DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2001 by Djinn. The passage quoted is from The Magus by John Fowles. The lullaby is my own. This story is Rated PG.
In Mine
by Djinn
Everyone was so happy here,
so determined in their quest to have fun, to live, to laugh. The sounds, the
lights, were really too much. And that made Las Vegas perfect. The ideal place
to come on this particular day. Just as she had chosen Carnival in Venice last
year and Gravenok on Mars the year before. Better to
be miserable in a bright and happy place then at home remembering her only
child had been killed on this day. Here she could leave the mourning behind and
keep her home a place where she didn't cry. Ever.
Nothing was the same since
David died. He had been everything to her. Or nearly so. For most of her life,
she'd cared for two things: her son and her work, the two had been inextricably
linked together from the moment he'd first sat down next to her and asked to
help. Now they were both gone. Not that she wasn't still gainfully employed. It
was just that she had nothing as big, as exciting, as Genesis had been. And she
had no partner as brilliant as her son. But even if there were a hundred more
projects like Genesis, they wouldn't mean anything without David to share them.
She kept trying to chart the
way she'd lost him. To find a place to lay the blame. And it would be easier to
do if she didn't keep coming back to herself. She'd tried to blame others. Star
Fleet, that damn Klingon, Saavik, and especially Jim. But over the years some
of the veil had fallen off her eyes, and she could see that she was as much if
not more to blame than anyone.
A shriek startled her. Someone
had just won a great many credits. She looked around the room. How impossibly
young these beings looked. How easy in their diversions. David had never looked
like that. Even as a child he had been serious.
##
"David, where are
you?"
A blonde head poked out of
the bushes near her office. "Here, Mother."
She walked over to him. "What
are you doing?"
"Watching the ants. Come
see."
She crawled in next to him,
finding the space a bit cramped. He sat easily, his
five-year-old body neatly folded over the colony he'd found.
"See, they're all
working on the same thing." He showed her how the different ants all
merged to accomplish their task. He was careful not to hurt any of them as he
pointed with a small twig.
They sat in silence for some
time, watching the small creatures. Finally, legs cramping from crouching too
long, she began to crawl back out. "Ok, kiddo, time to go."
He followed her, not
complaining as he made his way carefully around the ants. She didn't know what
she'd do if he ever really argued with her. He'd always been a worry-free
child. But she knew that his placid temperament hid a formidable stubborn
streak. Fortunately his desire to please her
outweighed his need to have his own way. So far anyway.
She studied her son as he
trooped beside her. His blonde curls and wide green-blue eyes gave him the
appearance of a cherub. He looked up to smile at her, and Carol's heart turned
over. How she loved this child. She'd do anything for him, anything. The fierce
devotion she felt for him constantly took her by surprise.
"Can we have breakfast
for dinner tonight?"
"We'll have whatever Gubby makes."
His voice was sweetly
determined. "But I love breakfast."
"Yes, and you loved it
last night. Gubby will have something tasty for
us." Carol opened the front door to see her mother in the kitchen. "See,
David, doesn't it smell good?"
"Not as good as
breakfast," he muttered. His voice was pitched just low enough that his
grandmother couldn't hear him.
Barbara Marcus smiled at them
both. "Did you have a good day at the office, dear?"
It was their little joke. Carol's
office was a small temporary lab she'd set up behind her mother's house in
Virginia. It was a good arrangement for them both. Barbara looked after David,
a duty that had brought her out of the funk she'd been in since Carol's
stepfather died. Carol remembered Matthew Quint with a fondness she'd never
held for her own father. Captain Joel Marcus had been the quintessential Fleet
man, admired by his peers, worshiped by his crew. And hated by his daughter.
Carol could feel her palms
start to clench as she thought of her father, how he'd stride into the house
after one of his long absences, scooping her mother up in his arms. Don't
fall for his lies, she used to think as she watched Barbara laugh in
delight.
She'd never understood her
mother's willingness to welcome him, not when the woman had been raising her
daughter all but alone, doing everything herself. Even when he'd been on Earth,
her father had still been gone. She remembered her anger when he'd missed her
fifteenth birthday party because he was at a wedding for a young crewman.
"You love them more than
us," she'd yelled at him when he'd finally come home. "You love that
ship more than us."
"Carol," her mother
had chided. "Your father has duties. He can't always be here."
"But he's never here. Never.
What about his responsibility to us? When do we get to matter? When do we get
to come first?"
Her father had just stared at
her. She knew that to him she'd been the eternal mystery. And she'd never known
him, never understood what drove him, what made him abandon them for a way of
life she couldn't understand. When he'd died the following year in a shuttle
accident, she hadn't even cried.
Several years later, when
Matthew Quint had begun to pursue her mother, she'd welcomed the scientist with
open arms. He came into Barbara's life just as Carol was preparing to leave her
for university. His presence assuaged any guilt that Carol had felt at leaving
her mother alone. She knew Matthew loved Barbara. And he was firmly established
on Earth. He'd never abandon her mother for the stars.
Matthew and her mother had
enjoyed over a decade together. His death had left Barbara far more bereft than
Joel's had. The price of depending on someone, of being able to finally lean on
someone, Carol supposed. Matthew's death had come at a time when Carol's
research was demanding more and more of her time. She'd known that she was on
the edge of a breakthrough, about to discover something that might someday
change the world. All she'd needed was the time to work on it. But David had
required time from her too. And she hadn't been about to deny him that, the way
her father had done to her.
When her mother had suggested
that she could look after David when Carol was working, it had seemed like the
perfect solution. With the lab just outside the house, Carol could take
frequent breaks to be with her son. If he had a pageant, a project, or even
just a need to see her, she could be there for him.
And now two years later it
was still the perfect solution. She watched her mother and her son. Smiled as
she saw the sweet way they had of interacting. David was good for his
grandmother. Everything he did seemed to delight the other woman. Barbara even thought the way he mangled Grandmother to Gubby was adorable.
"I've made you a nice
dinner," Barbara teased her grandson. "I bet it's just what you
want."
"Bet's it not," he
mumbled a bit sulkily.
Barbara shrugged. "Well,
I guess I'll just have to throw your breakfast out then?"
"Oh, Gubby!"
David wrapped his small arms around his grandmother's legs.
Carol shook her head. "You
indulge him too much, Mother."
"And it's just ruining
him," Barbara messed his hair affectionately. "Such a rotten
child."
David beamed at her, his
smile one of pure satisfaction. "I love you, Gubby,"
he said as he hugged her more tightly.
Barbara's eyes met her
daughter's as she replied, "And I love you, Angel. "
##
Carol jumped as the clanging
of a slot machine startled her back to the present.
All gone now. David, her
mother, even Jim just this year. The news reports had said he died a hero. She
wished she could have cried for him, or hated him still. But she felt nothing. Any
particle of feeling that wasn't used to mourn her son was gone.
Sighing, she rose and went
back to her room. It was quiet and dark and it sheltered her as the tears she'd
kept in, fell again at this, the appointed time. Always the same. She picked a
place that was close. No more than one day of travel out and the same back. That
left her one day to cry, to mourn, to be human, and one day to recover before
going back to her work, to her empty little apartment, to resume what passed as
a life. It had been like this for nearly a decade now.
This time, she'd thought the
head of the laboratory was going to try to cancel her time off. He'd hemmed and
hawed about "poor timing" and "making sacrifices." She'd
stared at him coldly until his resolve had shattered. She'd not had to threaten
him with her resignation, although she'd been prepared to. He was afraid of her
already. Everyone seemed afraid of her these days.
Echoes of laughter played
across her memories. David's as a child, then older. But another's voice too. Jim's.
