star trek: measure of a man (Epilogue: Part I)
Day 920, Hour 3
Jim doesn’t realize how much the adrenaline was really controlling him until he finally gets the chance to sit down. He sinks down into the Captain’s chair, hoping his exhale sounds natural as his injuries flare into his awareness. Damn, his body hurts. It hurts so much that Sickbay is actually tempting, but Bones has his hands full enough as it is with Captain Pike and the Vulcan Elders, not to mention anyone else. And the crew needs to see that he’s functioning, capable. Besides, as long as there’s coffee he’ll be fine. He has to be.
Bones doesn’t come up to the bridge for several more hours.
Things have actually been pretty quiet, because Jim ordered mostly everyone to go get some rest. Only Sulu and Uhura are left, and he’s aware they’ve been sneaking glances at him but he’s pretended not to notice. Even with the coffee, he’s already dozed off a couple times, jerking awake with no idea of how long he was out (though he likes to think it wasn’t long enough for anyone to pick up on).
But Sulu and Uhura are already sharing a look between themselves.
Great.
This is when Bones appears, scowling before he even opens his mouth.
“How long did you think you could hide up here, Jim?”
Jim groans. “I’m fine.”
“Oh yeah?” Bones asks, eyeing the half empty mug of coffee in his hand. “What number is that?”
“That’s none of your business-”
“Because you lost count?”
“It’s his sixth,” Uhura calls, smirking.
Sulu chuckles.
“I didn’t ask you, Lieutenant,” Jim practically growls, and he’s glowering at Bones. “Listen, Bones, I’m fine-”
“Look, Jim, I know you well enough by now to know that when you say that you’re decidedly not fine.” Huffing in frustration, he continues, “I know how much you love your chair Jim, but it’ll still be here when you get back from Sickbay, I assure you.”
Jim passes a hand sluggishly across his tired eyes and considers. His body is definitely starting to ache just about everywhere since the adrenaline is pretty much gone, and while he knows he needs the sleep-a week of it at least, and then some-the crew needs him more right now.
“All right,” he agrees finally, reluctantly, and lifts a finger in warning as he continues, “you can check me out. But you can’t drug me, unless its caffeine. With everything that’s happened-the crew needs to see me, needs to know that at least I’m okay.”
Bones is frowning, not convinced. “Is this really about the crew, Jim? Or you?”
“When I need a shrink, I’ll let you know.”
Shit, he hadn’t meant to snap.
Finally, he sighs. “All right. I’ll go down there with you so you can look me over and treat me. But I won’t sleep for more than an hour, and no hypos. Deal?”
Bones nods. “Sure, kid. Come on, let’s go.”
Jim shakes off Bones’s hand as he gets up, but he swears Sulu and Uhura are the only reasons he’s able to walk to the lift on his own. As soon as the door closes, his knees buckle and his eyes slip shut, and the last thing he’s aware of before he passes out is the secure, safe feeling of Bones’s arms wrapped around him.
Day 921, Hour 12
When Jim wakes up, he’s so disoriented it takes him a few moments to take stock of his surroundings. There’s a dull ache pulsating behind his eyes, his mouth is so dry that even opening it takes considerable effort, and though he doesn’t hurt too badly anymore his entire body feels stiff. All trademark effects of a hypo.
“Well, well, Sleeping Beauty awakes! And you didn’t even need true love’s kiss.”
Jim rubs at the back of his neck, too angry to entertain Bones’s attempt at humor as he strolls into Sickbay.
“Damnit Bones, I told you not to hypo me!”
Lifting an eyebrow, Bones says, “I didn’t even have to, kid. You were out practically from the moment you laid down on the bed.”
Narrowing his eyes, Jim asks, “How long?”
“About ten hours.”
God-fucking-damnit.
No wonder his head feels fuzzy. The headache that’s been thrumming subtly but insistently behind his eyes ever since he opened them isn’t helping either, but he resists the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose. There’s no way Bones will let him out of here if he sees that.
“Great,” Jim mutters, tentatively swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Bones demands, stepping forward.
“Exactly what it looks like.”
Jim gives him a hard stare, daring him to object. Bones considers him for a long while, and finally he sighs. “As your doctor, I don’t think this is a good idea. But as your friend, I know that nothing I say will have any affect if your mind is already made up, so I’m not going to force you here against your will.”
Relieved, Jim says gratefully, “Thank you.”
He’s got to keep busy. If he’s not, all he’ll have to do is think, and right now he would rather not think about anything.
