James T. Kirk slept restlessly onboard Deep Space Nine. The sheets and blankets are strewn about wildly, and the sheen of sweat across his body is visible even in the low lighting. His quarters are a haze of discarded uniforms, half-eaten meals, and a paperwork run amok. Empty bottles of a dozen different alien liquors littler the living room, and a half-finished flask of Bajoran gin lays tipped over on his bedside table.
The Admiral is not a well man.
Guilt, stress, and loneliness have long held their grip on him. In public he can put on a brave face, but in private the chaos consumes him. Recent events now plague his dreams as well, turning his night into an unsleeping nightmare he cannot awake from.
Tonight, Admiral Kirk is cursed to sleep without rest.
His consciousness activates despite this, and he awakens to find himself in that all-too-familiar void of white.
Turning his head, Kirk finds himself on the bridge of the Vulcan's Fury. Not-Spock stands, hands clasped behind his back, looking away from him.
Kirk blinks and finds himself in a Bajoran temple. The wilderness beyond the structure is clouded by smoke, the skies red and orange with distant fires. The temple itself is cracked and damaged.
"The Kirk has returned," Not-Juvia said from beside him. The shock that should have come from her sudden appearance is abated by the oddly comforting warmth of some otherworldly presence.
"The Kirk is of Bajor," Not-Scotty's voice echoes from behind him and Kirk can feel the embodiment at his back.
"The Kirk has doomed Bajor," Not-Juvia tilts her head, as if the statement, spoken so surely, is, in fact, a question instead.
"I what?" Kirk asks the spirt, "I've done nothing of the sort."
Again, Not-Juvia tilts her head the other way. Curiouser and curiouser.
"The Kirk has doomed Bajor," She repeats, this time with certainty.
Not-Spock is suddenly in front of him and beckons him over. Kirk goes to join him as the other embodiments disappear. Not-Spock points towards the distance where a great fire rages. The otherwise silent void suddenly becomes overwhelming as the roar of the distant inferno sounds as if it is happening all around Kirk.
"Bajor will burn, the Kirk will be at blame," Not-Spock says, "The Kirk must let go."
"I don't understand!" Kirk shouts to be heard over the fire, only to realize the sound has dissipated into silence again.
Not-Spock points upwards to the sky. The sun is blinding and Kirk shields his eyes, but he can see what the spirit is pointing at: Deep Space Nine, its massive metallic arms all separated from the body. It's destroyed, explosions still consume its hull.
Kirk whips his head back to Not-Spock in shock, it feels as if the air has been sucked out of him and he gasps for oxygen before he speaks.
"What the hell does that mean? Is this happening right now?"
Not-Spock raises a distinctly Vulcan eyebrow.
"Now? What is this now?" It asks him.
"The Kirk is corporeal," Not-Juvia, suddenly reappeared at his back, states, "The Kirk is linear."
"The Kirk," Kirk responded, more than a touch annoyed, "Doesn't have a clue what the hell you're talking about. What is this? What are you showing me? Is this the future?"
"Future?"
"Events that haven't happened yet," Kirk explained, "Events that will happen as a result of action or inaction."
The spirit of Not-Spock stared at him blankly.
"It has happened. It will happen. The Kirk doomed Bajor, the Kirk must let go."
Kirk was suddenly slick with sweat and he had to push his hair back, his hands felt sickly. They were drenched, and he had to wipe them on his clothes to dry them. When he looked back up, he was in his quarters.
For a moment, Kirk believed he was awake- but the blinding white void shone through the windows and illuminated the usually dark space. He was not awake; he was still trapped in this meeting with the Prophets.
Not-Darmak sat on the edge of Kirk's bed, toying with a liquor bottle. He tossed it aside where it broke against the wall. Just the sight of the Cardassian filled Kirk with rage he didn't bother to hide, and, given that this was all probably a hallucination, he marched over and hoisted Not-Darmak up by his armour. Kirk reared back and prepared to punch the Cardassian's teeth out.
He was surprised when Not-Darmak's head suddenly snapped up. A sickening smile spread across revealing yellowed teeth, and his dark eyes were blood red and glowing. He caught the punch and twisted until Kirk's arm popped. Kirk fell to the floor as his arm was further wrenched, crying out in pain.
"The Kirk has doomed Bajor," Not-Darmak said calmly, "The Kirk cannot let go. The Kirk must let go to save Bajor."
Kirk wanted to respond and clawed weakly at Not-Darmak's hand, but the grip was iron tight. The spirit twisted further and Kirk was pulled onto his back as the bones in his arm audibly cracked. When he looked back up, the Cardassian was gone- but the hand remained.
In its place was an equally nightmarish figure: Kor, the Klingon bastard who had killed his brother.
Kirk found renewed strength to smack a fist on Kor's hand but the Klingon just laughed. His eyes glowed red and he wrenched back, pulling Kirk's arm fully out of the socket. The pain forced him to close his eyes as the Klingon laughed darkly. When he was able to finally look again, he saw Kor holding the lifeless body of Juvia high in the air with his free hand. A dahk-tar dagger stuck from her stomach.
