Captain James T. Kirk (
winscenario) wrote in
riverviewlogs2017-10-10 08:34 pm
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( open ) is this the place we used to love
who: Jim Kirk & YOU!
what: yet another memory share post to add to the pile (sorry guys)
when: 9th - 23rd
where: wherever you like
warnings: death (his own and other people), possibly some violence. nothing too terribly intense or graphic. will update if need be!
I ▹ DREAMSCAPE
II ▹ VISION
III ▹ VISION
IV ▹ DREAMSCAPE
[ ooc: if you'd like any other specific memories from any of the movies, feel free to let me know and I can write a starter for you! ]
what: yet another memory share post to add to the pile (sorry guys)
when: 9th - 23rd
where: wherever you like
warnings: death (his own and other people), possibly some violence. nothing too terribly intense or graphic. will update if need be!
I ▹ DREAMSCAPE
[ It's warm. It's too warm, even, the sun shining down on your head, making sweat form rapidly across skin. There's very little that offers shade too— everything is a vast wide open field, dried foliage and nothingness all around. There's an old and neglected barn not too far off, a tree well in the distance, and a beaten path that doesn't seem like it's used too often.
You'll recognize Jim, standing just to the side, eyes on that road. A car is coming in at some speed, gradually closer as it approaches the barn.
He's not really expecting company, not here of all places. What is there to see, anyway, in the middle of nowhere, Iowa? Hands in his pockets, he looks a little resigned, a little wistful, trying very hard for it not to come off as nostalgic as he turns around to greet whoever's just walked into his dream. ]
This isn't going to be terribly exciting, I'm afraid.
You'll recognize Jim, standing just to the side, eyes on that road. A car is coming in at some speed, gradually closer as it approaches the barn.
He's not really expecting company, not here of all places. What is there to see, anyway, in the middle of nowhere, Iowa? Hands in his pockets, he looks a little resigned, a little wistful, trying very hard for it not to come off as nostalgic as he turns around to greet whoever's just walked into his dream. ]
This isn't going to be terribly exciting, I'm afraid.
II ▹ VISION
[ The first few visions aren't clear or telling at all, but they are intense, loud, explosive. Sounds of people yelling, gunfire, the heat of minor explosions, the pain of broken glass piercing skin. You could swear you can feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest, a sense of panic and dread, then a deep, piercing grief you can't quite pinpoint or explain.
Eventually, the memory reveals itself completely. It starts with an attack, evidently a set-up, which comes to explain most of the feelings, the sense of fear, the rush of adrenaline. The grief, however, is only explained later, when you experience the rest of the memory. You don't know the dying man, but for a moment, it feels like you do. It feels like you love him greatly, and the loss comes with a strange sense of regret for things left unsaid. ]
Eventually, the memory reveals itself completely. It starts with an attack, evidently a set-up, which comes to explain most of the feelings, the sense of fear, the rush of adrenaline. The grief, however, is only explained later, when you experience the rest of the memory. You don't know the dying man, but for a moment, it feels like you do. It feels like you love him greatly, and the loss comes with a strange sense of regret for things left unsaid. ]
III ▹ VISION
[ This particular memory starts revealing itself with an unusual physical manifestation: pain. Or the memory of it, anyway. Wherever you are, there's a sudden, intense ache, there and gone in a moment, though it leaves your heart racing, your breath coming a little short. Panic comes soon after, and without knowing how to explain it, you find yourself terrified. Before you experience the memory in its entirety, you suddenly are sure of one thing: you're going to die.
But it's not until you experience the whole memory that you understand, that those sensations are explained, as well as the glimpses of the Vulcan whom you don't think you know, so much as feel you recognize. This memory is intense for a whole other set of reasons. It's quiet for the most part, but your heart beats too loudly, your breath comes out too ragged. You feel at a loss, cold, and completely alone. And it's terrifying to the last second, until your sight blurs and dissolves into pitch black. ]
But it's not until you experience the whole memory that you understand, that those sensations are explained, as well as the glimpses of the Vulcan whom you don't think you know, so much as feel you recognize. This memory is intense for a whole other set of reasons. It's quiet for the most part, but your heart beats too loudly, your breath comes out too ragged. You feel at a loss, cold, and completely alone. And it's terrifying to the last second, until your sight blurs and dissolves into pitch black. ]
IV ▹ DREAMSCAPE
[ You come to on a ship. It looks a little worn and like it shouldn't be able to withstand flight, and yet here it is, going at an impressive speed across space. Scarier than that, though, is what can be seen on the view screen: thousands and thousands of small vessels, working in perfect coordination, taking a shape of sorts as they seemingly prepare to attack.
