Song for Eurydice, Part 1: Act II
My father once told me - He said: you see something wrong in the world, you can either do something or you can do nothin'.
The words rolled around in his mind, itching at the back of his skull. They were so familiar, but profoundly not Jim Kirk's words. But, nevertheless, he felt the truth in his own life through them.
And I already tried nothin'.
How many times had he ridden his motorcycle down those dusty roads near the shipyards? If Chris hadn't dragged his ass up and out of that bar, how much longer would he have kept kicking up that same dust?
Chris Pike had been the closest thing to a real father Jim had ever had. Jim wished he'd said something before it had been too late.
What was it he had said to Spock after Chris's death? On the Enterprise when they went after Khan. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I only know what I can do.
Unbidden, he could feel hands that were both his and not his clenching at the wooden crate in front of him on a tarmac in Germany. An explosion ripped through the facility and in the midst of it, a figure he couldn't make out.
Oh my god! What are we gonna do? It had been more and more difficult to tell when it was Charlie in those memories and when it was Scotty.
There's not much we can do. If that's who I think it is. Those words rang so close to the events of Jim's own past. But, we can stop that plane.
Jim didn't know if he had been living a life parallel to Steve Trevor's own… or as his ghost.
All he knew was what he could do. It was the mantra they both seemed to share, three centuries apart.
He could - and would - find a way to cope, to fix this. These memories, this person, that Jim had no right to know so much about.
Captain. They were even captains. He couldn't tell if he was hearing Spock's voice or the Colonel's sometimes.
Jim sat, placid and lost in thought as he stared aimlessly at the table in front of him. His hand at his mouth, he star ahead, unblinking.
"Captain."
Jim and Steve shared all too much in common. At least Jim could take comfort in the fact that when faced with the impossible, they both did the same thing: they took the handful of things that made sense and tried to control those. Steve charting a course on his map without a compass, Jim sending Spock to review possible M-class planets while they made their way back to Yorktown…
"Jim."
He blinked. The briefing room suddenly came into focus around him and Jim sat up suddenly, turning to face the voice. His first officer stood just past the doorway, a datapadd in his hand and his expression as close to concern as Jim could recognize.
"Spock." Jim said, using the name and face to anchor himself in the present. As Spock came closer, he could feel the anchor drag along the seabed of his mind before finally catching hold. The thoughts of Steve Trevor, Veld… they finally left him for the moment. "Did you find anything?"
"I believe I have located several class-M planets that match your specifications." The Vulcan crossed the distance between them to hand Jim the padd. As he did so, he glanced around the room before focusing on the captain. "If I may ask… you have quarters for any meetings you wish to have off the bridge, Jim. I believe Doctor McCoy has stated numerous times that he prefers that you sleep and that your captain's quarters facilitate work and sleep."
Jim chuckled, giving him a sidelong glance before grabbing his mug of coffee. "Come on, Spock, it almost sounds like the two of you are on the same side."
"When it comes to your health, Jim, we oftentimes do agree. You do not have much regard for your well-being, so we must." Spock's mouth quirked into the half-Vulcan's equivalent of a smile.
"We're hardly ever in here. If I don't spend some time in it, you'd never even know we had a briefing room." Jim replied wryly. He rose his mug to his lips and took a sip, only to grimace and pull back.
His coffee was ice cold. He'd only poured it a few minutes ago,...
Jim glanced at the time on the datapadd's upper right corner.
Or an hour ago.
He set his coffee down abruptly, then focused on the datapadd. Better not to give Spock and Bones a reason to gang up on him. He had been coping thus far. He would just have to pay more attention. Not get...
There's no relative direction in the vastness of space. Commodore Paris. She always knew how to get to the heart of the matter. There's only yourself, your ship, your crew. It's easier than you think to get lost.
You have a long journey ahead of you. Where you need to go, some people can't follow.
"Four planets, all class-M," Jim rattled off, focusing on the information in front of him instead of the way Chief's voice made him seem like he was just out of sight. "All pre-warp, but close to it, and all proto-Hellenistic cultures."