"No!" Kirk cried, but there was no use. He was stuck down here, held there by a maniacal Klingon.
"The Kirk," The words slithered from Not-Kor's gnarled teeth, "Must abandon himself if he wishes to save Bajor."
Kirk grabbed a bottle with his free hand and tossed it at Not-Kor, but the apparition was gone- as was his victim. Kirk's arm no longer boiled in pain, but he was still slumped on the floor.
The vision had ended, he was back in the real world, he hoped. The bottle crashed against he far wall as his vision returned to normal. He'd somehow rolled out of bed and knotted the sheet around his arm. He was sweating profusely and struggled to stand up.
Kirk had no idea what the hell that vision was, but he didn't like what it seemed to be telling him. He stumbled over to his washroom and doused his face several times with cold water. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he saw the panic in his dilated pupils. His breathing was quick, unsteady. Even his shoulders were still shaking from the experience.
"The Kirk must let go," He repeated shakily to himself. He repeated it again, scrunching his face in confusion, "What does that mean? Let go of what?"
He had no answers, but he knew where he might find them.
"Admiral?"
Kirk was lost in thought; he hadn't heard Juvia coming up behind him.
He turned to face the Bajoran, leaving the magnificence of the wormhole at his back. She looked concerned.
"Major Juvia, what are you doing up so late?"
Although 'late' was subjective on a space station, it was currently three in the morning according to the chronometers. Foot traffic was down to the occasional Starfleet or Bajoran officer attending to some business or another. The coming and going of starships from the docking ports was equally slow. Everyone was in bed or docked for the evening, even the bars onboard the station had closed.
He'd been on the second floor terrace, above all the shops and the main Promenade, staring out the window at the wormhole. How something so alien could be so comforting he wasn't sure, but Kirk had found it a comforting occurrence after so long. His office had a perfect view of it during the day, allowing him to keep an eye on the comings and goings of all traffic. The giant, pinwheeling mixture of quantum foam, atoms, and sub-atomic structures was the only one in all of known space, and he, James T. Kirk, had discovered it.
That discovery had been overshadowed by tragedy.
Since then, Kirk had come to appreciate it despite that fact.
If only he could overcome the tragedy itself, instead of ending up in drunken stupors each night trying to forget it. He scratched at the stubble on his chin and realized he really should've cleaned up instead of stumbling out to go star gazing. Even his outfit was, for lack of better word, dumpy. A robe hastily thrown on over his sleep clothes, barely tired in the front. He tightened up the belt.
"Oh," She shrugged with a thin-lipped smile, crossing her arms, "You know how it is, can't sleep."
Kirk nodded and turned back to the wormhole; Juvia stepped up next to him, taking in the view.
"What are you doing up so late?" She asked.
"Ah," Kirk tried to come up with a better answer than 'I had a nightmarish vision probably induced by your gods', but couldn't come up with one, "Same, trouble sleeping."
She nodded with awkward overenthusiasm, "Yep."
Kirk coughed. She gave an awkward chuckle and rocked on her heels.
The wormhole closed in the distance, the ships traversing it having completed their voyage through.
"So," Kirk trailed off, he'd really intended for this to be a solitary activity, "How about that Spock, huh? Bet you've never met a Vulcan like him before."
"I've never met a Vulcan period before."
"Ah, of course," Kirk's mouth suddenly felt very dry, "Because of the whole…"
"Occupation." They said together.
"Right, right, the occupation thing," Kirk wanted to kick himself. Who the hell said 'occupation thing' to the victim of a systemic genocide?
"Occupation thing?" Juvia looked equal parts disappointed and aghast, "That's what you call the Cardassians attempting to murder my entire people?"
"I-No, of course not, I'm sorry Major, I didn't mean it like that."
She scoffed, turning away with her hands on her hips. Juvia rolled her eyes trying to make up her mind. A sudden intake of breath was Kirk's only warning before she whirled on him, stomping her foot uneasily close to his.
"Where in the hell do you get off on agreeing to this Dominion crap?"
Despite the fury in her statement, her anger was restrained to a hushed yell. Kirk wished he couldn't have seen this coming, but it hadn't exactly been a secret since they'd returned a couple days ago.
"Major," He tried to say, but she kept going as if he hadn't said anything.
"I mean, really, you expect them to honour their side of the deal? I mean for Prophets' sake, Admiral, are we going to pretend like our previous fights with them didn't happen? Just sweep them under the rug and sing hallelujah?"
"Major," Kirk steeled his tone, but Juvia didn't stop there.
"This isn't some Terran dust-up, we can't trust the Dominion. They're worse than the Thallonians or the Ferengi, and you know that! How can you just stand there and piddle away at the Federation's bidding when you know better? I thought you were supposed to be autonomous out here, not some whipped dog."
"Major Juvia," Kirk's voice was dangerously icy. He could understand frustration, but not public displays of anger like this. He was still her superior officer and this was unacceptable. Still, Juvia didn't heed the warning.
