Fic: Finally At Peace
Title: Finally At Peace
Fandom: Star Trek: XI
Pairing: Christopher Pike & Jim Kirk
Rating: T for language
Summary: Pike comes to on the Enterprise, where he is visited by a memory of George Kirk. And he finally makes peace with his actions on the Narada.
Pike comes to slowly, struggling out of the murky depths of unconsciousness towards…well, wherever he is now. His first thought is that he’s dead, but no, that’s not right, because he’s pretty sure that if he was dead he wouldn’t hurt so fucking much. Noises register as sound and from the clicking and beeping, he realizes he must be in some sort of medical bay, either the Enterprise’s sickbay or Starfleet Medical in San Francisco, because he has no clue how long he’s been out for and it’s a distinct possibility that the ship could be back at Earth already.
Pain floods his system, and McCoy is there, and Pike decides he’s actually not too sure about the whole not-being-dead thing, because this is shaping up to be pretty much how he’d imagined his own personal hell.
He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear them, and the doctor’s uniform swims into his line of vision. “Ah, good, you’re awake,” McCoy grumbles, then shoots him in the neck with a hypospray (hopefully one pumped full of narcotics, because though he’s a captain and has been in many a scrape, he has never been able to deal with pain very well) without preamble. Pike absently wonders how the hell this man became a doctor, because his bedside manner leaves much to be desired.
None of that matters, as whatever was in the hypo takes effect, and the pain lessens to a dull throbbing centered mostly in his lower back…and his legs…which he can’t move, no matter how much he tries…
“Fuck, my legs,” he snarls, his voice rough from his time spent on the Narada. McCoy nods in sympathy.
Luckily for him the meds kick in right about then, and Pike gratefully allows himself to fall into the darkness.
~~**~~**~~
Pike isn’t quite sure if he’s dreaming or not, but whatever this is, dream, drug-induced hallucination, whatever, he’s not going to complain.
“Hey, George,” he whispers, hand reaching out to grasp warm fingers. Kirk’s hand is warm and solid, and Pike’s is steady and sure, making him wonder at the realism of his dream. But it doesn’t matter, not anymore, because George is here, alive or at least unlike any descriptions of ghosts he’s ever read. And those eyes-electric blue and staring at him with the same quiet intensity as always, fire hiding behind cerulean irises.
Inexplicably, he bursts into tears. He has no fucking clue why he’s crying, and he definitely doesn’t want to break down in front of his first commanding officer, a fucking Starfleet hero, but the stress of the past few days and the lingering influence of that damn eel have combined to emotionally compromise him.
Pike turns away, but Kirk grasps his chin and wipes the tears away with a calloused thumb. “It’s alright, Captain,” he murmurs, and his voice is different than Pike remembers, but it’s been 25 years plus the lifetime he’s lived over the course of the last 3 days, so he doesn’t dwell on it.
“No, George, it’s not fucking ‘alright’!” he says, suddenly angry. The apparition stills, waiting, and the fight leaves Pike as rapidly as it had appeared. “George, what you did that day on the Kelvin…” he trails off, eyes unfocused in the present but fixed on a scene from the past. “Your heroism, it’s what inspired me to change from sciences to the command track. For the past 25 years I’ve tried to live up to your standard, to be the kind of captain you were.” He pauses, takes a deep breath.
“Three days ago, I betrayed not only Starfleet and the Federation by confessing the security codes to that Romulan bastard, but I betrayed your memory too.” He drags his gaze back to this moment, staring at Kirk. “I’m so sorry, George.”
Pike thinks that maybe the drugs are wearing off when he blinks and George is fading. The light blue uniform is darkening to black, and Kirk’s hair is lightening, and Pike thinks now he’s really lost it except that the eyes boring into his own don’t change. Afraid to blink again, Pike stares at Jim Kirk, standing in the exact spot his father had just vacated.
“Captain?” the younger man asks quietly, failing to catch Pike’s attention. “Christopher?” he tries, and Pike is jolted into awareness.
“I’m sure my father would forgive you, sir,” Kirk says, more formally but with a note of concern in his voice. And Pike knows that he’s just laid his soul bare, and to a fucking brash cadet, a damned stowaway who wound up saving many times more than 800 lives. Pike sighs, suddenly feeling more acutely than ever his 52 years.
“Return to your quarters, Cadet. I’ll deal with you when we land,” he says gruffly, and is surprised when Kirk obeys orders without comment. But as the doors swoosh shut behind George Kirk’s son, for the first time in days, he felt at peace.