James T. Kirk. The father of her child. Her lover at one time. And she had
loved him. They had been an incongruous pair from the start. Poorly matched,
she used to laugh to her mother, as she prepared for what she always assumed
would be their last date. But they had a chemistry that burned hot and furious
for longer than anyone expected. She could still see Jim as he'd been when she
first met him. Cocky, just hitting his prime. She'd fallen for him hard to the
amazement of her family and friends. Jim and she had been polar opposites in so
many ways. He was the cowboy with his head in the stars. Odd company for someone
who so resented Starfleet for taking her father away. She'd always said she
wanted someone who had his feet firmly on the ground. But Jim had been the
perfect counterpoint to her serious and often dark outlook. His enthusiasm for
life and love had freshened her own spirits. His sunniness had been infectious
and his arms the warmest place she'd ever rested. He'd accepted her as an equal
from the start, pushing her to succeed as firmly as he did himself. For one
year they had been happy together, for another they had tried to make it work.
She hardly remembered what
started their problems. They had both been under enormous stress working on
assignments that mattered more than anything: —even each other ultimately. There
had been no clear escalation, no increase in arguments leading up to the end,
no precise time she could look back on and say "that was the moment it all
started to go bad." It just happened. Somewhere along the course of their
relationship, she could no longer deny that she detested the ship she felt she
was sharing him with. All the old feelings that she'd experienced with her
father began to surface again. She'd known it was unfair of her; Jim had been
in Starfleet when she'd met him. She'd known what to expect. But that didn't
stop her from suggesting he take a planet-side assignment. He'd looked at her
incredulously. As she'd known he would. She wanted to work it out, but the hurt
child inside her remembered only the pain that she'd gone through every time
her father left. Carol began to spend more and more time in the laboratory. Run,
hide, protect yourself, the little girl had whispered. And she'd done it. It
had been the simple solution.
Jim hadn't let go easily. He
had truly loved her. Had wanted to fight for her, in a way that he hadn't felt
able to fight for Janice Lester when their relationship had ended so nastily
just a few years before. But he hadn't been able to do what Carol wanted. Could
never make the decision to abandon the stars, and the career that was shooting
him quickly into the upper echelons of the line. Yes, he'd loved her but he
couldn't choose her. And he wouldn't play second fiddle to a laboratory when
she began to abandon him for her work. He followed her example, and began to
stay away even more.
It was a vicious cycle that
neither had seemed inclined to stop. They had started to let go of each other,
and, with no one holding on, love had slipped away as easily as it had
appeared.
It had been harder than she
expected, being alone again. She'd missed him terribly. But she had her work. And
then she had David, this baby that had managed to find his way into the
miniscule percentages of contraceptive failures. She'd intended to keep him a
secret from his father, hide the pregnancy and the child until enough time had
passed that she could say he was another's son. It would have worked, if Jim hadn't
been in town while his ship was in for emergency refits. If she'd known that he
was on Earth, she'd have taken more care to stay clear of the places he was
likely to show up. But she hadn't known. It wasn't that she hated him. Far from
it. But this child was not community property. She wasn't going to share him
the way she'd had to share Jim, and her father, with Star Fleet. This baby was
all hers and she would guard him. Jealously.
##
"Carol?"
The sound of his voice
stopped her cold. She didn't turn around, afraid to show him a swelling abdomen
he may not have noticed. She put all the coldness she could muster into her
voice. "I can't stop, Jim. I'm late."
"Yeah. By quite a few
months from the look of it." The hurt wonder in his voice took the sting
out of his comment. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She didn't stop to think. Her
first impulse was to lie. "It isn't yours."
"Bull, Carol. I can
count back as well as you. And you're a bad liar."
She finally turned to him and
let him see her fully. "So, you're the father. So what?"
He winced at the ice in her
tone. "So what? For God's sake, Carol. That's my child you're carrying. Did
you think I wouldn't care about that?"
She softened her tone. "Of course I didn't think that, but what was I supposed to
do?"
"Call me," he suggested
quietly. "Tell me."
"Why?"
"Because I'm the
father."
She could hear his
frustration, felt her own rise. "And?"
He pulled her to a bench at
the end of the corridor. It gave them more privacy as he took her hands in his,
his eyes solemn. "And that means a lot. Do you think I've forgotten what
you've told me about your father? How he was never there for you? This can be
different."
"How? Are you going to
give up the Lydia Sutherland for me?"
His expression hardened. "It
doesn't have to be that drastic, Carol."
"Yes, Jim, it does. We
both know what it's like to have an absent father. I haven't forgotten that
conversation either."
She remembered when he'd
first told her of his childhood. The hurt had been clear when he recalled for
her the man that had drifted in and out of his life, that had left his eldest
son and namesake in charge of caring for his wife and his younger son. George
Kirk had abandoned them, first in a failed career in Starfleet, then later as he'd
chased one crazy scheme after another. He hadn't been a cruel man, just a
directionless one. But Jim had grown to hate him. Had even refused to call his
brother Georgie anymore, started calling him Sam. Soon everyone did, much to
his father's anger. Jim hadn't cared.
"Carol, we can do better
than they did. Because we know how not to do it." He looked again at her
abdomen, his expression softening. "What do you want me to do?"
And in that simple question,
she realized that he was actually offering up everything he had, every
possibility. For their child. But not for her, not for them. It wasn't right to
ask that of him, or of herself. Her resolve was clear, as she said evenly,
"Nothing. Do nothing."
"You can't be
serious!"
Anger erupted. Her voice was
sharp. "Fine. You want something to do? Do this. Stay away."
His face fell.
A part of her knew what a bad
decision she was making, but another stronger Carol hushed the voice. "Just
stay away from us."
She turned and walked away
hurriedly. But not fast enough to escape hearing his whispered, "Stay
away?"
##
He'd done it. Stayed away
from them. Left them alone. But not at first. He'd believed he could talk her
out of this, win her over. His campaign had started the next day when he'd
showed up at her door, wanting to talk about it. He'd been sure they could work
it out. He wasn't her father, or his own, he'd tried to argue.
It hadn't mattered to her. She'd
made her mind up long ago. When she was fifteen and she'd insisted that her
cake not be lit until her father arrived. She'd grown angrier and more
resentful as she sat for hours. She'd decided then and there that she would
never, ever, go through what her mother had. So, in the end it hadn't mattered
what Jim did, or said. It didn't matter that she'd loved him, or that he'd
loved her.
He'd pressed her. Tried every
argument. Held her. Yelled at her. Nothing had swayed her. Eventually his ship
was ready to go. He'd showed up one more time at her door. Had said one word. "Reconsider."
"Resign," she'd
countered.
The chasm between them had
been too wide to cross. And neither of them had been good at building bridges.
"All or nothing, Carol? Is
that really how you want it?"
"It really is."
It hadn't occurred to her to
wonder what the cost would be to him. She frankly hadn't expected him to dwell
on it once he accepted the situation, once he moved on. And he did move on. First
to Janet Wallace. A person so like herself she almost laughed when she heard
it. Would have laughed, if her heart hadn't been breaking at the thought of him
with someone else. He and Janet lasted a year. She'd been happy when she heard
they had broken it off. He'd moved on to Areel Shaw,
another icy blonde, or at least on the surface. But this woman, for all her
fine breeding and education, had been able to put something back into Jim that
the three women before her had drained away. A love of life, an enthusiasm for
the future. From what Carol had understood, Areel had
never tried to hold him, and that relationship had ended without acrimony.
And once he'd been offered
the Enterprise, he really had been lost to her, to any woman. And so she'd raised David on her own. Had moved on with her own
life and assumed Jim had moved on with his. It had been easier to think that he
never thought of them, never asked himself what might have been. And she'd been
able to believe it till that day in the Genesis Cave, when she'd seen the
wonder in Jim's eyes the first time he met David as an
adult. She'd had no idea how much it would hurt to see his initial pride in the
son she'd raised. Even his censure had been mild, so filled with longing that she'd
felt regret rush over her.