"Have you discussed this with Ambassador Prince? Given these parameters, it is logical that she may have insight regarding these Hellenistic cultures." Jim narrowed his eyes and cast an annoyed glance up at him. The way Spock was standing, he had the distinct impression the Vulcan was hovering.
"Could you sit down, please? You're making me nervous." Jim griped, nodding towards one of the chairs. "Thank you," He said as his first officer did so, although gratitude wasn't the emotion he was trying to convey. Jim went back to scanning through the different records and fell silent.
"What are you hoping to find with pre-warp societies? As you know, the prime directive - "
"Spock, whatever we do, we're not going to interfere with their development. Give me a little credit." Jim said, not sure why he felt so short-tempered. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the fact that he didn't like explaining himself...
That wasn't true. Jim never had a problem explaining himself to his crew. And he valued the opinions of his senior staff. I'm sounding like the other guy.
He set the padd down and rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his mind. "I'm sorry, Spock. I'm not in the best frame of mind right now."
"You are experiencing a highly unusual neurological phenomenon, Jim. I would be remiss in my duty as your first officer and as your friend if I did not give you the benefit of the doubt." Spock sat back in the chair, watching him.
Jim smiled. It was tired, but it was real. For just a minute, he could let down his guard. There were no junior officers to see him on the bridge, no chief medical officer to try to convince him to sleep. Spock knew Jim's mind better than most. So, when Jim let his body slump into the same sense of weary unease as his mind, he took comfort knowing Spock would understand. "I don't know if Bones would agree with you. Or, hell, if I would."
Spock sat forward. "How are you feeling, Jim?"
The question was a simple one any other day of the week. But, if Spock had to ask it, then it meant he was worried. Even if he didn't show it outright. "Confused, mostly. And frustrated."
"How so?"
He sighed and shrugged. "I… I keep remembering things that I know aren't my life, they're this… Steve's. And as long as I focus on the ship, the crew, I'm okay. But… sometimes, I start thinking about his memories of Earth… of Diana… and I get lost."
"Perhaps, with time, the symptoms will fade."
"Maybe." He breathed, turning his chair a bit so he could look out at the starscape, distorted by the warp bubble. After a long moment, he finally voiced what had been bothering him since Diana had come aboard. It had been simmering under the surface, and he'd even shared it with her. "Every time I think I know who I am, Spock, something happens that throws it all into question. Khan's blood, me getting a year older than my father, and now… this guy. Steve Trevor's life and mine feel like two sides of the same coin and that…." He stopped. He couldn't say it, but they both knew. That scares me. What if I never made a single decision that wasn't Steve's first? Who the hell am I?
"Jim, if I may suggest a Vulcan turn of phrase for this scenario." The captain turned to his first officer. "The Vulcan philosopher Kiri-kin-tha posited that the First Law of Metaphysics is as such: Nothing unreal exists. Therefore, what you experience and what you see must exist in some fashion."
Jim blinked. Vulcan philosophy had never been his strong suit, but even when he tried to keep up with Spock, he oftentimes found himself unable to relate. He knew the phrase, but he didn't see how it applied. "I'm not sure I follow."
"While it may be true that you and Steve Trevor share a genetic identity, it does not negate the autonomy of your own actions, Jim." Spock considered his next words carefully. "You are still… you. But, much like fruit from a harvest, you may share the same attributes as a completely different fruit."
"I don't know if that's the case, Spock." Jim sighed. He wanted to believe in Spock's theory, but it sounded too good to be true. He couldn't be sure that anything he'd done regarding Diana had been him. "Bones says I can't have two neural patterns. The human body physically can't take the stress. Maybe I can come to grips with knowing I am a… reincarnation of the guy - " The words sounded foreign. "But, I don't think I can just reason the memories into a state where they don't conflict. I remember my father being dead when I was born and simultaneously arguing with him at a farmhouse in Iowa over a war I didn't fight."
"Regardless of the presence of other memories, you still experienced your life as Jim Kirk. That does not need to change."