Among the very small crew on the bridge, there's a perfect reflection of Jim sitting in the captain's chair, fingers curling tight into the armrest. They all seem completely unaware of both your presence, and the only one who makes a note of you being there is the other Jim, in casual clothes and hair a little longer, glancing between you and the scene as he takes a moment to piece together what's happening here. ]
The swarm ships are doubling back, they are forming an attack wave, sir. [ Chekov warns the captain, to which he answers promptly, like the commands were keyed in already, just waiting for the right time. ]
We've got their attention. [ More of a murmur than anything, then— ] Hold steady, Mr. Sulu. Brace yourselves, everybody. Spock, stand by to drop out of formation. Scotty, you all cued up back there?
[ Scotty, bent over a console, nods. ] Aye, sir!
[ The Jim standing next to you smiles a little, raising his eyebrows and tipping his head. ] We should listen to my advice. This ride's about to get bumpy.
Among the very small crew on the bridge, there's a perfect reflection of Jim sitting in the captain's chair, fingers curling tight into the armrest. They all seem completely unaware of both your presence, and the only one who makes a note of you being there is the other Jim, in casual clothes and hair a little longer, glancing between you and the scene as he takes a moment to piece together what's happening here. ]
The swarm ships are doubling back, they are forming an attack wave, sir. [ Chekov warns the captain, to which he answers promptly, like the commands were keyed in already, just waiting for the right time. ]
We've got their attention. [ More of a murmur than anything, then— ] Hold steady, Mr. Sulu. Brace yourselves, everybody. Spock, stand by to drop out of formation. Scotty, you all cued up back there?
[ Scotty, bent over a console, nods. ] Aye, sir!
[ The Jim standing next to you smiles a little, raising his eyebrows and tipping his head. ] We should listen to my advice. This ride's about to get bumpy.
[ ooc: if you'd like any other specific memories from any of the movies, feel free to let me know and I can write a starter for you! ]
for Beverly
A voice rings through eventually, low, rough, and worn: My mind to your mind. My thoughts... to your thoughts.
When the memory finally reveals itself, it's not at all a pleasant experience. A much older Spock approaches her, and when she tries to flinch, he explains that their minds will be one and together. Jim had no idea what that meant then, and in the memory, she'll feel as though she's not entirely aware either, even if she might know better than Jim himself did at the time.
The amount of information is overwhelming. There isn't just the story of how Spock ended up in Jim's own timeline, but also flashes of the story of Spock and Jim's relationship as Spock remembers it, the feelings of deep trust and friendship being passed on, the grief over Jim's loss in Spock's own timeline. The mind meld ends with Spock watching helplessly as Vulcan's destroyed.
It's too much, and when the mind meld, and thus the memory, comes to an end, Beverly will find her heart racing in her chest, her mind spinning, her stomach twisting. She might even end up crying, just like Jim himself did back then.
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She stumbles back, gasping, her nurse rushing to her side with concern. Though everyone at the hospital knows of these memory-sharing occurrences by now, and know it's nothing permanent, they send her home for the day anyway. As soon as she's back at her apartment and calmed down somewhat, she picks up her phone to call.
"Jim? Jim, it's Beverly... I think... I think we need to talk. I just saw one of you memories." Or rather, his memory of Spock's memories. The supernova. It can't... not after all the work Spock has put into reunifying Vulcan and Romulus.
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But when she calls her, he can't help being a little worried. She's evidently upset, and if she's calling him specifically to talk about it, then he has to guess it can't have been an easy memory. "Alright," he clears his throat into the phone, pausing for a second or two. "Uh... I'm home right now. Can you come by, or would you rather I meet you elsewhere?"
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She pauses, considering another factor. "Or if Leonard's there too, I imagine that will be all right. I can't imagine it's anything he doesn't know about already." It would be impossible, in fact, for him not to know about Vulcan, or of Romulus before it. "I can be over there in a few minutes."