But if she
had it to do over again, she wouldn't change a thing. She hadn't lied about
wanting her son in her world, not in Star Fleet with his father. She'd have
done anything to keep him, had done much to poison David's mind against Star
Fleet and those who sailed the stars for her. Jim Kirk, as Captain of the
Fleet's flagship, had been a natural target. In time, David's hatred and
mistrust had grown with hardly any work on her part. But at first, it had been
a delicate operation planting that initial seed.
##
"Mother, look what Gubby got me."
She turned to see David in a
miniature Star Fleet uniform. Her reaction was visceral. "Take that
off!"
David looked at her startled.
"Now!" She'd never
taken that tone with him, but he looked so much like his father that her fear
made her harsh.
His eyes shone with unshed
tears as he backed away from her, then ran into his room.
Barbara passed him as he rushed
by. She met her daughter's angry eyes calmly. "It's just a play
uniform."
Carol shook her head
violently. "It'll never be just a toy, Mother. Not with Jim Kirk's blood
in his veins. Or my father's. Never just a game."
"You can't tie him to
you forever, Carol. Someday the boy will have to make his own way."
"And that way might be
in Star Fleet?"
"Might be, yes."
"No. Never." Carol
rose.
"Where are you
going?"
She looked grimly at her
mother. "To make up with my son."
"Carol," Barbara
started warningly.
"He's my son,"
Carol interrupted her before she could finish. "There will be no Star
Fleet for him. Do you understand?"
Her mother stared at her as
if she were crazy. She'd never shared Carol's resentment of the Fleet. Had
never truly understood the anger her daughter still held toward Joel Marcus. "Your
father was just doing his job. Kirk too. You have to let this hatred go."
"Do. You. Understand?"
Carol put all the menace she was capable of into the question.
A moment later, Barbara
nodded slowly. Her expression was shuttered, but Carol could sense her
disapproval. So be it, she thought as she made her way to David's room.
The uniform was in a crumpled
heap on the floor. David, dressed in pajamas, lay on the bed sobbing, his six-year-old
heart broken.
"David, sweetheart,
don't cry."
His sobs just got louder.
She gathered him into her
arms. "Shhh." She rocked him until he
quieted.
"Is it bad?" His
little voice was earnest. "The uniform. Is it bad?"
Guilt overcame her, even as
she didn't hesitate to answer, "Yes, darling, it's very bad."
"But all the other kids
have them. That's why Gubby got it for me."
"Maybe the other
children don't know the truth. But you are too smart not to know. I'm going to tell
you some stories about Star Fleet, David. When I'm done, you can decide if you
want to wear the uniform, ok?"
He nodded solemnly.
Again she felt a rush of guilt. She'd never planned this,
but she had to keep him with her. She was ruthless as she continued. The
stories she made up were full of an evil military pretending to be good but
actually hurting innocent people, robbing worlds of their wealth, killing their
animals if it would further the cause.
"Even cats like
Neutrino, and dogs like Gubby's friend Mary has, and
like the ants?" He was outraged.
"Even them."
His face resolved, he crawled
out of her arms and picked up the costume. "I don't want it anymore,"
he said as he carried it to the recycler.
##
It had been a simple matter
to keep his hatred active till it became second nature to him. As he got older,
she'd made sure he just happened to find the site of an anti-Star Fleet group. The
reports he read were derogatory about anything Star Fleet and paid special
attention to the important individuals. Jim's name figured prominently.
One day she'd come in while
he was reading a report protesting an action taken by Jim on a recent mission. She'd
looked over his shoulder as she leaned in to kiss his cheek.
"Jim Kirk? I knew
him," she'd remarked casually.
The comment had led to a
spate of questions, as she'd known it would. It was common knowledge that she'd
spent time with Jim Kirk. Two years of her life. It would have been stupid to
think that David wouldn't hear about their relationship somewhere. She'd wanted
the first time to be from her. She told him that she'd loved Jim deeply, but
that he'd felt a greater duty to Star Fleet than to her. Her sadness hadn't
been an act for she couldn't help but feel guilty even as she'd watched her
poison take hold within her son. Soon Jim Kirk had come to signify everything
David hated about Star Fleet.
It had been a fine line that
she'd walked. Much of her own research had been funded by Star Fleet and she'd
known that David would someday find that out. She'd been candid with him about
her need for grants. Had impressed on him her resolve to go ahead with her work
but her equal intention to keep it out of the hands of the military. She'd
managed to paint herself the hero, or perhaps the victim. It wasn't her fault
she needed Star Fleet. In a perfect world, brilliant scientists such as she
wouldn't need to find sponsorship for the important work they would do, should
never have to get in bed with the villains of Star Fleet. David had believed
this. She remembered a conversation they had after the Reliant went to check
the latest planet for suitability for Stage 3 of the Genesis Project. She'd
been worried.
David had teased her. "Well
don't have kittens. Genesis is going to work. They'll remember you in one
breath with Newton, Einstein, Surak."
She'd laughed. "Thanks a
lot. No respect from my offspring."
It was an old argument. "Par
for the course." He'd turned serious, "Teaming up with me for bridge
after dinner?"
"Maybe," she'd
teased. She always teamed up with him; he hadn't even needed to ask. But the
look on his face had startled her, "What is it?"
"Every time we have
dealings with Star Fleet I get nervous. We are dealing
with something that could be perverted into a dreadful weapon. Remember that
overgrown boy scout you used to hang around with? That's exactly the kind of
man I'm: —"
She'd interrupted him, amused
despite his concern. "Listen, kiddo. Jim Kirk was many things but he was
never a boy scout."
And she remembered what
happened later, when all the paranoia she'd planted in David had come out in a
loud argument. The staff had been discussing the sudden change of orders that
Chekov had relayed. None of them could accept that Star Fleet expected them to
just turn over Genesis.
David had been angry. "We're
all alone here. They waited till everyone was on leave to do this. Reliant is
supposed to be at our disposal, not vice versa." He'd listened to the
others for a moment then continued, "I've tried to tell you before. Scientists
have always been pawns of the military."
She'd been forced to defend
Star Fleet, hadn't thought anything of doing it even when she'd seen the look
of betrayal on his face. "Star Fleet has kept the peace for 100 years. I
cannot and will not subscribe to your interpretation of this event."
Everything had been all right
between them afterwards. Even throughout the terror of trying to flee the
Reliant, beaming what they needed to hide most down to the Genesis Cave,
waiting for those who would come after them. It had been awful but somehow it
was all right because it had still been she and David against the world. But
all that had changed when David met his father.
##
The pursuers were finally
there. The sound of their voices rang through the cave as they examined the
Genesis Device. Carol edged a bit more into the shadows, but her movement
brushed a loose piece of metal. The sound was loud. She could hear the voices
turn to her position.
Then it was all confusion. She
heard David and stepped out to see her son trying to stab one of the strangers.
She couldn't see the other man's face, but David could, was staring at him in
fact.
"You!" he said
accusingly.
"Where's Dr.
Marcus?"
She recognized the familiar
voice. Couldn't believe it.
David's reply was full of
rage. "I'm Dr. Marcus."
She walked forward, oblivious
to the others that stood around. "Jim."
He walked away from their
son, stood in front of her. "Is that David?"
Even as she tried to explain she
was drinking in the sight of his face. So many years and he was still so
handsome. So many years and he was still in command. "He: —"
David interrupted her. "Mother,
he killed everybody we left behind."
She turned to her son. "Oh
of course he didn't." Her eyes were drawn back to Jim, the joy she felt at
seeing him shook her. "David, you're just making this harder."
