boldygoing | Catching Up [for smartass

A universe away Jim's swearing vehemently under his breath as he finishes cleaning up from a beta shift briefing he and Scotty had been having aboard the Enterprise-A. Guilt poisons his every breath as he skims over the message on his PINpoint for the third time. He'd forgotten what day it was.

Not entirely and not because Jim doesn't care. But time between dimensions is a tricky thing. Enough has been going on in his own life with his own ship and crew that while yes, Jim thinks about his alternate and what might happen to him a lot he'd somehow missed that it had been so long so fast. Never mind that no one expected Jim to keep track with his after every mission to make sure everything stayed on track. Their universes aren't the same, similar though they may be. If he only got in touch with his alternate to make sure the other wasn't having shit happen to him then Other Jim might start to get paranoid and it might make things worse and--

Breathe. Just breath Kirk.

Maybe it's not even the same thing. They shouldn't be discussing it but he's already swiping out a reply.

It's damn good to hear from you. Need me to bring anything?

There's really no good way to send this sort of message, is there? As bad of an idea as it might be to bring it up, it's been hanging over Jim's head for three years, even if just in the back of his mind. What's done is done, and the biggest risk to the timeline has passed - he hopes, anyway. What comes after this? He doesn't know, and the weight of it off his shoulders is a relief, but also disorienting, like taking a breath after being underwater.

He can't talk about this with Hunter, not without revealing what he knew. Nor does he particularly want to face what his crew would say, even those among his friends. Chess is familiar, grounding, a star to orient his compass by.

Jim glances around the room and winces a little. You'll have to bring the board. Mine's AWOL.

He may not have the permissions needed to lock the door from all visitors, but he rather doubts the base commander will be calling on him at this late hour, so it's as secure as it'll ever be. His assigned room is still fairly spartan, furnished with only the basics, but he can get his hands on a bottle of something worth drinking between the two of them. He'll be pouring that when his visitor arrives, a cheaper brandy than usual, but under the circumstances he's pretty sure his companion won't judge.

And doesn't that just say all that needs to be said about the matter? Jim winces when he reads over his message but swipes out an affirmative all the same. When he PINpoints to the coordinates his companion gives him it will be dressed down to his undershirt with wooden box tucked under one arm.

Yorktown. Jim glances around the room and doesn't honestly expect the little happy jolt of the familiar to think back to this base. Hard not to feel a little bit attached after the fight it took to protect this place. After spending well over a year on temporary assignment here while the Enterprise-A was being made ready. Unimportant now, in the moment, however. Its his alternate Jim is looking over with so much unspoken concern.

"Good to see you." Jim's not sure if things have died down a lot more already or if his younger counterpart was better at not getting absolutely wrecked in the fight against Edison. Either way it's a relief to see the other Jim steady on his feet. The corner of his mouth quirks up when he spies the brandy on offer. "If you want to set up the board I can nip out to the Nexus and grab something to snack on real quick. I wasn't sure how I'd find you when I showed up."

"Good to see you too." Jim's smile is tired but sincere, the black eye making him look a little worse off than he really is. Is it luck, training, or simply fate? You can never tell with the multiverse. But if the worst that he's come away with is a few bruises, Jim's not inclined to complain.

He's still not quite comfortable with his assigned quarters, but that will fade in time as he adjusts, he knows. With the state of things now... he rather doubts that he or any of his crew will be on the go again in the near future.

Jim leaves the bottle on the table within pouring distance, setting a glass on either side. "Sure, I can do that. I haven't been there in a while. You're playing white this time, right?"

The elder captain tilts his head to the side slightly, a few locks of hair falling into his face as he does so. They don't look nearly so identical as they once did--with the younger captain sporting his full beard and a more trim hairstyle and the older growing his own out to better fit in with his husband's world when they visit. Still, beneath the differences in styles they're exactly the same with a few years difference in age. So Jim thinks carefully on what's not being said here as the offer hangs in the quarters between them for a few seconds.

"Sure am. I can't let you have these too easily." Confident, warm. At ease. The fact that his younger counterpart has made it here means the elder seems to think all is safe now. There's no guarantee of that, of course, this isn't his world. But the odds are in their favor.

