Fic: For You I Came This Far, Part 4 of 4
Back to Part Three | Back to Master Post
Later, after he’d fallen asleep again, Winona left Starfleet Medical and headed over to Glenn Hall. His apartment was roughly the same as she remembered it; there were clean dishes sitting next to the sink, so she replaced them in the cabinets. He’d left his toothbrush sitting on the side of the sink instead of in the holder, so she put that back, too. The bed had hospital-sharp corners, but the sheets weren’t brand new; she sat in the middle of the bed after turning the sheets down and inhaled.
There it was: the smell she’d missed for the last six weeks. And, of course, there were the tears. She sniffled into his pillow for a few minutes before getting herself a tissue and then going to the living room, to sit on the couch and not be maudlin for a few minutes.
Her padd was blinking, so she checked it and found about ten messages, mostly short textcomms saying some variation on ‘congratulations!’ The message from Sam was a little more involved, as she’d somehow managed to avoid telling him about anything about Chris in the first place, but apparently Jim had filled him in.
Speaking of Jim, he’d left her a textcomm insisting that she call at once; it was only around dinnertime, so she sent him a quick note that she was available and could take his call any time he wanted. He binged her comm line less than a minute later, and she routed it through Chris’s large monitor.
“Mom,” he said. “Am I supposed to call him Step-Dad now?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she said, and rolled her eyes. “No, you’re supposed to call him ‘Captain Pike, sir,’ unless he tells you otherwise.”
Jim laughed. “Congrats, though. You might want to call Sam; he called me this afternoon and wasn’t too happy that he had no notice.”
“Yeah, I got his thinly-veiled nasty-gram,” Winona said. “Apparently I raised a pair of heathens. Don’t either of you respect your mother?”
“Hey!” he said. “I respect you a lot. I could have asked, ‘Hey, do they let you form contracts when you’re on more than four kinds of drugs?’”
She rolled her eyes. If he’d been on drugs that affected his ability to consent or form contracts, Liz wouldn’t have suggested it.
“Except I already know the answer to that one: yes, but either of you might be able to challenge it later. Somehow I don’t think you’re going to, though.”
“Probably not,” she agreed.
“He’s not--not going to be captaining a ship again, is he.”
The sudden shift in tone threw her for a moment, but there really wasn’t much doubt as to what Jim meant. “Not in the near future, no.”
He nodded, and let out a long breath. “I wanted to be his XO.”
“I’m pretty sure that gig was going to Spock, Jim,” she said.
“Oh, I know it was supposed to, but I figured if I was just that amazing, and since I was command track, not sciences, then maybe he’d change his mind. I don’t know.” Jim looked above the camera for a moment. “I don’t even know if Spock actually wants to be a captain, at least of a regular ship. I mean, or if he did. It’s all different now, probably moot. He and I ended up working pretty well together, so if he stays with Starfleet and we end up on the same ship, probably tactics and science officer, respectively, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. But, I mean, as much trouble as I gave Captain Pike, I’m not stupid enough to think there isn’t a ton that I could have learned from him.”
“He’s not dead,” she said, maybe a little sharper than she should have. “He may be grounded for a while, or even permanently, but you certainly can still learn from him.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jim said, “but probably not as his first officer. I suppose that fixes the problem of being first officer with my mother as chief engineer, though.”
Winona sighed. “That would have been interesting.”
“Are you grounded?”
“I’ll probably take a year on Earth,” she said, “yes. I can take leave, or, well, I’ve got almost forty years in; I might take the damn promotion they’ve been trying to shove on me for years.” She sighed again. “I don’t know what’s going to happen after that and I’ve been doing a very good job of not thinking about it.”
“Why? Afraid?”
He sounded curious instead of sarcastic or challenging, so she gave him half an answer. “When, to date, you can’t forget what happened the last time you felt like this because your job keeps shoving it in your face, it’s a little difficult not to be afraid. And no, I’m not going to discuss this anymore with you.”
Jim held his hands up. “I really don’t want to hear anymore, I promise. I just . . . I know we haven’t had the smoothest relationship, but I do want you to be happy.”
“I know,” she said. “I want you to be happy, too. Speaking of, that doctor of yours . . .”
“Oh, my God, Mom, no.”
She called Sam next, and spent a few minutes groveling and promising to bring Chris to Christmas this year, however damn many months it was away, and making faces at her year-and-a-half-old grandson, who gave a big smile and patted the screen.
The next morning, she showed up to the hospital, and the door to Chris’s room wouldn’t open. She touched her fingers to the annunciator, and got nothing. She tried again, and same result. Odd. She went to the nurse’s station and asked, and was told she should talk to Dr. Dehner.
“Ah,” Dr. Dehner said a few minutes later, in her office. “He insisted that we start taking him off some of the short-term drugs that were keeping some of the effects at bay, late last night, and since there was no medical reason not to do so, we did. Unfortunately, things have been kind of rough for him, and when he said no visitors, he told us he meant that literally.” She spread her hands. “I don’t know what to tell you. I told him you would still want to see him.”
“Oh,” Winona said. She was a little disappointed but not particularly insulted. “Well, um, tomorrow?”
“I hope so,” Dr. Dehner said. “If nothing else, I’ve heard that the admiral and the professor will be back on Earth in the next day or so.”
“The who?”
Dr. Dehner smiled. “Chris’s parents.”
“Oh.” Winona winced. She really was too old for this shit. “Well. I’ll try back tomorrow. Maybe I’ll send him a textcomm or something.”
She did, but got an auto-response: Capt. C. Pike is not available at the present time. That stung a little, but she buried it quickly and commed One to invite her to lunch or dinner or something.
There’s a nice Andorian-fusion café that’s very close to the Grand Ole Creamery.
--Hey. I’m not asking you to lunch for any sort of reason other than food and a relatively-clear schedule.
That doesn’t mean we don’t need ice cream.
--Fair enough.
One waited until the food came out before saying, “So, a 105?”
Winona shrugged. “Served all necessary purposes.”
“Oh?”
Winona sighed. “You know,” she said, “I’m rather sick of my personal life being treated as public property by Starfleet.”
One’s face flooded with sympathy. “I can understand that. Obviously I’m not asking as your captain--or, I suppose, your former captain--but as a friend, but I expect you’re sick of any inquiry.”
“That’s about it,” Winona said, and felt a pang of remorse for her sharp response. “I don’t mean to--”
“I know,” One said. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think I’ve seen him nearly as happy as he has been the last few weeks. Provided you’re happy, I don’t need to know any more.”
Winona almost burst into tears of relief, but just said, “Thank you.”
“I expect to be invited to the formal ceremony, though.”
“Ugh, there isn’t going to be one, if I have my way,” she said. “I did that once; that’s enough. Although I suppose he’s never. Damn. Speaking of, what do I need to know about his parents?”