"Sure, fine, that's me." He said, dismissive. Easier not to argue with Spock about his identity crisis. "But, that doesn't change the fact that Diana kept it from me for months, and waited until those memories were literally dropped into my head before she admitted that I looked like someone she loved. That she slept with. And I have to carry that around!"
Spock's expression softened in a way that Jim wasn't sure he'd really seen before. Not unless Uhura was around. It was more human. "I imagine that the loss of Captain Trevor was felt deeply by Ambassador Prince. And to discuss that with you would have reminded her of her loss. Perhaps she did not wish to burden you, or cause you to question your friendship as you are now."
"So, I'm just supposed to forgive her?"
"I would recommend speaking with her."
"I have no idea if she's ever felt anything for me, Spock. I don't even know if our friendship is real."
Spock pursed his lips, then finally spoke. "When I first met Ambassador Spock, I did not know if I could trust him. Even though he was my future self, I had been set on a divergent path to his. Even now, as he has passed, I feel that loss as if it were the loss of my own. In a way, perhaps my katra has been tied to his. But, I was able to see him as someone other than myself. Perhaps, Diana has done the same for you. But, I cannot answer that question for you, Jim. Only she can."
His stomach rolled with guilt and fresh hurt as he considered the last time he and Diana had spoken. What he'd said. "I told her when we got to Yorktown, I wanted her off the ship."
Spock's eyes narrowed. Jim had a feeling he didn't agree, "That is your decision. May I ask why you think that would help?"
"I don't know if it will." He said softly. "I was - I am angry. And at the time, it seemed like the only way to ensure that I can protect the crew."
"While that is admirable, Jim, I don't believe your motives are entirely altruistic."
Jim hesitated, starting at a seam in the table, letting his fingers run over it before he finally voices what he hadn't wanted to in front of her. "I don't know if she ever wanted to stay on the ship because of anything I said, or because she thinks I'm Steve. And what if everything I feel for her isn't me? What if that is Steve?"
"You are not. And yet, you are. Is it possible that she also feels such a duality? That she wished to trust you because you looked like Steve, but learned to trust you, Jim?" When Jim didn't reply, Spock simply pivoted the conversation. He was almost jealous that he'd done it so easily. "What is it you hope to accomplish by searching for these planets? Do you expect to purge all knowledge of Steve Trevor's life from your mind? That may not be possible." Jim's frown deepened as Spock hit a little too close to home.
"The truth is…" He sighed, trying to find the words to describe the insanity that threatened to overwhelm him. The truth is I don't know what I want. To let go of Steve meant letting go of memories that, in a way, felt like home. And yet, keeping them felt just as wrong as pushing them away. "I'm not sure what I'm looking for. But, I'll know it when I see it. And whatever it is… I think it can help me… be me again."
"Then, it is fortunate there are only four planets to search through." Spock motioned to the datapadd again. "But, if I can assist, I will. My suggestion is to look at the Argelius system."
"Argelius…" Jim frowned, switching over to the record. He scanned through the details on the planet, then paused as he found the visual aids he'd hoped for. "Is this from our probe data?"
Spock shook his head curtly. "No. The people of Argelius IV launched several space programs similar to Earth's Voyager program. The USS Kelvin intercepted one such probe."
Jim's head snapped up to give Spock his full attention. And disbelief. "Bullshit."
No mirth appeared in Spock's eyes. Instead, he nodded to the padd again. "Your father made the final report himself on the findings."
Jim's gaze dropped back to the datapadd. His father…. He'd known his dad was a science officer. It was Starfleet protocol at the time. But, to see the words George Kirk…
Jim set the padd down and touched the log entry.
The voice that filtered through the briefing room's internal comm was one he hadn't heard in years. His mother only had a handful of personal recordings and logs…
"First Officer's Log, Lieutenant Commander George Kirk, USS Kelvin. Stardate: 2232.49."
"Just a few months before he…" Jim trailed off as he realized the thought had been aloud.