“But you’ve got to come back here if you’re not feeling well,” Bones insists. “With Pike, the Vulcans, and everyone else, I can’t come track you down all the time. I want you to promise me I won’t have to.”
With as much sincerity as he can muster, Jim says, “I promise, Bones.” Then he asks, softly, “How is Pike, anyway?”
“Still hasn’t been lucid,” Bones says, and Jim knows he has to be worried because he hasn’t even made him swear on something. “I’m not looking forward to telling him that he might not be able to walk again.”
Jim winces. “Well, if you don’t want to do that alone-”
“Thanks, Jim, but I assure you I’ll be fine.” Lifting an eyebrow, he continues, “Now who does that remind you of?”
In spite of the seriousness of the matter, Jim can’t help a chuckle. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Even Bones guffaws slightly. “Funny. Now get going before I change my mind. I’ll let you know when Pike wakes up, I’m sure he’ll have some words for you anyway.”
“I can’t wait,” Jim mutters, but if that means Pike is functioning enough to talk, he supposes he won’t mind all that much.
Day 922, Hour 15
Jim’s aware of Spock watching him, and he swears Bones advised his Bridge crew to spy on him because he thinks Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu are still sneaking looks at him. He doesn’t understand why, because all he’s been doing is sitting in this chair. Sure, his body’s still a little stiff, he’s heartsick when he thinks about all who may have died, and he just found out who killed his father, that his father would still be alive in another universe.
On top of all that, he’s pretty sure he could sleep for another lifetime.
But the crew needs to see their Captain, and he would sacrifice more than a hypo for them. He’s sure Bones will understand. What he doesn’t want is Spock-or anyone else for that matter-sneaking down to Medical to report on him.
“I hope you don’t think you’re being subtle, Mr. Spock. I don’t need to look at you to feel your eyes on my back.”
Spock doesn’t even blink. “I am not sure I am aware of what you are speaking, Captain.”
Jim rolls his eyes. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not as stupid as I look. I’m on to you.” He turns around in his chair to look out at the rest of the crew, who are suddenly studiously focused on their stations. “All of you.”
“I do not think you are unintelligent, Captain.”
Jim swears he saw an eyebrow twitch, but if it did it only lasted for a second, and since the rest of Spock’s expression didn’t change, it’s hard to tell if it meant anything. But still. He’s pretty sure Spock’s eyebrows are the only part of his face that respond with any kind of emotion, and even then it’s a twitch, hardly perceptible to an untrained eye. And each twitch probably has a different meaning.
“I know you’re laughing at me, Mr. Spock,” Jim declares, deciding to call him out on the eyebrows to see if he’ll confess. “I saw that twitch.”
Uhura snorts right as Spock says, very seriously, “I do not twitch.”
“Geez, Spock, it was a joke!” Jim says, lingering exhaustion making him more irritable and moody than usual. “Surely you were aware of those…”
His voice trails off when he realizes what he’d been about to say-on your planet. Fuck. He manages to finish with, “when you were growing up,” but the damage is done.
Spock’s back straightens even more-something Jim thought to be impossible-and the emotion leaves his eyebrows. He clasps his hands behind his back. “Quite.”
Jim resists the urge to groan. “Spock-”
“Is that all, Captain?”
Pushing this right now isn’t going to make things better. But it’s hard to ignore the instinct. Finally, he nods once. “Yes, Mr. Spock.”
Spock doesn’t even look at him as he walks stiffly to his station, and the rest of the crew is also silent.
Jim closes his eyes briefly. Well, isn’t this just great.
Day 925, Hour 20
It isn’t for another few days before Jim gets a comm from Bones saying that Pike is ready to talk to him. He gives the Bridge to Spock and heads down to Sickbay, wiping his hands on his uniform as he convinces himself this isn’t going to be too bad, that he doesn’t have anything to be nervous about.
But damnit, he is nervous. He really is only here because of Pike, and the man who gave him everything can just as easily take everything away, right now. He may have saved Earth, but he tossed every rule out the window in the process, and Starfleet’s rulebook is their fucking bible. Still, Jim’s heart was in every decision he made, and even if they weren’t the right ones he can still stand by them because of that. He’s not going to walk into Sickbay with his head hanging and his tail between his legs.
So when he opens the door, his back is straight and his head high. Bones is there, ready to usher him in to Pike’s room. The doctor looks as haggard and ragged as Jim feels, and he wishes they could talk but knows now isn’t the time. He’ll just have to make time, and soon.
“Thank you, Doctor McCoy,” Pike says as they enter and Bones nods, clapping Jim lightly on the back as he exits.