At that moment she would have
told her son everything. Would have told him the truth. But Terrell bought her
time. His betrayal obviously surprised Jim. She stood confused but aghast as
the other officer fought someone's control, finally shooting himself instead of
killing Jim. Then Chekov fell to the floor, a hideous creature oozing from his
ear. She thought it was over when Jim taunted the opponent, this Khan. But it
wasn't. Genesis was stolen from her. She watched her former lover try to goad
Khan into coming down and making it a real fight, but it was no use. Khan was
gone, taking Genesis with him. And they were stuck on the planet. Forever
probably.
She was surprisingly sanguine
about that possibility. A lightness began in her body as she thought of the
Genesis cave and all it had to offer them. She watched as the young Vulcan
officer tried to raise the Enterprise but failed. "They're still jamming
all channels." Saavik's voice sounded
surprisingly dejected. Perhaps she was not fully Vulcan, Carol mused.
McCoy spoke from Chekov's
side, "If Enterprise followed orders, she's long since gone. If she
couldn't obey she's finished."
David's voice was bitter,
"So are we it looks like."
She ignored him, turned
instead to Jim. "I don't understand. Who's responsible for all this? Who
is Khan?"
"Well, that's a long
story."
"We appear to have
plenty of time," David replied dryly.
Jim's tone was light as he
changed the subject. "Is there anything to eat? I don't know about anyone
else, but I'm starved."
McCoy sounded disgusted. "How
can you think of food at a time like this?"
"First order of
business. Survival."
Carol realized he was trying
to get some time alone with her. She owed him that. He would want answers. "There
is food in the Genesis Cave. Enough to last a lifetime. If necessary." Again she felt a little trill of happiness at that thought. She
refused to analyze it beyond attributing it to shock.
McCoy sounded surprised. "We
thought this was Genesis."
"This?" Carol tried
and failed to keep the amused scorn out of her voice. "It took Star Fleet
corps of engineers ten months in space suits to tunnel out all this. What we
did in there, we did in a day." She saw Jim turn to study David, saw her
son notice and stare at his father defiantly. "David, why don't you show
Dr. McCoy and the Lieutenant our idea of food?"
David protested, "We
can't just sit here."
She was surprised to see Jim
slip on some eyeglasses, then look at his chrono.
"Oh yes we can," he
offered unconcernedly.
David was irritated. "This
is just to give us something to do, isn't it?" In frustration he turned to
McCoy and Saavik, "Come on."
McCoy left a dozing Chekov to
follow him, but Saavik hung back. "Admiral?"
Jim's tone was gentle. "As
your teacher Mr. Spock is fond of saying, I like to think that there are always
possibilities."
Saavik nodded and followed
the others into the cave.
Jim looked over at Carol.
She felt several emotions at
once, shame, love, desire, anger. She looked down unwilling to meet his eyes.
His voice was broken. "I
did what you wanted. I stayed away. Why didn't you tell him?"
She looked up, content that
anger had found its way to the forefront of the emotional storm she was
feeling. "How can you ask me that? Were we together? Were we going to be? You
had your world, and I had mine. And I wanted him in mine. Not chasing through
the universe with his father."
She saw her words strike
home. Guilt began to fill her. She rose and grabbed her jacket. "Actually he's a lot like you in many ways." She walked
past him, thought he'd follow her but he sat like a
stone. She felt her heart break as she watched him. He looked so lost. "Please
tell me what you're feeling?"
"There's a man out there
who I haven't seen in fifteen years who's trying to kill me. You show me a son
who'd be happy to help him. My son. My life that could have been and wasn't. What
am I feeling? Old. Worn out."
Her voice was soft; she
wanted only to be gentle with him. "Let me show you something that'll make
you feel young as when the world was new."
He glanced at her, then
turned to look down the hall where the others had gone. But he made no move to
rise.
She stepped closer and held
out her hand to him, watched as he took it, let her lead him down the hall. As
they got closer to the cave, and the smells and sounds began to reach them, he
quickened his pace, began to pull her down the corridor. He stopped just behind
where David lounged on the wide railing near the few steps that would take them
to the viewing ledge.
"You did all this in a
day," he asked in wonder.
"The matrix formed in a
day. The life forms grew later at a substantially accelerated rate."
McCoy looked up at them. "Jim,
this is incredible! Have you ever seen the like?"
She leaned in to look over
his shoulder. "Can I cook or can't I?"
Some time later they sat scattered over the ledge. It was quiet
except for an occasional crunch as Jim ate an apple-like fruit. He seemed in no
hurry to find a way out. That surprised her. Somehow
she didn't think that he was contemplating the possibilities of an enforced
exile in quite the same way that she was. No, he looked much as he had the time he'd planned the surprise birthday party for her. The
same look of quietly satisfied anticipation. She looked down to hide her sudden
grin. He had something up his sleeve. She was surprised to find no
disappointment at the idea that rescue was just around the corner. She almost
laughed out loud. Her heart was ever the contradiction, even to her.
Saavik spoke softly. "Sir,
may I ask you a question?"
"What's on your mind,
Lieutenant?"
"The Kobayashi Maru,
Sir."
"Are you asking me if
we're playing out that scenario now?"
Saavik's voice was solemn. "On the test, Sir, will you
tell me what you did? I would really like to know."
McCoy chuckled. "Lieutenant,
you are looking at the only Star Fleet cadet who ever beat the no-win
scenario."
"How?"
Jim's reply was nonchalant. "I
reprogrammed the simulation so it was possible to rescue the ship."
Saavik's whispered "What?" held horror.
David laughed scornfully. "He
cheated."
The reply was curt. "Changed
the conditions of the test. Got a commendation for original thinking. I don't
like to lose."
Saavik was thoughtful. "Then
you never faced that situation. Faced death."
"I don't believe in the
no-win scenario." He pulled his communicator out.
So now it begins, Carol
thought. Now he pulls out the ace he's been hiding all this time. She looked at
the doctor. His unconcerned air was that of a man who had faith in Jim Kirk. In
fact, it looked like he was getting ready to rise.
"Kirk to Spock. It's two
hours, are you ready?"
To Saavik and David's
surprise, the communicator chimed into action. "Right on schedule,
Admiral. Just give us your coordinates and we'll beam you aboard."
Carol didn't think she'd ever
heard him sound more satisfied then when he replied, "All right." He
looked at David, challenge in his eyes. "I don't like to lose."
They walked down to where
Chekov lay. McCoy helped him up, supported him as the transporters took them. She
could hear Saavik arguing with Jim even as they beamed up. As the Star Fleet
officers changed their jackets for uniforms, Jim said, "Spock, you know
Dr. Marcus?"
His reply was pleasant. "Why
of course."
"Hello, Mr. Spock."
McCoy herded them off the
transporter. "I'm taking this bunch to sickbay."
Carol felt David reach for her
arm as they followed the doctor. She looked up at him and saw his answering
smile. His gaze was so warm, just for her. That would have to end. It was time
for the truth. She sensed that McCoy knew who David's father was. Now it was
time that David knew. But she'd never wanted to do anything less in her entire
life.
"What is it?" His
voice was so full of affection she nearly choked.
"Nothing. Just glad to
be rescued."
"You didn't look very
worried down there." He studied her. "Why weren't you afraid?"
Truth, she reminded herself. "I
could never be afraid when Jim is around. He always takes care of things,
David."
"Sure
he does. By cheating."
The sickbay door opened as
she tried to think of the best way to tell him. She watched McCoy fuss over
Chekov then followed the doctor into his office. David stood just inside the
door. She smiled at McCoy, but she could feel her lips shaking as she did so.
His eyes narrowed for a
moment, then he rose slowly and walked around his desk. "I have few tests
to run on Chekov. Feel free to use my office. It's very private."
She nodded gratefully and
watched the door close behind him. She could see him through the walls but the
sound from outside was muted completely.
She began to pace the small
room. She could sense David's eyes upon her but didn't want to face him. Not
yet.
"Mother?"
