening two days before he's supposed to be back home. He's a bit more calm about everything after so many late night conversations about it. After that first time, they don't talk about it while the sun is up, and certainly not where anyone else will overhear.
After their time on Tarsus, their weaknesses have been something they never let anyone see, not when something so public as their heritages were used against them with no provocation.
On the drive back to Iowa, Jim blasts his music, revels in the rush of adrenaline, the sensation of flying that it always comes so close to recreating. He stops for less time than he probably should, but he's too busy trying not to worry about everything that's going to shit to really care. He'll sleep when he gets home.
When he does return to Riverside, it's to open arms and the insistence that, "Really, Jim, I've been perfectly fine," and "I told you not to worry about me, didn't I?"
The words are expected and, in and of themselves, a comfort. It isn't long before he's had dinner and is in bed, hoping that he's exhausted enough for his thoughts to shut up and let him sleep.
When he wakes in the morning, he admits to himself that they need to talk about Sam, and braces himself for the argument broaching that subject will doubtlessly produce. Still, his brother needs to know, and they can't avoid the conversation for too long – if things take a sudden turn for the worse, Sam shouldn't be finding out about it all for the first time.
He gets downstairs and starts putting breakfast together, and is just pouring himself a cup of coffee when Winona walks in, still sleep-mussed and reaching for a mug even though she has the day off. They spend breakfast catching up on the past weeks, Winona stressing how normal everything was, and Jim trying to read between the lines and see where she needs the help she'll never ask for.
They wind up playing chess in front of the fireplace, mugs of hot chocolate steaming beside them, and Jim has to remind himself that it's really only February, still. After everything the past two months have brought, it feels like it's been far longer than that.
They become increasingly laconic as they play, focusing more and more on strategy and tricks and trying their best to win.
As Jim moves a bishop, aiming for checkmate in six moves, he finally brings it up. "So, Mom. Did you figure out how you want to tell Sam, yet?"
She looks up from surveying the board and gives him an affronted look. The expression is familiar, a silent "I see exactly what you've been playing at, young man, and I am not pleased with you right now," and he just gazes evenly back. This isn't something he can back off on.
She takes his bishop with her rook before she replies, throwing off his next move. "Look, Jim. We still don't know how this all is going to work itself out. And it's not impacting anything right now. Do you really want to worry Sam just yet? He's been doing so well on that colony, and you know he'll insist on coming home over this."
"If you don't tell him, Mom, I will. He's going to be more upset if he finds out later, and you know it. He deserves to make his own choices about coming back, and we can't decide these things for him." He moves a pawn, hoping to distract her into moving her castle out of the way.
After a few more moves and tense exchanges, Winona finally relents. "Okay, Jim. I'll send him a transmission tonight, alright? But if he doesn't answer I'm not leaving a message; there's no way he's going to find out from a recording."
He knows he can't ask for any more than that, so Jim just smiles as he moves his knight and declares, "Checkmate."
At the end of the week, when Jim leaves again, they've set up rides to and from her treatments with a neighbor, the only concession Winona would agree to, and only because Jim refused to relent. He heads east, unsure where he'll go, but aware of just how long he has before he'll need to turn around again.
The conversation with Sam went… about as well as expected, and it took at least five minutes of Winona, Jim, and Aurelan working together to get Sam to agree not to take the first shuttle back to Earth. Still, when Winona still won't admit that she needs Jim to stay and help her, there's no point in Sam coming and crowding up the house, too.
For the next five months, they're more or less in a holding pattern. Jim continues to leave for three weeks, then stay for one, and though the treatments don't change, they seem to be taking their toll on her. Combined with the effects of the disease, there are some days Winona will actually admit to needing help. There's not enough of those yet for her to allow Jim to stay home longer, though, no matter how much he argues for it.
The next time he comes home, however, he knows he has to re-negotiate their agreement. She can still do all of the big things, but the number of little problems is growing exponentially and it's getting hard to ignore. It doesn't help that Winona is getting tired of all the treatments that don't even seem to be doing anything. They both know that without them it would be so much worse, that she'd have admitted to needing his help already, but that knowledge is a cold comfort when faced with a steady degeneration. For all the trouble the treatments are, it would be nice to see some improvement, for once.
It doesn't matter how many times the doctors tell them that things are moving along exceptionally, that she is doing well, that they couldn't hope for anything more, it still stings to see the declines, to see the days when the vertigo is so bad she can't get out of bed for hours.
Still, they re-negotiate to two weeks at home, two away, and that holds them for a few more months.
As the fall rolls in, though, Jim puts his foot down. His help is not needed in major ways, but he can keep up the property and the house and do all of the mundane tasks that her treatments make her too tired to do. Within a week of being home, however, they both realize he needs to get out of the house more.
He finds work with the mechanic in town, doing repairs he's been able to do in his sleep since long before he built his bike. Still, there's something about working with his hands that calms him, something about taking things apart and putting them back together so that they work better than ever before that soothes his restless urges. Sure, it doesn't require him to memorize facts and recite rules or reasons, but the work does take thought, insight, and effort.
He spends his free time re-learning this town that he escaped as soon as he possibly could. He considers going to work at the shipyard, but can't bring himself to do it, even when Mr. Cospell, who owns the garage, urges him to, insisting that he's "too damn bright to waste your days at this work." Every time he passes the shipyard, he gets this feeling that something will happen there, that he'll be a part of it, but he always shakes it off, and starts taking different routes home.
Many of the people he remembers, remember him. Some of them look like they're anticipating another Jim Kirk (TM) antic soon, one that will make up for the years the town has gone without. Others tell him how much potential he had, but don't look particularly surprised to see him back in Riverside. Almost everyone he sees gives him a look of pity whenever Winona comes up in conversation.
Sam and Aurelan come for the winter holidays, on the pretense of finally introducing her to the family in person, and no one corrects them. They decide they'll stay for three weeks, since they both have the vacation time saved, and to make up for the length of the trip.
It's weird at first, finally seeing Sam again. Jim hasn't seen him in person since the day Sam left, and though he has moved on from that, Jim never quite managed to fully integrate the Sam he sees on the vidscreens and his brother. He always liked to imagine he'd wind up the taller one someday, but he's self-aware enough not to be disappointed when Sam easily has two inches on him.
Winona waits until just after the holidays are over, half way through the visit, to make her announcement.
"I thought it'd be best to tell you all at once, in person, but I've made a decision. I've been talking with Dr. Ross, and I think I'm going to try the experimental treatments. I just can't keep doing this, and if they find one that works, even just a little, it'd be a huge help for everyone else who has it, too."
There's no argument against her decision, no reasoning with her to try and change her mind. They all know better than to try and deny her the validity of her choice, of her experiences. Still, when these treatments leave her more weak and tired than the others, it becomes hard for Jim to remember why they're going through this.
He can't imagine going through it all himself, can't see himself surviving it, can't fathom staying strong and continuing with it all. He knows he's gone through more hardships than most his age, but watching his mother stay strong, refuse to back down and admit defeat, he can see where he got it from. Their family is made of sterner stuff than most, and they will get through this. One way or another.
Okay, so it looks like there's going to be one last chapter, complete with a little epilogue-thing. Let me know if there's anything you think is absolutely vital to that chapter, anything I missed plot- or character-development wise! Also let me know what you think about the chapter in general! (Was it worth the painfully long wait?)
The mix for this story is now up and linked in my profile!