"We've completed our full analysis of the Argelian probe and have archived all of the information the people provided. I've spent the last three weeks combing through everything. The Argelians have given us their full history and culture, and they are exactly what Winona hoped: a proto-Hellenistic culture that somehow evolved parallel alongside Earth. She's over the moon, but, now that she's officially on maternity leave until the baby's born, we've agreed that the best thing to do is to send a formal request to the captain that we attempt to find the planet in our next tour of this sector in… 2234. It's a haul, no one's ever gone that far out before."
Jim glanced at the location of the planet. Well past the Yorktown's location. The USS Kelvin wouldn't have come that far out unless Starfleet felt deep space travel would be worth it. He had a feeling his father had known that even when he indulged his mother on the subject.
"With luck, the Argelians will be closer to warp capability. If not, we may have to exercise typical non-interference protocols so that we can at least interact and observe their culture. I'll be the first to admit that I don't typically get this excited over finding probes of all things, but, it sure puts a smile on Winona's face so I'm happy to come along for the ride.
"Captain Robau has received my format written report on the culture and agrees that it is a candidate for further study. That being said, I do have one minor concern. In evaluating the astronomical data they provided, there's an odd gap that seems to occur every 38 or so of our standard years. It also coincides with a festival they have called The Vision, but I can't figure out what could be happening on the planet. Unfortunately, we missed it by about 9 years. We'll have to wait until, I don't know, 2264 to even see it.
"Let's hope no one has to wait that long. All I know is, from the way their records read… whatever it is, this Vision is an astronomical event that affects every planet in the system. Whichever ship comes back here needs to be careful." The padd chirped as it reached the end of the log.
Silence stretched between first officer and captain as Jim tried to process what he'd heard.
When he finally spoke, his throat was dry and he found himself debating drinking the ice cold coffee on the table. "A proto-Hellenistic planet undergoing an astronomical phenomenon… in 2264. That my father wanted to study." He leaned back in his chair. "I'd say that was impossible, but…"
"You frequently believe in and accomplish what most people deem impossible, Jim." Spock agreed. "And the similarities do suggest that if you are looking for a pattern, this could be the starting point."
Jim nodded. It took him a second to catch on that Spock was essentially violating his own rules here. "It's not very logical though, is it?"
"On the contrary. If one must consider that Diana's rival in the 2040s could appear on a planet across the quadrant and two hundred years later, then one must also consider that there could be patterns working across the larger fabric of the galaxy that we simply lack the knowledge to predict." That little pull at Spock's mouth appeared again. He was teasing Jim. Or amused. Either way, it meant bad news for him. "If we understand the variables at work with Argelius IV, we may then understand the larger pattern."
Jim stood and made his way over to the first officer. By the time Spock had stood as well, Jim was already handing him back the datapadd, galvanized. "This is where we need to go, Spock. Set a course. This is Delphi. It has to be."
"What is Delphi?" Diana's voice hit Jim like a physical blow. He must have missed the doors to the briefing room hissing open while he'd been talking. Since Spock had entered the room, he had begun to feel grounded. But, now that she was here, he could feel his control slipping.
When he glanced over to see her, the curious look on her face reminded him - unfortunately - of being in the luminescent springs of Themyscira. The way she'd raked her eyes over him - Dammit, no. Steve.
He was ready to ask her to leave, but Spock was too quick. Jim couldn't help but think that it was intentional. "The captain described a planet he believes could prove useful in dealing with his… unique affliction." The first officer seemed to be relishing watching Jim glower at him. "I believe we have found the planet."
"A planet that you think is Delphi." Diana repeated, her words measured and clipped. It reminded him of when she gave Etta her very robust opinion on how a secretary sounded like a sla - no, that's Steve. That's not you, Jim. That's not you.
"Yes." He finally sighed, resigned to the fact that he would have to explain. "A proto-Hellenistic culture with a temple that looks like the Parthenon." Jim kept talking as Spock extended the datapadd for her to read. He'd discuss that with his first officer later. Right now, he had to keep his head on straight. "And I think it's this one."
