boldygoing | L'shanah tovah [for losthunter]

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L'shanah tovah [for losthunter]

Jim Kirk has not celebrated any holidays with his family for a very long time.

Sure, they started talking again after his enlistment in Starfleet made its way into several Earth newsfeeds, the usual media vultures seeking attention for their coverage of George Kirk's son returning to the fold, so to speak. Confined mostly to text-based messages, and a few short video calls, his grandparents have reached out to him over the past few years, trying to reconnect, to mend old fences, and giving a standing invitation to come visit whenever he's ready.

He's always had an excuse for not going, citing existing plans to spend time with Bones, to study for upcoming exams, or being out of the solar system on Starfleet business, among other things. But with the Enterprise still out of commission as her repairs and overhaul nears completion, and having spent several weeks sharing living space with his mother again, he can't really wiggle out of it this year.

Not that he's even sure he wants to, anymore.

His family life has never really been the poster child for well-adjusted people, but... they're still his family. And maybe it's time to stop running away from his problems and pretending they don't exist. He's not a traumatized thirteen-year-old anymore, overwhelmed and isolated in the knowledge that none of them can truly appreciate the horrors he lived through, lashing out at a world that allowed such things to happen to him. He's turned his life around, cleaned up his act, and started down a path that is far more important than just fulfilling his own wants, regardless of the legality. And this particular holiday seems like the appropriate time to try to make amends.

Fortunately, he doesn't have to deal with it alone.

Jim patiently waits just outside a public transporter terminal in the Chicago suburbs, sitting on a park bench. While still wearing civilian clothes, he's on the slightly more formal side of things today in a white dress shirt and dark pants, though he's not bothered to wear a tie. It's about mid-afternoon, and the streets are mildly busy with people out for a stroll or out running errands of some kind, a steady flow of foot traffic both on the sidewalks and beaming in and out at the transporter platforms. He idly watches them pass by, keeping an eye out for his expected guest, whose PINpoint coordinates should bring him out exactly where everyone expects people to appear out of nowhere.

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Hunter feels a little nervous himself. He has not celebrated any holidays with his family for a long time. And today is a much different event, since it will be Jim's family that he will be meeting. Plus, he is a little nervous about the holiday itself, since he is unsure about the traditions that might be observed.

But he has taken Jim's notice about not wearing leather to heart. He is wearing a slightly more formal shirt and jacket himself. But no belt. And he is wearing a pair of cloth covers over his feet, instead of shoes.

He smiles when he spots Jim, and heads over to him. "Hey handsome."

Jim smiles back, and gets up to greet him. "Hey there. Hope you had a smooth ride over. Looking forward to dinner?"

He's a bit uneasy too, uncertain of what to expect from his own family. They've been apart for a long time now, and bad memories can't be swept aside and forgotten as if they'd never happened. Even though they don't speak of it, through silent agreement, the ghost of his past is an almost tangible thing, whenever they're in the same room together. He's not sure how much of that is his own imagination, but in any case, he's glad to have Hunter along to give him something more pleasant to focus on.

That they're getting dinner out of it certainly doesn't hurt, either.

"I am. I am glad you invited me." Hunter was interested in learning a little bit more about the Jewish culture, mostly. And he is glad that Jim had invited him along as support.

"You mentioned wine would be a good gift?" He holds out a wrapped bottle.

He nods, gesturing for Hunter to hold onto it for the moment. "Yeah, that's perfect," Jim agrees with a smile. "Come on, the house is this way."

His grandparents' house isn't too far off, just a short stroll from the transporter terminal, and the weather is nice, the air holding a hint of the approaching autumn. Like San Francisco, the city here has a decent amount of architecture and landscaping that wouldn't be out of place in the twenty-first century, supplemented by clearly more contemporary buildings and technology. The roads are fairly clear of cars this far out from the main city limits, with most of the locals getting around on foot, and the iconic Chicago skyline lightly changed from the one that Hunter may know, a few new skyscrapers added to the historical ones on display.

Jim glances over at Hunter, walking shoulder to shoulder, and smiles a little. "You know, you might be the first person I've brought to meet my mom," he says, only partly teasing. He can tell that the other man is a bit nervous, and what better way for both of them to deflect their unease than with a little friendly teasing.