Fandom: Star Trek: XI
Pairing: Christopher Pike & Jim Kirk
Rating: T for language
Summary: Pike comes to on the Enterprise, where he is visited by a memory of George Kirk. And he finally makes peace with his actions on the Narada.
Pike comes to slowly, struggling out of the murky depths of unconsciousness towards…well, wherever he is now. His first thought is that he’s dead, but no, that’s not right, because he’s pretty sure that if he was dead he wouldn’t hurt so fucking much. Noises register as sound and from the clicking and beeping, he realizes he must be in some sort of medical bay, either the Enterprise’s sickbay or Starfleet Medical in San Francisco, because he has no clue how long he’s been out for and it’s a distinct possibility that the ship could be back at Earth already.
Pain floods his system, and McCoy is there, and Pike decides he’s actually not too sure about the whole not-being-dead thing, because this is shaping up to be pretty much how he’d imagined his own personal hell.
He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear them, and the doctor’s uniform swims into his line of vision. “Ah, good, you’re awake,” McCoy grumbles, then shoots him in the neck with a hypospray (hopefully one pumped full of narcotics, because though he’s a captain and has been in many a scrape, he has never been able to deal with pain very well) without preamble. Pike absently wonders how the hell this man became a doctor, because his bedside manner leaves much to be desired.
None of that matters, as whatever was in the hypo takes effect, and the pain lessens to a dull throbbing centered mostly in his lower back…and his legs…which he can’t move, no matter how much he tries…
“Fuck, my legs,” he snarls, his voice rough from his time spent on the Narada. McCoy nods in sympathy.
Luckily for him the meds kick in right about then, and Pike gratefully allows himself to fall into the darkness.
~~**~~**~~
Pike isn’t quite sure if he’s dreaming or not, but whatever this is, dream, drug-induced hallucination, whatever, he’s not going to complain.
“Hey, George,” he whispers, hand reaching out to grasp warm fingers. Kirk’s hand is warm and solid, and Pike’s is steady and sure, making him wonder at the realism of his dream. But it doesn’t matter, not anymore, because George is here, alive or at least unlike any descriptions of ghosts he’s ever read. And those eyes-electric blue and staring at him with the same quiet intensity as always, fire hiding behind cerulean irises.
Inexplicably, he bursts into tears. He has no fucking clue why he’s crying, and he definitely doesn’t want to break down in front of his first commanding officer, a fucking Starfleet hero, but the stress of the past few days and the lingering influence of that damn eel have combined to emotionally compromise him.
Pike turns away, but Kirk grasps his chin and wipes the tears away with a calloused thumb. “It’s alright, Captain,” he murmurs, and his voice is different than Pike remembers, but it’s been 25 years plus the lifetime he’s lived over the course of the last 3 days, so he doesn’t dwell on it.
“No, George, it’s not fucking ‘alright’!” he says, suddenly angry. The apparition stills, waiting, and the fight leaves Pike as rapidly as it had appeared. “George, what you did that day on the Kelvin…” he trails off, eyes unfocused in the present but fixed on a scene from the past. “Your heroism, it’s what inspired me to change from sciences to the command track. For the past 25 years I’ve tried to live up to your standard, to be the kind of captain you were.” He pauses, takes a deep breath.
“Three days ago, I betrayed not only Starfleet and the Federation by confessing the security codes to that Romulan bastard, but I betrayed your memory too.” He drags his gaze back to this moment, staring at Kirk. “I’m so sorry, George.”
Pike thinks that maybe the drugs are wearing off when he blinks and George is fading. The light blue uniform is darkening to black, and Kirk’s hair is lightening, and Pike thinks now he’s really lost it except that the eyes boring into his own don’t change. Afraid to blink again, Pike stares at Jim Kirk, standing in the exact spot his father had just vacated.
“Captain?” the younger man asks quietly, failing to catch Pike’s attention. “Christopher?” he tries, and Pike is jolted into awareness.
“I’m sure my father would forgive you, sir,” Kirk says, more formally but with a note of concern in his voice. And Pike knows that he’s just laid his soul bare, and to a fucking brash cadet, a damned stowaway who wound up saving many times more than 800 lives. Pike sighs, suddenly feeling more acutely than ever his 52 years.
“Return to your quarters, Cadet. I’ll deal with you when we land,” he says gruffly, and is surprised when Kirk obeys orders without comment. But as the doors swoosh shut behind George Kirk’s son, for the first time in days, he felt at peace.