It's Another Night In TV Land, I Say.
So apparently when Cee tells me things like "write me a story about how Jim knows Admiral Archer's dog" and follows it up with "SAM BECKETT IN SPACE," my immediate response is not to run screaming in the opposite direction, but to yell out, "omg I want to write that!" I don't even know, people, but I like making her happy so here is that story.
Loff to traveller for editing, supporting, and providing me with information on what a bamf Jonathan Archer truly is. She is my rock and roll queen. Dedicated to the ever-lovely superjoydrop for always being in my corner and reminding me of all the good things in life and generally being the kind of person I want to grow up to be. :-*
A note: I have severely fudged the timing on this since the new movie has done crazy timeline things with the new universe in order to have Archer in it (seriously, the man would be 140+ years old if I followed the original timeline), but hopefully, this will not detract from your enjoyment of the story. Because really, you're not reading it for accurate timeline shenanigans, you're reading it to find out if Archer is really a badass motherfucker. (Hint: he is.)
Disclaimer: so utterly fictional and entirely not mine.
Problem With Authority
"So I tested it out on Admiral Archer's prized beagle," Scotty finishes, saluting them with his mug before he takes a sip.
Kirk blinks in surprise. "Wait, I know that dog," which would win some kind of medal for understatement of the year if he was interested in anyone else knowing how he knows that dog.
The way the story goes is this: it's Kirk's first year at the Academy, Bones has somehow become his best friend because whiskey, nausea, and an unspoken, desperate loneliness are as good a reason as any to bond, and it still feels like he's back in Iowa. He still hasn't figured out how to fit his curves and twists into the straight, sure lines of the Academy and its cadets, and Pike is tired of getting more reports that talk about how he thinks he's too smart for the material, even though both of them know it's completely true.
"Stop pissing off the instructors," Pike advises bluntly, the words hovering between amusement and irritation, as always seems to be the case with the man.
Kirk slouches even further down in his seat, feeling five years old and petulant, hating the way Pike's concern always seems to simultaneously scrape against his nerves and makes him want to be better than he is. "Tell them to stop living thirty years in the past and embrace new ideas," he snaps, feeling his face flush with shame when Pike gives him a disappointed look.
"Kirk," he says on a sigh, steepling his fingers together in a way that means he's trying not to grab Kirk and shake some sense into him, "you may not agree with your instructors--"
"And I don't."
"--but that doesn't mean you get to disrupt their classes and imply that they're complete jokes as academic instructors in front of their students," Pike finishes harshly, the stern look on his face making Kirk feel small and petty and wishing he could punch something to make him feel better.
Pike's quiet for a time, looking at Kirk intently as if he can figure him out if he just pays attention, like if he just stumbles on the right sequencing of words, it will unlock the mystery to James Tiberius Kirk, and he'll be the greatest captain in Federation history, and life will be perfect because Jim will be perfect, and not the damaged mess that he currently is. Kirk squirms and wishes he could hunch in on himself, hide away from Pike's knowing gaze and the way he constantly goddamn cares when Kirk expects him to have given up by now.
"You should talk to Admiral Archer," he tells Kirk after a long moment of contemplative silence. "He might actually be able to get through to you." The words are resigned, but Pike looks determined, which means more of these heart-to-heart talks in Pike's office where Pike tries to appeal to Jim's better side and Kirk's nerves are stretched taut from deflecting, deflecting, deflecting until Pike dismisses him with a sigh.
And then he actually hears what Pike says and laughs, despite himself. "Archer? Isn't he older than dirt by now? Why the hell would I want to talk to him?"
"Admiral Archer," Pike spits out through clenched teeth, one raised eyebrow letting Kirk know what he thinks about his outburst, "knows a hell of a lot more about things than you think he does, kid."
The 'kid' stings; Kirk's willing to admit that to himself, at least. "If he's so great, why haven't I heard of him?" he retorts.
Pike actually laughs, one of those short bursts of amusement that seem to be torn out of him without his permission and always seem to be genuine amusement, not sarcasm or hidden anger. "You just haven't paid attention," he chuckles, motioning Kirk out the door with a wave of his hand. "But you'll learn, my boy. You will learn."
Kirk leaves Pike's office feeling confused and intrigued and ready to invest some serious time in figuring out exactly who Admiral Archer is and why Pike seems to be his number one fan.
***
Here's the thing that many of the new cadets don't seem to know about Admiral Archer: the man's a goddamn hero. He was captain of the first real starship, was one of the first humans to achieve warp 2.5, made contacts with at least a dozen new species (including Andorian, and Kirk has to tell Bones about that just for the explosion of cursing that he knows will follow), made inroads all over the Alpha and Beta quadrants, and saved the earth from destruction by the Xindi.
"Not bad for an old fogey," Kirk tells himself with reluctant admiration, thumbing through the information on the data pad with more interest than he thought he'd have.
Archer had also gotten a staggering number of commendations and medals, including the Starfleet Medal of Valor, which was probably for saving Earth, the Star Cross, which meant that he probably almost died saving his crew, and the Prentares Ribbon of Commendation, which means that he almost died saving someone else's planet.
"Jesus." Kirk swears softly at the list of medals and commendations taking up his screen, wondering how many almost-deaths Archer would have had to go through just to get the Federation Citation of Honor, wondering how many lives he'd saved and how many he hadn't, wondering if he stayed up nights going over the mistakes in his mind and trying to figure out how he could've done better, and if he'd had a Bones in his life to patch him up and yell at him every time he'd come too close to death.
After scanning through library archives and captain logs for anything related to Archer, Kirk decides to hack into the man's psych profiles and evaluations to see what else he could find out. He briefly wonders if this is within the parameters of the mission Pike had set out for him, but then dismisses it as irrelevant. If Pike hadn't wanted him to hack into the confidential files of Starfleet officers, he shouldn't have challenged Kirk to find out everything he could about Archer. Really, he should've known better when it comes to Kirk.
The psych files are a goldmine. Words like "charming" and "bold" are used a lot, as are the words "eager to see what's out there" and "independent with a strong sense of duty" in various forms. He had a personal bias against Vulcans that he worked hard on overcoming, and all the psychiatrists note that Archer has no problems countermanding direct orders if they violated his personal code of honor or sense of decency.
Kirk likes him even more after that.
He downloads whatever information he can about Archer onto his personal data pad and locks it so only he can access it, organizing and re-organizing the material into his version of 'Jonathan Archer's Greatest Hits', from achieving warp 2.5 to saving the planet from a Xindi superweapon to his Bay Stadium speech when the Enterprise returned from the Delphic Expanse mission. He goes over the material until he practically knows it by heart, and it still feels like he's only getting half the story, like none of this is telling him who the man actually was. Is. Something like that.
"For crissakes, Jim," McCoy grumbles after the fifth time Kirk has bitched about the total lack of information on Archer and the ridiculously inadequate privacy protocols that do nothing to keep Kirk out. "Just go talk to the man and leave me the fuck alone already."
Kirk leans back in his chair, his head tilted awkwardly to look at McCoy in his bed, and smiles over at him. "Are you getting tired of hearing about the brave exploits of Jonathan Beckett Archer, Bones?"