One sighed. “He and his dad don’t get along all that well, but they did come to a détente some five or seven years ago, when his dad retired from active duty. His mother is a tad eccentric but she’s really very nice and, I would guess, since you’re Terran human, you won’t be up for as many questions as I was.”
Winona smiled. “What does she study?”
“You know, I’ve never been exactly sure, but somewhere in the xeno-anthropology field.”
“Ah. And because you’re Ilyrian--”
“I’m not, really,” One said, unexpectedly. “By heritage, certainly, but I got out of there as soon as I could. I don’t do a very good job of adhering to Ilyrian principles of behavior, and I don’t want to. I think at this point I’m just a generic Federation citizen.”
“Oh.” Winona wasn’t sure to say to that, so she offered a smile. “We’re glad to have you?”
“Thanks,” One said.
* * *
The next morning was the same story; Winona didn’t know if she should have expected it or not, but it was now annoying. On the way out, she passed by a tall man with a shock of white hair and piercing blue eyes, and a tiny woman, also white-haired, with gray eyes and--Chris’s face, she realized abruptly. “Admiral Pike? Dr. Pike?” she said. Oh, God, was she doing this? She could have just walked out.
They stopped and turned around. “Yes?” Dr. Pike said. “Oh, you’re Winona Kirk. We were hoping we’d get to meet you. Have you seen Chris today?”
“Ah, no, actually,” she said. “Nor yesterday. He’s not taking visitors at the moment, which includes me.”
“That won’t include us,” Admiral Pike said.
Dr. Pike poked him in the shoulder. “If it includes his wife, it’ll include us.”
“I’m not his wife,” Winona said quickly, with a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach.
“Wife, fiancée, whatever,” Dr. Pike said, with a gesture.
Winona swallowed. Not fiancée, either was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say it.
“Have you eaten breakfast?” Dr. Pike asked.
“I could use more coffee,” she said. She’d had a bagel earlier.
“Well, then,” Dr. Pike said, and led Winona and her husband off to the commissary.
Even though Dr. Pike told her to call them Mina and Josh, Winona couldn’t help but think of Chris’s parents by their titles. Watching the admiral scarf down an omelet didn’t change that. Dr. Pike was warm and personable and clearly wanted to ask Winona all about herself, but Admiral Pike had obviously pulled her service jacket and seemed to know everything about her life, inside of Starfleet and out. “You were married to George Kirk,” the admiral said.
Winona nodded. Most of Starfleet knew that much.
“And you’ve got a couple of adult children.”
“Sam is twenty-nine; he’s married to Aurelan and they have a son, Peter, with another kid on the way.”
“Yes,” he said. “Dr. Kirk and Dr. Jira both contract with Starfleet from time to time.”
Ah. That explained why Chris and Phil had met him. “Jim is--well, I’m sure you know all about Jim.” Again, common knowledge.
Admiral Pike rolled his eyes. “Troublemaker.”
It was undeniable, but Winona couldn’t let this man--an outsider--say it. Not with that tone. “He’s been very successful so far,” she said.
“You’re going to defend his cheating?” he said.
“I don’t know anything about that,” she said, and her heart sank.
“Josh,” Dr. Pike said, and by his reaction, kicked him under the table. “Let’s go back to the more important part. You obviously did see Chris at some point, right?”
Winona nodded. “He, ah--they shaved his head. I guess he had several surgeries, but they got the bug out and they’re waiting for the swelling to go down before they make any permanent assessments. He’d been on high doses of painkillers and they just started bringing him down off of those a couple days ago.” She didn’t mention any of the psychological effects; besides, any more than what she said was his information to give, not hers.
“You and Chris have known each other a long time, haven’t you?” Admiral Pike said.
The question took her by surprise, and she said, “Ah, I guess? Technically.”
“He was on the Kelvin with you briefly while he was still at the Academy.”
“Yes,” Winona said. “I don’t particularly remember it. I was pregnant with Sam at the time and spent most of my free time hiding in quarters, trying not to be too nauseated.”
Dr. Pike smiled at her. “No wonder you don’t remember him. Those aren’t fun days.”
“No, ma’am, they’re not.”
“So, when exactly did you decide to make this official?”
Winona blushed. “I’m sorry if he never mentioned anything to you--”
“Oh, he never does,” Dr. Pike said, with a glare at her husband. “I don’t think we’ve ever found out about a partner of his until he changes his next-of-kin notification form, and even then, sometimes he turns the notifications off.”
Winona smiled.
“Although,” Dr. Pike said, “that could be because after he broke it off with Janeese, he changed his next-of-kin to Dr. Boyce and some of us got the wrong idea.”
Admiral Pike chuckled. “That was a bit--premature, let’s say.”
It was the first display of warmth from him, and Winona had been waiting for it--waiting for an explanation as to how he and Dr. Pike had remained married for what was probably closing in on half a century. It helped, the chuckle, but he was still damn intimidating.
“Anyway,” Dr. Pike said, patting Winona’s hand. “We’re in town indefinitely; I hope you’ll feel free to come by and visit, especially when Chris feels like having visitors again.”
Winona nodded.
* * *
After she went home--back to Chris’s--she remembered what the admiral had said about Jim cheating; how could she forget? Normally she’d go to Chris for more information, but that wasn’t an option right now. Barnett was head of the Starfleet Academy Board, but she’d never been in much contact with him. Finally, she sent a quick textcomm to Dr. Boyce. Can I meet with you briefly?
Sure, he replied almost immediately. Is this about Chris?
--No; Jim.
Ahhh, you heard about the hearing, did you?
--No, and that’s the problem. I’d like a rundown of the facts before I yell at Jim about it.
I would contact Number One--I think she actually knows more about it than I do.
--All right. She was not pleased that everyone in Starfleet appeared to know about Jim cheating except her, but she checked One’s public schedule--nothing that afternoon--and went to pick up a couple of pints of ice cream from Crema Café. Kid’s going to reimburse me for all this bribery I’m doing on his behalf, she thought, and shoved two spoons in her pocket.
When she got back to Chris’s place, she sent One a textcomm saying, I have Crema Café ice cream I’m willing to trade for information.
Hopefully I have information you want, One replied.
A couple hours later Winona said, “Maybe I should go running with Jim tomorrow, with the amount of ice cream I’ve been eating.”
One laughed. “What is it you wanted to ask?”
“Jim,” she said. “Admiral Pike said something about Jim cheating on something?”
“Oh,” One said. “From what I’ve heard, Jim installed a subroutine that changed the parameters of the Kobayashi Maru test in the middle, allowing him to win it. He’d already successfully taken the test twice before that. There was a hearing on the matter, but before it finished, the distress call had already come in and they sent everyone off on ships.”
