InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Ya Broke the Bloody Ship!!"

captain james t. kirk (buckleup) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2009-06-21 22:19:00

Entry tags:

!closed

CHARACTERS: James T. Kirk, George Kirk
LOCATION: Building B, 2nd Floor, Room #208B
TIME: the morning after Bones' not!death, the sound's return, and Winona's arrival
NOTES: some language, otherwise you're fine

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The bright light of morning filtered in through the window in the room that was neither his own or the one of Seven's that he often crashed in. No, this bed was someone else's. Jim rolled over onto his stomach and smelled the pillow, inhaling the strange, yet oddly semi-familiar sent that covered it. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, which were crusted over with the dried remnants of tears.

Tears.

Jim slumped forward as it all came rushing back to him. Running scans with Seven, finding Jo in the hall, Bones being attacked, him being unarmed and freezing up, Seven saving his ass, Bones dying... Bones dying. Bones was dead, he reminded himself. Dead. That realization felt like Sam was explaining to him that Winona wasn't coming back all over again, only it hurt much worse. He sat in that position for what felt like hours that was in reality only a few minutes before he managed to disentangle himself from the sheets of his father's bed and padded over to the door and exited the room.

"Fucking Christ, feels like I threw my ass in front of a goddamn bus," he groaned, lifting a hand to the back of his neck as he rolled his head, wincing as the muscles protested and--

Those blue Kirk eyes went wide.

"Holy fuck, I can hear myself talk." He stomped a foot to make sure he wasn't just making this up in his head. He sighed heavily in relief. At least something was going right.

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twelveminutes
2009-06-21 10:42 pm UTC (link)

George had woken... actually, he wasn't sure exactly when he'd woken. Sleeping in the same chair he'd been sleeping in as of late, only this time having moved it to directly in front of the front door so those bastards that were attacking people would have to manhandle him out of the way just to get inside the apartment, meant that George wasn't getting the most restful of rest. Not that he was complaining - so long as he got a few hours on average a night, he could function just fine. And while the couch was probably more comfortable than the chair, he simply hadn't been willing to risk Amanda or Jim getting attacked without him knowing about it and getting at least a chance to try and stop it.

As it was, he had been awake for an hour or so by the time Jim had woken. He had been sitting at the kitchen table for the better part of that hour drinking his fair share of coffee as he attempted to chase the cobwebs from his mind, marveling over the fact that sound had returned to the city seemingly overnight, and most recently exchanging conversations over his PDA with his newly arrived wife.

It was his Winona, too. Not the veritable stranger that Jim had told him about. It was the woman he'd fallen in love with, the one he'd chosen to be the mother of his children. She was from the same time as he was and it was because of this that George had already made up his mind to talk to Jim about her arrival rather than allowing his son to find out through some other means. Which was partially the reason why he was still sitting at the kitchen table rather than heading out to meet Winona personally. He was hoping Jim would wake up before he'd finished his last cup of coffee so they could talk - and this time actually talk - in person rather than being forced to leave some note.

At the sound of the bedroom door opening, George glanced over his shoulder and listened with a mixture of amusement and awe as he heard his son speak for the first time. He was awestruck at the fact that he was finally hearing such a thing, obviously, and faintly amused at just what it was he was hearing. By the time Jim stomped his foot, George figured it was time to make his presence known.

"You aren't the only one who can hear you, Jim," he stated simply, turning fully in his chair so he could more properly look at his boy. And he was his boy. He didn't give a damn how old he was.

His own blue eyes were sparkling a bit with the amusement he simply couldn't entirely conceal as he added, "And a word of advice - I wouldn't suggest saying anything so loudly that you wake Amanda. She likely wouldn't appreciate it and I, for one, have no intention of getting on her bad side after seeing some of the looks she's capable of last night."

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