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kirktasticThe parts that came first, those were no problem. He had told the story before, complete and whole, during the single interview he had granted after the Narada incident. A hunk of that, a little more than half, had gone to purchasing the house on Risa. It would have been a better place to be, and Jim tried to keep the calm and peace of it in his mind as he told the story again. He had requested that there be no questions until he had finished the first story, whole and complete, because interrupting meant breaking the thoughts that came.
The questions were no problem as well. He had gone through them with the tribunal back on Earth in detail a million times worse than the lawyers were coming up with. Nero's defense infuriated him, in ways that were difficult to explain. How could anyone defend a man who had destroyed so much? How could someone work to get Nero and Ayel a lighter sentence? Nero was a madman. There was no punishment great enough to punish the man for what he had did. Jim couldn't reason that insanity was a reason to do what Nero had done. Just as Bones had said, he told the story, answered their questions.
It was the second part that was far more difficult.
It was more difficult to put into words to start with. He had been so heavily drugged at the time that things were unfocused in his memories, more emotion and color than actual imagery. He was grateful for the silence in the court when he had to struggle to come up with the words, less grateful (and equally, grateful somehow) for the looks of pity. Bad for him, good for the case. It was hard to keep the story in a linear fashion and not add in things he had learned later until he got that far.
When he got as far as the tattoos, the ones criss-crossing down his left arm that still remained, his voice... died in his throat. There was no sound at all, not even in his head. He stared down at the black marking of his own personal failure and grief that was still so vivid against his skin. It had been his inability to stop the drill in time that had let Vulcan be destroyed. He could have prevented it. The madman had understood, broken out of his insanity that they so wanted to use as a defense, the strength of his own pain and loss enough to divert what he had planned for that arm, whatever it was, and instead spiral the names of seven Federation ships. He had told what he knew of them, what little there was, almost like a funeral. Then... Vulcan itself. Nero had known its surface, better than Jim did except in ghostly memories of Spock's. Nero had known it for years, its people and history... then had erased it.
Nothing of all that came from his lips.
People looked between them as the silence became longer and longer, wondering why Captain Kirk had stopped in his story. It had cut off like a novel with its end missing, clearly not done. Out of respect they stayed silent, but as the silence continued it was uneasy. He was staring at his hands, motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest and the blinking of his eyes. Finally, the judge leaned forward and said in a quiet tone, "...Captain?"
He wanted to find the words to answer her, but couldn't. It felt like everything that had happened was collapsing back in on himself, imploding silently in his own little world.
Then, suddenly, there was a warmth in all the coldness. A single point of light in the darkness that had come like the stinking metal-oil of the Narada's interior where hell had come to Jim. At first, Jim didn't understand it until he recognized something very small and subtle. A starry sky, light by light, started to come into view in the darkness he had focused on. Something ethereal curled through him, nudging him as determined as a pup. Spock... He knew it, almost more instinctively then consciously. It was like Spock was sitting right there, just behind him, all the warmth and certain strength of Spock's body pressed against his back, strong arms wrapped around his chest. Warmth curled over his aching hand, between his fingers, massaging the ache as a foreign love curled between cracks in his memories. It was enough to break the silence, enough strength to continue through the memories.
The story continued as if it hadn't stopped. He attempted to explain what Nero had down to write down the names of the destroyed ships as well as Vulcan, then started to write about himself using Jim's skin as his paper. Things after that got beyond blurry, after Ayel had injected him with something black (or was it bright green?)
He finished the story in sickbay, for now, because he knew nothing for days after that. Just bits and pieces. He would like them question him, he would answer, then he would tell the last part of the story. Healing, the Narada, Agura, Jim and Spock on the Narada, the Romulans on the planet, getting Nero into the brig, and how they had come to the new colony. If it was possible, the questions were worse. They kept asking for clarification about things that he had no answer to. He could tell it was frustrating, and when he went into detail about his hand being broken and his father's torture he saw one of the members of the jury actually turn their head away and gag.
