[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

[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.]

[imaginate]

[And he instantly knew it was the wrong thing the moment it was out and he still did it. Inwardly, he curses.]

Sorry. I didn't-- think. At all.

[He chooses to back off.]

Sorry.

[jirk]

[Jim just looks at him for a few more seconds, and then he inhales, looks away and down. Then back.]

What do you want, exactly?

[imaginate]

[Kyle's expression is tired, and heavy.]

Sorry? That's a bit generic.

[jirk]

You did it again. You pulled me in and then you slapped me. It's getting to be a pattern with you.

[I put up with less from four-star Admirals than what I've tolerated from you.]

I don't care that you have more experience. That you've seen a whole lot of all the awful things in the universe. I don't. But when all you want to talk about is how you've got this awful burden nobody understands, you've seen stuff I can't even comprehend, you're telling me two things. [He holds a hand up to forestall comment until he's done.] I don't care if I'm right or not. This is me not reading you.

The first thing I'm hearing is that you don't want to be helped. Maybe it ties back to the pity, the fact that you can't accept that people might want to help just because they can and not because they want something. The second is that you want me to be perfectly aware of the fact that I'm less [that gets a slight snarl, a curl to one corner of his lip] than you are, and that's bullshit. So. What do you want? Because from where I'm sitting it seems like the only reason you even talk to me is so you've got a punching bag. [It's not the first time he's said that, but Jesus Christ, he thought they'd gotten past this fuckery.] And if that's it? Fine. Whatever. I can take anything you've got. But I won't go into our conversations thinking we're friends.

[imaginate]

[He crumples like he's been struck, and draws his knees up to his chest. His breath feels hot, skin feverish, and almost- he wishes he wasn't wearing such dark colours. Everything in him is screaming to run, to get out and breathe while he can.]

[Fire, huh. Kyle's water, and he feels trapped inside the dam. He thought he was past this, well past feeling so trapped and edgy around Jim, and immediately his mind goes back to his room, with his paints. With Guy, or with Sora, working there. The quiet. He struggles for it, fingers scrabbling for purchase, but it's too much like drowning.]

[Still waters. He exhales, and says quietly-]

Then don't. Nobody asked you to help me.

[I'm not going to be a burden. That's all he hears, from Jim. Tell me why I should carry you, and there's no reason.]

[jirk]

[There's a part of him that feels cruel, for eliciting that kind of response. And there's another part that would take anything over that stalwart neutrality Kyle slips into when he's trying to prove how damned tough he is to the universe.]

Do you even know how to ask for help?

[It's tired. Resigned.]

[imaginate]

No point. It's not coming.

[Equally quiet and resigned.]

Last of my kind, remember?

[jirk]

Take your ring off.

[It's not quite an order.]

[imaginate]

[There is a long pause where he gives Kirk a curious, questioning look, and there's momentary coldness, but he complies, sliding it off and putting it on the table.]