"They murdered one of your own captains, they massacred the New Bajor colony, we can't just ignore that in favour of something someone millions of stars away thinks is best because they looked at some spreadsheet or decided in a committee! They haven't dealt with the Dominion like you or I have, how can you do this?"
"Major," The look in his eyes, if not the heat in his voice, finally stopped her, "You're way out of line, stand down and shut up."
A defiant look crossed her eyes for a moment, but she swallowed the immediate reaction. That skill in and of itself had taken nearly their entire professional relationship to cultivate- a mutual level of respect from someone who never met an authority figure she couldn't challenge.
"Second," Kirk continued, straightening his shoulders, "Yes, if this works out, we will put all that water under the bridge. It's unfortunate, but that's how galactic politics works. They can raze as many colonies as they want, so long as they help us out against the Cardassians. Starfleet and the Federation Council want to stop the bloodshed, and if we have to wipe the knife off and hand it back to the Dominion to do so then that's what we're going to do."
Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation. A hangover headache was forming fast and all this hushed yelling wasn't helping.
"Dammit, Major, you're just going to have to get used to the idea of the Dominion being on our side. We'll welcome them into our home, we'll give them what they want, and Bajor is just going to have to deal with it. It's the only way we're going to keep the Cardassians off our backs."
"And you don't have a single doubt about all that?" Juvia asked, goading him, "Not one little tiny iota of mistrust in this?"
"Of course I do," Kirk admitted freely, "But I'm tired of reading casualty reports and washing the blood off my hands every night. If it gets rid of the Cardassians, I'll take it."
Juvia searched his eyes for several moments, appraising him. She was looking for something, but she couldn't find it. A smile broke out on her face, but it was the forced smile one gives when they can't settle for any other reaction. Kirk had seen it on no shortage of women in his life.
"Rationalize it however you want, James. I heard dozens of collaborators say the same thing during the Occupation. They just wanted it to end, they were tired, they thought siding with the Cardassians would get rid of them sooner. It never worked, and it just made life hell for everyone else," She clapped her hands together, that forced smile looking even tighter, "But hey! Your conscience will be clear, and you can wipe your hands clean of the responsibility you took when you helped us out of that whole 'occupation thing'."
Kirk sighed heavily, trying to reign in the kneejerk response he wanted to give. The one that would lash out with anger and hurtful words. He was exhausted and he still couldn't figure out what the hell the vision had meant. He didn't need to prolong this fight with Juvia by being needlessly cruel, no matter how good it might feel.
"Major, that's not what I meant."
Of course, that certainly didn't help anything.
"No, no, go on," Juvia shooed him away and started to leave, "If you don't have the spine to handle things don't worry, James, at least Bajor will. You and all your little Starfleet buddies can go home and pretend we don't exist, hell, shouldn't be too hard, right? Galaxy's only known about us for a year now."
"Nobody said anything about Starfleet leaving," Kirk scoffed at the mere idea, they'd never abandon Bajor, "I just said that the Federation Council sees things differently."
Juvia had been leaving, but she paused and came back up to him. She rolled her tongue around the inside of her mouth, maybe to give him time to rethink his answers, maybe because she couldn't put the words together to match the anger. She found them before he could at any rate.
"Oh? Oh is that what you said?" She sounded less than amused, her smile failing to reach her eyes and her lips thinly set, "Because it sounded like you couldn't give a damn about how this turns out," Juvia bobbed her head to each of the following points, so forcefully it almost looked like some kind of tic, "You followed your orders, you helped free Bajor, and now you can sleep peacefully because someone else will be dying instead of you Terrans."
"That's not what I said at all," Kirk leaned back as she invaded his space, "I'm just tired of losing good people to the monsters out there. Chekov, Sam, it was too much."
"Bajorans died for thirty years fighting the Cardassians. Do you think we ever got tired?" She spat the words with venom, "Do you know how many times we wished someone would rescue us, fight the war for us? The Thallonians, the Tzenkethi, hell we would've even taken the Breen. But we didn't have anyone else," Juvia was briefly overwhelmed by the dredged-up memories, "I spent my entire childhood doing two things: Running and fighting. I lived in mountains, caves, swamps, I even got to spend a summer in a real city once," She shrugged her shoulders, her hands smacking her thighs as they came back down, "But I guess just one year of fighting the Cardassians, on equal footing, is too much for you, James Kirk."
Her voice had broken several times and now threatened to overtake her completely, but Juvia could remember all the times she couldn't cry as child. The noise would've attracted Cardassian patrols, the dehydration would be worsened, and it was energy she couldn't waste. Even if she could do so now, safely, crying didn't come easy to Juvia Nerys. She held the tears at bay, her glossy eyes the only indication anything was wrong as she steeled herself.
"You want to walk arm and arm into damnation with the Dominion? Go ahead. I'm going to go back to bed and pray that you learn how to let go of all this anger and pain and move on," She smiled sadly at him and turned to leave, saying over her shoulder, "You're not the only one who's lost family, James, but at least I don't spend every night drowning their memories in my own self-destruction."
Juvia walked away, leaving Kirk alone with the cold, distant stars.