He won't linger in the Nexus either. Jim stays just long enough to pick up a box of turnovers from one of the scattered cafes in close proximity to the plaza and a small bag of ground coffee. The brandy back at Yorktown might be a nice drink for him but his younger self won't get much of anything out of it. When Jim PINpoints back in, he's quick to go set the box of pastries down well within reach of the younger captain. The coffee he'll leave sitting on the first counter he finds without drawing any attention to it. The other can either find it now or later, either way suits Jim.

"Alright," he's all but throwing himself into the chair that's been offered. He wants to talk and is hopeful the younger captain shares that desire since he's been invited here. But the game...that comes first. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Jim's tired eyes light up a bit at the smell of flaky crust and fruity jam, and he wastes no time in claiming one for himself. For all that they differ, there's no need to ask how his companion knew how much he'd been missing fresh pastries baked with cinnamon and apples, comforts of home that no replicator can truly reproduce. The little bag of coffee escapes his notice for now, but he will be grateful later, once it's discovered.

Yes, this was definitely a good call.

"Don't worry about it. This is more than worth it." He raises the turnover slightly, a generous bite taken out of it already. Jim is certainly in no rush, either for the game or otherwise, to the point where it's almost disorienting. Probably will be even moreso once things truly settle down. There's nowhere to go and little that will require his attention, no work to busy himself with, as he has for most of the past three years.

But now that they're both here and ready, he resettles himself in the chair on the other side of the table, leaning forward a little as the game begins.

A bit predictable but Jim had wanted the food to be something he could enjoy as well, even with his more restricted diet. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a half smirk to watch his younger counterpart dig in to the pastry with gusto.

"I'm sure you'll find a few great places around here." Confident of that, too. I did. Unspoken between them while the elder captain casually makes an opening move. There's no point in overthinking a game that hasn't started yet.

"You've been practicing." It's a fairly safe observation to make, given how long its been since they've sat here playing like this. Not since before his wedding, come to think of it. Time's always a funny thing. "With anyone more than Mr. Spock?"

Unspoken message received loud and clear, of course. Jim is tempted to ask how long his companion had to familiarize himself with Yorktown, but he's surprised to realize he doesn't actually want to know the answer, not really. The future is as much one of the great unknowns as space, a vast unexplored horizon that lies before him. Why spoil the surprises?

He simply nods, looking thoughtful over more than just the game.

"Occasionally." He nudges his own piece forward, relaxed and casual. "Mr. Chekov's not half bad; we've had a few matches every other month or so. I think he's planning to challenge Spock one of these days. That'll be a sight to see. I managed to talk Bones into a couple matches, but you can imagine how that went." Jim chuckles a little and shakes his head.

Jim chuckles softly and the slow smile that curls across his face is fond. These crew aren't his but listening to the other Jim speak of them still invokes his own close friends. They're similar enough in all the important ways. Even if the fine details end up a bit different.

"Bones isn't as bad as he says he is." Jim plants one elbow on the armrest of his chair so he can lean over and rest his chin in his hand. His right hand reaches out to move another pawn so it frees up space for his other pieces to get to work. "But his interest is in cards more than chess, I'll agree."

To each their own opinion. "I've been teaching Felix to play more often than not these days. He's been driving Sulu up a wall lately and I think he's hoping a chance to sit down with the man over something Normal like this will help grease the wheels a bit."

"Oh, tell me about it. His poker face is legendary. If we were playing for anything valuable, I'd be worried for my 'fleet account." A slight exaggeration, but only slightly. Jim looks over the board for a moment, then advances a knight. Not his usual strategy, but one he's used before to some success over the last few years.

He's made short work of the first turnover, down to the last crumbs. The second one, he intends to savor more slowly, taking his time as the game progresses. "How's he taking to it? They have board games in... uh, Tamriel, right?"

It brings another one of those fond, bright smiles out from the older captain because, yes, this one knows exactly what the younger captain is talking about. It's alright though. Where would they be without Bones? Nowhere they'd like to be, that much is for certain.

Jim offers up nothing more than a thoughtful "Hmmm," at the game. No real point in Overthinking the game though when it's as relatively comfortable as this though, either. He's maneuvering his own pawns to open a path for a rook to jump up to the second terrace of the board. Aggressive, but not too much given he's using one of his more mobile pieces.