Suddenly she turned to him. The
speed of her move, and the desperation in her voice took her by surprise. "Have
I been a good mother, David?"
"No, you've been
terrible." His teasing tone faded as he watched her face. "What kind
of question is that? Of course you've been a good
mother. You've been the best mother."
"And we've been happy,
haven't we?" She could still see the little boy playing outside her office
when she looked at him.
"Very happy." He
took her in his arms, hugged her. "We're going to make it. As much as I
hate to say it, Kirk probably will get us out of this."
"Oh
he will. Never doubt that."
"Then why are you
shaking?"
"Because I don't want to
lose you." Her voice was ragged.
"Lose me? Lose me
how." His arms tightened around her.
When did he get so tall, so
strong? Where did the little boy that she used to envelope in her arms go? "Lose
you when you find out the truth."
"Truth?" His voice
was confused. "Mother, you're making yourself and me crazy with this kind
of talk. Just tell me what's bothering you."
"You met your father
today." There, she'd said it. Not as direct as she should have. But it was
out there. It would lead to the truth.
His arms were not so tight
around her. "What did you just say?"
"Your father. You met
him. You looked at him." She laughed bitterly. "You even tried to
kill him."
He let her go completely. His
eyes were steel as he stared at her.
"It's true, kiddo. Jim
Kirk is your father."
"But you told me: —"
"I told you lots of
things. Most of them lies, David. This isn't a lie. For perhaps the first time
in your life, I'm telling you the truth. That man, that good man, is your
father."
He didn't move. He just
stared at her. Then he looked down. Processing. Probably trying to deny. And
looking just as his father had in the cave when he'd said he was feeling old. They
were so very alike.
She found herself asking
David the same thing she'd asked Jim, "Please, tell me what you're
feeling?"
He turned on her. "What
I'm feeling? You want to know what I'm feeling?"
She cringed away a bit.
He saw it and his anger
seemed to fade. "You lied to me. You've been lying to me for my whole life
and you ask me how I'm feeling? How do you feel, Mother? How the hell do you
feel?"
She couldn't stop a tear from
slipping down her cheek. "Ashamed. Sorry. Afraid, very, very afraid."
"Just tell me why? Did
he not want me? Is that it?"
It would have been so easy to
lie to him again. And she sensed that he almost wanted her to do it, to put it
all back the way it had been, without this new person in the mix. "No. He
wanted you."
His face fell but he walked
to her, brushed her tear away. "Then why?"
"He had his own world,
David. The one here, in the stars. It didn't include me. Never included me. I
wanted you in mine."
"But later, when I was
old enough to understand that. Why didn't you tell me then?"
She shook her head
helplessly. "I was afraid you'd want to be with the stars too. I'd lose
you to his world. And I just couldn't stand that."
"I worked with you, I would never have left you." His voice was hurt.
"You might never have
chosen to work with me if you had known the truth, David."
He stepped away from her. "I
guess we'll never know, will we?" His tone was neutral.
"What are you feeling,
David?"
"Like I need some
air." He walked out of the room.
McCoy came in a second later.
"Can I get you anything?"
She laughed bitterly. "A
time machine?"
"To do it
differently?"
She thought about it. "No.
To lie a few minutes ago when I had the chance to keep my son."
He shook his head. "You
did the right thing, Doctor. You know it. And David will know it too, maybe not
right away but he will."
"Anybody ever commend you on your bedside manner, Doctor."
He just laughed. The ship
suddenly rocked. He looked up. "They're firing."
David rushed in, his old
habit to look after her overruling his anger.
She smiled at him, but he
just stared at her.
He grabbed his sweater and
wrapped it around his shoulders. "I'm going up there."
"That's not a good
idea."
His look stopped her from
saying more. "Perhaps not. But I have a sudden need to be with my father. I'm
sure you can understand that?"
She nodded helplessly and
watched him walk away from her. I've lost him, she thought mournfully. I've
really lost him.
She sat with McCoy through
the bulk of the battle. Then he left to go to Engineering and she was alone. He
had a channel turned to monitor the bridge. She could hear Jim's voice. So
calm. So reassuring. Then she heard David's telling
his father the Genesis Device had been started. She felt real panic. She ran to
be with her son. But she ran the wrong way, wasted precious minutes finding the
lift, getting to the bridge. On the way there she felt the ship kick into warp,
then the lift opened onto an amazing sight.
Jim's voice was awed. "My
god, Carol, look at it."
She looked at David. He was
standing to the side, a look of quiet pride on his face. She wanted to go to
him, but stood frozen in uncertainty. He reached out his hand to her and she walked
to him slowly, their hands intertwining without thought as he pulled her close.
And they stood there in wonder, not understanding the terrible note in McCoy's
voice when he told Jim to get down to engineering. Not realizing that Jim Kirk
was losing his greatest friend. Not knowing until it was too late.
The funeral was awful. It
hurt so much to watch Jim struggle through the ceremony. She wanted to hold him
so much as he fought the tears that threatened. David didn't understand, he
didn't know his father enough yet to hurt with him. But she understood. And she
ached for this man that she'd walked away from.
She knew when David went to
him. She knew enough of her son to realize what he'd say. That this was the end
of her exclusive hold on him. But he'd forgiven her with the same open heart he'd
always had as a child. He still loved her. And for that she was grateful. She'd
share him with a thousand Kirks if it meant she never had to feel that dreadful
loneliness she'd experienced in sickbay when she realized her world might no
longer contain the light that was David. She'd learned her lesson.
##
Carol shifted in the overly
soft bed in the Vegas resort. Looking back, it was ironic enough to make her
laugh. She'd returned from the Genesis disaster prepared to try to include Jim
in her own life. To perhaps forge something from the ashes of what she'd
burned. She'd known she still had feelings for him the minute she'd seen him in
the Genesis Cave, had felt those feelings grow during the long voyage back to
Earth. And she'd sensed that he'd felt the same. She knew that it hadn't been
her imagination. There had still been something between them. She'd even
indulged in daydreams of them being a family.
But those fantasies had ended
when she'd been denied access to Genesis. Only one man could do that to her,
had a reason to do that to her. Jim Kirk. He hadn't been so forgiving as his
son after all. In keeping her from both the work she loved and the son she
adored he'd found the perfect vengeance and had left her with nothing.
For the first time in years,
she and David hadn't been working together. She'd thought she'd be joining
David on the Grissom, had made plans to join him until she'd found herself
barred from the project. She'd called her son frantically. He'd been angered
and said he'd work to get her back. But that hadn't happened.
The only consolation she'd
known was that his father wasn't with him either. David had been on the Grissom
while Jim had returned a crippled Enterprise to spacedock.
And she'd been on the ship too, having agreed to come back for the debriefs. David
had convinced her that she, as senior member of the team, was better prepared
to deal with Star Fleet than he. She'd wanted to please him, to have his
approval, so she'd agreed. And then had found herself with no way to get back
to him.
Genesis had eluded her from
that moment on. She'd blamed Jim for years. Thought he'd asked the brass to
pull her access. But it hadn't been him. He'd never been a vindictive man. And
she'd seen how he understood her passion for her work. She should have known
better than to blame him. Had she been logical she'd have asked herself who had
the most to gain by getting her off the project. Or the most to lose if she
remained. Had she followed that avenue of exploration to its logical
conclusion, she'd have realized it could yield only one answer. The last person
she'd ever have suspected. David. Her son. Her colleague. Her partner. David
had kicked her off the project. In hindsight, it was all so clear, but at the
time it had never occurred to her that he was involved, much less responsible
for her banishment. If it hadn't been for Saavik's
visit just a few years ago, she might never have known the truth.
##
"Excuse me, Doctor
Marcus?"
Carol looked up from the pad
she was working on. It took her a minute to recognize the young woman that
stood before her.
"Lt. Saavik?"
"It's just Saavik now. I
left Star Fleet."