"Why?" Diana asked as she read through the information on Argelius IV.
"Because my father was the officer who found and studied their probe. And your mother is the one who told me to go to Delphi. I'm starting to think it's all related."
She immediately had his full attention, confusion clear on her face. "My mother? What are you talking about?"
Jim cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest and steeling himself for his first officer's reaction. "I dreamt about it. Every night since it happened. I don't necessarily go to the same places, but it always ends the same. Your mother tells me to go to Delphi."
"That is not the reasoning you gave for this research effort, Jim." The Vulcan protested, but Jim's gaze was still on Diana. She hadn't looked away from him, and every second she held his eye, he could feel his resolve crumbling further.
"I've been dreaming of Delphi as well." The words, thankfully, kept Jim from getting lost.
"You have? Why didn't you say anything sooner?" No sooner than the question left his lips, Jim knew that he had made a misstep. They both knew why.
"You have been avoiding me. And instead of coming to see me yourself, you covertly sent Hikaru to distract me. I will not be put off any longer." She set the datapadd down on the table, closing the distance between them a bit more. "We must talk about this, Jim."
"We already did, and you told me there was nothing you could do to get this out of my head." Jim reminded her, a bit more harsh than he had intended. But, he couldn't look at her without thinking of the way his heart had been pulling him towards her. And she'd never seen him. Only Steve.
"That doesn't mean that I don't want to help you. Nor do I think you understand the circumstances around my coming aboard. Regarding our friendship."
"It's pretty clear from where I'm standing." Jim said, his tone brooking no argument. His hand resting against his bicep had started to grip the muscle tightly, hoping to keep control of his rising temper.
"I am not giving up on you. I will not go." Diana didn't back down, but from the way her jaw had set, he could tell she was thinking of how to elaborate. If Jim stood his ground - and he had every intention of doing so - he had a feeling one of them would walk away regretting their words.
"Captain, I believe we have sufficient information to prepare for an away mission to Argelius IV." Spock said, momentarily breaking the tension. "As there is no further information needed, I will be on the bridge." The first officer turned to go, much to Jim's dismay, but paused for one last parting shot before he left. "Consider what I have said, Jim. As the ambassador often told me, he had the benefit of being in two places at once."
And, then there were two.
Jim inhaled and let it go slowly, trying to keep his temper, his mind, all of it - any of it - in check. "Diana - " He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say, or where he wanted to start.
He shouldn't have been surprised that she was already prepared.
"I want to help you, Jim. And I want to fix what… what I have broken between us. But, I cannot do that if you refuse to speak to me." Diana, as usual, had hit right to the center of the issue. He had avoided her. He didn't know how to process the information and how to quell his anger even while he knew forgiving her would be as easy as breathing.
Sighing, Jim scrubbed his face with one hand before motioning for her to continue. He knew she was right. And would telling her 'No' stop her? Probably not, seeing as how she'd tracked him down. "Fine…" He said softly. Where was all of this anger coming from? He should have been glad that she was going to be honest with him, and he couldn't stomp down this irrational sense of anger. The war kept taking and taking and it didn't stop… He could hear his own voice, but the thought wasn't his. I had to learn to bury all of that or I'd explode. You don't know how to do that.
Jim took a seat on the edge of the table, stony-faced as he tried to hide how much the rogue thought had shaken him. And how it had been right. He had buried grief and anger, but nothing like this. It felt like an entity.
If Diana had noticed why he'd given her the floor, she didn't comment on it. Instead, she kept her distance, but her eyes never wavered from his. He couldn't help but wonder… did she think she was staring Jim down? Or Steve?
"If you and I are both dreaming of Delphi," Diana clearly had not come to talk to him about the planet. But, he didn't stop her, either. He didn't know how to even begin with how he felt about her. Keeping the conversation to the mission was best. "Then, it's entirely possible the solution is there."
"How so? I don't even know what's there. It could be a dead end." It wasn't until she began pacing that Jim realized she was probably doing the best she could to agree to his request to table their personal had changed the subject because it was something she could control. I know that feeling.