"Yes, you infatuated idiot, I am." McCoy's glare could burn holes through a normal person, but Kirk just grins at him. "I'm sure he's your new hero--"
"He saved Earth from a superweapon, Bones--"
"--and you probably want to doodle his name all over your goddamn data pad--
Kirk giggles. "You can't doodle on a data pad, jackass."
"--or maybe carve 'Mrs. Jonathan Archer' into your desk or something--"
"He's so dreamy," Kirk says mockingly, fluttering his lashes at McCoy and snickering when McCoy flips him off.
"--but I am tired of hearing about this guy and his accomplishments when I am in the middle of a full-blown panic attack over my fucking finals, so could you please, please just go find him and talk to him and get this out of your system?" McCoy clutches his hands together in a gesture of pleading. "Please, okay? I'm begging you."
Kirk swings his feet off the table and turns in his chair towards McCoy, his face set in serious lines as he takes in the dark circles under Bones' eyes and the stress lines etched into his skin. "Are you going to be okay?" he asks softly, wondering how long Bones has been wound this tightly and how he'd missed it.
McCoy waves him off with an irritated sound. "Stop mothering me, I'll be fine."
"I was not--"
"Go find Archer and talk to him," McCoy says firmly. "And give me a little space so that I don't forget we're friends and smother you with a pillow while you're sleeping."
Kirk laughs helplessly. "I thought you'd be so much more sophisticated than that when it came to getting rid of me. I mean, you're a full-fledged doctor, and the best you can come up with is a pillow?" He shakes his head with great sadness. "I am so disappointed in you, Bones."
"Get out of here before I shoot you full of alien flea viruses." McCoy flings a brightly colored cube at him, some antique toy that Sulu had given him because he'd thought that Bones would like mathematical puzzles, and it's not really his fault that he doesn't know McCoy well enough to know that Bones' real hobby is complaining about the world, not solving 3D puzzles from the twentieth century.
Laughing, Kirk ducks the flying cube and jogs out of their quarters, blowing a cheeky kiss at McCoy before he heads towards the library to see if he can break into Starfleet personnel records and figure out where Archer lives.
***
Archer lives in one of the painted ladies on Steiner Street, a vivid scarlet Victorian house on Postcard Row with a narrow set of stairs in the front and a cherry-stained front door with an iron knocker resting on it. Kirk knocks with some trepidation, wondering if Pike's right and this is going to help him figure shit out or this is all some horrendous mistake that's going to be the next in a long line of disappointments and heartache if Archer doesn't live up to what Kirk's read of him.
The door opens slightly and a smart, little dog comes out, its head up high and its whole body at attention as it spots Kirk. It gives a short, sharp bark as if in warning and Kirk reaches out a hand for the dog to smell, trying to project 'not the enemy' very hard as it sniffs his hand and starts licking it. Smiling despite himself, Kirk drops down to his knees and carefully pets the dog's head, gently scratching behind its ears and laughing delightedly when it jumps up and tries to lick his face. "Who's a good boy?" he asks in that ridiculously goofy way that human have when they're around cute, friendly dogs. "Who's a good boy? You are, yes, you are."
"Porthos, you are the worst guard dog ever." The voice in the doorway is amused and resigned, and Kirk looks up to see Admiral Archer standing in front of him with his hip resting on the doorframe, dressed in battered-looking jeans and a red 49ers tee shirt. Despite the gray in his hair, the thickening waist, and the lines in his face, he doesn't look like he's older than dirt; in fact, he only looks a few years older than Pike, and Kirk wonders where exactly he got the impression that Archer was an old fogey who wouldn't know a phaser from a Suliban disruptor when the man standing before him clearly hasn't gotten the memo that he's supposed to be old and irrelevant now.
"Uh, Admiral Archer?" Kirk feels uncharacteristically nervous as he stands up and faces the man whose life he's been studying for the past month. He wipes his hands on his jeans, trying to get rid of the dog spit and debris, and holds out his hand in greeting. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but my name is James T. Kirk--"
Archer gives him a surprised look. "George Kirk's kid?"
Kirk feels something tight and painful in his chest at the casual way Archer says his father's name, at the affection he can see in Archer's eyes, and he barely feels Archer's hand in his as he's grabbed and pulled into the house. He hears Archer murmur "Watch out for the dogs" as two more smart-looking beagles sniff around his ankles, their tails wagging with excitement at the new scent for them to explore, and he's led to a warmly lit living room, complete with a fireplace, a mantle, and a curious mix of antique furniture (barely used, judging by how new and clean it all looks) and modern yet comfortable chairs (well used to the point of being worn down). Kirk is made to sit on an old faded, dark green couch that looks like a relic from Archer's bachelor days and feels like a hug from his mother as he sinks into the cushions.
"Tea?" Archer asks as he heads towards a small, cheery kitchen in the back, stopping briefly for Kirk's answer.
"Please," Jim says hoarsely, silently wondering when he's going to stop feeling like he's been kicked in the gut every time his father's name is brought up, when he's going to stop feeling trapped by the weight of everyone's expectations because he has the Kirk name, of Pike's hopes for the Kirk legacy and his future with Starfleet. It gets to be too much sometimes, being the son of a hero, or rather being the fuck-up son of a hero, and Kirk wonders at times if he'd made the right choice in joining Starfleet and trying to be the man his father was. He isn't sure if he did; his father's shadow is too large and Jim feels like he's drowning in it, especially when Pike looks at him and sees his father, not him.
It's easier to mouth off to his instructors and coast through classes on his charms and get drunk and let Bones take care of him when he gets sloppy and maudlin because he's good at those things, he excels at those things, and despite his grumbling, Bones doesn't really seem to mind enough to say something to Jim or stop taking care of him. It's easier not to care, Jim thinks, because the alternative is terrifying: trying to live up to his father's legacy, trying to step into George Kirk's shoes, only to find that he isn't enough to fill them. The prospect of failure is too close for comfort, and after a lifetime of being told that he isn't good enough, Jim is afraid that trying to be the man his father was is going to finally prove everyone right, that he isn't good enough. His father hadn't believed in no-win scenarios, but then, it's easy to not believe in no-win scenarios when you're always right and perfect.
Archer comes back balancing a teapot, two mugs, a small jar of cream, and a sugar cube bowl on a silver tray. As he pours Kirk a cup of tea, he looks over the mug at Jim and says, "Penny for your thoughts."
Jim smiles ruefully as he takes his mug from Archer. "Not sure they're worth that much." He starts spooning in the sugar and cream, taking a cautious sip and wincing when the hot liquid scalds his tongue.
Archer makes a derisive sound as he sits on the antique loveseat by Kirk's side, looking less than comfortable to be sitting on such a pristine surface, but not making a move to sit anywhere else. "Don't start all that self-deprecation crap on me, kid," he rumbles irritatedly, which makes Kirk feel oddly enough like he's sitting in Pike's office. It must be a captain thing, even when they become admirals. "Just tell me why you're here," he continues in a more quiet tone of voice.
"I don't really know," Kirk admits with a shrug. "Pike told me to come talk to you after I mouthed off to one of my instructors again."
Archer's face breaks into a delighted grin. "Chris sent you to talk me, did he? That bastard." He takes a sip of his tea, gently petting Porthos' head when the beagle pops up beside him and lays his head on Archer's lap. "No, Porthos," he says patiently, "no cheese for you. You remember what Phlox said about that." He scratches Porthos behind his ears when Porthos whines at him, smiling tenderly at the dog's antics, and then turns his attention back to Kirk. "So what do you want to know?"