Carol was genuinely
surprised. "Why? You seemed like a perfect fit."
"I believe that I would have
been successful had I stayed. But it would have been for the wrong
reasons." Saavik saw the puzzlement in Carol's eyes. "I would have
been doing it to please someone else. Life is too short not to find something
that brings you full satisfaction. David's death taught me that."
Carol flinched at the mention
of her son. Her coworkers knew not to bring him up and her friends: —well she
didn't really have any of those anymore. She'd left them all behind, first to
work on Genesis, then to find some other life without it or her son.
"I have caused you
pain."
"I don't talk about
David."
Saavik seemed to consider
this. Finally she spoke, her voice regretful. "Then
perhaps you will not wish to hear what I have to say about him."
Carol wanted to agree with
her. She didn't want to discuss her son with this woman, with anyone. But there
was something in Saavik's eyes that told her she
should listen. "Did you seek me out, Saavik, or is this a chance
encounter?"
"I looked for you. I am
leaving Earth soon. Going to see if I can find my own way on a planet that I've
been told is a good place for new beginnings. I may not be back for a very long
while."
"And so
you want to get something off your chest? Something about David?"
"You know that he gave
his life for me and for Captain Spock?"
Carol nodded. Jim had told
her this when he came to her after his exile on Vulcan. He'd tried to hold her,
to comfort her, but she'd pushed him away. She'd known he was in pain over
David's death but she hadn't cared. She'd ordered him out. She was good at
that.
Saavik continued, "David
died bravely. With honor. It is an important fact."
"To you perhaps, but to
me all that is important is that my son is dead. How it happened doesn't make
him any less gone." Carol knew her voice was beyond bitter.
"Of course. But it is
important for another reason." Saavik paused for a long time, as if
considering carefully what she was about to say. "Do you know what
happened to the Genesis Planet?"
"No," Carol said
simply. Jim hadn't told her this. She'd asked him when he'd first called her
from Vulcan, but he'd pulled the 'you're not authorized for that information'
card. How it had infuriated her. Now this young woman was going to tell her
what the father of her child would not?
"It was unstable. It
tore itself apart."
Carol took that in. All the
implications of that. "And David?"
"His body was on the
planet when it blew up."
That was as Jim had said. Or
nearly. He'd said that David's body hadn't been recoverable because of the
explosion. She'd assumed he meant the one on the Enterprise. Although the
details of the mission were closed to her, even Star Fleet Intelligence couldn't
hide the fact that their flagship seemed to be missing.
Carol thought back to the few
facts she knew. Spock was alive, due, she'd always assumed, to his torpedo
coffin landing on a still forming Genesis Planet. She'd thought that if he
prospered the planet must have also been doing well. She'd supposed it to be
covered with eager settlers. To hear that it was destroyed was staggering. Damn
Jim for kicking her off the project. "Unstable," she repeated as she
tried to wrap her mind around the concept. "How? Why?"
Saavik again gave her a
considering look before answering. "David used protomatter."
"Impossible. I'd
know."
"He kept it from you. He
knew you wouldn't have approved."
"No," Carol moaned,
disbelief fading while what little remained of her world crumbled around her.
Saavik let her process the
information before continuing quietly. "You were going to lose the grants.
You needed results. Protomatter worked when nothing
else did. In small areas, like the Genesis Cave, it was stable. On a whole
planet though: a disaster."
"Are you defending his
actions?"
"No. What he did was
wrong. But why he did it may have been less so."
"His pride? That makes
it ok?"
Saavik shook her head. "There's
that. But there is also the fact that he loved you. He didn't want your life's
work taken away from you."
Carol didn't respond.
Saavik continued undaunted. "He
didn't want it taken away from you...and that's why it killed him to then be
the one that ensured that you never had access to it again."
Carol was not sure she'd
heard correctly. "What did you say?"
"I said that you were
barred from Genesis because David wanted you off the project. As soon as he ran
a scan of the planet, he saw it was already destabilizing. He couldn't bear for
you to find out what he'd done, so he made a call to Star Fleet, told them some
half-truths about not being able to trust you. Said that your goals for the
project were suspect. He was apparently quite convincing."
"All this time I thought
it was Jim."
Saavik nodded. "David
knew you would think that. Perhaps he even encouraged it?"
Carol felt anger and hurt
surge through her. But she couldn't help but appreciate the irony. It was the
same game she'd played all those years ago.
Saavik said quietly, "I
am sorry to have to be the one to tell you of this. But I thought you should
know."
"So that you could rest
easier?" Carol asked meanly.
"So that David
could." Saavik gave her an enigmatic half smile, then left the office.
The door had barely closed
behind her before Carol ordered the computer to lock it. Her world was being
destroyed just as surely as the Genesis Planet had been. It was not something
she wanted anyone else to witness.
##
The pool water was cool as
she waded in. It felt good, especially after her turbulent night. She allowed
herself to float, content to let the sun of Las Vegas beat down on her. Out of
the corner of her eye she saw a man watching her. She'd seen him last night
too, at the casino, in the bar at the front of the restaurant she'd eaten in. He
was definitely interested. She ignored him.
How long had it been since
she'd had a lover? There had been men, but they had served a different purpose.
She'd certainly never categorize them as lovers. Jim was her last real lover. What
was even more pitiful was that he'd also been her first real lover.
Not that she'd been
inexperienced when she met him. With her blonde good looks, she'd always found
it easy to attract men. But keeping them had been another matter. In most cases
she hadn't even wanted to. But sometimes there had been some potential,
something different, larger than just sex. But it had never lasted. She
supposed her serious manner, her refusal to not be the brilliant scientist, hadn't
helped matters. Before she met Jim, the men she'd attracted had fallen for the
outside package and had seemed disappointed that there was actually substance
within.
After David was born, her
devotion to him had put off any man who had been at all inclined to share in
their lives. She hadn't been willing to split her time any more than it already
was between her work and her son. An extra person had frankly seemed more
trouble than he was worth, especially when, if she felt the urge, she had
several male acquaintances that offered sex without strings.
To those who worked with her,
she probably seemed as sexless as a eunuch and that was fine. It really wasn't
one of her priorities. But there was a time when it had been. If you were
involved with Jim Kirk, it became a priority. Not because he'd been oversexed
and demanding, as so many who didn't really know him seemed to think. But
rather because Jim poured his passion into everything he did. When he was with
you, he was totally with you. Every action, no matter how inconsequential, was
sex. If he poured you a drink, listened to you talk, or just watched you while
you worked, he was making love to you. It was that personal, that intimate.
It had been his very
intensity that allowed her to finally understand her mother's devotion to her
father. Before Jim, she'd never understood what if felt like to drown in
someone. Until she'd been with him, she'd never wanted anyone that much, had
never been that dependent on anyone. But these feelings had been alarming as
well as enlightening. With Jim, she'd felt a degree of neediness that had
panicked her. She wanted him with her all the time. Yet she knew that he
couldn't be, wouldn't be. He was a Starfleet officer. His place was in the
stars. And she'd picked him. Gone against all her instincts and allowed a man
just like her father into her life, into her heart. For a while she'd been able
to ignore it, but finally the strain of too many goodbyes had taken their toll.
Their final farewell was ugly.
##
"Carol?"
She looked up, startled to
see him at the door to her office. He never came to the biomed building.
"Were you planning to
come home tonight?" It was an innocent question that spoke volumes.
"I'm sort of in the
middle of something, Jim."
"Can it wait until
tomorrow?"
"Why should it?" Her
voice was ice, and she didn't care.
He stepped into her office
and closed the door. "Carol, I know you haven't forgotten what tomorrow
is."
"Let's
see? Hmmmm. Oh wait, sure. I know. Tomorrow would be
the day you ship out. Again."