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Well, Bones does know about Vulcan and Romulus, of course, but the mind meld is another matter entirely. Jim hasn't really told anyone about that, or about how much it affected him, and for how long. Not that it really matters one way or the other, it'd just be weird to tell Bones now, after nearly six years have passed.
Ending the call, he waits around for Beverly to get there, mentally listing all the memories she might want to talk about.
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for Bones
"Long range scans?" Jim asks, and the Commodore's voice is heard in answer to his question. "No data. The nebula is too dense. It's uncharted space." The projection changes to show the nebula instead.
"Well, the Enterprise does have the best navigational system in the fleet. She could handle it." Jim sounds sure, and Bones will feel sure too, oddly enough.
"The only ship here with more advanced technology is still under construction," Paris says, as she makes her way over to Jim, resting her hands on the table and leaning over it from the other side. "But it is not just the ship we are sending."
Bones knows what that means. Jim did too then, and there's a quirk of his lips, then he nods. "I'll gather the crew," he turns then, all but ready to leave until Paris's voice halts his steps again.
"Captain." Jim stops, turns around again. Paris goes on. "Starfleet Command sent me your application for the Vice Admiral position here, at this installation."
There's a sense of unease, uncertainty, but Jim nods, and for all that he doesn't feel sure, he at least sounds it. "Yes, ma'am. Uh... If I may, I would... recommend Commander Spock replace me as Captain of the Enterprise. He is... an exemplary Starfleet officer. He'll make a great captain."
"It isn't uncommon, you know?" Paris says, something akin to understanding in her tone. "Even for a captain, to want to leave. There is no relative direction in the vastness of space. There's only yourself, your ship, your crew. It's easier than you think to get lost."
Jim shakes his head. There's a hollow in his chest, one Bones will feel too. "It's not about—"
"I will talk about it with the General Council," Paris cuts him off. "We'll discuss it when you return."
It's not a conversation to have with the Commodore, Jim realizes. He opts to just nod and leave it at that, at least for now. "Ma'am," he says respectfully, then turns around, leaving the room.
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Dropping his bag and coat in a chair, he moved to the sofa and leaned over the back, one hand reaching down to sweep back his bangs. It was really only meant as a loving touch, affectionate and soft. But something about the feeling of that contact caused his head to swim. For a moment, the world just seemed to fade around him and something equally familiar yet not filled his mind's eye.
And when the whole scene played out, Leonard found something cold balling up in his chest like ice. Breathing in slowly, his hand stayed hover just between them, frozen mid retraction. The shock sent a shiver down his spine as he tried to work through what he'd just seen.
Yorktown. That was Yorktown.
He knew exactly when. Could pin point it with such precision it made his stomach turn with nausea. Finally pulling back, he curled suddenly trembling fingers into his palms only to lean heavily on the back of the sofa. His eyes stayed on Jim, a horrible empty feeling unfairly gnawing at his insides.
"You were going to leave me."
His voice came out unfairly soft. A hurt he'd not felt in years welling up and stinging with a sharp inhale. The idea felt almost too hurtful to even be real. Would Jim really just... leave him like that? The doctor knew it was selfish. Knew he should've been offended for the crew... but honestly, all he could focus on was that Jim would actually leave him.
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Actually it wasn't until Bones touched his face that he started to stir awake. A long hum first, and he stretched on the cushions, pressing his lips and letting out a soft whine. He yawned and eventually blinked his eyes open, lazy smile stretching across his features as he caught a glimpse of Bones's face, folded arms resting back against the armrest of the couch.
"You're home," he said, voice soft and lazy, not having heard Bones's own words at all. If Bones looked upset, it didn't immediately register with him, and he reached a hand up to run his fingers through Bones's own hair. "How was your day?"
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Brow furrowing, he leaned down without thought into Jim's touch. He always gravitated to it, even when his mind was swimming and that icy knot in his chest got tighter. "Not bad." It hadn't been more than just busy. It didn't completely rip the rug out from under him till just this moment.
He wanted to just push it away. Pretend he didn't see it, but he knew damn well his brain would eat him up till Jim finally asked him what was eatin' at him. So he rolled the words around before questioning softly. "Back in Yorktown... what did you meet with Commodore Paris about when we arrived?" It was a simple question, a chance for Jim to fess up without him accusin' him of nothin'. But he had a bad feeling. One that told him Jim would play it off and avoid it anyway.