Jim gives him a surprised look. "About?"
Archer shrugs. "Anything. My life, my dogs, what Pike was like when he was your age, what your dad was like back in school. It's why you're here, right?" He smiles down at Porthos as the dog settles by his feet, letting out a soft doggy sigh as he gets comfortable.
Kirk puts his mug down and tries to calm the tremors in his hands, feeling like he's slowly shaking apart and trying to push everything down before he loses control and the chance to find out what he's missed all these years. "Tell me everything," he says quietly. "I want to know everything."
Archer lifts an eyebrow at that, but he nods at Kirk's request, a disconcertingly knowing look on his face, as if he understands exactly where Kirk is coming from. "Where do you want me to start?"
"What was Pike like when he was my age?"
Archer grins again. "A real fucking asshole," he says easily, laughing when Kirk looks wide-eyed at him. "Brilliant, mouthy, thought he knew everything and fought with the instructors just to see if he could make them cry."
Kirk isn't sure whether to laugh or find Pike and punch him in the face for his hypocrisy. "He did that?" At Archer's nod, he tilts his head in a vague question mark. "Were you in the same year as him?"
"Nah," Archer shakes his head. "I was a few years ahead, but he was in one my flight classes, and he was enough of an obnoxious prick that I had to take him out for drinks and get to know him better."
Kirk laughs at the thought of Pike, his Pike, pissing off his instructors and getting drunk with Archer. "He doesn't seem like the type," he finally says.
Archer shrugs and sets his mug down on the table. "You have to grow up eventually," he says thoughtfully, "especially when you're responsible for the lives of so many people. You can't fuck around and play rebel without a cause forever."
"Good movie," Kirk says.
"A classic," Archer agrees easily.
"So what was my dad like?"
Archer gives him that same knowing look that's starting to make Kirk itch in his skin; the look that says he understands because he's been through it before, and Kirk hates the idea of anyone understanding or sympathizing with him when they haven't lived his life and don't know what he's been through. "George was a good kid," Archer starts off conversationally.
Kirk makes a 'come on' gesture. "But?" he asks, stretching the word out.
"He was a little bit of a show-off when it came to your mother," Archer says cautiously, trying to gauge Kirk's reaction. He relaxes a bit when he sees the smile on Kirk's face.
"What'd he do to try to impress her?" Jim asks with a grin.
"Clipped the hand off of one of the statues after flying too low to the ground," Archer says with a laugh. "It was one of the founding fathers. Nogura almost shit a brick."
Jim gives one of those groaning laughs, amused and yet embarrassed for his father, his hand going to his face as he pictures exactly how it must've gone. "Was my mom impressed?"
"She called him an idiot and refused to speak to him for a week."
Kirk bursts into laughter, feeling something inside him roll loose at the way Archer speaks with genuine affection about these people that he only knows in the vaguest sense. Even his mother, whom he loves unreservedly, even when they don't get along, seems more like a stranger he's lived with than the woman who gave birth to him because he doesn't know this woman that Archer's speaking about. By the time Jim had come along, his mother had looked old and tired, as if losing George in such a traumatic event had sucked out all the joy from her life and prematurely aged her. She'd loved Sam and Jim with everything she'd had, but sometimes, Jim would catch her looking at the stars as if she could see her husband out there if she'd look hard enough. Jim had always thought that was why she'd gone back to Starfleet, to search the stars for the husband she'd lost.
It hurts to know that there's a huge part of his mother's life that he'd never gotten to know about, that he's never going to know what it's like to grow up with a father who loves him and is proud of him and gives him dreams to hang his star on. Bones never talks much about his family, but when he does, he tells stories about the history of his parents, the story of them meeting and falling in love and having children, of his father's medical practice and how he taught McCoy to love medicine. Jim is always sick with envy that Bones gets to know the entire history of his family and how they became a family while Kirk has had to puzzle it out through archives and news clippings and terse conversations with his mom and town gossip that just serves to remind him how much he's not like his father.
He starts when he feels a quick tap on his head, and looks up to see Archer standing by his, a concerned look on his face. "Stop wandering off in the middle of a conversation, Jim," he grouses. "It's not polite."
"Sorry, sir," Jim says automatically, making a face when Archer shoots him a quick, amused smile. "I mean--"
"Call me Jonathan, kid. I don't feel old enough to be a 'sir'."
"Can I call you Jonny?"
Archer levels a glare at him. "Only if you want me to set my dogs on you."
Kirk looks down at the peaceful beagles by his feet, two sets of tails wagging happily as they look up at him. "I'm terrified," he deadpans.
Archer gently smacks his head again. "Don't be a jackass or I won't make you dinner."
Kirk's stomach growls right on cue. "Dinner?" he asks, ignoring his stomach's input.
"Steak, mashed potato, and beer."
"Have I mentioned that I really admire all you've done for Starfleet, Admiral?"
Archer rolls his eyes. "You're about as subtle as a sledgehammer, Kirk."
Jim beams at him as he gets up and follows Archer to the kitchen. "It's a talent, sir."
***
An hour and a half later, the steak has been devoured, the mashed potatoes have been cleaned off the plate, and Archer and Kirk are down in the basement, clinking beer bottles together and trying to out-hustle each other at pool while a Zeppelin song plays on Archer's antique sound system. There is some good-natured trash-talking wherein Kirk calls Archer every variation of 'old man' that he can come up with and Archer sinks every shot while taunting Kirk with a jolly "Thought you said you were good at this game, kid."
Kirk just rolls his eyes at Archer's taunts and tries to figure out the mathematical equation that's gonna win him this game. "So," he starts as he lines up his shot, "how the hell did you become Admiral anyway?"
Leaning against his pool cue, Archer gives him a curious look. "You make it sound like it was forced onto me."
Kirk takes the shot, watching with satisfaction as the ball sinks into the pocket. "Wasn't it?" he asks, looking up at Archer.
Archer's face is a study in confusion. "No, Jim, I took it when they offered it to me. Nobody made me do anything I didn't want to do."
Jim frowns. "Why would you give up the stars?"
"What makes you think I did?"
"You're an admiral," Kirk argues, feeling baffled by this entire conversation.
Archer snorts at that. "I'm the goddamn Chief of Staff for Starfleet Command. What do you think I do, just sit at my desk all day rubber-stamping forms and shaking hands with diplomats?"
Kirk gives him a sheepish look. "Well..."
"What do they teach you at the Academy these days?" Archer sighs, moving next to Kirk and gently bumping him out of the way so he can line up his next shot. "Back in my day--"
Kirk groans and drops his head down against his chest in mock defeat. "Yeah, yeah, uphill through ten feet of snow with wolves chasing you every step of the way. I've gotten this speech about a hundred times from Pike already."
"Kid," Archer laughs, "it's not a good idea to make fun of me when I've technically got a weapon in my hands. I will kick your ass."
Kirk tries not to gurgle with laughter, but it's really tough to do when Jonathan goddamn Archer is grinning at you and beating you handily at pool. "So you get to go into space then?" he asks when he's finally gotten himself under control.