Winona closed her eyes. Fuck. This really was the last straw. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she said. “I have no idea why no one thought to tell me that and why Jim even decided that was a good idea, but you know what? I just don’t have room for any more bullshit on my plate.” She put the lid back on her pint, set it down on One’s end table, and stalked out. She heard One calling after her, but didn’t stop.
She didn’t get all that far, though; before she hit the end of the hall, she heard another voice calling her name--Phil’s--and half-turned out of instinct. He was standing with his head and shoulders poking out of a door, not five feet away, and said, “Fuck,” when she met his eyes. “Come here.”
Winona shook her head--if she said a word she’d start crying--but he ignored that and walked over. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he guided her into his quarters, giving her ample time to complain if she was going to. Once inside--once the door had shut--he pulled her into his arms and said, “You’re right, this is bullshit, from beginning to end, but the point of having friends is that you don’t have to handle it all alone. Not again.”
“Damn you,” she said weakly, and fell apart.
She dimly felt him lead her to the couch, and she knew a couple other people were present, but she didn’t care; it was still too much.
She cried until she felt all cried out, and then cried some more; cried for herself, and for Jim, and for Chris, and for the Vulcans, even though she’d only met a handful of them in her entire life; for all the cadets lost; and finally, for George, even though she’d stopped crying about him twenty years ago or more.
When she surfaced, she realized her face was buried in Phil’s shoulder, and she’d soaked a large portion of his shirt. Someone was stroking her hair, and it couldn’t be Phil as she had both of his hands clutched in hers. She shifted just enough to figure out that the warm body behind her--attached to the person stroking her hair--was Number One, and the head resting on her knee belonged to Cait. “Oh, great,” she said, throat scratchy, and coughed. “Now you’ve got me in the middle of your happy little threesome.”
Phil laughed, rumbling under her cheek. Cait smacked her knee hard enough to make a sound, but not to hurt, and One sighed.
“Thanks,” Winona said. “Really.”
“Any time,” Phil said. “With or without alcohol.”
“Seriously,” Cait said. “Even if you insist on keeping me out of Engineering,” she added under her breath.
“Winona,” One said, and Winona looked over her shoulder. “You never needed to bring me ice cream.”
Winona smiled. “I’m sure that doesn’t mean I should stop, though.”
One shrugged. “Well, I mean, I won’t say no.”
“I have to go,” Winona said. “I’ve got a son to go corral, and make him give me some answers.”
“Try to stay calm,” Cait said.
“We’ll be on stand-by with alcohol,” Phil said.
“It’s early afternoon,” Winona said.
“Does that really matter?”
“Guess not,” she said. “Thanks, all of you. I don’t--I’m glad I’ve got you as friends.”
“And we’re glad to have you.” Phil kissed her on the forehead; One squeezed her shoulder, and Cait patted her knee.
* * *
--Are you available?
Yeah, Mom. What’s up?
--No, I meant in-person.
I can do that. Want me to come over?
--No; how about we meet over by Jemison Quad?
Okay. See you in ten.
* * *
“Hi, Mom.”
Winona started, and turned. “Oh, there you are,” she said. “How are you?”
He shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual.”
She nodded. “Yeah, same here.” A pause, and then: “Why did you join Starfleet?”
Jim heaved a sigh, shoved his hands in his pockets, and said, “It was time. I don’t know. It was just the right thing to do at the right time, bar fights aside.” He shrugged. “I didn’t go in so I could change the world or anything. I just--figured it was a better use of my time, and I’d spent too many years pretending it wasn’t what I wanted to do. What I was supposed to do.”
“Supposed to do?” she echoed. “What, because you were born in space? Because both of your parents were in the ‘fleet?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Not really for either of those reasons, though; more because I’m not like Sam--I can’t make it about equations and abstractions. It’s about people, and this is how I do it.” He chuckled. “Also, space.”
Winona smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “So tell me about the third time you took the Kobayashi Maru.”
He started, and looked at her. “Who told you?” he asked.
“Admiral Joshua Pike tipped me off, which, by the way, was a fun conversation to have with him.”
“Your father-in-law?”
“Not my father-in-law,” she snapped. “This conversation is about you, not about me. Tell me what happened.”
“I thought,” he said, “that I could prove a point, that no situation is actually a no-win situation, and that if you change the way you think, any situation is winnable. But the admiralty didn’t agree, especially since Spock pushed the issue--”
“Wait, Spock Spock?” she said. “The one you’re now friends with?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jim said. “He almost choked me to death and now we’re friends.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you have to be such a stereotype?”
“Anyway,” he said, pointedly ignoring her comment, “I was on academic suspension for a while but they’ve dropped all that because of meritorious conduct, or whatever they’re calling it.”
“You know what,” she said, after she’d closed her eyes for a moment, “I probably should yell at you for cheating but I really don’t have anything left at this point. Is there anything else I need to know about that you left out so I can not look like a fool again?”
Jim shrugged. “Well, the academic suspension meant that Bones had to get me on the ship by getting me sick and then curing me right away.”
Winona groaned. “So you got him involved, too.”
“Yeah, but after saving Captain Pike’s life, he could pretty much run around Starfleet HQ stark naked and no one would care.”
She sighed. “You know, at this point, the least you could do is put the man out of his misery.”
“Mom. We’re not talking about it.”
“Okay.” She raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”
“Nothing you should need to know, no.”
“Okay,” she said. “If it turns out otherwise, I’m taking it out of your hide.”
He laughed. “Love you too, Mom.”
* * *
Later that evening, Winona was idly flipping through different holo programs when there was a chime at the door, and she stood up to answer it.
Of all people, Lieutenant Zel stood there, holding a fairly large bag. “Winona,” she said. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” Winona stepped back and let her in; the door shut behind her. “What brings you here?”
“Among Andorians--that is, my keth--there are ceremonies, I guess you’d call them, for grief and loss and life and love. We usually find them helpful.” She shrugged, the Terran gesture looking oddly normal on her. “I asked Cait Barry what would be appropriate in your case, for a Terran human, and she recommended this.” Zel pulled a data solid out of her bag. “I have here ten of the stupidest comedy movies I could find, and--” She pulled out two large bottles.
“Homebrew?” Winona asked hopefully.
“Of course,” Zel said. “And popcorn.”
Winona grinned. “Yes,” she said. “That’s absolutely perfect for this week.” She leaned in, and stopped. “It’s been a long time--I don’t remember what Andorians do when Terrans would hug.”
“You could just hug me,” Zel said.
Winona smiled, and did.
* * *
The next day--Day 3--the door still didn’t open, so she sighed--and then thought, No. I’m not taking this bullshit anymore. “This is the third day of this ridiculousness,” she said to Dr. Dehner. “What do I have to do to get him to stop--” Doubting me, she realized abruptly.