Hunter is admiring the view of the city, noting the differences between his timeline and Jim's. Then he smiles when Jim tells him that he will be the first person to meet his mother.

"Is that right?" Hunter reaches to take Jim's hand in his own.

"I am a little nervous to meet her." He tells the truth.

Jim gives his hand a little squeeze. "What're you worried about?" He knows why he has some reservations about having a family get-together, but that's because... well, she's his mom. Their family history is rocky as fuck.

"I just don't want to make a bad impression." Jim is important to Hunter. So meeting his mother is equally important, because he knows the history.

"You won't," Jim assures him, nudging his shoulder against Hunter's. "As long as you're making the effort, you're halfway there already," he adds, nodding towards Hunter's other hand, the one holding the wine. "And if you're curious about something, don't be afraid to ask. My grandma'll talk your ear off if you want her to."

"I am very curious about the tradition, itself." Hunter smiled.

"Do I have time to ask why no leather? Or should I save that for your grandmother?"

They're nearly to the house, but Jim figures there's time enough to answer. He's not exactly a rabbi or anything, and he's a bit rusty at some of this, but he remembers enough. "There's two reasons, kinda. Rosh Hashanah's a festive kind of holiday, but it's also the start of a time of atonement, so you're not supposed to be totally comfortable. Back before synthetic materials came around, leather shoes were more comfortable than any others. Got expanded to include all leather at some point so it's just traditional now."

"The other reason's more of a religious one. It's the new year, so it's the anniversary of the creation of the world, and Adam and Eve wore animal skins after they sinned. The beginning of a new year's when your fate for the next year gets determined, so you're not supposed to do anything that might bring down bad luck on you." Jim doesn't talk about any of his personal views on the subject; that's something he keeps to himself, no matter who he's talking to. But cultural exchange... that's literally his job, and he's more than happy to expand Hunter's knowledge to the best of his ability.

"Atonement and a celebration of the new year." Those two things seem to go together often. "It does sound interesting."

"When was the last time that you celebrated Rosh Hashanah?"

Jim assumes he means legitimately celebrating, not just going 'oh hey, it's Rosh Hashanah' and then getting whatever festive meal the Academy commissary was serving that day. "Not since I was twelve." So it's been a while.

They arrive at the house, a moderately-sized single-story home with a neatly manicured lawn. It's a lot better tended than the Kirk household in Iowa, something that might not look out of place in a slightly futuristic subdivision, fairly similar to the neighboring houses in shape and structure, if not for the small personal touches that mark it as distinct. There's a woodburned sign above the main door declaring it to be the residence of the Davis family, and the doorpost is decorated with a small mezuzah. The lawn has a small path of stepping stones that leads to a small flower and vegetable garden, and a holographic pink flamingo adorns the side of the path, flanked on the other side by a birdbath.

Hunter takes in everything, as they approach the house. He sort of chuckles at the sight of the holographic pink flamingo.

"Those never go out of style, do they?"

"Oh, yeah, they're just as tacky as they've always been," Jim says with a grin, as they walk up to the door. "Most people who have 'em these days have them because it's funny or whatever."

He knocks once as he opens the door, not waiting for anyone to let them in. The scents of fresh bread and roasting fish waft out to greet them, and the interior of the house is comfortably casual, once again better maintained than the Kirk homestead. Digital photos and artwork line the walls, pictures of landscapes and people, unfamiliar faces in civilian clothes or Starfleet uniforms, and there are a few medals in shadowboxes on display on one wall, surrounded by pictures of a man about Jim's age who is wearing those medals and shaking hands with another uniformed officer.

That same man, now in his eighties, appears in the doorway between the foyer and the dining room. At first glance, he and Jim don't look much alike, but there is a certain family resemblance there on closer inspection, mostly in regards to the nose and the laugh lines around his eyes. "You must be Jim's guest. Welcome."

Hunter takes a nice deep breath in, absorbing the welcoming smell of fresh bread and roasting fish. Whatever they have planned for supper definitely smells good.

He takes a careful look around, especially at that one display on the wall.

When he makes the connection between that man, and the man who greets them, Hunter wonders how many generations of Jim's family have served in Starfleet.

"Yes. I'm Hunter. Nice to meet you."

