[video]

[jirk]

[Jim's sitting in his suite, wearing his command golds, looking serious as a heart attack. He's leaning forward, one hand braced against the armrest of his chair, the other fiddling with something on the console. Satisfied, he leans back more fully and nods once to the camera.]

Okay, let's get the introductions out of the way first. Name's Jim, Jim Kirk. Captain of the USS Enterprise. I serve in Starfleet in the year 2259 - Starfleet being a space-based armada focused on peaceful exploration and the discovery of new forms of life in the universe.

[There's a slight quirk to his brow, he coughs and then continues with all due charisma,]

I know there's people out there that've been here longer than I have, so I'm asking for your help - and the assistance of anyone willing. We know we're here to fight something, some of you know what and why. While I can understand the reasoning behind keeping that information to allies, I'd like to stress the fact that we're all in this together, regardless of worlds, races or creeds. This isn't something we can or should fight blind. So I'm proposing a broader alliance, a centralized repository of information, and the consideration of a unified front to face whatever's coming.

Additionally, I'm interested in the martial capabilities of the landed foreigners, any contingency plans that have been put in place to deal with the situations we're potentially facing here, and the sorts of scenarios that've been dealt with in the past.

[He exhales a little more sharply than necessary, and then he gives the camera a brief, two-fingered salute.]

Kirk out.



[and edited in after the fact, private to Kyle Rayner.]

We should talk.

Comments

[jirk]

[Everything they say is wrong. Has been wrong since Kyle broke his nose in that bar. Every once in a while it's like they step into sync, but both of them have a habit of stumbling, and he's not quite sure if it's intentional or not.]

Look, did I say you wouldn't? It's not pity. When people die-- I care about that. I can't not care.

[Not after Vulcan. He lives with that grief, finds new ways to bury it, but mind melds stay with you forever. It's burnt into his brain like a brand, searing bright with the intricacies of Vulcan agony, and he--

Spock watched him die. That's there, too. It hurts just the same. So you do feel.]

I'm sick of fighting over everything one of us says. I'm just not going to do it any more. Take it or leave it.

[We've both fought enough. Too much.]

[imaginate]

Sorry. [He means that, too.] After [a long pause] prison, compassion looks too much like pity.

[Quietly-] And I don't really stop fighting, not even where friends are concerned. My burden can't be carried by anyone else.

[Now you understand why I don't make friends easily.]

[jirk]

[That sounds really melodramatic, and Jim almost opens his mouth to comment on it.

But he saw those scars, fresh beneath Kyle's uniform. And he doesn't.]

I'll only say this once. I'm not built for pity. It's not part of who I am. It's bullshit. And it's disrespectful. That's not me.

[... okay, he waves a hand.]

Not saying I can't be disrespectful. Just that I don't do it like that.

[He flips the pillow over in his hands and smoothes his hand over the patchwork lace.]

Has anybody ever tried?

[imaginate]

[He hears it, nods, and he takes a sip of his coffee, while distantly focusing on the window, shutting out his surroundings.]

They went insane.

[jirk]

[He's quiet for a bit. Wishing he'd brought another cup of coffee over here.

That's just how it is. Life's not fair. Some people can't handle the responsibility, the burden of-- whatever the hell it is that Kyle's faced. Some people break, they crack. They fail.

Sometimes they die. Sometimes they die scared.

Jim sets his jaw briefly, stubborn. More at the memory than at Kyle or what he's said.]

Try me.

[It's not bold, it's not brash. It's not even a challenge. It's just... an offer. He's sick of fighting. He wasn't lying when he said that Kyle and Rose were the closest things he's made to 'friends' since he got here. Jim doesn't make them easily either. What the hell does it say about him that Bones - Bones - was his first real one?]

[imaginate]

[He sets down his cup, and clasps his hands on his lap. The last of the Green Lanterns. One of the few hosts of Ion. It was laughable that anyone could try being his equal, when they were only meant to fall short, or surpass him.]

[But he turns and faces Jim, waiting for the questions. He doesn't know where to start with the story, since everyone back home knows it.]

[jirk]

[His expression stays serious, but there's a slight furrow between his brows, and he wets his lips.]

What makes it a burden?

[imaginate]

[A wan smile.]

Do the job of seven thousand two hundred people all by yourself for several years and then call me if you don't use the same word.

[jirk]

[He snorts, lifts a hand in a vague salute.]

Touché.

[imaginate]

[He takes another sip of coffee.]

I honestly don't know where you're going with this.

[jirk]

I have no idea. Maybe I'm just flying by the seat of my pants, hoping that everything'll work out just because it's me doing it.

[It's not bitter, it's... light. He's poking fun at himself.]

I'm learning, Kyle. So that if there's ever a chance I can help, I'll know enough to take it.

[imaginate]

[A light shrug. He's not arguing with that.]

[The truth is he's forgotten what hope sounds like, and he needs to remember again.]

[jirk]

Besides. You called me 'James'.

[He was 'Jimmy' growing up, to a few people. James sometimes to his mother. The only people who called him James at his age were people who didn't know him at all, or Pike, when he wasn't snarling Kirk in an exasperated undertone.]

Listen, I'm not good at this. But I'm trying, and I'll keep trying. I gave my word.

[imaginate]

Bad memory?

[Because he likes the sound of it and he's not about to stop.]

I react badly to any kind of manipulation [including your charisma] but we'll figure it out.

[jirk]

[A little more seriously,]

I didn't say that.

[He reacts badly too, but you know that by now. That counts. Reading people, reacting accordingly.]

We seem to do okay. It's when we don't talk for a few days that we really start having problems.

[imaginate]

So what you're suggesting is that I don't take my eyes off you.

[A soft chuckle.]

[jirk]

[Jim just grins.]

Would I say that?

[imaginate]

I dunno, Princess, would you?

[jirk]

Well, I am a work of art. I mean, I'm no Conversion of St. Whatever ['Paul'] but I do okay for myself.

[Oh, the boy's all ego.]

[imaginate]

Not the first time a sculpture's told me how lucky I am to be looking at it.

[A small smile. He can lay it on, a little. Jim just admitted so much vulnerability to him, after all.]

[jirk]

-- Okay, that's actually a little creepy.

[YOUR LIFE, BRO.]

[imaginate]

[Hm. He just shrugs.]

Artist. Usually they go for 'moody', or 'temperamental'.

[jirk]

No, I mean. Talking sculptures. Creepy.

[He didn't mean you, Kyle. Gosh.]

[imaginate]

You haven't seen half the crap that qualifies as creepy.

[Quiet, maybe a bit bitter.]

[jirk]

[Instantly, the camaraderie is gone. If Kyle wanted to compare him to a flickering candle, that light was just snuffed out. Jim stares at him briefly, expression vacillating between seriously? and something else, something deeper. He's tired of this. Of everything he says coming back to him like a slap in the face, and he's done, he is so done putting up with it.

I need to be pulled back.

Yeah, well. Sometimes he needs to be pushed, too.]

So why don't you enlighten me.

[Or back off.]