By the end of the final story, by the end of their endless questions, Jim was raw. His throat was raw from speaking, his stories, the questions, the answers taking up hours of time that would be unbroken due to the circumstances of the need for privacy. His hand hurt so badly that he kept having to shake it out, but the cramp returned over and over until he wanted to scream. It felt like the tiny bones of his hand, most of them probably rebuilt from the osteoregenerator more than any original bone remaining. The scars on his face itched badly. His mind was raw from the memories of pain, anguish, and suffering, some of it not even fully his own. It was those emotions that told Jim why Jim and his Spock would never be able to understand his position. It was why there were people who were willing to risk Nero getting free. It was why...
He had lived through the destruction of Vulcan in every way possible except being on its surface. He had watched the Vulcans in sickbay, the raw emotion on their faces as their skies went dark. He had been with them, sat with them, on the limping ride home to Earth while they had none to go to.
He would have rather lived through Tarsus again then what had happened that February 11th.
When finally he was allowed to go, Jim thanked the court and walked out without looking back. Everything in him felt cold and distant and hard, very far away. Just the Captain, just for now, until he could find his mental footing again. He opened the door, and walked out into the hallway.
The questions were no problem as well. He had gone through them with the tribunal back on Earth in detail a million times worse than the lawyers were coming up with. Nero's defense infuriated him, in ways that were difficult to explain. How could anyone defend a man who had destroyed so much? How could someone work to get Nero and Ayel a lighter sentence? Nero was a madman. There was no punishment great enough to punish the man for what he had did. Jim couldn't reason that insanity was a reason to do what Nero had done. Just as Bones had said, he told the story, answered their questions.
It was the second part that was far more difficult.
It was more difficult to put into words to start with. He had been so heavily drugged at the time that things were unfocused in his memories, more emotion and color than actual imagery. He was grateful for the silence in the court when he had to struggle to come up with the words, less grateful (and equally, grateful somehow) for the looks of pity. Bad for him, good for the case. It was hard to keep the story in a linear fashion and not add in things he had learned later until he got that far.
When he got as far as the tattoos, the ones criss-crossing down his left arm that still remained, his voice... died in his throat. There was no sound at all, not even in his head. He stared down at the black marking of his own personal failure and grief that was still so vivid against his skin. It had been his inability to stop the drill in time that had let Vulcan be destroyed. He could have prevented it. The madman had understood, broken out of his insanity that they so wanted to use as a defense, the strength of his own pain and loss enough to divert what he had planned for that arm, whatever it was, and instead spiral the names of seven Federation ships. He had told what he knew of them, what little there was, almost like a funeral. Then... Vulcan itself. Nero had known its surface, better than Jim did except in ghostly memories of Spock's. Nero had known it for years, its people and history... then had erased it.
Nothing of all that came from his lips.
People looked between them as the silence became longer and longer, wondering why Captain Kirk had stopped in his story. It had cut off like a novel with its end missing, clearly not done. Out of respect they stayed silent, but as the silence continued it was uneasy. He was staring at his hands, motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest and the blinking of his eyes. Finally, the judge leaned forward and said in a quiet tone, "...Captain?"
He wanted to find the words to answer her, but couldn't. It felt like everything that had happened was collapsing back in on himself, imploding silently in his own little world.
Then, suddenly, there was a warmth in all the coldness. A single point of light in the darkness that had come like the stinking metal-oil of the Narada's interior where hell had come to Jim. At first, Jim didn't understand it until he recognized something very small and subtle. A starry sky, light by light, started to come into view in the darkness he had focused on. Something ethereal curled through him, nudging him as determined as a pup. Spock... He knew it, almost more instinctively then consciously. It was like Spock was sitting right there, just behind him, all the warmth and certain strength of Spock's body pressed against his back, strong arms wrapped around his chest. Warmth curled over his aching hand, between his fingers, massaging the ache as a foreign love curled between cracks in his memories. It was enough to break the silence, enough strength to continue through the memories.
The story continued as if it hadn't stopped. He attempted to explain what Nero had down to write down the names of the destroyed ships as well as Vulcan, then started to write about himself using Jim's skin as his paper. Things after that got beyond blurry, after Ayel had injected him with something black (or was it bright green?)