Archer inclines his head in a nod. "Not always, but I get up there enough to satisfy me. There's talk that they might make me Federation ambassador to Andoria so maybe there'll be a little more space travel in my future."
"I can't imagine you as a diplomat," Kirk says honestly.
Archer gives him a rueful smile. "My style is a little more unorthodox than, say, the current Vulcan ambassador, but I can get the job done. Plus, the Andorians trust me since I made first contact with them."
Kirk nods at that. "Point. Do you ever miss being captain?"
Sighing, Archer stands up straight and carefully puts his cue down on the table, looking at Kirk intently. "I do," he admits reluctantly. "I miss having my own ship, I miss my crew, I miss the action, and I miss being amongst the stars, but you know what I don't miss?" When Kirk shakes his head, he continues. "I don't miss almost dying every day, I don't miss watching my crew get hurt or killed following my orders, I don't miss my relationships going bad because of what I do or who I work for, and I don't miss all the alternate realities that show me things I can't have when I go back to my time."
He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if saying that hurts him somewhere deep inside. "I'm almost sixty years old and I've only got my dogs to keep me company, Jim. I'm not saying I regret anything I've ever done, and God knows that I love my dogs more than life itself, but." He gives a small head-shake, his voice rough with unshed emotion. "Sometimes, it just gets a little lonely in here. T'Pol is on Vulcan and Trip is still dead."
"I'm sorry," Kirk says softly, recognizing the names of Archer's First Science Officer and his Chief Engineer. He awkwardly rests his hand on Archer's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. For all its gracelessness, Archer seems to appreciate the motion, reaching up to squeeze Kirk's hand in thanks before clearing his throat and moving to the other side of the pool table. Kirk understands that Archer wants to move on to something less weighted, so he points at the dogs who are curled up into little sleepy balls on a big, black leather couch against the farthest wall. "What's with the beagles?"
Archer's smile is grateful and it hurts Kirk's heart a little. "Amazing hunting and show dogs. Aramis over there," he nods toward the dog on the far right who's sleeping on his back with his hind legs splayed and his front paws tucked against his chest, "has won a lot of awards for being the best in-show."
Kirk looks at the sleeping, snuffling dog who's practically taking up a third of the couch with his paws. "He's a prize-winning beagle?" he asks, sounding dubious.
Archer looks at Aramis with fond affection. "That he is, even if he doesn't look it right now."
"If you say so." Kirk doesn't believe a word Archer says, but that doesn't stop him from going over and rubbing Aramis' belly, laughing delightedly when the dog rolls over onto his belly and licks happily at Kirk's hand. Sensing belly rubs and petting in their future, Porthos and Athos scramble over to crowd Kirk and shove their faces into his, licking whatever they can reach and wagging their tails excitedly as he laughs and pets them some more.
Archer watches him play with the dogs for a while, a soft, sad smile on his face when Kirk looks over at him. "You look just like your dad sometimes," he says quietly when Kirk raises his eyebrows at him, silently asking him a question that Archer seems to understand. "You probably get that a lot--"
"All the time," Kirk says hoarsely, feeling that kick to his gut again, "mostly whenever Pike's in a mood."
"Well, he and your dad were close," Archer sighs. "He's probably your mentor at the Academy."
Kirk nods, noting that Archer had made the sentence a statement, not a question. "He thinks that if he can push me enough, I'll turn out exactly like my dad." It comes out a lot more harshly than he'd intended, a lot more anger bleeding through than he'd wanted, and Archer seems to pick up on that.
"Tired up living up to everyone else's expectations, huh?"
"Tired of trying to live up to my dad's legend," Kirk says wearily, rubbing his thumb gently against Porthos' snout, feeling the soft, silky fur against his skin. "Tired of failing to be anything like him."
"What do you want most, Jim?"
"To be rich and famous?"
Archer gives him a look that says he's not amused or kidding. "What do you want to be, Jim?" he asks insistently.
"Captain," Jim says without hesitation. "I want to be captain of a starship."
"If you can't be captain, what else do you want to be?"
Jim shakes his head. "I want to be captain of a starship," he says firmly. "I am going to be captain of a starship and I am going to do it in three years, just like I told Pike I would."
Archer has a pleased smile on his face, like Jim's finally said the right thing. "You don't believe in giving up."
Kirk mulls over the words, trying to fit them into his worldview, and finally nods. "That's right, I don't."
"Your father didn't believe in it either," Archer says with a kind of devastating finality, as if he's just made a case that Jim can't argue against. "He didn't accept things as they were, he didn't just let things happen to him, he fought and kicked and went down fighting until the bitter end because he knew it was better to go down swinging than it was to just lie there and accept defeat. And you are exactly like your father in all the ways that count."
Somehow, the words have more weight coming from Archer than they do from Pike. Kirk doesn't know why; maybe it's because Archer's a bit like him, unable to just tow the line and accept the status quo, even if it would make life easier for him, or maybe it's because Archer has the weight of age and wisdom behind him in a way that Pike doesn't, at least not yet, but Kirk listens to his words and believes him.
When his tears come, they catch him off-guard, shocking him with their suddenness and ferocity, and he turns away quickly to try and get himself under control. He hears Archer moving behind him and he feels a moment of panic that the man's going to try to comfort him and make him feel better, which he just can't deal with right now, but Archer simply announces that he's going to get them more beer and leaves Kirk alone in the room while he goes upstairs.
Jim drops down onto the floor and buries his face in his hands, struggling to keep his breathing even, struggling even harder to keep his tears in. He does not want to cry in the house of a man who is still a stranger to him and he definitely does not want to cry in front of a man who has become his hero over the course of a month, so he takes deep breaths and forces everything down until he can breathe without breaking down again. He almost loses it when the dogs start licking his face, making little whuffling noises as they notice his distress, but he clenches his hand into a fist and squeezes tight, managing to hold on to his control.
By the time Archer comes back with two beer bottles, Kirk has managed to reach something approaching normal and can utter his thanks without any wobble in his voice. Archer seems to know anyway and claps a hand on Kirk's shoulder, squeezing tight for a brief moment before he suggests that Kirk may want to watch him closely so he can show Jim just how pool is supposed to be played.
Jim finds himself laughing and heads back towards the table, arguing that if Archer steps back, he'll find that Jim's going to be schooling him in how to play pool the right way.
***
"What happened to it?" Kirk asks Scotty who looks a little embarrassed that he's lost Admiral Archer's dog.
"I'll tell you when it reappears," he says sheepishly. "I don't know, I do feel guilty about that."
Kirk shakes his head because really, Scotty has no idea how lucky he is. He knows that dog, and he's pretty sure it's Aramis that got disappeared into thin air because if it had been Porthos, Scotty would've been in a much worse place than Delta Vega. Jim's read the files and he knows how protective Archer is of his dogs, but especially Porthos since he's had him since he was a six-week-old pup.
Scotty's really lucky that Archer hasn't found some way to court-martial him for this, and as soon as they make it back to the Enterprise and have a moment to breathe, he's going to tell Scotty exactly what he'd learned about Archer and why it's never a good idea to cross him. He may be an admiral, but he's not anything like the doddering old fools that Kirk's come in contact with so far, and Scotty's going to need to know this if he wants to survive Archer's wrath when they get back.
And if they make it back to Earth after this, he owes Archer a visit and a round of beers for pointing him towards his destination and shoving him headfirst into it. Hopefully by then, Aramis would be back and he'd be in a better mood.