And part of him wondered if he'd been part of the problem that even gave him a thought to leave. Maybe he'd been too insensitive or a bad friend. Maybe he'd pushed too hard to get Jim to take better care of himself. And honestly, that hurt even worse if he considered that he might be part of what Jim wanted to run away from back then.
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Before he got to ask about it, though, Bones provided a little more clarification in form of question. Jim's heart tightened a little in his chest, because even before Bones touched the topic that truly was on his mind, Jim already knew where their conversation was headed.
"About the mission," he started, shifting so he was sitting on the couch, turned sideways, still looking up at Bones. "Mostly. Why? What... what did you see?"
It was that, wasn't it? Those damn memories, being thrown around and shown at random for just about anyone to see. And of course. Of course that one had to find Bones, of all people.
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iii.
[cassian knows death, and he knows in this vision that death is close. he can feel his heart rate spike, terrified to be experiencing it twice, but the flash of it is over and he feels like he can breathe again. it's a different sort of intensity to watching the horizon come closer, but the feelings are all too familiar.]
[when he's out of it, he blinks at jim, almost apologetically.] That was you, I assume.
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It's not the first time it's happened with his memories either, although it is the first time he sees someone experiencing them firsthand. ]
Must've been. [ His brow furrows, cautious and curious both. ] What did you see?
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[the cold, the loneliness. cassian has felt it a lot, and it was always how he imagined he'd die. it wasn't but - it's familiar enough. he's had some close calls.]
It seemed like a death. Yours. You were trapped and severely wounded behind a door.
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[ He doesn't need Cassian to describe it in great detail, the moment he mentions Jim's death he knows exactly what he's talking about. It's not something he likes reliving, much less so talking about with other people, but he's not so averse to it that he'd try to change the subject now, particularly when Cassian's had to deal with the experience too. ]
Yeah, it's mine. Radiation. I was poisoned when I had to go into my ship's warp core without protection. [ He looks up at Cassian. ] It wasn't permanent, for what it's worth. I mean, I was dead for a good while, preserved in a cryotube. Luckily for me, my doctor also happens to be a miracle worker.
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[there's a sense of relief when jim says it wasn't permanent, because even if being here is some sort of second chance for the dead, it's not a fun state to grapple with. but imagine, being dead and being resuscitated. you'd need a body for that.]
What happened to your ship to warrant that risk? [factual questions not about people seem like an easier starting point.]
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ii.
it's not easier that it's people she doesn't know because she feels like she knows them, it hurts with the same intensity, tears pricking at her eyes.
her papers flutter out of her hands, scattering across the floor and when jyn's mind refocuses, she scowls as she stoops to pick them up, swiping the back of her hand across her eyes. she refuses to cry, stalking over and shoving her papers at kirk with more force than absolutely necessary. ]
Why is this happening?
[ not her notes and papers and such, it's clear what she means, it isn't as if all over riverview isn't being inundated with these memories and flashes and visions and dreams. jyn hates them. ]
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Of course Jim has no idea what memory she just experienced, but the moment she snaps out of it, he can tell she just had one of those visions. Her eyes are a little red and he's far too focused looking at her to properly process it when she shoves the papers at him. He fumbles with the pile, nearly letting half of them fall to the ground again. ]
Beats me— damn it. [ He pulls the papers to his chest, then goes over to a table and lets them drop onto the surface so he can put them in their proper order. He glances at Jyn, tentative. ] What did you see?
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Your friend died.
[ maybe attacks are familiar to him, familiar enough that it won't be easy to pinpoint the one specific memory without the addition of the death of his obviously dear friend.
that's how jyn regards battles in her own mind, by the casualties. ]
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His suspicions are confirmed when she mentions his friend dying. He lets out a breath, his shoulders dropping a little. ]
He wasn't a friend. [ It seems like such a stupid thing to point out, especially when Jim has no idea how to explain it. ] I mean, he... he was, obviously. Just... he was more than that.
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I know.
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for Bones
Jim hadn't even been that drunk. Granted, he'd been drunk enough to make himself look like an idiot at Re-L's place, and drunk enough for her to have to call Bones to come get him. He'd also been drunk enough to latch himself to Bones and sniffle and cry as he blurted out a weepy (if very genuine) apology that Bones probably only accepted to get him to shut up and come home.
