Bittersweet

Summary:  Kirk and Picard in the Nexus.  I've never liked "Generations", so I decided to re-write it.

Bittersweet

"There's someone else here who can help you," Guinan said.  "and, from his point of view, you might be able to help him, too."

Picard left his wife, their children, and their Christmas dinner, and walked in the direction that he felt compelled to go.  It was dark, but moonlight radiated off the snow, making his way clear.  The snow turned brighter and brighter as he progressed, until eventually everything was white and he couldn't see at all.  He stopped, trying to get his bearing.

He heard a sound, too faint to identify.  He walked toward it, and as he did he realized he was getting warm.  He was no longer walking through snow, although he couldn't see what he was walking on.

He kept going.  The noise grew louder.  It was insects - crickets and such.

The light gradually subsided, and he started to make out features around him.

He was on a dirt road, with lush fields of tall corn on both sides.  The fields extended as far as he could see.  It was hot, and his shirt began to stick uncomfortably to his skin.  The heat was oppressive, but the sun was going down; it was just starting to get dark.

He kept going down the dirt road.

Gradually, the field on the right side of the road ended, and a tall red picket fence began.  It encompassed a lush green meadow of perhaps ten acres.  There were a dozen or so horses in the fenced area, beautiful, well-cared for animals.  Several of them were galloping the perimeter of the fence, looking like they were running for the sheer joy of doing so.

To the left of the fenced in meadow, there was a large barn and, beyond that, an old but well-kept house.

As he walked closer to the barn, Picard noticed that the insect noises were fading, and that he could not hear the horses as clearly.  Everything except the barn seemed to be losing color, becoming less real.

He opened the barn door and went in.

He was in a sterile, barren, completely spotless square room.  The walls, ceiling, and floor were all of the same material, and all totally white.  There was no furniture, and the light was very bright although he could not discern the source of it.  It was all sharp edges, hard, no shadows or subtlety.  It felt real.  It seemed an unlikely version of paradise for anyone.

There was a young man and a dog in the middle of the room.  The man was lying on the floor, on his side, facing away from Picard.  He was slightly curled, almost in a semi-fetal position.  The dog was lying on all fours, several feet away from, but facing the man.  She was large and black, with sparse, mangy looking fur.  Her ribs jutted through her side, proclaiming an
ongoing battle against starvation.

The dog saw Picard, leapt up, bared her teeth, and started growling.  Her hackles rose.

The man said, "Casey, settle down," but didn't move.  The dog stopped growling at his words, though, and lay back down on the floor.

Picard circled around to get a better look at the man, and smiled broadly as he recognized him.  James T. Kirk, at about age 35.

Kirk was wearing broken-in jeans, a dark red work shirt, and casual shoes with no socks.  He had not moved or acknowledged Picard in any way; he simply watched Casey, careful not to seem like he was staring at her.  For her part, Casey continued to watch Picard with a decidedly unfriendly hard stare.

Picard walked to the center of the room, facing Kirk, who didn't bother to rise.  Instead he kept his eyes focused on the dog.  "I don't know why she's like that," Kirk said softly.  "She's been coming here for some time now, and I've been trying to get her to relax a bit.  But it's slow going.  She doesn't trust me enough to come near yet."

"I'm Captain Jean Luc Picard, of the Starship Enterprise," Picard stated simply.

Kirk still didn't look at him, but smiled as if he had heard a funny joke.  "I'm Jim," he replied.  He did not move or offer to shake hands.

"I know who you are, Sir."

They fell silent.  Kirk continued to watch Casey.

The dog slowly got a little closer to Kirk, standing up as if she wanted to sniff his face and hair.  Picard didn't want to think about getting too close to those unfriendly teeth.

"So what year is this?"  Kirk asked, casually, still looking at the dog.

"2371."

"It's been seventy-eight years."

"That's correct, Sir."

"What a terrible waste,"  Kirk said.

Silence fell over them again.  The dog continued her investigation of Kirk, sniffing ever closer but never within petting reach.  Kirk closed his eyes.  The dog drew just a little closer, still not touching.

"I've been working with her for quite a few days.  Maybe a month?" Kirk spoke softly, with his eyes still closed.  "I tried offering her some food, but she wouldn't go near it.  She knows it's not real."

"How did you find her?  Is she real?"  Picard asked, at a loss for anything else to say.

"She found her way here, I don't know how.  She's a stray I adopted when I was a kid."  He paused, and then continued softly.  "I killed her by sticking a knife into the base of her skull.  And here I am, wondering why she doesn't trust me now."

Picard didn't know how to respond to that.

"She fed eighteen starving kids.  Including me - I promised myself I wouldn't touch her, but the little ones wouldn't eat until I showed them it was okay."

"Is she real?"  Picard asked again.

"She's real.  I can tell, now, just like I know you're real, just like I know everything else around here isn't."

"How can you tell?"

Kirk shrugged slightly, still lying still, with his eyes closed.