Pike’s presence is just as strong even when he’s sitting up in bed, and Jim clasps his hands behind his back so Pike won’t see him fidgeting.
“How are you feeling, sir?”
“Well, I’ve been better,” Pike says, only a trace of bitterness in his chuckle. “But Doctor McCoy tells me he actually thinks I’ll be able to walk again eventually, after intense physical therapy. I’ll just have to sit behind a desk for a while.”
Jim understands how distasteful that is, because now that he’s experienced a bit of what it’s really like in space, he thinks that, in spite of everything that’s happened, he would die behind a desk knowing others were out here. He ignored the call of space for so long because he didn’t want to end up like his father, and was afraid it would be the last straw for his mother. But now the fears are gone, and his desire is stronger than ever.
“But we aren’t here to talk about me,” Pike continues, bringing Jim abruptly back to reality, “we’re here to talk about you. I’ve already had a long talk with Doctor McCoy about how you even got on this ship in the first place, so we can skip that for now. What I want to know is the events leading up to your marooning, and how you managed to become Captain after that.”
Jim explains everything, exactly as it happened. He doesn’t try to justify what he did, because if Pike wants more of an explanation he’ll ask. The man just listens, nodding every now and then, and when Jim finishes he doesn’t say anything right away, just considers Jim with a thoughtful expression. The silence draws out until Jim can’t take it anymore, and it takes every ounce of control he has not to say something. But he holds his silence and waits for Pike.
“Well Cadet, I will say that your willingness to work with Mr. Spock on your rescue mission in spite of your differences has shown that maybe you are learning the importance of trust after all,” Pike says finally. “I’m also sure you’re aware you broke about every rule of Starfleet protocol along the way, but I didn’t bring you here to follow rules. Some of your methods might have been questionable, but in this case I’d say the ends justified the means. And you saved my life. Thank you hardly seems enough.”
“It is, sir,” Jim says, smiling, “and I would’ve gone back for you without your order.”
Pike returns the smile, though it’s tight around the edges. “I would expect nothing less, Kirk.” Gesturing to his body, he continues, “I am obviously unable to resume my duties as Captain. Therefore, I officially name you Acting Captain for the duration of the trip. I assure you there will be a more thorough review board waiting for you back home.”
He figured as much, but he’ll be ready for them. Jim’s grateful enough that Pike is letting him stay on as Captain, at least for now. “Thank you, sir.”
Pike nods. “You’re very welcome, Captain. You are excused.”
Jim doesn’t release the breath he was holding until he’s safely in the lift.
Day 926, Hour 5
Jim knows he has to patch things over with Spock, and he manages to find out from Uhura that the Vulcan likes chess. There are all kinds of things stashed in the Captain’s quarters, but he’s still surprised when he finds the chessboard. He picks takes it up to the bridge, and Spock actually lifts an eyebrow at him.
“You up to the challenge, Mr. Spock?” Jim asks, lifting up the board.
“I am always ready for a challenge,” Spock answers coolly, and Jim resists looking over at Uhura. He’s going to have to thank her later.
They sit down to play, Jim with black and Spock with white, and by the middle of the game, most of the bridge crew is crowded around them, watching.
Jim thinks he’s winning for a while, and then he does something really, really stupid. He thinks he’s actually made up for most of it, enough so that the endgame is a close call. Then he really looks at the board. Fuck.
Spock moves a pawn and just like that, it’s over. “Checkmate.”
Jim waves a hand. “I let you win. I knew what I was doing.”
When Spock’s lips twitch, Jim knows he didn’t imagine it.
Day 930, Hour 10
Jim’s finally able to sneak down to see Bones a few days later, and his friend is sprawled out in his chair in his office.
Grinning, Jim says, “I thought you might need one of these.”
Bones turns around in his chair, and his eyes widen slightly when he sees Jim holding up a Bud Light. “Where’d you get that?”
“I have my ways,” Jim answers slyly, sitting on the edge of Bones’s desk.
“I’m pretty sure I need more than one.”
“Ahh, but that’s why I’ve got this.” Jim whips out the six-pack, and Bones claps a hand over his heart.
“You’re my new hero, and right now I don’t care what that does to your ego. I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
Jim just can’t stop grinning. He found them stashed in the refrigerator in the Captain’s quarters, and is going to have to thank Captain Pike later. “I’m always prepared, Bones, you should know this about me by now,” he says while Bones chuckles.
Holding up his bottle, Jim declares, “I propose a toast. To friendship.”