"Oh yeah. They've even got a form of chess, so it's not too dissimilar. I honestly want to bring my set over the next time the family's together and show his father this kind. I think he'd take well to it." Jim's nibbling a bit more conservatively at his own turnover. It's no less a treat to him, but his mind is elsewhere than the food. "Felix is better at this than he'll admit though it's very much not his first choice for relaxing." He snorts. "But it's a path to maybe making a friend and he's very much interested in That."

It's the most they've talked during one of these games before. A relief, honestly. The younger captain seems well--well as can be expected at least. Jim's not keen to tempt deeper waters yet. This isn't his call, not his game requested. He'll take his younger self's lead as best he can.

There's a somewhat more casual pace to how Jim considers his moves and countermoves, compared to some of the more intense matches they've had before. Still trying to win, of course, but not so much that he'll be distressed if he doesn't. With the unknown danger past, it feels as though there will be time for more games in the future, after all. And isn't that a strange feeling?

"Well, good luck to both of them, then. If Sulu's as ruthless at chess as he is in a fight, your husband's in for a challenge. I tried fencing with him once and barely got away with any dignity left." It's mostly a joke, partly pride in his crew, a feeling that's become all the stronger over the past few days. Without a crew, a captain is nothing, and his performed above and beyond.

The small talk is soothing, a normal touchstone to ground him after the chaos, and he's content enough to keep the conversation going as they play. It tapers off a bit as the game progresses and Jim's attention shifts towards the approaching finale, but never quite drops completely. They've both been honing their skills separately for long enough that it's something of a challenge to predict his companion's next moves, and that is a welcome exercise.

"Did better than I managed, then." Jim snorts around his snack, but then has to stifle a tiny swear as the action dislodges flecks of the pastry that fall on his uniform. He's quick to look for a napkin to clean up his small mess. "Though maybe I'd do alright these days. The only time I tried to fence with him he wiped the floor with me and then took me out with the trash."

That was before Felix though. Before time spent in Nirn and learning his way around their tools. Jim's never going to be great with any kind of a blade larger than a small knife, but he has learned a few basic things about them over these more recent years. At the very least it couldn't be worse than his first attempt.

He's busy reminiscing while the younger captain tightens his focus. A few slip ups mean Jim's left trying to catch up as the game closes. Enough of a lapse for the younger captain to earn himself a decisive victory. It's a bit strange to not feel any sudden edge of a panic attack this time when Jim tips over his king in concession. With his younger counterpart looking comparatively well, there's something akin to hope almost daring to show itself.

"Your match." He leans forward to inch that glass of brandy a bit closer to the younger captain in case he'll have want of it for comfort. "Guess that means your show too."

It's definitely odd to not feel anxious over the outcome of the match, whether or not he's won. Almost as though they were playing for the fun of it, for once. But, of course, they're not, and he leans forward enough to pick up the offered brandy and take a sip. He may not get anything out of it beyond the flavor, but maybe that's enough.

Jim hadn't really thought over how to word his question, so there's a pause of a moment or two while he puts it together, idly swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "So," he says eventually, "was it Krall for you, too?"

Best to start with the basics, filling in the gaps from what he's figured out himself over the last three years. No need to ask if something happened to the Enterprise, after all. That much was unavoidable.

"It was. The more we learned about...well. Edison, I suppose. Everything we uncovered after...really hit home for me I guess. How much do you know so far?"

Jim's going to grab for his own glass of brandy. Raised ever so slightly in a silent toast to good people no longer with either captain thanks to the loss of the Enterprise and everything that happened after. He was in such a low point of his life when this happened. Ready to leave the Nexus for good, give up on his now-husband and just bury his problems like he had so many times before. As awful as the loss of his ship was, it might have been the one thing that saved his marriage and his career.

"Who he was, what he was after, I mean. Aside from using a bioweapon to genocide an entire quadrant, that is."

There's probably more that's going to come to light after this. They've only seen such a small snapshot of the ex-captain's life, his grievances and grudges, justified or not. A brief glimpse of a century's simmering hatred, crossing paths only at the tail end of his violent campaign, a single confrontation face to face. The bruise around Jim's eye is only surface damage, nothing compared to the mark that day has left on the surviving crew, and probably Starfleet history besides.