"At first I couldn't.  I thought it was all real. Actually, I thought I had died and gone to heaven, literally."  He smiled, at another private joke, it seemed.  "I saw so many people I loved, who had died before me.  I was very, very happy.  But I soon figured out that they weren't real.  Once that happened, they faded, and I've been alone here ever since."

The dog, seemingly calmed by the cadence of Kirk's voice, drew a little closer.

"How did you determine they weren't real?"

Kirk was silent for a while and Picard thought he wasn't going to answer.

"A woman I love told me."

"What, did she just tell you she wasn't real?  Was she a visitor, perhaps?" Picard asked, intrigued.

"No, of course not."  Jim smiled again.  "But, she told me, in her own way.  When we first met - a very long time ago, even in my time - she was a virgin, until I persuaded her otherwise.  We were together just once, the night before I...the night before she died."  He paused again.

"When we met here, she was just as I remembered her.  As fearless and good and intelligent as she was before.  I asked her to marry me, and she said yes."

The dog was just a little bit closer, this time sniffing Kirk's face.  Kirk could have reached out and touched her, if he had tried.

"After the ceremony, I took her to our bed.  She was amazing, by far the best sex I've ever had.  She was everything I could have wanted."

Kirk stopped, as if that explained everything.

"I don't understand." Picard said.

Kirk opened his eyes and regarded Picard appraisingly, as if he were talking to a somewhat slow ensign.  He shut them again and continued.  "Nobody goes from virgin to courtesan all at once.  It takes months to awaken a woman from innocence to real, total sensual awareness, total surrender.  Girls aren't born with an appreciation of their own sensuality.  It has to be taught, slowly, and gently."  He paused.

"I wanted those months.  I wanted her to be awkward and self-conscious and exquisite, like she was our first time.  That was the only time I ever saw her vulnerable, and I loved it, just as I loved the other side of her.

"But she wasn't.  She was absolutely practiced and perfect.  That was when I first felt something was wrong."

At that, the dog gave him one tentative kiss on the nose, and then started to lick his face with more enthusiasm.  His eyes still closed, Kirk smiled, an expression so sweet and joyful that it was almost too much to watch.  It was the first genuine smile, without bitterness, that Picard had seen from him.

With a start, Picard realized that this kiss from a dog was the first physical contact this man had had from anyone in over 78 years.  That he, Picard, was the first person Kirk had spoken with in 78 years.

He thought about what he had read about Kirk.  He was said to be gregarious, emotional, warm.  Those aspects of his personality often made him struggle with the loneliness inherent in command.  Picard wondered what almost 80 years of total isolation had done to him.

It occurred to him that he might actually be fundamentally better suited to be a starship captain than Kirk had been.  He enjoyed solitude, and while he struggled with some aspects of command, loneliness was not one of them.

The dog finished her investigation of the human and, apparently satisfied with the results, lay down again, this time with her back to Kirk, but touching against him.  Kirk lifted his hand and softly petted the dog's flank.  The smile had not left his face.  He seemed to draw something from the softness and warmth of the dog, mangy fur and all.

Kirk continued.  "After that, Sam gave me some clues, too.  And, one thing I should have seem immediately but didn't - even in Iowa, things don't grow year round.  There's a barren season.  But not here."

"You've been alone since then, in this room."

"This room isn't real either, but there's nothing false in it.  I can leave it, and do sometimes, but I'd rather stay here.  It's my creation, but I know it's my creation.  Everything else is untrue.  This room is untrue but it doesn't try to seduce me.

"Everything you see out there - even the night sky and all the stars in it - is fake, like a projection.  After I realized that, all the people faded away.  I was convinced, until Casey showed up, that I had died after all, but had gone to hell instead."  He paused.  "I kept thinking about Lazarus, and how I wouldn't mind trading places with him."

Picard didn't understand that last reference and let it pass.  "Most people consider this paradise, more addictive than any narcotic."

"I have quite a history of fucking up paradise."

His quiet voice sounded so pained and stressed that Picard knelt and laid his hand on Kirk's arm, to reassure him.

It didn't work.  The dog jumped up, growling at Picard again.  Kirk didn't open his eyes but did speak.  "Take your hand off me," he said in a soft, dangerous voice.

Picard moved his hand, but did not retreat.

"Captain, I need your help."

"Why do you call me captain?"

"You are James T. Kirk, are you not?"

"Yes, but I didn't tell you that.  How do you know who I am?"

"Captain, everyone in Starfleet knows about you.  And even if that wasn't the case...well, I'm captain of the Enterprise.  Didn't you know about April, or Pike?"

"Point well taken, Captain."

Kirk was still petting the dog, who had lain back down against him.

"Captain, I need your help," Picard stated again.  He told Kirk about Soran, and the nexus.

"He actually wants to be in this thing?"

"Yes.  He destroyed my ship and an entire solar system to get to it."