"Are you familiar with Delphi's importance to Hellenistic peoples?" She asked.
"I know they had priestesses who said they could see the future. I mean, the Oracle of Delphi is a nice footnote in most history and mythology textbooks." He said.
"That is true, yes." Jim couldn't remember when he'd ever seen her nervous, but she seemed close to it. The way her fingers tapped on her thigh while she paced and spoke. It was as if she was trying to keep herself from going off-script. "The Oracle of Delphi was a priestess chosen by Apollo. It was her duty to breathe the fumes of the chasm below the temple and to give prophecy to willing and faithful subjects. And at certain times of the year, originally on Apollo's birthday specifically, one could ask a request of the god." Jim opened his mouth to reply, but she continued on. "If we are being called to this planet, it maybe that someone on the planet is aware of your plight. They may have the magic needed to help you… understand the truth. Apollo is… was a god of light and truth."
"So are you." Jim reminded her. "And you said you couldn't take this out of my head."
"And the Oracle may not be able to, either. But, it's possible that there is magic there. Magic old enough that you can put the knowledge to rest." Diana made a move towards him, then stopped before she could get much closer. "Jim, when you first told me of the memories, you said it was like being in a dream. Prophecy often feels like the realm of dreams."
"What if you're wrong?" Jim shot back. The way he'd said it rang so eerily close to a memory that he knew it instantly. What if there is no Ares? Jim grit his teeth. Steve had been wrong about gods then. Maybe Jim shouldn't be so quick to count them out now. "What if they don't fade and they don't go away? How am I supposed to live with him in my head? How am I supposed to look at you and not know that I'm just a reminder of the guy you loved?" Jim kept going. He didn't want to hold back. He'd been doing it for so long with her, and if he was going to be stuck in this mess, he at least wanted to be honest. "I mean, honestly, Diana. For a goddess of truth, how could you keep that from me? I thought we were friends, and now I have no idea if you ever saw me at all."
"Jim - "
"Circe was right." He blurted, resting his hands on the edge of the table. "I believed - I still believe in you. I think you could do anything. And I was angry when you told me that you couldn't just take his memories out of my mind, but the fact is, I'm more angry that you spent months getting to know me and you just never thought I should know."
"Jim, please." The plaintive tone in her voice gave him pause. She oftentimes seemed so invincible. For a moment, she seemed vulnerable. And he wanted to kick himself for making her feel that way. "You deserve an explanation. So, let me say this. Let me explain what I was thinking, however misguided that was."
Jim's gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, then he finally nodded.
"Thank you." She said. Another step forward and Jim found his gaze dragging back up to hers. Which, apparently, was what she had been waiting for.
"I plucked you from the sea." She began. The words pinged off of the back of his skull and brought him squarely back to Chief's camp. He gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went white. The only thing that brought him back to the briefing room was her voice and what she said next. "I saw your shuttle crash and went after you. When I found you pinned against your bulkhead and that chair, I didn't hesitate to save you. When I pulled you to the shore, I found myself faced with a ghost. In truth, that is why I was so short with you. I didn't want to know what you were - who you were. But, you don't take that for an answer, Jim. You never have. Since the day we met, you have done nothing but try to get past every wall I have put up in front of you so that we can be friends. You have asked of my people, of my time in your past, and throughout it all, you have shown me that you are Jim Kirk. And I came aboard the Enterprise and remain here because of you, Jim. Because you were so open and full of wonder."
It took everything in him not to snap back at her. Instead, he took a deep breath and waited for her to continue.
"Steve… he was the first man I ever loved. He was so different from the Amazons, and yet, for a man so worn and haunted by the war, I could see goodness and light in him." Diana smiled in a way Jim couldn't recall ever seeing before. It was profoundly… nostalgic and sorrowful. "He was my gateway to his world, and I could never thank him for that. Before we could even understand what a relationship together would mean, he gave his life to protect the world. In many ways… I mourn what could have been as much as I mourn what we had."