Next up: a music post for violetisblue that everyone can share in because really, who doesn't love music?
Loff to traveller for editing, supporting, and providing me with information on what a bamf Jonathan Archer truly is. She is my rock and roll queen. Dedicated to the ever-lovely superjoydrop for always being in my corner and reminding me of all the good things in life and generally being the kind of person I want to grow up to be. :-*
A note: I have severely fudged the timing on this since the new movie has done crazy timeline things with the new universe in order to have Archer in it (seriously, the man would be 140+ years old if I followed the original timeline), but hopefully, this will not detract from your enjoyment of the story. Because really, you're not reading it for accurate timeline shenanigans, you're reading it to find out if Archer is really a badass motherfucker. (Hint: he is.)
Disclaimer: so utterly fictional and entirely not mine.
Problem With Authority
"So I tested it out on Admiral Archer's prized beagle," Scotty finishes, saluting them with his mug before he takes a sip.
Kirk blinks in surprise. "Wait, I know that dog," which would win some kind of medal for understatement of the year if he was interested in anyone else knowing how he knows that dog.
The way the story goes is this: it's Kirk's first year at the Academy, Bones has somehow become his best friend because whiskey, nausea, and an unspoken, desperate loneliness are as good a reason as any to bond, and it still feels like he's back in Iowa. He still hasn't figured out how to fit his curves and twists into the straight, sure lines of the Academy and its cadets, and Pike is tired of getting more reports that talk about how he thinks he's too smart for the material, even though both of them know it's completely true.
"Stop pissing off the instructors," Pike advises bluntly, the words hovering between amusement and irritation, as always seems to be the case with the man.
Kirk slouches even further down in his seat, feeling five years old and petulant, hating the way Pike's concern always seems to simultaneously scrape against his nerves and makes him want to be better than he is. "Tell them to stop living thirty years in the past and embrace new ideas," he snaps, feeling his face flush with shame when Pike gives him a disappointed look.
"Kirk," he says on a sigh, steepling his fingers together in a way that means he's trying not to grab Kirk and shake some sense into him, "you may not agree with your instructors--"
"And I don't."
"--but that doesn't mean you get to disrupt their classes and imply that they're complete jokes as academic instructors in front of their students," Pike finishes harshly, the stern look on his face making Kirk feel small and petty and wishing he could punch something to make him feel better.
Pike's quiet for a time, looking at Kirk intently as if he can figure him out if he just pays attention, like if he just stumbles on the right sequencing of words, it will unlock the mystery to James Tiberius Kirk, and he'll be the greatest captain in Federation history, and life will be perfect because Jim will be perfect, and not the damaged mess that he currently is. Kirk squirms and wishes he could hunch in on himself, hide away from Pike's knowing gaze and the way he constantly goddamn cares when Kirk expects him to have given up by now.
"You should talk to Admiral Archer," he tells Kirk after a long moment of contemplative silence. "He might actually be able to get through to you." The words are resigned, but Pike looks determined, which means more of these heart-to-heart talks in Pike's office where Pike tries to appeal to Jim's better side and Kirk's nerves are stretched taut from deflecting, deflecting, deflecting until Pike dismisses him with a sigh.
And then he actually hears what Pike says and laughs, despite himself. "Archer? Isn't he older than dirt by now? Why the hell would I want to talk to him?"
"Admiral Archer," Pike spits out through clenched teeth, one raised eyebrow letting Kirk know what he thinks about his outburst, "knows a hell of a lot more about things than you think he does, kid."
The 'kid' stings; Kirk's willing to admit that to himself, at least. "If he's so great, why haven't I heard of him?" he retorts.
Pike actually laughs, one of those short bursts of amusement that seem to be torn out of him without his permission and always seem to be genuine amusement, not sarcasm or hidden anger. "You just haven't paid attention," he chuckles, motioning Kirk out the door with a wave of his hand. "But you'll learn, my boy. You will learn."
Kirk leaves Pike's office feeling confused and intrigued and ready to invest some serious time in figuring out exactly who Admiral Archer is and why Pike seems to be his number one fan.
***
Here's the thing that many of the new cadets don't seem to know about Admiral Archer: the man's a goddamn hero. He was captain of the first real starship, was one of the first humans to achieve warp 2.5, made contacts with at least a dozen new species (including Andorian, and Kirk has to tell Bones about that just for the explosion of cursing that he knows will follow), made inroads all over the Alpha and Beta quadrants, and saved the earth from destruction by the Xindi.
"Not bad for an old fogey," Kirk tells himself with reluctant admiration, thumbing through the information on the data pad with more interest than he thought he'd have.
Archer had also gotten a staggering number of commendations and medals, including the Starfleet Medal of Valor, which was probably for saving Earth, the Star Cross, which meant that he probably almost died saving his crew, and the Prentares Ribbon of Commendation, which means that he almost died saving someone else's planet.
"Jesus." Kirk swears softly at the list of medals and commendations taking up his screen, wondering how many almost-deaths Archer would have had to go through just to get the Federation Citation of Honor, wondering how many lives he'd saved and how many he hadn't, wondering if he stayed up nights going over the mistakes in his mind and trying to figure out how he could've done better, and if he'd had a Bones in his life to patch him up and yell at him every time he'd come too close to death.
After scanning through library archives and captain logs for anything related to Archer, Kirk decides to hack into the man's psych profiles and evaluations to see what else he could find out. He briefly wonders if this is within the parameters of the mission Pike had set out for him, but then dismisses it as irrelevant. If Pike hadn't wanted him to hack into the confidential files of Starfleet officers, he shouldn't have challenged Kirk to find out everything he could about Archer. Really, he should've known better when it comes to Kirk.
The psych files are a goldmine. Words like "charming" and "bold" are used a lot, as are the words "eager to see what's out there" and "independent with a strong sense of duty" in various forms. He had a personal bias against Vulcans that he worked hard on overcoming, and all the psychiatrists note that Archer has no problems countermanding direct orders if they violated his personal code of honor or sense of decency.
Kirk likes him even more after that.
He downloads whatever information he can about Archer onto his personal data pad and locks it so only he can access it, organizing and re-organizing the material into his version of 'Jonathan Archer's Greatest Hits', from achieving warp 2.5 to saving the planet from a Xindi superweapon to his Bay Stadium speech when the Enterprise returned from the Delphic Expanse mission. He goes over the material until he practically knows it by heart, and it still feels like he's only getting half the story, like none of this is telling him who the man actually was. Is. Something like that.
"For crissakes, Jim," McCoy grumbles after the fifth time Kirk has bitched about the total lack of information on Archer and the ridiculously inadequate privacy protocols that do nothing to keep Kirk out. "Just go talk to the man and leave me the fuck alone already."
Kirk leans back in his chair, his head tilted awkwardly to look at McCoy in his bed, and smiles over at him. "Are you getting tired of hearing about the brave exploits of Jonathan Beckett Archer, Bones?"
"Yes, you infatuated idiot, I am." McCoy's glare could burn holes through a normal person, but Kirk just grins at him. "I'm sure he's your new hero--"
"He saved Earth from a superweapon, Bones--"
"--and you probably want to doodle his name all over your goddamn data pad--
Kirk giggles. "You can't doodle on a data pad, jackass."