He nods slowly, this informal briefing easy to handle by habit. "Balthazar Edison, ex-soldier, formerly captain of the Franklin, stranded in distant space. I've... heard the reports of how he stayed alive this whole time. Saw what it does to the people he... used." Just the aftermath had been horrific enough. His own men, drained into hollow husks, gaunt and starved of muscle. There's no need to name what memories that calls to mind, not in this company. It'll be a new feature in old nightmares, Jim has no doubt.

"I talked to him just before the end," he adds, looking up from the surface of his drink. The loss of the ship and crew is not as hard to deal with as that final disturbing confrontation, a troubled look on his face. "Not for long, but... he was so angry. Bitter."

"Yeah." One small word may not seem like enough to fully encapsulate everything Jim means when he agrees with the younger captain's briefing and the unspoken implications about the victims of Edison's plans, but it's enough to confirm his own guess about what the younger knows. Confirm his alternate's suspicions about what parts lingered for Jim long after the tragedy was over.

"...Were you?" Jim turns the glass in his hand slowly. "Bitter, I mean. Depressed." Oh, the captain doubts at the time of facing Edison he was. In the heat of the moment Jim knows that their greatest strength is in the drilled in focus they get on survival. Running the numbers, how many they can save. Never enough, never ever all of them.

But best as they can. As many as they can.

Before that...?

"I was. Felix's...rescue. The Living Nightmares. I wasn't recovering well. My relationship was in shambles and I was lost in The Chair. Spent so long chasing down the Old Man. Got to be a year older than he ever was and I didn't feel like I had...anything." He remembers the panic when the younger captain made a joke about his age during one of their previous games, not too long before everything happened. "Edison was right, about me. Never did find out the extent he'd been able to splice in to my logs. Didn't matter. He knew enough."

For all that their lives are the same, sometimes the differences are very much so. Some of what his companion says rings true, while others... well. Not so much. Jim starts to shake his head, but then changes his mind, a small nod.

"Not like that. But... yeah. Kinda. Sometimes the days just... blur together. Routine. Like it's nothing special anymore. Nothing noteworthy. I've been tired for a long time now, the kind sleep doesn't fix. When the ship went down, for a moment, I wondered if that was it. History repeating itself." Even though the drink won't do anything for him, he tastes it anyway, and thinks of that quiet meeting in the officer's lounge with Bones. One year older, he'd said, and days later it doesn't feel all that different.

"Hunter's at the Academy," he adds, looking back up from his glass. "He joined Starfleet because of me, so we could be closer. If it wasn't for knowing he's trying to get out here with me, I don't know how much longer I would've stuck with it. Yorktown's got an opening for an admiral, and I won't lie, it was tempting. Stay grounded, build something, make a difference. In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't, though. Not just because of him."

It's almost a relief to see the younger captain not look so haunted in the same way Jim had been. Almost, because being the weaker party still prickles at something jagged inside of him. He's not so much a slave to his insecurities these days though. Jim sighs.

He listens.

He doesn't have to fake the slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he leans his head his counterpart's way. "Glad you weren't as much of a wreck as I was, then. I was curious to see if that was still going to be a thing. If you...were going to take it."

"Believe me, the birthday thing... it's been a whammy this year. There's a part of me that still doesn't really believe I made it this far." He shakes his head and takes another drink, and rolls the glass a little in his hand.

"...you know, I really did think maybe this was it. If I did something different, if this is where things diverged again." This is where things get a little sticky. A secret to share, something he's kept to himself so far, and the guilt of the dishonesty is weighing on him a little. "I sent Zunar to Hunter before all this. I told him it was just so he could feel closer to me, but I wanted both of them out of harm's way, in case the worst should happen. Hunter doesn't know."

"I get that." Jim had been pretty sure he wasn't walking away from any of it alive the moment he gave the evacuation order for the Enterprise. Every step of the way from rescuing what was left of the crew to saving Yorktown? A breath he was only taking in while he waited for his last. Desperate in the middle of it not to go before the job was done...

But pretty sure he wasn't going to make it out alive right until he did.