Dr. Dehner shrugged. “I can’t countermand his request, but I can deliver a message.”
“Tell him--” She stopped, and Dr. Dehner held out a padd.
Short and to the point, she reminded herself, and scribbled down a few lines, deleting half of them twice before coming up with, When I said I’d be there, I didn’t just mean when everything was going well. I love you. Let me in.
She stared at it for a while before blanking the screen and handing it over to Dr. Dehner. After the other woman left the room, she nearly ran after her to get the padd back, but didn’t, by the skin of her teeth. Instead, she waited.
She didn’t have to wait too long; her pocket beeped, and she pulled out her padd to find it blinking green. New message. With her luck, it would be a routine textcomm from Command. She thumbed the padd on, took another deep breath, and looked.
It wasn’t from Command. It was from Chris: Those had better be the first three words out of your mouth when you get in this room or I’ll kick you back out again.
Winona felt the smile spread across her face and shoved the padd back quickly into her pocket before walking quickly--not running, although if it had been anywhere but a hospital, she probably would have been sprinting--to Chris’s room. Dr. Dehner’s office was two floors up and on the opposite end of the building, but she managed to cross the distance in mere minutes.
She took the last few feet at a run; the door opened for her obediently, and she skidded to a stop just inside and said, “I love you.”
Fortunately he was alone, and the door managed to close behind her before her not-so-impromptu declaration. “I love you too,” he said, and his smile matched her own. “Come over here.”
Chris looked worse, actually, despite the smile; his hair was starting to grow back and somehow that was more pathetic than the shaved head. The lines in his face were deeper, and he was holding himself a little strangely. “How are you?” she asked, as she sat in the chair beside the bed.
He shrugged. “Not great,” he said. “No more opiates, so I’m in a lot more pain. Can’t sleep most of the time.”
“What’s actually wrong?” she asked. “I was going to ask, but I figured, not at first, and then--Well, anyway.”
He winced. “Two things,” he said. “First, the bug burrowed through my body until it reached my brain stem, and latched on there, secreting some stuff that has truth-serum properties. Most of that was fixed either with surgery--removing the bug and repairing damage--or with, well, basically dialysis: filtering my blood. The bigger problem is that the secretions have demyelinizing properties as well and wrecked my nervous system.”
“And in Standard?”
“Basically, it’s giving me MS. Multiple sclerosis. Also Guillain-Barré Syndrome.”
“Oh,” she said. She’d never actually heard of either disease, which meant they were particularly rare, or that the Federation had long since cured them. “So you’re in pain? Anything else?”
“Tingling, loss of sensation, partial paralysis. They stopped it before it hit my diaphragm, but still. I’ve also--my vision’s blurred, has been since yesterday,” he said. “I can’t read at the moment, and you’re a pinkish, blondish blur. But still beautiful,” he said quickly.
She smiled, and squeezed his hand. “What can they do?”
“Oh, they’re pretty sure they can fix both,” he said. “It’s just . . . not a fast or easy or painless procedure, and there still may be permanent damage, mostly in the realm of neuropathy.”
“Which means . . .”
“Nerves that don’t work terribly well, even after having been re-myelinized. Myelin is the coating around the nerves that allows them to conduct nerve impulses--electricity, basically.”
“I am, for the first time in my life, regretting not having a best friend who’s a doctor,” Winona said.
Chris chuckled. “Yeah. My parents actually thought Phil and I were together at one point.”
“I know,” Winona said. “Something about a next-of-kin form.”
“Did Phil tell you?”
“Ah, no,” she said. “Actually, um, I ran into your parents yesterday.”
He blinked. “Oh. Well, that’s one way to do the meet-the-parents shtick. Please tell me they didn’t scare you away permanently.”
“If you’d ever met Tiberius and Martha Kirk, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”
“I have met George’s parents,” he pointed out. “I still think my dad’s worse. And my mother--I assume she didn’t ask you about our sex life yet.”
“No, thank goodness,” Winona said. “Is that what she studies?”
“This decade,” he said.
“Ah.” She paused and said, “Can I ask--actually, let me say first that I’m sorry that whatever I said or did wasn’t enough and you felt that you needed to keep me away.”
“I don’t--” He sighed. “I’m not entirely sure all my decisions have been rational recently. Not--I mean, the 105--that was completely rational and I definitely will not ever regret that. But--I also had them lower the doses of the drugs that was keeping the--the torture away, and that--I’m not--you don’t need to be around for that.”
“I don’t suppose I need to be around it, but I’m not going to run away.”
He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before holding a hand out. “Thank you,” he said, his hand shaking visibly, and she took it in both of hers.
“Besides,” she said, a few minutes later. “I suppose you’re allowed your moment of wavering.”
He gave a quiet huff of laughter. “I suppose I am.” A moment later, he said, “You’re . . . not the only one who was--is--afraid.”
“Yeah?” she said, trying to sound encouraging.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Winona, your first husband has practically been sainted.”
“Oh,” she said. “Huh. I thought since you knew him, you’d be a little more immune to that.”
“You’d think,” he said.
“He--I mean, we were together for fifteen years, married for twelve. I’ve got a lot of memories of him and not all of them are happy-sparkle-fluffy.”
“Well, I know, but--”
“He was a person; a real person, with all that entails. Twenty-five years hasn’t made me forget the year he took me to a hot dog stand for my birthday,” she said.
“Was it a really nice or very significant hot dog stand?”
“No, not really,” she said. “He’d managed to mix up the days of the week. We were on shore leave, but still.” She spread her hands, or at least the one he wasn’t holding on to. “He gave me some dud birthday presents. We fought about stupid things. Once in a while, he’d elbow me in his sleep. Also, he snored like a--well, like no one you’ve ever heard snore before.”
“I don’t snore,” he said, with the certainty only displayed, in Winona’s experience, by people who absolutely did snore.
“You do,” she said, “but it’s faint and I am well used to sleeping through worse.”
“Crap,” he said. “Phil told me he fixed that.”
Winona laughed. “Honestly, though, he--you shouldn’t ever need to worry about him. I don’t know what I can say to make you believe that, but that was a different time and I’m in a lot of ways a different person.”
Chris nodded.
“What hurts right now?” she asked.
“Basically everything,” he said. “My hands are okay, I guess; they’re a little numb.” She loosened her grip on his hand and he shook his head. “You aren’t hurting me.”
“Can I kiss you?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, and she did.
“You really can’t see me?” she asked.
“Not particularly, no,” he said. “I can’t get any visual clues; I’m mostly going by your voice.”
“Then why on earth did I brush my hair?” she asked, and he laughed. “Look,” she said. “Please don’t keep me out?” She didn’t like how desperate she sounded, but he squeezed her hand and closed his eyes. “I just got you,” she added. “Took me a while to get here, but I made it.”
He smiled. “I won’t keep you out.”