"I'm in Star Fleet,
Carol. It's what I do. Space is where I work. I can't stay here if I want to
work there. We've been lucky so far. We've been able to spend a lot of time
together. But we both knew that being together wouldn't always be the
norm."
She bent
back to her work. "So you leave. Fine. See
you."
"I have to go."
"Uh-huh. Bye." She
didn't even look up.
"I may be shipping out,
but I'll be back. You, on the other hand, appear to have checked out."
She looked up and met his
eyes. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning you're running
away from me, from us."
There was a charged silence
as he held her gaze. Finally she looked away. "So what if I am?"
His tone was incredulous. "So
what? So damn what? My god, Carol, I love you. You
love me or at least you used to. What the hell has happened to us?" He reached
over, touched her cheek tenderly. "I'm not your father, Carol. It doesn't
have to be the same."
She forced herself to face
him, to not look away. "How else can it be, Jim? I'm tired of this life. I
lived it as a child, and I hated it then. Now you want me to do it again. But I
can't. I just can't." She pulled away from his touch. "I'm tired of
feeling that if you leave I'll die, and if you come
back I'll die too. Of thinking that one person can be that important to me. I'm
sick of worrying about you, and of feeling guilty when I forget to worry about
you. I'm tired of it all. Us, you, all of it."
"You can't mean
that."
"I do. I really
do." She was in full attack, the thought of backing down never occurred to
her. "In fact, I've got a great idea what you can do with your last night.
Use it to pack up your stuff and move out."
"Carol," his voice
was ragged, "What the hell is wrong with you."
She saw his pain and felt her
own heart breaking as it pleaded with her to tell him she didn't mean it. She
silenced it ruthlessly. "What's wrong with me? You. Jim Kirk. You're
what's wrong with me."
He just stared at her.
She forced herself to ignore
him, to go back to work. When he didn't move, she spoke without raising her
head. "Either you leave this room or I do."
His boots barely made a sound
as he turned and walked out of her life.
She counted to one hundred
before she allowed herself to weep.
##
Had it been for the best? Leaving
him, running as she had. Ultimately she'd never really
left him. He still owned her heart, even from the grave. She may not have
allowed herself to cry for him when he died, but last night her tears hadn't
all been for her son. Some had been for the only other man she'd ever loved.
She rolled to her stomach in
the water; saw the man from last night again eyeing her speculatively. In your
dreams, she laughed to herself as she paddled around the pool. I've had James
Tiberius Kirk. What would I want with you?
She recognized her strange
mood from the years before. It had always come after her night of tears. Some
kind of lustful nostalgia for the man she'd thrown away. Desire for him and a
love that had never faded combined into a powerful mixture. In the past, she'd
had to fight with herself to not contact him, not tell him all those things she
should have. In the past. How devastatingly simple those three words were. Because
now they meant 'not anymore.' For the first time since David died, there was no
Jim Kirk to call, to blame, to love still. He was gone. Her memories, her love,
were no longer dangerous. And that meant that she wouldn't need some other
random man to help her maintain her resolve to stay away from Jim. So, you, she
thought as she climbed out of the pool and passed her admirer, are just plain
out of luck. Timing really is everything.
Carol lay back in her chair
and sank into her memories. She'd never allowed herself to do that before. It
had been too risky. If she'd opened the door to the past, everything she'd
worked for would have been in danger. But now there was nothing left to lose.
She allowed herself to doze. And
as she did, snippets of her life with Jim played out, rushing to the surface as
if a dam had finally been breached.
##
"Is this seat
taken?"
She looked up into the most
gorgeous pair of hazel eyes she'd ever seen. "Taken?" she repeated
stupidly.
"If you're saving it for
someone just say so." He looked around the
crowded Starfleet Command lunchroom trying to spot another seat.
"No. I'm not. Saving
it." What was wrong with her? She usually had no problem expressing
herself in full sentences. "Please sit down."
He grinned and she felt her
heart skip a beat. She also felt herself grinning back. The muscles in her face
protested at this unfamiliar activity.
He held out his hand. "I'm
Jim Kirk."
She noticed he left out his rank,
but his uniform told the story. He looked awfully young to be a lieutenant
commander. Obviously on the fast track. Just like her father. She took his
hand. "Dr. Marcus. Carol."
"Carol." He
repeated her name. The sound was a caress. She felt that she was in danger of
becoming lost in his voice. I don't think so, flyboy, she thought firmly as she
turned back to her book.
"What are you
reading?"
"I was just taking a
break from the project I'm working on."
He smiled; her attempt to
divert him seemed to only make him more interested. "That's not exactly
what I asked."
She shrugged it off. "It's
just an old favorite that I'm rereading."
"Yes, I can tell that
it's old. Real books usually are." He held out his hand for it. "Can
I see it?"
Their eyes locked and she
felt as if they had declared war. His hazel eyes seemed amused at the tension. Finally
yielding to his request, she handed the book over slowly.
His smile grew broader as he
saw the title. He rifled through the last few pages till he found the line he
wanted.
"The final truth came to
me, as we stood there, trembling, searching, between all our past and all our
future; at a moment when the difference between fission and fusion lay in a
nothing, a tiniest movement, betrayal, further misunderstanding." He
closed the book. "I always loved the potential that Fowles gave that one
moment. I think that was the true power of 'The Magus'."
"But how do you think it
ends?"
"But that's the point isn't it? It doesn't end. Not really. Or if it does it's because you or I, the reader, decide how it
must end to make us happy. It's a frozen moment. Where everything that could
happen, might happen."
"Schroedinger's
cat." She offered. "At least until we open the lid."
He looked up, clearly
delighted. "Yes, exactly."
She found herself grinning at
his enthusiasm. Tried to make herself cut the conversation off. Found she
didn't want to. "You never know what might have happened to them."
"He loved her. But it
was all up to her." He seemed lost for a moment in the past.
"You think she left
him?"
"It's been my experience
that women do that."
The sadness in his eyes
touched her in a way she didn't expect. "Any woman that left you would be
crazy." Why had she said that, she wondered, suddenly embarrassed. But his
hearty laugh put her at ease.
"Well maybe you could
tell my last girlfriend that?" He handed her back the book. "So what else do you read for fun, Carol Marcus?"
It was the shortest sixty
minutes she'd ever known.
##
His breathing had slowed and
she studied his face, glad of the opportunity to watch him when he was not
aware. She tried not to let him see this side of her. The side that wanted to
possess every inch of him. She smiled as she looked at the man that shared her
bed. He was so handsome, so brilliant, so good.
It took her a minute to
realize that his eyes were open and he was watching her as she watched him.
"Care to share what
you're thinking?" His voice was husky, affecting her as it always did,
even as she tried to close down her heart.
"I was just thinking
what a beautiful man you are." She traced his features with her fingertip.
She felt tears threaten from nowhere, blinked quickly.
He smiled, then pulled her
close. "You're really fighting this, Carol, and for the life of me, I
can't figure out why?"
"Fighting what?" She
tried to make her voice innocent.
"Loving me. Being loved
by me." He pushed her back a bit so he could see her face. "I see it
when we make love, I see it when we meet up after a long day. Your face lights
up, then you clamp down on it. Why?" When she didn't answer, he whispered.
"I'm not Joel Marcus, you know."
"I can't help it if I'm
serious by nature," she responded, sorry now that she'd ever told him
about her father.
"Serious is one thing. But
unwilling to feel, Carol, that's another."
"Maybe I'm part
Vulcan," she said as she began to move against his body, hoping to
distract him from that line of questioning.
"No Vulcan does that,
you devil." He pulled her nearer and began to kiss her. "And I know
what you're trying to do."
She snuggled closer. Her lips
found the sensitive spot on his neck below his ear. She felt him shiver. "Is
it working?"
He laughed as he surrendered
to her.
##
"Carol?"