"--or maybe carve 'Mrs. Jonathan Archer' into your desk or something--"
"He's so dreamy," Kirk says mockingly, fluttering his lashes at McCoy and snickering when McCoy flips him off.
"--but I am tired of hearing about this guy and his accomplishments when I am in the middle of a full-blown panic attack over my fucking finals, so could you please, please just go find him and talk to him and get this out of your system?" McCoy clutches his hands together in a gesture of pleading. "Please, okay? I'm begging you."
Kirk swings his feet off the table and turns in his chair towards McCoy, his face set in serious lines as he takes in the dark circles under Bones' eyes and the stress lines etched into his skin. "Are you going to be okay?" he asks softly, wondering how long Bones has been wound this tightly and how he'd missed it.
McCoy waves him off with an irritated sound. "Stop mothering me, I'll be fine."
"I was not--"
"Go find Archer and talk to him," McCoy says firmly. "And give me a little space so that I don't forget we're friends and smother you with a pillow while you're sleeping."
Kirk laughs helplessly. "I thought you'd be so much more sophisticated than that when it came to getting rid of me. I mean, you're a full-fledged doctor, and the best you can come up with is a pillow?" He shakes his head with great sadness. "I am so disappointed in you, Bones."
"Get out of here before I shoot you full of alien flea viruses." McCoy flings a brightly colored cube at him, some antique toy that Sulu had given him because he'd thought that Bones would like mathematical puzzles, and it's not really his fault that he doesn't know McCoy well enough to know that Bones' real hobby is complaining about the world, not solving 3D puzzles from the twentieth century.
Laughing, Kirk ducks the flying cube and jogs out of their quarters, blowing a cheeky kiss at McCoy before he heads towards the library to see if he can break into Starfleet personnel records and figure out where Archer lives.
***
Archer lives in one of the painted ladies on Steiner Street, a vivid scarlet Victorian house on Postcard Row with a narrow set of stairs in the front and a cherry-stained front door with an iron knocker resting on it. Kirk knocks with some trepidation, wondering if Pike's right and this is going to help him figure shit out or this is all some horrendous mistake that's going to be the next in a long line of disappointments and heartache if Archer doesn't live up to what Kirk's read of him.
The door opens slightly and a smart, little dog comes out, its head up high and its whole body at attention as it spots Kirk. It gives a short, sharp bark as if in warning and Kirk reaches out a hand for the dog to smell, trying to project 'not the enemy' very hard as it sniffs his hand and starts licking it. Smiling despite himself, Kirk drops down to his knees and carefully pets the dog's head, gently scratching behind its ears and laughing delightedly when it jumps up and tries to lick his face. "Who's a good boy?" he asks in that ridiculously goofy way that human have when they're around cute, friendly dogs. "Who's a good boy? You are, yes, you are."
"Porthos, you are the worst guard dog ever." The voice in the doorway is amused and resigned, and Kirk looks up to see Admiral Archer standing in front of him with his hip resting on the doorframe, dressed in battered-looking jeans and a red 49ers tee shirt. Despite the gray in his hair, the thickening waist, and the lines in his face, he doesn't look like he's older than dirt; in fact, he only looks a few years older than Pike, and Kirk wonders where exactly he got the impression that Archer was an old fogey who wouldn't know a phaser from a Suliban disruptor when the man standing before him clearly hasn't gotten the memo that he's supposed to be old and irrelevant now.
"Uh, Admiral Archer?" Kirk feels uncharacteristically nervous as he stands up and faces the man whose life he's been studying for the past month. He wipes his hands on his jeans, trying to get rid of the dog spit and debris, and holds out his hand in greeting. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but my name is James T. Kirk--"
Archer gives him a surprised look. "George Kirk's kid?"
Kirk feels something tight and painful in his chest at the casual way Archer says his father's name, at the affection he can see in Archer's eyes, and he barely feels Archer's hand in his as he's grabbed and pulled into the house. He hears Archer murmur "Watch out for the dogs" as two more smart-looking beagles sniff around his ankles, their tails wagging with excitement at the new scent for them to explore, and he's led to a warmly lit living room, complete with a fireplace, a mantle, and a curious mix of antique furniture (barely used, judging by how new and clean it all looks) and modern yet comfortable chairs (well used to the point of being worn down). Kirk is made to sit on an old faded, dark green couch that looks like a relic from Archer's bachelor days and feels like a hug from his mother as he sinks into the cushions.
"Tea?" Archer asks as he heads towards a small, cheery kitchen in the back, stopping briefly for Kirk's answer.
"Please," Jim says hoarsely, silently wondering when he's going to stop feeling like he's been kicked in the gut every time his father's name is brought up, when he's going to stop feeling trapped by the weight of everyone's expectations because he has the Kirk name, of Pike's hopes for the Kirk legacy and his future with Starfleet. It gets to be too much sometimes, being the son of a hero, or rather being the fuck-up son of a hero, and Kirk wonders at times if he'd made the right choice in joining Starfleet and trying to be the man his father was. He isn't sure if he did; his father's shadow is too large and Jim feels like he's drowning in it, especially when Pike looks at him and sees his father, not him.
It's easier to mouth off to his instructors and coast through classes on his charms and get drunk and let Bones take care of him when he gets sloppy and maudlin because he's good at those things, he excels at those things, and despite his grumbling, Bones doesn't really seem to mind enough to say something to Jim or stop taking care of him. It's easier not to care, Jim thinks, because the alternative is terrifying: trying to live up to his father's legacy, trying to step into George Kirk's shoes, only to find that he isn't enough to fill them. The prospect of failure is too close for comfort, and after a lifetime of being told that he isn't good enough, Jim is afraid that trying to be the man his father was is going to finally prove everyone right, that he isn't good enough. His father hadn't believed in no-win scenarios, but then, it's easy to not believe in no-win scenarios when you're always right and perfect.
Archer comes back balancing a teapot, two mugs, a small jar of cream, and a sugar cube bowl on a silver tray. As he pours Kirk a cup of tea, he looks over the mug at Jim and says, "Penny for your thoughts."
Jim smiles ruefully as he takes his mug from Archer. "Not sure they're worth that much." He starts spooning in the sugar and cream, taking a cautious sip and wincing when the hot liquid scalds his tongue.
Archer makes a derisive sound as he sits on the antique loveseat by Kirk's side, looking less than comfortable to be sitting on such a pristine surface, but not making a move to sit anywhere else. "Don't start all that self-deprecation crap on me, kid," he rumbles irritatedly, which makes Kirk feel oddly enough like he's sitting in Pike's office. It must be a captain thing, even when they become admirals. "Just tell me why you're here," he continues in a more quiet tone of voice.
"I don't really know," Kirk admits with a shrug. "Pike told me to come talk to you after I mouthed off to one of my instructors again."
Archer's face breaks into a delighted grin. "Chris sent you to talk me, did he? That bastard." He takes a sip of his tea, gently petting Porthos' head when the beagle pops up beside him and lays his head on Archer's lap. "No, Porthos," he says patiently, "no cheese for you. You remember what Phlox said about that." He scratches Porthos behind his ears when Porthos whines at him, smiling tenderly at the dog's antics, and then turns his attention back to Kirk. "So what do you want to know?"