--fin--
Back to Part Three | Back to Master Post
Later, after he’d fallen asleep again, Winona left Starfleet Medical and headed over to Glenn Hall. His apartment was roughly the same as she remembered it; there were clean dishes sitting next to the sink, so she replaced them in the cabinets. He’d left his toothbrush sitting on the side of the sink instead of in the holder, so she put that back, too. The bed had hospital-sharp corners, but the sheets weren’t brand new; she sat in the middle of the bed after turning the sheets down and inhaled.
There it was: the smell she’d missed for the last six weeks. And, of course, there were the tears. She sniffled into his pillow for a few minutes before getting herself a tissue and then going to the living room, to sit on the couch and not be maudlin for a few minutes.
Her padd was blinking, so she checked it and found about ten messages, mostly short textcomms saying some variation on ‘congratulations!’ The message from Sam was a little more involved, as she’d somehow managed to avoid telling him about anything about Chris in the first place, but apparently Jim had filled him in.
Speaking of Jim, he’d left her a textcomm insisting that she call at once; it was only around dinnertime, so she sent him a quick note that she was available and could take his call any time he wanted. He binged her comm line less than a minute later, and she routed it through Chris’s large monitor.
“Mom,” he said. “Am I supposed to call him Step-Dad now?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she said, and rolled her eyes. “No, you’re supposed to call him ‘Captain Pike, sir,’ unless he tells you otherwise.”
Jim laughed. “Congrats, though. You might want to call Sam; he called me this afternoon and wasn’t too happy that he had no notice.”
“Yeah, I got his thinly-veiled nasty-gram,” Winona said. “Apparently I raised a pair of heathens. Don’t either of you respect your mother?”
“Hey!” he said. “I respect you a lot. I could have asked, ‘Hey, do they let you form contracts when you’re on more than four kinds of drugs?’”
She rolled her eyes. If he’d been on drugs that affected his ability to consent or form contracts, Liz wouldn’t have suggested it.
“Except I already know the answer to that one: yes, but either of you might be able to challenge it later. Somehow I don’t think you’re going to, though.”
“Probably not,” she agreed.
“He’s not--not going to be captaining a ship again, is he.”
The sudden shift in tone threw her for a moment, but there really wasn’t much doubt as to what Jim meant. “Not in the near future, no.”
He nodded, and let out a long breath. “I wanted to be his XO.”
“I’m pretty sure that gig was going to Spock, Jim,” she said.
“Oh, I know it was supposed to, but I figured if I was just that amazing, and since I was command track, not sciences, then maybe he’d change his mind. I don’t know.” Jim looked above the camera for a moment. “I don’t even know if Spock actually wants to be a captain, at least of a regular ship. I mean, or if he did. It’s all different now, probably moot. He and I ended up working pretty well together, so if he stays with Starfleet and we end up on the same ship, probably tactics and science officer, respectively, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. But, I mean, as much trouble as I gave Captain Pike, I’m not stupid enough to think there isn’t a ton that I could have learned from him.”
“He’s not dead,” she said, maybe a little sharper than she should have. “He may be grounded for a while, or even permanently, but you certainly can still learn from him.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jim said, “but probably not as his first officer. I suppose that fixes the problem of being first officer with my mother as chief engineer, though.”
Winona sighed. “That would have been interesting.”
“Are you grounded?”
“I’ll probably take a year on Earth,” she said, “yes. I can take leave, or, well, I’ve got almost forty years in; I might take the damn promotion they’ve been trying to shove on me for years.” She sighed again. “I don’t know what’s going to happen after that and I’ve been doing a very good job of not thinking about it.”
“Why? Afraid?”
He sounded curious instead of sarcastic or challenging, so she gave him half an answer. “When, to date, you can’t forget what happened the last time you felt like this because your job keeps shoving it in your face, it’s a little difficult not to be afraid. And no, I’m not going to discuss this anymore with you.”
Jim held his hands up. “I really don’t want to hear anymore, I promise. I just . . . I know we haven’t had the smoothest relationship, but I do want you to be happy.”
“I know,” she said. “I want you to be happy, too. Speaking of, that doctor of yours . . .”
“Oh, my God, Mom, no.”
She called Sam next, and spent a few minutes groveling and promising to bring Chris to Christmas this year, however damn many months it was away, and making faces at her year-and-a-half-old grandson, who gave a big smile and patted the screen.
The next morning, she showed up to the hospital, and the door to Chris’s room wouldn’t open. She touched her fingers to the annunciator, and got nothing. She tried again, and same result. Odd. She went to the nurse’s station and asked, and was told she should talk to Dr. Dehner.
“Ah,” Dr. Dehner said a few minutes later, in her office. “He insisted that we start taking him off some of the short-term drugs that were keeping some of the effects at bay, late last night, and since there was no medical reason not to do so, we did. Unfortunately, things have been kind of rough for him, and when he said no visitors, he told us he meant that literally.” She spread her hands. “I don’t know what to tell you. I told him you would still want to see him.”
“Oh,” Winona said. She was a little disappointed but not particularly insulted. “Well, um, tomorrow?”
“I hope so,” Dr. Dehner said. “If nothing else, I’ve heard that the admiral and the professor will be back on Earth in the next day or so.”
“The who?”
Dr. Dehner smiled. “Chris’s parents.”
“Oh.” Winona winced. She really was too old for this shit. “Well. I’ll try back tomorrow. Maybe I’ll send him a textcomm or something.”
She did, but got an auto-response: Capt. C. Pike is not available at the present time. That stung a little, but she buried it quickly and commed One to invite her to lunch or dinner or something.
There’s a nice Andorian-fusion café that’s very close to the Grand Ole Creamery.
--Hey. I’m not asking you to lunch for any sort of reason other than food and a relatively-clear schedule.
That doesn’t mean we don’t need ice cream.
--Fair enough.
One waited until the food came out before saying, “So, a 105?”
Winona shrugged. “Served all necessary purposes.”
“Oh?”
Winona sighed. “You know,” she said, “I’m rather sick of my personal life being treated as public property by Starfleet.”
One’s face flooded with sympathy. “I can understand that. Obviously I’m not asking as your captain--or, I suppose, your former captain--but as a friend, but I expect you’re sick of any inquiry.”
“That’s about it,” Winona said, and felt a pang of remorse for her sharp response. “I don’t mean to--”
“I know,” One said. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think I’ve seen him nearly as happy as he has been the last few weeks. Provided you’re happy, I don’t need to know any more.”
Winona almost burst into tears of relief, but just said, “Thank you.”
“I expect to be invited to the formal ceremony, though.”
“Ugh, there isn’t going to be one, if I have my way,” she said. “I did that once; that’s enough. Although I suppose he’s never. Damn. Speaking of, what do I need to know about his parents?”