Bones smiles. “To friendship.”
Day 933, Hour 15
Pike told Jim they managed to ban the press from the dock to spare the crew harassment when they reunited with their families, but it’s really only a matter of time before stories will start surfacing about his past.
He can see the headlines now, with Juvenile Delinquent Saves Earth only the beginning. But if all the attention on him will spare his crew similar treatment, he figures that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. Sighing heavily, he stares into the mirror, hardly recognizing the man who looks back at him.
He adjusts his shirt even though it doesn’t need it, and when he can’t find anything else to distract him from unwanted thoughts, he leaves his room.
Day 935, Hour 10
“How’re you feeling, Jim? Nervous?”
Jim gives Bones a sidelong glance, hoping his friend isn’t picking up too much on his real feelings. “I don’t do nervous, Bones. You’re the one who hates crowds, remember?”
“That’s actually not what I was referring to.”
“Look Bones, I’ve already come to terms with the fact that my mom isn’t going to be here to meet us, okay? It’s you I’m worried about.”
Bones snorts. “Me?”
“Well, it’s not as if Jocelyn and Joanna will be there either-”
“We divorced, all right? I don’t expect her to be there anymore. But-”
“Drop it, Bones, all right? How come you still don’t believe me when I tell you I’ll be fine?”
Sighing, Bones says, “Okay fine, I believe you.”
It’s Jim’s turn to snort. “Oh, that’s reassuring.”
Spock picks this moment to come up to them, nodding his head ever so slightly at Jim. “Everyone is ready, Captain.”
Everyone else might be ready, but Jim’s not sure he is. It’s ridiculous, but he thinks he’d rather face Nero again than deal with the horde of people out there. He might have wanted this kind of fame a long time ago, but now that he’s in the moment, it’s different somehow. Because he doesn’t want it-what he wants most right now is even a few moments alone, because he hasn’t even had one since all this shit went down. But if this is part of being Captain, then he can suck it up and take a few seconds of discomfort.
He turns to his crew, and somehow summons up a smile, careful to avoid Bones’s calculating gaze. The man is just far too damn perceptive. “I want you all to know, before we go out there, that it’s been an honor serving with every single one of you,” Jim says, “and I want to thank all of you for your support and trust. I hope I get the chance to work with you again.”
He means every single word, because the biggest thing all this has taught him is the importance of trusting those around him. He really understands what Pike said to him last year, and this is probably the first time in his life he’s had this many people around him who believe in him, people Jim thinks he could even trust with his life. The thought is almost overwhelming.
All right Jim, stop putting off the inevitable. Time to face the music.
“Good luck, everyone,” he says, and opens the door of the shuttle.
The sun is blindingly bright, but even through the disorientation Jim can see the throng of people on either side of the shuttle, and the clapping and cheers that greet them is almost deafening. He’s aware of Bones falling into step beside him as he leads the crew towards the crowd, and Jim thinks he might be able to get through this after all. People are breaking free from the mass to run up to them as they recognize family, and Jim’s struggling to make out faces when he makes out a high-pitched, desperate shout.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
Jim happens to catch the look of pure astonishment on his friend’s face as a tiny girl determinedly pushes through the crowd, finally breaking through to leap into Bones’s arms, which have somehow managed to extend and wrap themselves around her. Then Jocelyn herself emerges behind her daughter-albeit with noticeably less enthusiasm-and she’s wearing an unreadable expression as she stops about a foot away.
If Jim weren’t standing so close to Bones he would’ve missed his whispered Joss, but the confusion is all over his face anyway.
Her expression doesn’t change. “Joanna was with me when the news broke on the television and wouldn’t stop talking about you until I assured her I’d take her to make sure you were okay.”
Bones still can’t speak, and finally Jocelyn’s eyes soften-but only a little. “Are you? Okay, I mean.”
“I’m…not entirely sure.”
A heavy silence follows, and when Bones looks over at him Jim is perceptive enough to take a cue. He manages what he hopes is a reassuring smile, but it’s so stiff it hurts a little. “Go with your family. I’ll be fine here.”
Bones nods and says an earnest thank you before they disappear into the crowd, and Jim tries to locate his crew-ex-crew?-in an effort to take his mind off the fact that he really isn’t fine, far from it actually. And watching everyone reuniting with their families is only making the feeling worse.
Spock and his father are standing some distance away with Uhura and her parents, Sulu is with a taller Asian man who must be his father, and even Chekov’s family came all the way from fucking Russia.