Home. That's what it was, wasn't it? It didn't matter that they weren't in their universe, or at least their galaxy, that the Enterprise and Starfleet and everything they'd ever known were all so far away from them. He went to bed and curled up to Bones every night and he woke up every morning, with sunlight filtering through the blinds and the warm body of the person he loved next to him and it felt just like it: home.
Not so much this morning, though. A beam of sunlight hit his face and it felt more like a violent attack than a soothing source of warmth, and Jim whined and groaned quietly, turning on the bed, feeling groggy and slow, the hangover making his head pound horribly. His hands reached out to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty and cold, and he forced himself to blink one of his eyes open just a hint, his voice quiet and hoarse. "... Bones?"
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Something that still smarted like hell.
Not that he planned on dwellin' on that when he had someone to take care of. And if he did actually only accept the drunken apology just to quiet the blonde, well... he wasn't tellin' no one.
Once he'd gotten Jim into bed, he didn't get much sleep himself. Instead, Leonard woke up from time to time just to check on Jim. And that last time just before the sun came up, he found he couldn't go back to sleep. So he got up and went to the kitchen to stir up some food that would help with the hang over knowin' damn well that wine was a real bitch to get drunk on. Grabbing his hypospray with the typical dose of painkillers the other would need, he finally pushed the door open and slid into the room. Closing the door quietly, he arched a brow at the sight of Jim shuffling about and likely looking for him.
"Mornin' sunshine. Bet you're feelin' right as rain." The humor is a little flatter than it usually would be, but he still manages a bare hint of a smile. Moving across the room, he slid the tray of toast and water with a few other scarce items onto the bed. "Didn't no one tell you that wine is the worst thing to over do?" His eyes stayed on the hypo as he adjusted it, not quite ready to meet those blue eyes just yet.
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He turned slowly, until he was lying on his back, a hand peeking out from under the covers to rub at his eyes as he let out a low groan. "Last night wasn't exactly made of great choices on my part," he mumbled in admission, lying there for a moment. Once he felt the tray close to him on the bed, he started shifting until he was sitting up, leaning back against the headboard. The room was warm, which helped considering that, aside from his sweatpants, he was only wearing a t-shirt.
Poking at the toast on his tray, he finally reached for the glass of water, taking a small sip, then a larger one. "Thank you," he said in a small voice, eyes on the covers as Bones worked on the hypospray. Eventually, and cautiously, he lifted them up to Bones once he was close enough. "You're still mad at me."
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"You know I'm never leaving you to wallow in your 'bad choices'. But you're welcome." Keeping his words even and soft, he finally shifted his gaze to Jim's and let his brow furrow. One eyebrow rose just a bit as he gave a light snort. "Nothin' to be mad about." And that was the truth of it. Leonard wasn't angry. That had never been the case.
No... he'd been ridiculously hurt and left with no footing to stand on, but he wasn't angry. "Next time I get to be the drunken mess and you get to put me back together." It's a little bit dry for humor, but it's also cause he watched his alcohol intake so closely he rarely got even close to drunk anymore. But part of him wished he could have done something stupid like that to at least stop thinking about how stupid he felt. And maybe also feel less insignificant at that.
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Overall he just wasn't feeling like he'd been at his best, honestly. Which was why Bones's answer just didn't sit well with him, and he reproached himself even more, jaw clenching tight as he tipped his head down once Bones was done administering the medicine.
"There's plenty for you to be mad about." He stared at the toast on the plate, feeling his stomach turn around uncomfortably. He reached out and tried to catch Bones's arm with his hand, hoping that he wouldn't just brush him away. "You should be mad. Look, it's not... I'm not making excuses. What I did before, it was stupid and thoughtless and I am sorry that I never told you about it, that I... I don't know, that I never told you the tough times I was going through. Just thought it was something I should have worked through on my own."
His fingers curled a little tighter, and he pressed his lips thinly, trying to suppress the stupid and sudden urge to cry. "But I am even sorrier about what I said to you last night, because it wasn't true. None of it. You do matter more than anything else, more than anyone else. And while I can't say that was always the case before, all my important decisions are and will be centered around you now. Because I can't— I don't want a life without you. No matter where, how or when."
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