One sighed. “He and his dad don’t get along all that well, but they did come to a détente some five or seven years ago, when his dad retired from active duty. His mother is a tad eccentric but she’s really very nice and, I would guess, since you’re Terran human, you won’t be up for as many questions as I was.”
Winona smiled. “What does she study?”
“You know, I’ve never been exactly sure, but somewhere in the xeno-anthropology field.”
“Ah. And because you’re Ilyrian--”
“I’m not, really,” One said, unexpectedly. “By heritage, certainly, but I got out of there as soon as I could. I don’t do a very good job of adhering to Ilyrian principles of behavior, and I don’t want to. I think at this point I’m just a generic Federation citizen.”
“Oh.” Winona wasn’t sure to say to that, so she offered a smile. “We’re glad to have you?”
“Thanks,” One said.
* * *
The next morning was the same story; Winona didn’t know if she should have expected it or not, but it was now annoying. On the way out, she passed by a tall man with a shock of white hair and piercing blue eyes, and a tiny woman, also white-haired, with gray eyes and--Chris’s face, she realized abruptly. “Admiral Pike? Dr. Pike?” she said. Oh, God, was she doing this? She could have just walked out.
They stopped and turned around. “Yes?” Dr. Pike said. “Oh, you’re Winona Kirk. We were hoping we’d get to meet you. Have you seen Chris today?”
“Ah, no, actually,” she said. “Nor yesterday. He’s not taking visitors at the moment, which includes me.”
“That won’t include us,” Admiral Pike said.
Dr. Pike poked him in the shoulder. “If it includes his wife, it’ll include us.”
“I’m not his wife,” Winona said quickly, with a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach.
“Wife, fiancée, whatever,” Dr. Pike said, with a gesture.
Winona swallowed. Not fiancée, either was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say it.
“Have you eaten breakfast?” Dr. Pike asked.
“I could use more coffee,” she said. She’d had a bagel earlier.
“Well, then,” Dr. Pike said, and led Winona and her husband off to the commissary.
Even though Dr. Pike told her to call them Mina and Josh, Winona couldn’t help but think of Chris’s parents by their titles. Watching the admiral scarf down an omelet didn’t change that. Dr. Pike was warm and personable and clearly wanted to ask Winona all about herself, but Admiral Pike had obviously pulled her service jacket and seemed to know everything about her life, inside of Starfleet and out. “You were married to George Kirk,” the admiral said.
Winona nodded. Most of Starfleet knew that much.
“And you’ve got a couple of adult children.”
“Sam is twenty-nine; he’s married to Aurelan and they have a son, Peter, with another kid on the way.”
“Yes,” he said. “Dr. Kirk and Dr. Jira both contract with Starfleet from time to time.”
Ah. That explained why Chris and Phil had met him. “Jim is--well, I’m sure you know all about Jim.” Again, common knowledge.
Admiral Pike rolled his eyes. “Troublemaker.”
It was undeniable, but Winona couldn’t let this man--an outsider--say it. Not with that tone. “He’s been very successful so far,” she said.
“You’re going to defend his cheating?” he said.
“I don’t know anything about that,” she said, and her heart sank.
“Josh,” Dr. Pike said, and by his reaction, kicked him under the table. “Let’s go back to the more important part. You obviously did see Chris at some point, right?”
Winona nodded. “He, ah--they shaved his head. I guess he had several surgeries, but they got the bug out and they’re waiting for the swelling to go down before they make any permanent assessments. He’d been on high doses of painkillers and they just started bringing him down off of those a couple days ago.” She didn’t mention any of the psychological effects; besides, any more than what she said was his information to give, not hers.
“You and Chris have known each other a long time, haven’t you?” Admiral Pike said.
The question took her by surprise, and she said, “Ah, I guess? Technically.”
“He was on the Kelvin with you briefly while he was still at the Academy.”
“Yes,” Winona said. “I don’t particularly remember it. I was pregnant with Sam at the time and spent most of my free time hiding in quarters, trying not to be too nauseated.”
Dr. Pike smiled at her. “No wonder you don’t remember him. Those aren’t fun days.”
“No, ma’am, they’re not.”
“So, when exactly did you decide to make this official?”
Winona blushed. “I’m sorry if he never mentioned anything to you--”
“Oh, he never does,” Dr. Pike said, with a glare at her husband. “I don’t think we’ve ever found out about a partner of his until he changes his next-of-kin notification form, and even then, sometimes he turns the notifications off.”
Winona smiled.
“Although,” Dr. Pike said, “that could be because after he broke it off with Janeese, he changed his next-of-kin to Dr. Boyce and some of us got the wrong idea.”
Admiral Pike chuckled. “That was a bit--premature, let’s say.”
It was the first display of warmth from him, and Winona had been waiting for it--waiting for an explanation as to how he and Dr. Pike had remained married for what was probably closing in on half a century. It helped, the chuckle, but he was still damn intimidating.
“Anyway,” Dr. Pike said, patting Winona’s hand. “We’re in town indefinitely; I hope you’ll feel free to come by and visit, especially when Chris feels like having visitors again.”
Winona nodded.
* * *
After she went home--back to Chris’s--she remembered what the admiral had said about Jim cheating; how could she forget? Normally she’d go to Chris for more information, but that wasn’t an option right now. Barnett was head of the Starfleet Academy Board, but she’d never been in much contact with him. Finally, she sent a quick textcomm to Dr. Boyce. Can I meet with you briefly?
Sure, he replied almost immediately. Is this about Chris?
--No; Jim.
Ahhh, you heard about the hearing, did you?
--No, and that’s the problem. I’d like a rundown of the facts before I yell at Jim about it.
I would contact Number One--I think she actually knows more about it than I do.
--All right. She was not pleased that everyone in Starfleet appeared to know about Jim cheating except her, but she checked One’s public schedule--nothing that afternoon--and went to pick up a couple of pints of ice cream from Crema Café. Kid’s going to reimburse me for all this bribery I’m doing on his behalf, she thought, and shoved two spoons in her pocket.
When she got back to Chris’s place, she sent One a textcomm saying, I have Crema Café ice cream I’m willing to trade for information.
Hopefully I have information you want, One replied.
A couple hours later Winona said, “Maybe I should go running with Jim tomorrow, with the amount of ice cream I’ve been eating.”
One laughed. “What is it you wanted to ask?”
“Jim,” she said. “Admiral Pike said something about Jim cheating on something?”
“Oh,” One said. “From what I’ve heard, Jim installed a subroutine that changed the parameters of the Kobayashi Maru test in the middle, allowing him to win it. He’d already successfully taken the test twice before that. There was a hearing on the matter, but before it finished, the distress call had already come in and they sent everyone off on ships.”