"You don't have to tell him. It's all worked out now and, to be honest, it'd probably just land you in an argument if you did." Jim exhales slowly as his gaze falls to his own drink. "Hunter's probably better about being open than Felix is, but even then." Jim shakes his head.

"Felix doesn't Get It. He's not like me. Like us. He can't and won't make the sacrifice play. Better for me that he won't. Means I have to worry about his safety less. Means he worries about mine more. I've tried explaining to him why I do the things I do. Why I won't stop, not entirely."

He shakes his head.

"Maybe Hunter's different. From where I'm sitting though, it's a losing battle trying to explain your every reason for protecting those most important to you."

Whether Jim realizes it or not, this is the reason why he called his companion here for a game. Second-guessing oneself is exhausting, but who else to tell him what he needs to hear? Who else who would understand what it is to be Jim Kirk?

There's a pensive look on his face as he listens, and he lets out a soft sigh. "Probably. If he knew I thought I might die, and didn't tell him..." Jim shakes his head and takes a slow drink of brandy. "It's not like it's even close to the first time I've been in danger out in the black. We take that risk every day. That's just how it is in the 'fleet. Not a one of us signed up not knowing that."

It's been the truth hanging over them since the day they were born, stuck in the shadow of a man they've never met. Jim has never known a day where he hasn't known being Starfleet can be the end of you. And yet, here he is, still. Older than his father ever was, when he never thought he'd make it this far at all.

But hearing his counterpart, his own voice, telling him that he's made the right call... it helps. Jim leans back a little, resting the half-empty glass against his knee. "I don't want to lose him. Especially not over this."

"If he knew. There's no point in inviting a fight." Jim points around the glass he's holding. The risks out in space everyone gets taught, but no one knows them quite the way Jim does. They've not had their whole lives shaped by that truth over and over. "Think about what you're doing here. You go admit that to him, what's that going to get either of you? A fight neither of you want, an excuse he needs to second guess his trust in you. When we both know it's not like that. It's not about trying to die."

Jim finishes off the last of his first glass before he stares down into it.

"It's about...doing what you Can do. Instead of nothing. It's about not losing Spock or Bones. Any of them. Or hell, Hunter, if he's serious about wanting a spot on a ship once he's out of the Academy. Seeking him out to admit something like that...that's self sabotage. If you don't want to lose him, don't. We don't have to keep this shit to ourselves anymore, that's what This is for."

"If he won't understand, then come to me. I do."

Every word he says rings true, the same arguments that Jim has gone round and round in his head. What if Hunter finds out later? Would it really be much different than if he found out now? Why invite trouble, when he might never find out at all?

"Yeah... you're right." Of course he is. There are plenty of things that Jim Kirk gets wrong, here and there. But there's no better way out of this, not that Jim can see. Either of him.

He doesn't finish his drink just yet, watching the last few ounces slowly swirl in the glass. Damn shame this doesn't do more for him than the taste, but the habit alone helps. "He was pretty shaken by the time I got to call him. It was all over the news, what happened to the Enterprise." He lifts the glass slightly in a toast, and drains the last of it.

"We haven't been back yet, but I hope there's something to salvage. I had some... sentimental things." He says it like he's confessing to something secret and strange, and in a way, it has been. He's always lived light, rarely accumulating more than he could fit in a backpack. Not since he met Hunter. Not since he's been captain. Not since he'd started to build something that felt like home. "Mostly little things Hunter got me. He built me a bookshelf, even."

"Yeah, I remember telling you not to check it when you and Felix were at the farmhouse. I knew...there was no way to keep any of it under wraps if you'd even turned on a device."

But then, his alternate is all too aware now of how saturated the feeds have been with news about Yorktown. "To the Enterprise," Jim agrees. All he has to lift is his empty glass, but the meaning's still there.

"Oh." And here the older captain's face closes off for a few seconds. Jim doesn't think he could school his expression well enough if he was looking his younger counterpart in the eye. "I hope there's more left for you than there was for me."

That expression doesn't bode well, nor does the comment that goes with it. But in a way, it's also a reminder that for all that their experiences sometimes mirror each other, they're just as often divergent. Will this be one of the former, or the latter? There's little point in modeling his expectations on a future that isn't his, especially not now. No matter how easy it is to compare notes.

