James Tiberius Kirk (
boldygoing) wrote2017-05-29 12:25 pm
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Big Reveals [for losthunter]
Jim has been in Starfleet Medical for eight weeks before he's finally released. Which is not to say he's been cleared for duty, mind you. But he's recovered enough not to need that kind of constant medical supervision, able to take the rest of his treatment as outpatient. He has physical therapy three times a week, exercises to do at home, and of course Doctor McCoy is still keeping an eagle eye on his diet, something that annoys Jim to no end.
Of course, that's nothing compared to finding out that his Starfleet-assigned apartment is buried under the crashed bulk of the USS Vengeance.
Jim doesn't really give a shit about the apartment itself. Yeah, it was kind of nice to have his own place, but it's never been home. It was just a place to stay whenever the Enterprise was in port. And though it was more decorated than his quarters onboard the ship, it was all meaningless knickknacks, nothing with any real sentimental value.
No, he's more pissed about the fact that nobody told him until a month after he woke up from the coma.
He understands why, of course. McCoy gave him the whole spiel about stress being bad for his recovery, about not needing to worry himself about things he couldn't do anything about, that by the time this happened Jim was already dead, but it's a heavy blow to realize that the loss of life was far, far greater than he'd realized. Tens of thousands died or lost their homes. Yet Jim Kirk lives, when he has no right to be breathing, let alone leaving the hospital.
And it's hard not to be in a foul mood when he realizes that the only place he has to stay on Earth is in Iowa, at the old neglected Kirk homestead. At least it's not likely to be bugged by Section 31, and Jim spends two entire days sweeping the place for surveillance devices, and another three to get the house in order, before he's reassured enough to have visitors.
[OOC: Image links to replace broken ones below:
23rd century Iowa
Mind meld position]
Of course, that's nothing compared to finding out that his Starfleet-assigned apartment is buried under the crashed bulk of the USS Vengeance.
Jim doesn't really give a shit about the apartment itself. Yeah, it was kind of nice to have his own place, but it's never been home. It was just a place to stay whenever the Enterprise was in port. And though it was more decorated than his quarters onboard the ship, it was all meaningless knickknacks, nothing with any real sentimental value.
No, he's more pissed about the fact that nobody told him until a month after he woke up from the coma.
He understands why, of course. McCoy gave him the whole spiel about stress being bad for his recovery, about not needing to worry himself about things he couldn't do anything about, that by the time this happened Jim was already dead, but it's a heavy blow to realize that the loss of life was far, far greater than he'd realized. Tens of thousands died or lost their homes. Yet Jim Kirk lives, when he has no right to be breathing, let alone leaving the hospital.
And it's hard not to be in a foul mood when he realizes that the only place he has to stay on Earth is in Iowa, at the old neglected Kirk homestead. At least it's not likely to be bugged by Section 31, and Jim spends two entire days sweeping the place for surveillance devices, and another three to get the house in order, before he's reassured enough to have visitors.
[OOC: Image links to replace broken ones below:
23rd century Iowa
Mind meld position]
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"I am from a dimension, where the year is 2017."
"There is no space travel. No Starfleet. No food processors."
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Uhura responds first. "When did this happen? We didn't run into any spatial anomalies that could cause something like that."
Well, here goes the part that makes things sound really weird. Jim winces a little. "Apparently the doors to the Nexus can be pretty random. My first way in was, uh, Conference Room One." He pauses a moment while his crew stare at him and Hunter in disbelief. "That was just the one time."
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"The doors that lead into the Nexus usually only open for the person who they had intended to open them. It is actually a weird thing..."
"There is no danger to the person entering the Nexus either. There is an anti-violence field to prevent such things. And most people..." Jim gets a fond look from Hunter. "Find the brochures about the Nexus when they first enter, telling them about where they are. And how the place works."
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Jim, of course, is giving Hunter a similarly fond look, though this one has undertones of 'what, it's not my fault the brochures sounded like total bullshit.'
"Fascinating," Spock murmurs, his brow furrowed ever so minutely. "Captain, your prediction that this conversation would arouse skepticism was a logical one."
"Logical?" McCoy sputters. "Nothing about this is logical, Spock."
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"There is this general meeting place, where a person could ask a question, and have anyone... from any dimension, give them advice."
"I had been soul-searching myself, the first time I found myself there."
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Jim shrugs. "Nothing, at the time." And it's just now occurred to him that whatever controls the Nexus may have known that he could use some help in the days after his first foray into its meeting grounds. Why not? Apparently time is no object, and things aren't always linear. But this might not be the best time to bring that up.
"Please forgive me, but while such things are theoretically possible, it is an... extraordinary claim," Spock says to Hunter, clasping his hands together in front of himself. "There is no other logical answer to much that I have noticed regarding your relation to the captain. But as a scientist, I am ill-equipped to take such matters on faith alone."
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He glances at Jim, not sure if he should be the one to offer the mind meld or not. "But I am willing to help provide scientific proof. However, you feel is best..."
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"Later, Bones," Jim says, suppressing a sigh. It happened over a year ago but it's no surprise that the doctor is still going to fuss over the part where it happened at all. The captain looks back towards Spock. "I realize it's kind of a drastic step to take but it seemed... easier."