Winona closed her eyes. Fuck. This really was the last straw. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she said. “I have no idea why no one thought to tell me that and why Jim even decided that was a good idea, but you know what? I just don’t have room for any more bullshit on my plate.” She put the lid back on her pint, set it down on One’s end table, and stalked out. She heard One calling after her, but didn’t stop.
She didn’t get all that far, though; before she hit the end of the hall, she heard another voice calling her name--Phil’s--and half-turned out of instinct. He was standing with his head and shoulders poking out of a door, not five feet away, and said, “Fuck,” when she met his eyes. “Come here.”
Winona shook her head--if she said a word she’d start crying--but he ignored that and walked over. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he guided her into his quarters, giving her ample time to complain if she was going to. Once inside--once the door had shut--he pulled her into his arms and said, “You’re right, this is bullshit, from beginning to end, but the point of having friends is that you don’t have to handle it all alone. Not again.”
“Damn you,” she said weakly, and fell apart.
She dimly felt him lead her to the couch, and she knew a couple other people were present, but she didn’t care; it was still too much.
She cried until she felt all cried out, and then cried some more; cried for herself, and for Jim, and for Chris, and for the Vulcans, even though she’d only met a handful of them in her entire life; for all the cadets lost; and finally, for George, even though she’d stopped crying about him twenty years ago or more.
When she surfaced, she realized her face was buried in Phil’s shoulder, and she’d soaked a large portion of his shirt. Someone was stroking her hair, and it couldn’t be Phil as she had both of his hands clutched in hers. She shifted just enough to figure out that the warm body behind her--attached to the person stroking her hair--was Number One, and the head resting on her knee belonged to Cait. “Oh, great,” she said, throat scratchy, and coughed. “Now you’ve got me in the middle of your happy little threesome.”
Phil laughed, rumbling under her cheek. Cait smacked her knee hard enough to make a sound, but not to hurt, and One sighed.
“Thanks,” Winona said. “Really.”
“Any time,” Phil said. “With or without alcohol.”
“Seriously,” Cait said. “Even if you insist on keeping me out of Engineering,” she added under her breath.
“Winona,” One said, and Winona looked over her shoulder. “You never needed to bring me ice cream.”
Winona smiled. “I’m sure that doesn’t mean I should stop, though.”
One shrugged. “Well, I mean, I won’t say no.”
“I have to go,” Winona said. “I’ve got a son to go corral, and make him give me some answers.”
“Try to stay calm,” Cait said.
“We’ll be on stand-by with alcohol,” Phil said.
“It’s early afternoon,” Winona said.
“Does that really matter?”
“Guess not,” she said. “Thanks, all of you. I don’t--I’m glad I’ve got you as friends.”
“And we’re glad to have you.” Phil kissed her on the forehead; One squeezed her shoulder, and Cait patted her knee.
* * *
--Are you available?
Yeah, Mom. What’s up?
--No, I meant in-person.
I can do that. Want me to come over?
--No; how about we meet over by Jemison Quad?
Okay. See you in ten.
* * *
“Hi, Mom.”
Winona started, and turned. “Oh, there you are,” she said. “How are you?”
He shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual.”
She nodded. “Yeah, same here.” A pause, and then: “Why did you join Starfleet?”
Jim heaved a sigh, shoved his hands in his pockets, and said, “It was time. I don’t know. It was just the right thing to do at the right time, bar fights aside.” He shrugged. “I didn’t go in so I could change the world or anything. I just--figured it was a better use of my time, and I’d spent too many years pretending it wasn’t what I wanted to do. What I was supposed to do.”
“Supposed to do?” she echoed. “What, because you were born in space? Because both of your parents were in the ‘fleet?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Not really for either of those reasons, though; more because I’m not like Sam--I can’t make it about equations and abstractions. It’s about people, and this is how I do it.” He chuckled. “Also, space.”
Winona smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “So tell me about the third time you took the Kobayashi Maru.”
He started, and looked at her. “Who told you?” he asked.
“Admiral Joshua Pike tipped me off, which, by the way, was a fun conversation to have with him.”
“Your father-in-law?”
“Not my father-in-law,” she snapped. “This conversation is about you, not about me. Tell me what happened.”
“I thought,” he said, “that I could prove a point, that no situation is actually a no-win situation, and that if you change the way you think, any situation is winnable. But the admiralty didn’t agree, especially since Spock pushed the issue--”
“Wait, Spock Spock?” she said. “The one you’re now friends with?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jim said. “He almost choked me to death and now we’re friends.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you have to be such a stereotype?”
“Anyway,” he said, pointedly ignoring her comment, “I was on academic suspension for a while but they’ve dropped all that because of meritorious conduct, or whatever they’re calling it.”
“You know what,” she said, after she’d closed her eyes for a moment, “I probably should yell at you for cheating but I really don’t have anything left at this point. Is there anything else I need to know about that you left out so I can not look like a fool again?”
Jim shrugged. “Well, the academic suspension meant that Bones had to get me on the ship by getting me sick and then curing me right away.”
Winona groaned. “So you got him involved, too.”
“Yeah, but after saving Captain Pike’s life, he could pretty much run around Starfleet HQ stark naked and no one would care.”
She sighed. “You know, at this point, the least you could do is put the man out of his misery.”
“Mom. We’re not talking about it.”
“Okay.” She raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”
“Nothing you should need to know, no.”
“Okay,” she said. “If it turns out otherwise, I’m taking it out of your hide.”
He laughed. “Love you too, Mom.”
* * *
Later that evening, Winona was idly flipping through different holo programs when there was a chime at the door, and she stood up to answer it.
Of all people, Lieutenant Zel stood there, holding a fairly large bag. “Winona,” she said. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” Winona stepped back and let her in; the door shut behind her. “What brings you here?”
“Among Andorians--that is, my keth--there are ceremonies, I guess you’d call them, for grief and loss and life and love. We usually find them helpful.” She shrugged, the Terran gesture looking oddly normal on her. “I asked Cait Barry what would be appropriate in your case, for a Terran human, and she recommended this.” Zel pulled a data solid out of her bag. “I have here ten of the stupidest comedy movies I could find, and--” She pulled out two large bottles.
“Homebrew?” Winona asked hopefully.
“Of course,” Zel said. “And popcorn.”
Winona grinned. “Yes,” she said. “That’s absolutely perfect for this week.” She leaned in, and stopped. “It’s been a long time--I don’t remember what Andorians do when Terrans would hug.”
“You could just hug me,” Zel said.
Winona smiled, and did.
* * *
The next day--Day 3--the door still didn’t open, so she sighed--and then thought, No. I’m not taking this bullshit anymore. “This is the third day of this ridiculousness,” she said to Dr. Dehner. “What do I have to do to get him to stop--” Doubting me, she realized abruptly.
Dr. Dehner shrugged. “I can’t countermand his request, but I can deliver a message.”