He can't not ask, regardless. "Did anything of yours make it?"

"Almost nothing. What did fit into a shoebox with room to spare." Jim shakes his head, and at first that seems like it's all he's going to say on the matter. The memory is a dull ache between his ribs, one more old would that hasn't fully healed. It's not until he thinks to himself what was kept that a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth despite all Jim's attempts to be somber.

"The picture I had of Mom, Dad, and Sam from before we were born. It was damaged but I've been able to get it fixed since. A partially burned book. And a half melted amulet. It was....supposed to be my engagement gift to Felix." Jim snorts then. "He took it anyway. His taste in jewelry is about as flawed as his taste in men."

When Jim glances up again he's less leaden in the face. "Guess that makes me lucky he does."

For a moment, Jim regrets asking, though the answer is far from unexpected. He's about to apologize when his companion continues, some of that melancholy weight lifting from his shoulders. It's not much. But the things he did manage to salvage? Their importance speaks for itself.

"Nobody's perfect," he agrees, a fainter echo of that same smile on his own face.

He sets his empty glass next to the chessboard and pours another small splash of brandy, just enough to nurse as they talk. Eyebrows raised in silent question, he tilts the bottle in his companion's direction.

Once the drinks are sorted, he leans back slightly again, looking thoughtful. "Makes me wonder what comes after this, you know. Didn't think I'd make it this far. Settling down planetside... it's got an appeal to it. Eventually."

Jim lifts his glass automatically, before his hand twitches and he pulls it back. Restraint from the man whom the brandy still very much affects. "Best not. Besides, I don't need it." It's almost revolutionary to realize that's true.

The memories are painful but Jim doesn't feel that pain so sharply he wants to drown it out. Whether it's time that's matured him and dulled the wound, or simply being in a better place than they've been for much of their lives Jim doesn't know. His smile grows a little stronger. Though it's only going to morph into a loud groan when his companion mentions settling planetside. Too dramatic to be serious though.

"Fuck, don't remind me. We're just wrapping up our last sweep before we head back. Even with the holdover in Yorktown it's gone by so fast. I don't want to think about being stuck on terra firma again already."

It's strange indeed to be sitting here across from each other, in the aftermath of the worst disaster of his career, feeling like this is... some kind of new lease on life, somehow. If Jim was a more cynical man by nature, he might feel even more shackled by George Kirk's legacy, but... it feels the opposite. Moving out from under his shadow, somehow.

One year older.

"Ah, I dunno. You could always ask to go back out again," he says, and even though he's smiling, it's not really a joke. "First five-year mission doesn't mean 'only.' Plenty of space still left out there in the black. A job that's never finished, but... who knows what's out there?"

There's no steps left in the dance they always felt they had to but didn't want to play. George Kirk died to protect his crew and their lives. They've done the same, only thanks to extraordinary circumstances they've lived to talk about it after. Aging out their father...for Jim, at the time, it was terrifying. Depressing. The feelings of being unworthy of still being around when George was gone were tremendous.

But he wasn't doing so great around the time this all went down. His alternate? Seems to be in a much better place. Jim's grateful for that. Not to say he wouldn't have torn up the Nexus trying to find a way to reach his alternate if that's what it took. Jim knows he owes that favor. It's just....a relief to see one of them healthier than he was. Better prepared.

Maybe he shouldn't have been. Jim can't find it in himself to regret it.

"Of course I'm going to--but it won't be the same." A little wistful. He's grown to know the people under his command so well these last several years. Especially the ones who have survived this long. Some of them won't go back out again but that's been true of every mission. Even among those who have stayed with him this long....they've got lives too. Families. Promotions to chase. It's not going to stay like this forever. There was a time that would terrify him.

It still makes him nervous. But he's not agonizing every day they get closer to Earth, either. Things change. Maybe something great will come with it. Even if it's not quite the ramshackle family Jim's carved for himself out of his crew.

"I'll be asking to go back out there until they refuse, more than likely. Felix is taking well to it. But he's not seen much of Earth. Guess there's an opportunity there, too. To not lose my mind quite so quickly."

Catching Up [for smartass_captain, backdated]

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