Jim knows that both his mother and brother must’ve heard the news and still didn’t bother to show up. He doesn’t resent any of the crewmembers, and he’s glad that they don’t have to feel the way he does right now because he’s never felt more alone in his entire life than he has in this moment.
Well, that’s not quite right because he definitely has.
But this is the first time he cares this much since his childhood, and he’s not prepared for the heartache. He’d rather face a beating at the hands of ten more angry Romulans than this, because at least he knows how to deal with that kind of pain.
Fuck.
What he really needs right now is a drink.
Day 937, Hour 3
It’s late when Jim finally stumbles back to his dorm.
Bones isn’t back-not that he expected him to be-but the darkness of the room only accentuates the loneliness inside of him that a walk and a couple drinks didn’t cure. Afraid someone would recognize him if he stuck close to the Academy, he wandered to the trashy part of town and hid in the corner of the sketchiest bar he could find. He has a meeting with the Admiralty later in the morning, the first in a series of sessions that will decide the fate of the rest of his life, but he barely remembers to set an alarm as he collapses into bed.
He’s so exhausted and heartsick that he doesn’t even see the flashing red light on his message box before he closes his eyes.
Day 938, Hour 9
Today’s the day.
He tossed and turned the entire night, and Jim is so bleary eyed and disoriented when he wakes up that it feels as if he didn’t sleep at all. This isn’t how he planned on starting this day, but he’s just got to make it work. He splashes cold water on his face until he can’t take it anymore, and it takes three cups of coffee before he thinks he might be awake enough to handle this.
He actually has put in a lot of thought to what he’s going to say, but if they’ve already made up their minds he wonders how much of it will matter. These people could take away his dreams in a heartbeat, and where would that leave him? He’s got to show the panel that he was only doing what he thought was right, that he wasn’t in it for personal gain or the fame. He’s standing outside the conference room door now, five minutes early, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms against his uniform.
His anxiety only increases as the seconds tick by.
Finally, Admiral Komack opens the door, his face as unreadable as it was during his hearing. God, was that really only a couple weeks ago? The Admiral ushers him in wordlessly, motions betraying nothing of what awaits him. And there’s five more of them sitting in a row at the front of the room, all with equally blank expression. Jim recognizes Becker, Barnett, and Archer, and there’s two he doesn’t know. One, a woman, and the other an older man. There’s no seat for Jim, but a podium right across from Admiral Komack, whose seat is in the middle. Jim takes his place, using the sides of the podium as an anchor.
You can do this. Get a fucking grip.
The panel wastes no time in getting started, and Komack opens the proceedings. “First of all, I think I speak not only for this panel but the Federation when I say that we are all indebted to you for your service. That being said, we are here to investigate your methods. We have been given a detailed account of all that transpired aboard the Enterprise, and quite frankly, we are all extremely concerned. Not the least of which is the fact that you weren’t even supposed to be there in the first place. So please tell us how that happened.”
“When I was told I wasn’t allowed to participate because of my probation, I was fully prepared to stay behind,” Jim begins, slowly but confidently, “but Bones-Doctor McCoy, I mean-took it upon himself to vaccinate me so he could bring me aboard. But even though I wasn’t active in the planning, I could’ve stopped him but I didn’t, so it wasn’t all because of him.”
Komack nods. “I see. It says here that Captain Pike made you First Officer after you forced yourself onto the Bridge, which I still don’t understand, but he named Spock Acting Captain. You refused to listen to his orders and when he ordered you off the Bridge, attacked the two officers taking you away. Would you care to explain that?”
He knows why he lashed out at the officers, but that’s one thing he’s not ready to tell these Admirals. He’s always had issues with people crowding into his personal space, and they weren’t only doing that but grabbing his arms and dragging him out. And, suddenly, there’d been that flashback, and Frank had been there. It was just too much.
He can feel it affecting him still, just thinking about it, and he tries to force the memory away. So he says, “I thought Spock wasn’t making the best decision, which is why I was arguing with him, and things just got out of hand. I wasn’t trying to start a fight, but in my heart I was convinced he wasn’t doing the right thing. And I couldn’t leave Captain Pike with Nero.”
But Komack is a hard ass, and the others are letting him run the show. “But as Acting Captain, the decision was ultimately Spock’s. You should’ve stepped aside but refused, demonstrating unstable behavior which you still have not accounted for.”
Jim opens his mouth, prepared to say only as much as he thinks will be acceptable, but his throat chooses this moment to close up on him, and he barely manages to push his horror down when the words get stuck. Oh fuck, no.