“Tell him--” She stopped, and Dr. Dehner held out a padd.
Short and to the point, she reminded herself, and scribbled down a few lines, deleting half of them twice before coming up with, When I said I’d be there, I didn’t just mean when everything was going well. I love you. Let me in.
She stared at it for a while before blanking the screen and handing it over to Dr. Dehner. After the other woman left the room, she nearly ran after her to get the padd back, but didn’t, by the skin of her teeth. Instead, she waited.
She didn’t have to wait too long; her pocket beeped, and she pulled out her padd to find it blinking green. New message. With her luck, it would be a routine textcomm from Command. She thumbed the padd on, took another deep breath, and looked.
It wasn’t from Command. It was from Chris: Those had better be the first three words out of your mouth when you get in this room or I’ll kick you back out again.
Winona felt the smile spread across her face and shoved the padd back quickly into her pocket before walking quickly--not running, although if it had been anywhere but a hospital, she probably would have been sprinting--to Chris’s room. Dr. Dehner’s office was two floors up and on the opposite end of the building, but she managed to cross the distance in mere minutes.
She took the last few feet at a run; the door opened for her obediently, and she skidded to a stop just inside and said, “I love you.”
Fortunately he was alone, and the door managed to close behind her before her not-so-impromptu declaration. “I love you too,” he said, and his smile matched her own. “Come over here.”
Chris looked worse, actually, despite the smile; his hair was starting to grow back and somehow that was more pathetic than the shaved head. The lines in his face were deeper, and he was holding himself a little strangely. “How are you?” she asked, as she sat in the chair beside the bed.
He shrugged. “Not great,” he said. “No more opiates, so I’m in a lot more pain. Can’t sleep most of the time.”
“What’s actually wrong?” she asked. “I was going to ask, but I figured, not at first, and then--Well, anyway.”
He winced. “Two things,” he said. “First, the bug burrowed through my body until it reached my brain stem, and latched on there, secreting some stuff that has truth-serum properties. Most of that was fixed either with surgery--removing the bug and repairing damage--or with, well, basically dialysis: filtering my blood. The bigger problem is that the secretions have demyelinizing properties as well and wrecked my nervous system.”
“And in Standard?”
“Basically, it’s giving me MS. Multiple sclerosis. Also Guillain-Barré Syndrome.”
“Oh,” she said. She’d never actually heard of either disease, which meant they were particularly rare, or that the Federation had long since cured them. “So you’re in pain? Anything else?”
“Tingling, loss of sensation, partial paralysis. They stopped it before it hit my diaphragm, but still. I’ve also--my vision’s blurred, has been since yesterday,” he said. “I can’t read at the moment, and you’re a pinkish, blondish blur. But still beautiful,” he said quickly.
She smiled, and squeezed his hand. “What can they do?”
“Oh, they’re pretty sure they can fix both,” he said. “It’s just . . . not a fast or easy or painless procedure, and there still may be permanent damage, mostly in the realm of neuropathy.”
“Which means . . .”
“Nerves that don’t work terribly well, even after having been re-myelinized. Myelin is the coating around the nerves that allows them to conduct nerve impulses--electricity, basically.”
“I am, for the first time in my life, regretting not having a best friend who’s a doctor,” Winona said.
Chris chuckled. “Yeah. My parents actually thought Phil and I were together at one point.”
“I know,” Winona said. “Something about a next-of-kin form.”
“Did Phil tell you?”
“Ah, no,” she said. “Actually, um, I ran into your parents yesterday.”
He blinked. “Oh. Well, that’s one way to do the meet-the-parents shtick. Please tell me they didn’t scare you away permanently.”
“If you’d ever met Tiberius and Martha Kirk, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”
“I have met George’s parents,” he pointed out. “I still think my dad’s worse. And my mother--I assume she didn’t ask you about our sex life yet.”
“No, thank goodness,” Winona said. “Is that what she studies?”
“This decade,” he said.
“Ah.” She paused and said, “Can I ask--actually, let me say first that I’m sorry that whatever I said or did wasn’t enough and you felt that you needed to keep me away.”
“I don’t--” He sighed. “I’m not entirely sure all my decisions have been rational recently. Not--I mean, the 105--that was completely rational and I definitely will not ever regret that. But--I also had them lower the doses of the drugs that was keeping the--the torture away, and that--I’m not--you don’t need to be around for that.”
“I don’t suppose I need to be around it, but I’m not going to run away.”
He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before holding a hand out. “Thank you,” he said, his hand shaking visibly, and she took it in both of hers.
“Besides,” she said, a few minutes later. “I suppose you’re allowed your moment of wavering.”
He gave a quiet huff of laughter. “I suppose I am.” A moment later, he said, “You’re . . . not the only one who was--is--afraid.”
“Yeah?” she said, trying to sound encouraging.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Winona, your first husband has practically been sainted.”
“Oh,” she said. “Huh. I thought since you knew him, you’d be a little more immune to that.”
“You’d think,” he said.
“He--I mean, we were together for fifteen years, married for twelve. I’ve got a lot of memories of him and not all of them are happy-sparkle-fluffy.”
“Well, I know, but--”
“He was a person; a real person, with all that entails. Twenty-five years hasn’t made me forget the year he took me to a hot dog stand for my birthday,” she said.
“Was it a really nice or very significant hot dog stand?”
“No, not really,” she said. “He’d managed to mix up the days of the week. We were on shore leave, but still.” She spread her hands, or at least the one he wasn’t holding on to. “He gave me some dud birthday presents. We fought about stupid things. Once in a while, he’d elbow me in his sleep. Also, he snored like a--well, like no one you’ve ever heard snore before.”
“I don’t snore,” he said, with the certainty only displayed, in Winona’s experience, by people who absolutely did snore.
“You do,” she said, “but it’s faint and I am well used to sleeping through worse.”
“Crap,” he said. “Phil told me he fixed that.”
Winona laughed. “Honestly, though, he--you shouldn’t ever need to worry about him. I don’t know what I can say to make you believe that, but that was a different time and I’m in a lot of ways a different person.”
Chris nodded.
“What hurts right now?” she asked.
“Basically everything,” he said. “My hands are okay, I guess; they’re a little numb.” She loosened her grip on his hand and he shook his head. “You aren’t hurting me.”
“Can I kiss you?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, and she did.
“You really can’t see me?” she asked.
“Not particularly, no,” he said. “I can’t get any visual clues; I’m mostly going by your voice.”
“Then why on earth did I brush my hair?” she asked, and he laughed. “Look,” she said. “Please don’t keep me out?” She didn’t like how desperate she sounded, but he squeezed her hand and closed his eyes. “I just got you,” she added. “Took me a while to get here, but I made it.”
He smiled. “I won’t keep you out.”
--fin--
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