Jim gives him a surprised look. "About?"
Archer shrugs. "Anything. My life, my dogs, what Pike was like when he was your age, what your dad was like back in school. It's why you're here, right?" He smiles down at Porthos as the dog settles by his feet, letting out a soft doggy sigh as he gets comfortable.
Kirk puts his mug down and tries to calm the tremors in his hands, feeling like he's slowly shaking apart and trying to push everything down before he loses control and the chance to find out what he's missed all these years. "Tell me everything," he says quietly. "I want to know everything."
Archer lifts an eyebrow at that, but he nods at Kirk's request, a disconcertingly knowing look on his face, as if he understands exactly where Kirk is coming from. "Where do you want me to start?"
"What was Pike like when he was my age?"
Archer grins again. "A real fucking asshole," he says easily, laughing when Kirk looks wide-eyed at him. "Brilliant, mouthy, thought he knew everything and fought with the instructors just to see if he could make them cry."
Kirk isn't sure whether to laugh or find Pike and punch him in the face for his hypocrisy. "He did that?" At Archer's nod, he tilts his head in a vague question mark. "Were you in the same year as him?"
"Nah," Archer shakes his head. "I was a few years ahead, but he was in one my flight classes, and he was enough of an obnoxious prick that I had to take him out for drinks and get to know him better."
Kirk laughs at the thought of Pike, his Pike, pissing off his instructors and getting drunk with Archer. "He doesn't seem like the type," he finally says.
Archer shrugs and sets his mug down on the table. "You have to grow up eventually," he says thoughtfully, "especially when you're responsible for the lives of so many people. You can't fuck around and play rebel without a cause forever."
"Good movie," Kirk says.
"A classic," Archer agrees easily.
"So what was my dad like?"
Archer gives him that same knowing look that's starting to make Kirk itch in his skin; the look that says he understands because he's been through it before, and Kirk hates the idea of anyone understanding or sympathizing with him when they haven't lived his life and don't know what he's been through. "George was a good kid," Archer starts off conversationally.
Kirk makes a 'come on' gesture. "But?" he asks, stretching the word out.
"He was a little bit of a show-off when it came to your mother," Archer says cautiously, trying to gauge Kirk's reaction. He relaxes a bit when he sees the smile on Kirk's face.
"What'd he do to try to impress her?" Jim asks with a grin.
"Clipped the hand off of one of the statues after flying too low to the ground," Archer says with a laugh. "It was one of the founding fathers. Nogura almost shit a brick."
Jim gives one of those groaning laughs, amused and yet embarrassed for his father, his hand going to his face as he pictures exactly how it must've gone. "Was my mom impressed?"
"She called him an idiot and refused to speak to him for a week."
Kirk bursts into laughter, feeling something inside him roll loose at the way Archer speaks with genuine affection about these people that he only knows in the vaguest sense. Even his mother, whom he loves unreservedly, even when they don't get along, seems more like a stranger he's lived with than the woman who gave birth to him because he doesn't know this woman that Archer's speaking about. By the time Jim had come along, his mother had looked old and tired, as if losing George in such a traumatic event had sucked out all the joy from her life and prematurely aged her. She'd loved Sam and Jim with everything she'd had, but sometimes, Jim would catch her looking at the stars as if she could see her husband out there if she'd look hard enough. Jim had always thought that was why she'd gone back to Starfleet, to search the stars for the husband she'd lost.
It hurts to know that there's a huge part of his mother's life that he'd never gotten to know about, that he's never going to know what it's like to grow up with a father who loves him and is proud of him and gives him dreams to hang his star on. Bones never talks much about his family, but when he does, he tells stories about the history of his parents, the story of them meeting and falling in love and having children, of his father's medical practice and how he taught McCoy to love medicine. Jim is always sick with envy that Bones gets to know the entire history of his family and how they became a family while Kirk has had to puzzle it out through archives and news clippings and terse conversations with his mom and town gossip that just serves to remind him how much he's not like his father.
He starts when he feels a quick tap on his head, and looks up to see Archer standing by his, a concerned look on his face. "Stop wandering off in the middle of a conversation, Jim," he grouses. "It's not polite."
"Sorry, sir," Jim says automatically, making a face when Archer shoots him a quick, amused smile. "I mean--"
"Call me Jonathan, kid. I don't feel old enough to be a 'sir'."
"Can I call you Jonny?"
Archer levels a glare at him. "Only if you want me to set my dogs on you."
Kirk looks down at the peaceful beagles by his feet, two sets of tails wagging happily as they look up at him. "I'm terrified," he deadpans.
Archer gently smacks his head again. "Don't be a jackass or I won't make you dinner."
Kirk's stomach growls right on cue. "Dinner?" he asks, ignoring his stomach's input.
"Steak, mashed potato, and beer."
"Have I mentioned that I really admire all you've done for Starfleet, Admiral?"
Archer rolls his eyes. "You're about as subtle as a sledgehammer, Kirk."
Jim beams at him as he gets up and follows Archer to the kitchen. "It's a talent, sir."
***
An hour and a half later, the steak has been devoured, the mashed potatoes have been cleaned off the plate, and Archer and Kirk are down in the basement, clinking beer bottles together and trying to out-hustle each other at pool while a Zeppelin song plays on Archer's antique sound system. There is some good-natured trash-talking wherein Kirk calls Archer every variation of 'old man' that he can come up with and Archer sinks every shot while taunting Kirk with a jolly "Thought you said you were good at this game, kid."
Kirk just rolls his eyes at Archer's taunts and tries to figure out the mathematical equation that's gonna win him this game. "So," he starts as he lines up his shot, "how the hell did you become Admiral anyway?"
Leaning against his pool cue, Archer gives him a curious look. "You make it sound like it was forced onto me."
Kirk takes the shot, watching with satisfaction as the ball sinks into the pocket. "Wasn't it?" he asks, looking up at Archer.
Archer's face is a study in confusion. "No, Jim, I took it when they offered it to me. Nobody made me do anything I didn't want to do."
Jim frowns. "Why would you give up the stars?"
"What makes you think I did?"
"You're an admiral," Kirk argues, feeling baffled by this entire conversation.
Archer snorts at that. "I'm the goddamn Chief of Staff for Starfleet Command. What do you think I do, just sit at my desk all day rubber-stamping forms and shaking hands with diplomats?"
Kirk gives him a sheepish look. "Well..."
"What do they teach you at the Academy these days?" Archer sighs, moving next to Kirk and gently bumping him out of the way so he can line up his next shot. "Back in my day--"
Kirk groans and drops his head down against his chest in mock defeat. "Yeah, yeah, uphill through ten feet of snow with wolves chasing you every step of the way. I've gotten this speech about a hundred times from Pike already."
"Kid," Archer laughs, "it's not a good idea to make fun of me when I've technically got a weapon in my hands. I will kick your ass."
Kirk tries not to gurgle with laughter, but it's really tough to do when Jonathan goddamn Archer is grinning at you and beating you handily at pool. "So you get to go into space then?" he asks when he's finally gotten himself under control.
Archer inclines his head in a nod. "Not always, but I get up there enough to satisfy me. There's talk that they might make me Federation ambassador to Andoria so maybe there'll be a little more space travel in my future."
"I can't imagine you as a diplomat," Kirk says honestly.