She looked up to see him
standing there. She finished fastening David's jacket then rose and picked the
toddler up.
The child's studied the
stranger inquisitively.
In this light, she realized
their eyes looked the same color.
David's solemn face didn't
alter as he reached for the finger that Jim held out to him.
Carol yanked him back. She
saw identical expressions of hurt bewilderment on their faces.
"I just thought—."
She was quick to cut him off.
"I don't care what you thought. You made your choice. You're no part of
this. Not now, not ever. David is mine."
"David." Jim's eyes
again met the child's. Something seemed to pass
between them.
Carol snatched up her work
satchel and with a glare at Jim, walked away quickly.
She didn't slow until she put
three corridors them. Then she sank down on a bench and pulled her confused
child in close. She had to fight an urge to weep and a stronger desire to run
back down the halls till she found Jim and let him back into her life.
"I'm sorry, David. I'm
so sorry."
##
Carol shifted in her chair,
remembering life without Jim in it. It had been just she and David and that had
been all right. He'd been such a sweet child, eager to please her, able to
entertain himself. He was interested in the world around him just as she'd been
at that age. She'd loved him more each day.
Then had come the time she'd
come home and found her mother waiting for her at the door.
"He asked."
Carol had felt her heart
drop. She'd prepared for this moment nearly from the minute he'd been born. She'd
known that the day would come when he'd ask about his father.
She'd gone into him, had let
him express his uncertainty. And in the end had given him the most simple of the explanations, the lies, she'd use over
the years. "Your father is dead."
Over time it had progressed
to: "We were never married when he died." and "Your father and I
couldn't stay together. He moved on. As far as I'm concerned
he might as well be dead." Eventually, as the story continued to change, he'd
quit asking. She'd been relieved.
What a shock it had been to
have Jim turn up again in her life. As the man who she at first had thought was
taking Genesis away, then the man that had saved them from it, and from Khan. Telling
David that the overgrown boy scout was his father had been the hardest thing she'd
ever had to do.
But it had been just as hard
to have to feel those emotions for Jim all over again. It had been jarring to
her world. She thought she'd closed down that part of her heart, but just a few
minutes in his presence and he was battering down her defenses without even
trying.
Everything had changed at
that moment. And it had all happened so fast. One minute she and David had been
together the way they loved, working on a project that would change the world. The
next moment too many people had died and they were looking at the fruit of
their labor. And her son was looking at something else too. She couldn't help
but notice the glances he'd been giving Saavik. She recognized them. They were
the same looks she used to give Jim. A Marcus didn't fall in love easily, but
when they did, they fell hard.
She'd understood that she'd
be sharing him with two people now. His father and this young woman. She'd
accepted that. But then she'd been cut off from the project. And then David had
died. Any acceptance within her had died with her son. There was nothing left
inside of her. Nothing except hatred.
##
"Dr. Marcus? You have a
visitor."
Carol could tell by the awed
look in her new assistant's eyes just who the visitor was. "Show the
Captain in."
"Yes, Doctor." He
scurried away.
So finally
you come to me, she thought angrily. It had been several weeks since Jim had
been exonerated in front of a Federation tribunal. Weeks that he hadn't
contacted her.
She heard footsteps. One set
quick and eager. The other heavy, holding back. I just bet you don't want to
have this meeting, she raged. Her anger had festered, nursed by her
unwillingness to let go, to break down. She was full of emotion and she'd let
it express itself in one way only: rage.
Better run for cover, she
thought to her aide. As if reading her mind, he ducked quickly out of the room.
She stared at her former
lover. He met her angry gaze with a weary sorrow.
"So," she said
hoping to see him squirm, "You finally show up."
"I would have come
sooner if there had been a way."
"Oh, but you were busy
saving Earth. Again. You can keep an entire planet from being destroyed, yet
you couldn't preserve the life of one young man."
"That's not fair,
Carol."
"Just like pulling my
accesses wasn't fair, Jim. How does it feel?"
His surprise was evident on
his face, "Pulling your accesses? I didn't—."
"Oh
save it," she ordered harshly. "I'm really not interested in that
now. What matters is David. His death." She fixed him with a hostile
stare. "His murder."
He moved closer to her, tried
to reach out to her, but stopped when she flinched away. "I didn't kill
our son."
"He followed you, into
space. He died because of you."
"He died because of
Genesis. On a planet he wouldn't have even been on if you hadn't pulled him into
your life's work, your great project."
"So now I'm to
blame?" She grew angrier with him when she realized this thought had
already occurred to her.
"Neither of us is to
blame. David's death was a terrible tragedy, but not one that we caused."
"Khan came because of
you. The Klingons came because of you."
He shook his head. "The
Klingons came because they wanted the secrets of Genesis."
"Things might have been
different if I'd stayed on the project!"
His voice was gentle as he
asked, "Then why did you leave? Why not stay? Why leave it all up to a
boy?"
In a flash her hand was up to
slap his face. His hand was even faster as it caught hers, preventing the blow.
"David gave his life for
others, he wouldn't have wanted this for us, Carol."
She pulled her hand roughly
out of his, stalked away from him. "You don't have any idea what David
would have wanted. You didn't know him. Not the way I did."
"No. Not the way you
did," his voice was still calm. "But I was starting to know
him."
She kept her back to him. "I
have nothing more to say to you. Now get out."
"Fine."
She could hear him move to
the door.
"He
said something that never made sense to me, Carol. He said that he went wrong. But
I don't know what that means. Do you?"
"I have no idea." Her
mind had shut down; it refused to analyze Jim's words. "Just get
out."
He tried one last time. "Please.
Now should be the time that we help each other through this. Not shut each
other out."
Her words were clipped as she
fought back overpowering rage. "I help you? You knew him for what? A few
weeks. I knew him his entire life. How the hell are you going to help me with
that?"
He sighed heavily. "Goodbye,
Carol. I'm sorry I couldn't keep him safe for you."
So am I, she thought wearily. Oh god, so am I.
##
Life had gone on, Carol
reflected as she waited her turn at the Las Vegas transporter pad. Yes it had gone on, but it had never been the same.
Her home had been quiet
without David's presence. Her work had seemed dull without his quick mind to
share it. She had missed him every day but forced herself to hold in the grief.
When that first anniversary of his death had approached, she had known that she
needed to let some of the pain out. But she had been afraid to be too alone. So she had booked herself into a crowded resort in the South
Pacific. And thus had begun her tradition.
One day to cry, then one more
day. A day supposedly to recover, but really to miss Jim and, before this year,
to find some stranger that could help as she tried to resist her former lover's
siren call.
At this point in her life she felt as if she'd mourn them forever. But maybe
someday she'd cease to feel the immediacy of David's death, and of Jim's.
Maybe. Someday. Such nice
words.
In the meantime, there was
her work. Not Genesis true, but important in its own right. And there was her
reputation. She had taken Federation terraforming further than it had ever
reached before. Maybe in time she'd resume that search for life.
Maybe. Someday.
She wished there were grave
markers somewhere for her son and her lover. Some sort of place that would say
'they rest here.' But they were both out of reach, bodies scattered by
cataclysmic energy. Just so much space dust.
She laughed at the irony of
it. In death, Jim had hold of David as jealously as she had ever latched onto
their child in life. The two would sail the space winds together, forever. In
Jim Kirk's world.
Just as she'd stay alone in
her own. Deprived of the one man she had ever, would ever love. And of the son
who meant more to her than any living creature. Neither would stay in her world
now. Not even for a little visit.
It was just like the song
that David's Gubby used to sing to him after they'd
put him to bed.
"Oh
lay me down
in the dark night.
Let me sleep,
Let me dream.
For someone walks
On the other side
Let them play
Let them laugh.
For we can never
See their face
But they're there
Yes they're there
When dark comes
They will sleep
As I wake
As I rise."
FIN