He finished the story in sickbay, for now, because he knew nothing for days after that. Just bits and pieces. He would like them question him, he would answer, then he would tell the last part of the story. Healing, the Narada, Agura, Jim and Spock on the Narada, the Romulans on the planet, getting Nero into the brig, and how they had come to the new colony. If it was possible, the questions were worse. They kept asking for clarification about things that he had no answer to. He could tell it was frustrating, and when he went into detail about his hand being broken and his father's torture he saw one of the members of the jury actually turn their head away and gag.
By the end of the final story, by the end of their endless questions, Jim was raw. His throat was raw from speaking, his stories, the questions, the answers taking up hours of time that would be unbroken due to the circumstances of the need for privacy. His hand hurt so badly that he kept having to shake it out, but the cramp returned over and over until he wanted to scream. It felt like the tiny bones of his hand, most of them probably rebuilt from the osteoregenerator more than any original bone remaining. The scars on his face itched badly. His mind was raw from the memories of pain, anguish, and suffering, some of it not even fully his own. It was those emotions that told Jim why Jim and his Spock would never be able to understand his position. It was why there were people who were willing to risk Nero getting free. It was why...
He had lived through the destruction of Vulcan in every way possible except being on its surface. He had watched the Vulcans in sickbay, the raw emotion on their faces as their skies went dark. He had been with them, sat with them, on the limping ride home to Earth while they had none to go to.
He would have rather lived through Tarsus again then what had happened that February 11th.
When finally he was allowed to go, Jim thanked the court and walked out without looking back. Everything in him felt cold and distant and hard, very far away. Just the Captain, just for now, until he could find his mental footing again. He opened the door, and walked out into the hallway.
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no subject
Date: 2010-05-16 05:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-16 06:07 pm (UTC)He poured some more liquid into each other their glasses. "I'm gonna order some food up here," he told Jim, standing as he headed to the computer terminal. "Take off your boots."
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Date: 2010-05-16 06:09 pm (UTC)"Hey, Bones? ...Why does it still hurt?" He waved his tattooed hand in emphasis.
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Date: 2010-05-16 06:25 pm (UTC)Kicking off his own shoes, he sat on the edge of the bed, one hand falling on Jim's leg. He traced a little pattern on the fabric before he spoke. "That hand's been through a lot, Jim, even before what happened to it." Understatement. "The bones there are small -phalanges," he turned Jim's hand in his own, tracing up a finger as he spoke. "Phalanx, metacarpals," he murmured looking at the pattern. "There was a lotta damage done, Jim. A lotta damage. It should get better, as the bones get stronger, as your own cells take over and replace the regenerated ones." The medical record was still hard to read, what had happened to Jim's hand, even before the tattooing began. "You want something for the pain right now?"
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Date: 2010-05-16 06:29 pm (UTC)"No." The response wasn't a big surprise; rarely did Jim ever ask for anything to deal with pain and when asked he usually lied about it. He hated that feeling of being drugged up, floating and filmy and fake and falling.
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Date: 2010-05-16 09:16 pm (UTC)"May have found us a Healer," he said, not exactly changing the subject, but letting Jim know that there was no pressure to talk about it right now. Had all night. Hell, had forever, really.
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Date: 2010-05-16 09:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-17 01:00 am (UTC)"Also, this whole sex soda incident..." Bones hesitated, a little grin on his face despite the still-weirdness of the situation. Another thing they'd have to talk about soon, what happened. "I think they're more worried that the Enterprise or Starfleet is going to file an official protest or something with the Vulcan High Command, 'cause so many of our guys got hit with it all."
Bones twisted until he was behind Jim, and began rubbing his shoulders. "I might have let it slip that I would put in a good word with the Captain if I could get an experienced Healer whom I could trust implicitly. No first-years or anything," he added.