Archer gives him a rueful smile. "My style is a little more unorthodox than, say, the current Vulcan ambassador, but I can get the job done. Plus, the Andorians trust me since I made first contact with them."
Kirk nods at that. "Point. Do you ever miss being captain?"
Sighing, Archer stands up straight and carefully puts his cue down on the table, looking at Kirk intently. "I do," he admits reluctantly. "I miss having my own ship, I miss my crew, I miss the action, and I miss being amongst the stars, but you know what I don't miss?" When Kirk shakes his head, he continues. "I don't miss almost dying every day, I don't miss watching my crew get hurt or killed following my orders, I don't miss my relationships going bad because of what I do or who I work for, and I don't miss all the alternate realities that show me things I can't have when I go back to my time."
He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if saying that hurts him somewhere deep inside. "I'm almost sixty years old and I've only got my dogs to keep me company, Jim. I'm not saying I regret anything I've ever done, and God knows that I love my dogs more than life itself, but." He gives a small head-shake, his voice rough with unshed emotion. "Sometimes, it just gets a little lonely in here. T'Pol is on Vulcan and Trip is still dead."
"I'm sorry," Kirk says softly, recognizing the names of Archer's First Science Officer and his Chief Engineer. He awkwardly rests his hand on Archer's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. For all its gracelessness, Archer seems to appreciate the motion, reaching up to squeeze Kirk's hand in thanks before clearing his throat and moving to the other side of the pool table. Kirk understands that Archer wants to move on to something less weighted, so he points at the dogs who are curled up into little sleepy balls on a big, black leather couch against the farthest wall. "What's with the beagles?"
Archer's smile is grateful and it hurts Kirk's heart a little. "Amazing hunting and show dogs. Aramis over there," he nods toward the dog on the far right who's sleeping on his back with his hind legs splayed and his front paws tucked against his chest, "has won a lot of awards for being the best in-show."
Kirk looks at the sleeping, snuffling dog who's practically taking up a third of the couch with his paws. "He's a prize-winning beagle?" he asks, sounding dubious.
Archer looks at Aramis with fond affection. "That he is, even if he doesn't look it right now."
"If you say so." Kirk doesn't believe a word Archer says, but that doesn't stop him from going over and rubbing Aramis' belly, laughing delightedly when the dog rolls over onto his belly and licks happily at Kirk's hand. Sensing belly rubs and petting in their future, Porthos and Athos scramble over to crowd Kirk and shove their faces into his, licking whatever they can reach and wagging their tails excitedly as he laughs and pets them some more.
Archer watches him play with the dogs for a while, a soft, sad smile on his face when Kirk looks over at him. "You look just like your dad sometimes," he says quietly when Kirk raises his eyebrows at him, silently asking him a question that Archer seems to understand. "You probably get that a lot--"
"All the time," Kirk says hoarsely, feeling that kick to his gut again, "mostly whenever Pike's in a mood."
"Well, he and your dad were close," Archer sighs. "He's probably your mentor at the Academy."
Kirk nods, noting that Archer had made the sentence a statement, not a question. "He thinks that if he can push me enough, I'll turn out exactly like my dad." It comes out a lot more harshly than he'd intended, a lot more anger bleeding through than he'd wanted, and Archer seems to pick up on that.
"Tired up living up to everyone else's expectations, huh?"
"Tired of trying to live up to my dad's legend," Kirk says wearily, rubbing his thumb gently against Porthos' snout, feeling the soft, silky fur against his skin. "Tired of failing to be anything like him."
"What do you want most, Jim?"
"To be rich and famous?"
Archer gives him a look that says he's not amused or kidding. "What do you want to be, Jim?" he asks insistently.
"Captain," Jim says without hesitation. "I want to be captain of a starship."
"If you can't be captain, what else do you want to be?"
Jim shakes his head. "I want to be captain of a starship," he says firmly. "I am going to be captain of a starship and I am going to do it in three years, just like I told Pike I would."
Archer has a pleased smile on his face, like Jim's finally said the right thing. "You don't believe in giving up."
Kirk mulls over the words, trying to fit them into his worldview, and finally nods. "That's right, I don't."
"Your father didn't believe in it either," Archer says with a kind of devastating finality, as if he's just made a case that Jim can't argue against. "He didn't accept things as they were, he didn't just let things happen to him, he fought and kicked and went down fighting until the bitter end because he knew it was better to go down swinging than it was to just lie there and accept defeat. And you are exactly like your father in all the ways that count."
Somehow, the words have more weight coming from Archer than they do from Pike. Kirk doesn't know why; maybe it's because Archer's a bit like him, unable to just tow the line and accept the status quo, even if it would make life easier for him, or maybe it's because Archer has the weight of age and wisdom behind him in a way that Pike doesn't, at least not yet, but Kirk listens to his words and believes him.
When his tears come, they catch him off-guard, shocking him with their suddenness and ferocity, and he turns away quickly to try and get himself under control. He hears Archer moving behind him and he feels a moment of panic that the man's going to try to comfort him and make him feel better, which he just can't deal with right now, but Archer simply announces that he's going to get them more beer and leaves Kirk alone in the room while he goes upstairs.
Jim drops down onto the floor and buries his face in his hands, struggling to keep his breathing even, struggling even harder to keep his tears in. He does not want to cry in the house of a man who is still a stranger to him and he definitely does not want to cry in front of a man who has become his hero over the course of a month, so he takes deep breaths and forces everything down until he can breathe without breaking down again. He almost loses it when the dogs start licking his face, making little whuffling noises as they notice his distress, but he clenches his hand into a fist and squeezes tight, managing to hold on to his control.
By the time Archer comes back with two beer bottles, Kirk has managed to reach something approaching normal and can utter his thanks without any wobble in his voice. Archer seems to know anyway and claps a hand on Kirk's shoulder, squeezing tight for a brief moment before he suggests that Kirk may want to watch him closely so he can show Jim just how pool is supposed to be played.
Jim finds himself laughing and heads back towards the table, arguing that if Archer steps back, he'll find that Jim's going to be schooling him in how to play pool the right way.
***
"What happened to it?" Kirk asks Scotty who looks a little embarrassed that he's lost Admiral Archer's dog.
"I'll tell you when it reappears," he says sheepishly. "I don't know, I do feel guilty about that."
Kirk shakes his head because really, Scotty has no idea how lucky he is. He knows that dog, and he's pretty sure it's Aramis that got disappeared into thin air because if it had been Porthos, Scotty would've been in a much worse place than Delta Vega. Jim's read the files and he knows how protective Archer is of his dogs, but especially Porthos since he's had him since he was a six-week-old pup.
Scotty's really lucky that Archer hasn't found some way to court-martial him for this, and as soon as they make it back to the Enterprise and have a moment to breathe, he's going to tell Scotty exactly what he'd learned about Archer and why it's never a good idea to cross him. He may be an admiral, but he's not anything like the doddering old fools that Kirk's come in contact with so far, and Scotty's going to need to know this if he wants to survive Archer's wrath when they get back.
And if they make it back to Earth after this, he owes Archer a visit and a round of beers for pointing him towards his destination and shoving him headfirst into it. Hopefully by then, Aramis would be back and he'd be in a better mood.
Next up: a music post for violetisblue that everyone can share in because really, who doesn't love music?