Spock looks contemplatively at Hunter. "It is not a thing to be undertaken lightly," he warns him. "There is no possibility of relaying falsehoods in the meld, but neither is there privacy. A master of Kolinahr would be able to present only structured, ordered thoughts to be read with a surface meld, but human minds are not so disciplined. Even a stray thought or memory may be transferred between parties, with no regard for intimacy or secrecy. If you still wish to present your proof in such a manner, it is your choice."
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"And so it doesn't come as a surprise... since we have had enough of those... my appearance was altered by magic by a Witch in my world. She would have a strong presence in my mind still. She created the tattoos and the piercings that cover me. And there is still some of her magic that is within me."
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"He really believes it," Uhura says, able to tell just by listening to Hunter's voice that he's being truthful, to the extent of his own knowledge. No magic or telepathy needed on her part; she's just that good.
"But magic's not possible," McCoy protests in disbelief.
"Not entirely correct, doctor," Spock says thoughtfully. "Humankind once believed that abilities outside their own capacity were impossible, and yet, you do not disbelieve that I am able to touch the minds of others."
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It's like being at the top of the first hill on a rollercoaster, poised in a moment in time, waiting for the inevitable plunge into chaos and mayhem. Spock's mind is like a vast desert, massive stones arranged in logical patterns, but on the horizon, a dark storm gathers, and behind it lurks a deep ocean of emotions, locked away from the desert through rigid self-control. And the desert still bears the scars of a great flood, when the ocean ripped through the desert and tore his hard-earned stoicism to shreds.
Voices swirl between them, momentary phrases and snatches of words, but nothing solid, the proper memories where they come from dismissed almost as soon as they arise. The probing presence of Spock pushes deeper into Hunter's mind, exploring the shape of it, and listening for the truth in his thoughts.
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Then there is the sensation of 'seeing' Spock's mind. The logical patterns appeal to Hunter's artistic side. The dark storm beyond attracts his curiosity. There is something calming about the imagery of the desert for Hunter. He imagines a rose, blooming against all odds in the desert setting.
It is that rose that invokes Hunter's first memories of the Nexus. Painting by a lake, and getting to meet Verity and Schön. Those friends who were the first people who accepted him, when he was still struggling with his changed appearance. The friends who supported him to become someone stronger.
It was in the Nexus where he met some lifelong friends. He met some amazing people like Will Kent, Loki, Matt, Han Solo, Rhys, Captain Jack, and so many more. He had experiences that one could have never imagined, like getting to fly at the Samhain ball because Verity was Tinker Bell. Or going to the beach barbecue, and getting to meet Groot, a huge tree-like creature who could only say three words in English. Or being a support to those in need, like the symbiotic alien Faris.
Of course, that young woman is still in his Nexus memories. The emotions tied to her include anger, confusion, grief, sorrow, loss. A dance at Samhain was the last time Hunter saw her, before she walked away and out of his life.
And there is a general feeling that Hunter would be lost without the Nexus. He would still be that shy and self-conscious young man. He would have not embraced the opportunity for new art creations. He would have never had the chance to design for a museum that honored the world of his best friend -- whose door was permanently closed, since her world was erased from existence. He would have never had the nerve to stand up to his father, demanding his inheritance so he could create the foundation.
Hunter would not be the man he is now... sitting in this room, without the influence of the Nexus. And the people who has met there.
And somewhere, in his memories, Kendra smiles a little. As if she had know the whole time that it was a place he needed to be.
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So it is Spock who experiences the memories of painting by the lake, as if he was there, feeling what Hunter felt, saying what Hunter said. His thoughts flow with the human's, exploring the depth of memories in this new part of consciousness he may access, no barriers between them. He sees the woman, the museum, the confrontation... and most importantly, he sees the truth.
But there is one more thing he must know before he withdraws, to end the meld. A memory is pulled to the surface of Spock's mind, placing Hunter in the Vulcan's shoes, standing to the side of the command chair on the bridge of the Enterprise as Jim turns to face him, and smiles, the human's face full of warmth and pride.
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And that leads to surface memories of the intimacy of what happened between Hunter and Jim, when their tour took them to Jim's quarters.
The emotions tied to what was experienced, and the news of Jim's comatose situation, are more than just sexual. More than just friends. It is a close bond, one that Hunter has already come to terms that it is something that he will hold tight in his heart. Something he has told Jim, but doesn't expect the other man to return. That all he wants, most of all, is for Jim to be happy.
To have that smile. That warmth on his face. It means the world to Hunter.
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He has his answer.
Gently, Spock disentangles their minds, separating himself from Hunter until they are two minds once more, and lowers his hand from Hunter's face. "Fascinating."
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"You have a beautiful mind." He speaks finally. Softly.
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"Son of a bitch," McCoy mutters, shaking his head. Hearing it from Spock of all people, he accepts that it's true, but it's sure as hell hard to believe it.
Uhura looks at Jim thoughtfully. "This explains a lot."
Jim shrugs a little. "I probably would've said something eventually, once I figured out how to get around the mandatory psych eval."
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"One of my best friends can sense lies. It is her special ability. And I just kept thinking about how disappointed she would be in me."
"And as I got to know all of you... it just became more of a struggle. I felt that there was a possibility of friendship, but also knew that I would never be comfortable hiding the truth from new friends."
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