Is this some kind of karma or something?
Damnit, he can’t fall apart. Not here, of all places. They’d probably think it were a desperate attempt to win some sympathy anyway, even if that’s the last thing he wants.
Get a hold of yourself, Kirk.
Admiral Barnett raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Cadet?”
Holding his head high, Jim says, “No, sir. Sorry, sir.” He swallows. “I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. I have no excuse.”
It’s as close to the truth as he’s willing to get, and, amazingly, Admiral Barnett just nods solemnly and accepts the answer.
The rest of the meeting passes in a blur. He knows his mouth is moving, that he’s understanding the questions being asked and responding accordingly, but he’s expending so much effort simply maintaining his composure that he’s hardly aware of what he’s saying. Finally they call for a break and Jim heads for the nearest bathroom, locking himself up in the first available stall. He sits down on the floor with his legs tucked into his chest, wraps his arms around them, and rests his head on his knees.
The break is only a half hour, nowhere near the amount of time he needs.
But at least he can get himself together enough to survive until the evening. He starts taking deep, shuddering breaths, each one slightly more out of control than the last, and-oh, God. He’s starting to hyperventilate.
Fuck.
Focus, damn you.
Closing his eyes, he starts counting mentally, clearing his mind of all but the numbers. It’s an old method, one that helped him out all those years ago with Frank, and again on Tarsus IV. Numbers are indifferent, rational, and when things around him and inside of him fall to pieces he can always depend on them. Finally, his breathing starts evening out and his body stops shaking, but he keeps counting until he gets cautiously to his feet.
He’s only distracted when he catches himself wishing Bones were here, and the thought startles him so much that he’s actually not sure what to think for a few minutes. Has he really become so dependant on their friendship that he could choose to be vulnerable around him? But it’s not like he can right now-they’ve all been separated and confined to individual quarters for the course of their evaluations to prevent any kind of conspiring, which will last the rest of the week.
He could find Bones if he wanted to, but he suspects the man will be spending all his free time with his daughter and Jim doesn’t want to compromise that. But whatever. He’s managed on his own in the past just fine. He can get through this on his own too.
Day 939, Hour 1
When he finally gets back to his room though, someone is sitting on his bed.
And it’s the last someone he ever expected.
“Mom?”
Jim knows he’s staring but he can’t help it.
She rises slowly and hesitantly from his bed, eyes glimmering, but doesn’t approach him. Jim is rooted to the spot. She tries to smile but it fails miserably, looking more pained than anything.
“Hi, baby.”
It’s late, it’s been a long, emotionally taxing day-something Jim never admits lightly-and he’s not at all prepared for this.
“I would’ve come earlier, but-but Frank just passed away…”
Winona trails off, voice tight, an expression on her face Jim’s never seen before. He knows he should feel something, but there’s-nothing. Not even relief. He’s just empty, hollow, drained. And he needs his mom to leave. This is too much, and his brain can’t process anything right now. It’s probably that almost overwhelming desperation that possesses him to say what he does next.
“So that’s what you came all the way to tell me. That Frank’s dead.”
Winona winces. “Of course that’s not the only reason, honey. I heard the news, and I had to see you, had to know that you were all right-”
“Well, news flash, mom. I’m not fucking all right, okay? And I really don’t know what’s worse, you being here to tell me about Frank or to ease your guilty conscience.”
“Jimmy-”
“Mom, just go, all right? Please. I can’t-I can’t handle this right now.”
He doesn’t know what else to say that would get her to leave, aside from the truth. He knows he’s being harsh, maybe even a little cruel, but he can recognize the signs of a breakdown and his mom and the news she brought with her had just about pushed him over the edge. And the last thing he wants is for his mom to see him as anything but strong, for her to know that she still has this affect on him.
For a moment he thinks she might protest, but finally she nods, a sad smile on her face, and leaves without another word. Jim releases a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding, and he almost feels sick to his stomach. Fuck.
Heading to the shower, he leaves the water on cold and slides down the wall, not even bothering to take off his clothes. His chest feels tight, and he’s already numb so he barely notices the freezing water, and he actually wishes he could let go just to get everything out of his system. He can feel the emotion there, but he’s ignored it for so long he doesn’t really know how to get it out. Sitting by himself isn’t really helping, because all he’s doing is centering himself, pulling himself together. Because that’s how he’s used to dealing with himself when he’s at a breaking point. He doesn’t even think he could cry if he wanted to.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there.
But he doesn’t really care.
Year III: Part I | Epilogue: Part II
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