"So, I'm just a really poignant reminder…" Jim whispered, careful to keep his tone neutral.
"At first, yes. Everything you said, everything you did, even the way you smiled, it all felt as though I was walking through a bad dream." Diana swallowed. Whatever she was about to say, it was difficult for her to admit. He could tell from the way her eyes were glistening from unshed tears. "I was scared that if I told you that it would make any hope that you were somehow him disappear. And at the same time, it would mean losing you. So, I chose the less valorous of the two courses. I kept the truth to myself until I could be certain of who Jim was, and not what of Steve I placed upon you." She stepped closer, and Jim could feel his heart thud painfully in his chest. He wanted to touch her face, to caress that stricken look away. His palms were itching to do it, but… that couldn't be him. "But, that openness, that thirst for the unknown, that desire to explore? That is not Steve. That is you. And that is what I have always found unique and so wonderful about you."
"Diana…." Jim muttered, as if trying to warn her away. Warn her from what, though, he couldn't tell.
"I went to Leonard because I needed to know that scientifically, you could just resemble him. If Circe had never pulled the truth from the very fabric of your soul, I would have told you and we both would have thought it coincidence. I value your friendship. I knew I couldn't hold onto this secret forever." Jim couldn't look away as she spoke. He was caught up in her. That wasn't Steve. He was tired and angry, but… they shared that.
Diana pulled at every heartstring and made him want to do everything he could to stay near her.
Which was precisely why she needed to be off his ship.
It took everything in him not to cup her face in his hands. Instead, he reached out and gently rested his hands on her shoulders. With a careful, deliberate move, he walked her back as he pushed off the table, then he moved across the briefing room so he could get some distance.
"I can understand your fears, I can understand that you didn't know if I was some version of Steve." He said, staring out at the starscape, trying to ground himself in the present. "But, what I can't understand is why you didn't tell me for so long." He could see her in the reflection on the viewport. She was confused. It reminded him of London, of realizing he'd been lying to the senior officials to get to the front anyway.
"But, I just…" Diana began.
Jim turned and waved her attempt to explain away. "No, I know what you told me. But, the fact that you thought you had to go to Bones instead of me. Diana, I have put myself on the line. I was willing to put my ship and her crew on the line for you. I trusted you when you told me there was magic, and that's a pretty big ask, all things considered." He chose his next words carefully. "And I don't know how to fix this. If what we faced together, if the trust I've placed in you at this point wasn't enough, then I have no idea how gain your trust." He shrugged, at a loss. "Hell, maybe I never had it at all."
"Jim…" The way she said his name rang all too close to another name, another time. He could remember how it felt for her to say his name as they lay in bed, watching the snow fall outside. He squeezed his eyes shut. That's Steve. That's not me. "You cannot fix that which I have broken. You do have my trust. This is my failing. And I am deeply sorry that I didn't trust you sooner. I should have known that you could respect how difficult this was for me." When he didn't reply, she continued on. "That might be why you're seeing my mother guide you to Delphi. I… I've been a coward. She may have felt she needed to guide you to your salvation even from Elysium. Because I couldn't."
A pressure headache had started to build as she'd spoken. As she mentioned her mother, Jim found himself remembering exactly how fearsome and bold her mother was. She could rip me apart, and I wouldn't blame her. She has no reason to trust me. Jim swallowed down bile as he tried to split his thoughts off from Steve Trevor. The longer Diana stood there, the harder it was.
"I will save you. Whatever it is, I can do it." When he looked up again, his heart twisted. There were tears running down her cheeks. For him.
No. It has to be me. The voice rang clean again. It felt like someone had a comm line to his brain, not an errant thought.
"That's what you told him back then, too." Jim said, swallowing a sudden lump down his throat.
"What?"
"And he told you that it had to be him. That..." He took a deep breath as the memory hit his senses. He could smell the cold air on the tarmac, could feel the biting wind against the flack jacket. "I could save today. You could save the world." Jim could feel the well of emotion. Handing her the watch, running and never looking back, because when she says your name, you know it's almost enough to make you stop.