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Date: 2010-05-17 01:09 am (UTC)The sex-soda... Jim almost smiled. "That... was some crazy shit, you know. That soda. Paula. S..." He stopped on the last word, unable to get it out as his almost-smile vanished. It was a clear sign that... that was something he didn't want to discuss yet.
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Date: 2010-05-17 02:02 am (UTC)And Bones wasn't sure he was ready to talk about what happened either.
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Date: 2010-05-17 02:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-17 02:48 am (UTC)"Jim..." Bones halted his movements on Jim's shoulders. He wasn't sure what to say. Fuck, they needed to talk... why was this so hard?
He pressed his forehead against the back of Jim's neck and breathed him in. A little smile on his face as he remembered something. "Speaking of...I hope you don't mind, but I had some flowers sent to Paula yesterday. Put both our names on it." He'd thought about giving her a call, make sure she was okay, but that was still too awkward. "Just didn't want her to feel too weird about us, you know?"
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Date: 2010-05-17 02:51 am (UTC)Bones' comment about flowers finally got a smile on Jim's lips, however small. "...yea? Huh, look at you, being the gentleman." It was a tease, sounding almost like Jim again. "S'good idea, actually..." His voice trailed off, and he hesitated before quietly, "was it... bad? I swear I didn't mean to get infected with that stuff, and Paula... I know how you feel about other people..."
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Date: 2010-05-17 03:13 am (UTC)He kissed the back of Jim's neck. "Told you, I wasn't gonna do that. Thought I was doing a good job."
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Date: 2010-05-17 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-17 03:40 am (UTC)"I love you. I do... but I'm not gonna be with someone like that, fucking them, if I don't want to, okay? So just stop worrying 'bout that, like you're making me do somethin' against my will. I'm not a fuckin' delicate flower, I know how to say 'no', and I know you'll understand if I ever do."
He wasn't upset, despite the gruff tone to his voice. His finger were tender against Jim's cheek as he continued. "Thought you understood that," he sighed, looking in Jim's eyes.
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Date: 2010-05-17 03:44 am (UTC)"If I hadn't..." How the hell was he supposed to say this? It sounded down right stupid in his head, but seemed like something he had to get out. "If I hadn't... pushed things with Spock, I don't think any of this shit would have happened."
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Date: 2010-05-17 03:52 am (UTC)"You think I'm gonna blame you?"
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Date: 2010-05-17 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-17 04:05 am (UTC)"And me being there, that's not your fault either. Is like that with the others. The other Jim and Spock, not to mention Joanna's family." He immediately wished he hadn't mentioned her. Bones still hadn't spoken to her since their argument.
It was his fervent wish that Jim never find out about it, either.
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Date: 2010-05-17 04:09 am (UTC)He moved his head to lay his forehead against Bones' shoulder, sighing. He didn't want to talk about this, any of this, but knew they had to. With the numbness gone, he felt open and raw. I just wanna make sure that this... us... works. By talking, or whatever we have to do to make sure it does.
It was Bones he loved. Whatever it had been with Spock before all this shit had happened... it wasn't what he had, never could be what he had, with Bones.
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Date: 2010-05-17 04:55 am (UTC)But Jim, he still seemed worried and it was frustrating as hell. "It is my intention to spend my life with you, Vulcan bond be damned," he whispered into Jim's hair. "Tell me what I can do to make you believe that."
The chime at the door interrupted any more talk from Bones. Food was here.
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Date: 2010-05-17 11:29 am (UTC)The chime for food made his stomach twist, and Jim just closed his eyes. Shit, the last thing he wanted to do was eat. Tell me what I can do to make you believe that. It sounded vaguely like something he had said in the past to Bones, when Bones had doubted the idea of them as well.
Spend my life with you. He thought of Nyota and Spock, bonded or not, and the life they would eventually live completely separate from himself and Bones and the Enterprise. Bonds didn't mean forever. That took something more.
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Date: 2010-05-17 12:22 pm (UTC)"You wanna go for a walk on the beach or something?" he asked, sitting down next to Jim. "We could go sit in the water?" he ran his fingers through Jim's hair.
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Date: 2010-05-17 12:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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