captain james t. kirk (![]() ![]() @ 2009-06-07 14:45:00 |
![]() |
|||
![]() |
|
![]() |
|
![]() |
Entry tags: | !closed |
CHARACTERS: James T. Kirk, George Kirk
LOCATION: the bar George's been hiding out at
TIME: second day into the Gentlemen!plot
NOTES: Weirdest father/son reunion first meeting ever. Contains excerpts from Alan Dean Foster's novelization of the movie. Credit to him for his savvy writing.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Where you come from--in your future--did I know my father?"
Spock responded without hesitation. "Yes. You often spoke of him as your inspiration for joining Starfleet. Indeed, as the inspiration for everything that you became. He was, I believe, immensely proud of what you accomplished."
"That means--I must have accomplished something besides a spell in prison."
Sharply angled eyebrows drew together. "Prison, Jim?"
Kirk waved it off. "It's nothing. At least, I hope it turns out to be nothing. But that's a matter for the future, isn't it? The future that lies ahead of us and that we're going to try to sway."
"The future that we must sway," Spock corrected him. "Otherwise there will not be one. Not for you, not for your father, not for anyone."
Kirk was still trying to imagine what life would be like had his father not perished years ago while trying to stop Nero. The sleeve of one arm was wiped across his eyes.
"I am responsible for whatever is upsetting you," Spock commented immediately. "That was never my intention. Something you should know: he proudly lived to see you become captain of the Enterprise."
Captain. That was how this Spock had addressed him when they first encountered one another. It was still hard to accept.
Jim sighed. It wasn't so hard anymore, accepting being called captain. He'd held that rank for over two months now--longer, if one counted his stunt as Acting Captain during the Nero Crisis. However, when he thought about the fact that he was a twenty-five-year-old captain, gold shirt, stripes, and all and his father, who was six years older than him, was a mere lieutenant who was captain for only twelve minutes made him feel...somewhat inferior.
"If you're half the man your father was..." Pike stopped himself mid-sentence. Nostalgia wasn’t working. Perhaps promise would be more tempting. "Jim, Starfleet could use a guy like you. You're headstrong but you're smart. One without the other is useful. Both employed in tandem point toward a potentially dynamic career. You could be an officer in four years. Have your own ship in eight. Unusual, but not unheard of. I know people as well as ships. I believe you could do it."
He'd done it, alright, but at what cost? Vulcan? Seven Federation ships? More cadets than Jim could count? He rubbed at his eyes. Jim knew he deserved his captaincy, knew that he was, despite his age, one of the best captains in the fleet. Yet, compared to what his father had done, it seemed so minuscule, so unimportant. Sure, he'd saved the Earth, but he'd lived through it. What his father had done was noble beyond Jim's ability to express with words in any of the dozens of languages he would deny he knew.
Living in George Kirk's shadow had never been easy. He was proud to be his father's son, but at the same time, it had put a heavy weight on his shoulders that didn't seem to have any signs of lifting--a weight that seemed to only press upon him with more force now that he knew his father was here.
"Your father was the captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's and yours. I dare you to do better."
Despite the medals that were hanging in his quarters, somewhere, wherever the Enterprise happened to be while he was here, the numerous commendations tacked on to the end of his very short service record, and everything he'd done... He didn't feel like he did better.
Jim didn't feel well about any of this at all. Was he supposed to be elated that his father was here? Angry? Compared to Seven's experience with her dead parents, his seemed so meaningless, but he couldn't help but feel like he'd be more comfortable sitting back in Seven's room instead of doing what he was doing now.
Looking for his father.
And he froze in the doorway when he saw him. It was from the back, but the early 2200's Starfleet uniform gave him away, as did the rusty-blonde hair that Jim had inherited from him. Instinct told him to turn and walk away, but stubbornness commanded him to stay.
Jim wasn't in uniform himself. Different clothes than the ones he'd worn to and from Cordelia's after sleeping with her, as he'd had the sense to duck back into his own apartment, shower, and change, but if his hair and eyes didn't give him away, surely the phaser that was shoved in his back pocket would do the trick.
There wasn't any easy way to do what needed to be done, but be damned if Jim Kirk wasn't going to act like it was.
Swallowing his nerves and pushing that 'nothing affects me' front forward, Jim walked the rest of the way into the bar and placed himself on the stool right next to his father. He waved a hand at the bartender to get his attention, then pointed at one of the taps.
If he was going to do this, he would do it with a drink in his hand.