Jim's head suddenly throbbed, sharp pain lancing through his temple. He brought a hand to his head and stumbled for a moment. He gripped at the table as the world swam around him and his stomach jumped right in, too. He swallowed down bile.
He could hear Diana call his name and could see her moving forward, but he held a hand up to stop her, wrestling his senses under control. "Diana, please, don't…" He breathed, still nauseous and pained.
Jim focused on the computer screen embedded in the briefing room table. The briefing room. USS Enterprise. Serial number NCC-1701-A. Commissioned by Starfleet in 2263 after destruction of first ship of her name on Altamid. Altamid. Where they found Jaylah. Krall. Balthazar Edison. Jim Kirk did those things.
He was Jim Kirk.
He was Jim.
Slowly, he righted himself. He kept his eyes closed until he was sure the world would stop swimming. When he finally felt solid, with his feet on the bulkhead, he opened his eyes again and focused on Diana across the room.
"We… we cannot do this right now." He said, a bit mortified that his voice was weaker than he would have liked. Clearing his throat, he continued with a bit more level tone. "I want… to make this work. Whatever this is. If you want to be friends, I can do that. But, I care about you. And it… it hurts that you couldn't trust me with this. But, until we find a solution for your…." He stopped before he let himself fire off some callous epithet. "For Steve, then I have to assume that neither of us knows what the other is feeling or wants. Is that fair?"
She didn't like that proposal. It was obvious. Truth be told, he didn't like it much, either. He wanted to assume that she cared about him. That what he had thought was growing between them was genuine. But, he couldn't know. He didn't even know if the fact that he was fairly certain he loved her - and Jim didn't use the word lightly - was genuine. And there was no way he would open either of them up to that kind of messiness. Not now.
Maybe never.
When she didn't reply, he finally decided that brutal honesty would have to do. "Diana, I can't keep my thoughts straight around you." She furrowed her brow, but he continued. "Don't you get it? I take one look at you and I'm still all over the place. And when you start to speak, it's like my head goes straight into a tailspin and I can't pull back out of it. I'm going to hit the water all over again and…" Jim stopped as he realized his mouth had gotten away from him. He backpedaled away from the table, bracing himself against the viewport again. "That's not me. I didn't crash in the plane." He said, trying to orient himself again. "You see? I can't even keep it together right now." He couldn't look at her, too worried that it would start all over again. "Diana, please leave. When we get to Delphi… then we can talk…"
"No, Jim, please don't shut me out. Let me help you - "
"You can't." He barked. He knew how harsh it sounded and felt immediate regret start to swirl around in his chest.
Just like when I told her she was wrong about Ares. I had to watch her suffer when the village died. If I'd just listened to her…
"That's not me!" Jim snapped to thin air, then whirled. Diana was still standing there, but now her expression had shifted from concern to something else. Was she… was she afraid? "I can't… you don't know what this is like. You have to go. Please, Diana. My head is throbbing, and I just want to sit down."
"Then let me help you," Diana made her way over to him, even as he tried to shrug her off. When she began to steer him to a chair, he turned to look at her and saw the same woman that had crossed the No Man's Land. He could see the raw concern on her face.
"Dammit, you have the biggest heart I've ever seen…" He breathed, bringing one hand to cup her cheek. He brushed a tear away with his thumb, then frowned. "You couldn't have saved them, Diana. I promise you, this wasn't your fault. Follow the smoke. Chief. You have to… I have to find Chief."
Where you need to go, some people can't follow. The voice was clearer now. He knew that voice, he knew that man.
"I'm going to get Doctor McCoy." Diana said softly, reaching for her communicator. He could tell she was shaken. The way her brow twitched. He'd seen it before.
Bones… Bones can help.
"Get… Bones, Diana… I think I'm…" He looked up at her.
She was the last face I thought of before I pulled the trigger.
That was the last thought he had before he realized he was tasting iron and the world went black.