If this man finds it unusual that Hunter only has one name to give, or finds his appearance unusual, he doesn't show it. Living in a truly multicultural society has its benefits. He offers his hand to shake, quite at ease with Hunter's presence. "I'm James Davis. Nice to meet you too. Jim tells us you're an artist?"

As weird as it can be to hear his grandfather introduce himself by his full name, Jim's pretty sure things would get confusing fast if they both went by the same name tonight. One of the very few downsides of being named for a relative, he supposes.

It is really nice to meet people who don't give him a 'weird' look because of the tattoos and piercings. And he gladly accepts the offered hand.

"Yes. Mostly a portrait artist. But I have also created other mediums."

The sound of voices has drawn attention from the other people in the house, and two women approach the spot where the men are gathered. One of them is an older woman, silver-haired, and it's a good bet that she's the lady of the house, with the way she comes to stand at James' side. The other woman is in her fifties, and bears a somewhat stronger resemblance to Jim than his grandparents. She hangs back slightly, her body language slightly hesitant, but as if she doesn't want to overcrowd their visitor either.

"Oh, you'll have to show us sometime," the older lady says with a smile. "I dabble a bit with paints and pastels when the mood strikes. I'm more into landscapes, but portraits take talent."

"This is my grandma Ruth," Jim tells Hunter, pushing down his unreasonable nervousness at Hunter meeting his family.

"Nice to meet you, Ruth." Hunter offers his hand to the older woman.

"And I am one of those people who consider that the talent is always there, no matter what kind of artistic project you are working on."

Hunter gives a slight nod at the other woman, who has not been introduced yet, but he can safely assume is Jim's mother. His hand moves to settle at Jim's back, giving the other man silent support.

"Certainly," Ruth agrees, shaking his hand easily. "But practice can't hurt either."

Jim and his mother share a silent look, uneasy but not hostile, like they're still trying to find their footing around each other. Still, there's also an element of unspoken words passing between them, the sort of familiarity that some families build over time, though the wordless language is a bit rusty.

It's enough to make up her mind about what to do next, anyway. "I'm Winona, Jim's mother," she says, also putting out her hand towards him. "Jim's told me a little bit about you." Hard not to, when they've been living in such close quarters.

"I am fortunate, I get to spend most of my day working on art projects." Hunter grinned.

He turned to Winona with another friendly smile, and accepts her offered hand. "All good I hope."

He doesn't know if Jim has explained about the Nexus to his mother. So he will be taking his cues from Jim himself.

Jim hasn't told his family - any of them - about the Nexus thus far. They're not close enough for that right now, and with the history they've had... well, keeping secrets from each other is no strange thing to a family where some have served in Starfleet anyway.

"Yes, I'd say so," Winona says, giving Jim another side glance before returning her attention to Hunter. "I'd like to thank you, for being there for him when I couldn't. New York is a little closer than the Beta Tau sector."

Jim's feelings on her behavioral turnaround are complicated, to say the least. The fact that it took him actually dying to get her to reach out in any kind of meaningful way stings a bit, even if she doesn't know it was that bad. But... she's making the effort now, and while he can't forget, he's trying to forgive. He's not entirely innocent in creating the rift between them either. And this time of year is supposed to be about making amends, so he doesn't say anything about it.

"I am glad I was there for him too." Hunter had only known Jim for a few weeks, when he received the call from Spock that Jim was in the hospital.

And now, because they have just gotten closer, they have known each other for several months.

"Come now, let's not focus on the bad things this past year brought us," Ruth says, touching Winona and Hunter both on the arm, smiling at them. "We have so much to appreciate today. Family and fellowship, and everyone is safe and healthy. And hungry, I hope?"

"You'd better have brought your appetite," James adds with a grin. "Ruth would make us all enough to feed us through Yom Kippur if I didn't stop her."

So far, Jim is hopeful for dinner to go well. While his mom is a bit more restrained, his grandparents are the type to feed strays and welcome in strangers on Shabbat, and while it may take a little time for Hunter to be completely comfortable, he hopes they've already begun putting him at ease. "I've been looking forward to this," he says honestly. "I've missed your cooking."

"I have plenty of appetite, especially since whatever you are making smells delicious." He smiles at Ruth.

He does already feel at ease. "He speaks of some of your meals fondly."

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