Still concentrating on the dog, Kirk said "You mean to say you couldn't overpower one man, by himself, to save your ship?"  The statement was somehow all the more damming for the lack of contempt in his voice.

Picard bristled with anger. "Captain, I assure you, I am very capable," he snapped.  "He is far better defended than I've described to you.  And at any rate...we all need a little help now and then."

Kirk softened a bit.  "Yes...we do."  But he made no attempt to move.

"Captain, please.  I need your help.  Leave the damn dog alone and help me."

"I love this dog, and I don't know you at all."

"You know the Enterprise.  She needs your help."

"No, I don't know her,"  Kirk replied, suddenly furious.  "Your Enterprise is not mine, and 78 years of isolation has finally cured me of my obsession for an inanimate object.  She's your responsibility, not mine, Captain," he snapped, emphasizing the title.

"Then let's not talk about inanimate objects, Captain," Picard shot back, also emphasizing the title.  "Let's talk about the 1,012 very animate men, women, and children on that ship.  Let's talk about the 230 million lives about to be destroyed in the Veridian system.   According to the history books, you always tried to do the right thing, regardless of what it cost you personally.   Tell me now, is it so easy to give that up after a lifetime of duty?"

Kirk was calm again.  But he didn't respond, and continued to pet the dog.

After a few minutes, he spoke again, completely ignoring Picard's impassioned plea.  "This girl helped me at the beginning of my life, when I desperately needed it.  And now here she is again."

That dog, Picard thought.  Just as starved for food as Kirk was for people.  He wondered whether the dog actually was real, or if it was the creation of a anguished, lonely mind desperate to stave off insanity.

After a few minutes, Kirk spoke again.  "You know about me, do you know about my crew?"

"Some of them, yes."

"Tell me about them.  Tell me what happened to them."

Picard wanted to shake him, physically drag him to Soran...but then he thought about 78 years...

He told Kirk what he knew of what had happened to that famous crew of the past.  He told him about Doctor McCoy's visit to the Enterprise D and was stunned when Kirk laughed so hard tears streamed down his face.

"Admiral!  ADMIRAL McCoy!  Who would've thought he'd turn into a career man?  He outranked me!! Good Lord, he'd never have let me live that down..."

Picard saw him smile with pride and delight at Sulu, who reigned as captain of the Excelsior for several decades.  He saw him grow still again as he learned about Scott and his ill-fated trip.  And he saw his face fill with pain as Picard spoke about Ambassador Spock.

"I would have liked to have known him as a grown man," Kirk said at last, very quietly, staring into nothingness.

"I'm sorry, Captain?"

"I always knew that I wouldn't live to see him reach even middle age.  His life span is much longer than a human's, and I never really expected to live to retirement age anyway.  He was very young, for a vulcan, when we served together.

"With each passing year he became more comfortable in his own skin, more appreciative of all his gifts rather than just half of them.  He was an amazing man when I knew him, he must be really something now."  He fell silent again, still softly stroking the dog.

"You could see him again."

Kirk smiled that sad little smile again, as if Picard were a naïve child talking about Santa Claus.  He closed his eyes again.  "He was my friend, past tense.  It's been a long time."

"I'm sure he would be very pleased to see you."

"Yes, well, you notice he didn't break his back trying to find me."  Suddenly Kirk clenched his fists so hard they turned white.  His voice took on a barely detectable tremor, giving the impression of a man who was just barely holding on to his composure.

"Captain...everyone thought you were dead."

"Of course.  They didn't need much convincing, did they?  Did he or McCoy even try to find a body?"

Picard sharply responded to Kirk's accusation.  "I am not aware of the exact details of what occurred after you disappeared, Captain.  I do know that seventy years later, when he was near death himself, Admiral McCoy still spoke of you with great affection, and told me about his grandson, James.  I saw Ambassador Spock's thoughts, and news of your death affected him far more than you can possibly imagine.  Neither of them took it lightly, sir.  They had absolutely way of knowing, no reason to suspect, that you might have survived."

Kirk's eyes were closed again.  "No, of course they didn't..." he whispered, almost to himself.  He put his hand back on the dog, seeming to gain strength from the touch.  "Of course they didn't know," he repeated.

After a minute, he opened his eyes and spoke again.  "You have children on the Enterprise?"

Picard didn't have the patience to answer more questions.  "Captain, please, we need to stop Soran."

"You said there were 1,012 men, women, and children on the Enterprise," Kirk demanded.

Picard drew himself up short as he thought of a new tactic.  Kirk had given him the key twice already.  He saw his chance and hit, hard.

"Had, Captain.  They're all dead now.  All thirty-seven children.  And their parents, and their home."

The blow landed.  Kirk flinched as if he had been physically struck.  He shut his eyes again, and drew a clenched fist near to his mouth.  "I lost my son," he whispered, like it was a secret revealed only at a terrible cost.

"Then honor him, Captain.  Help those who are just beginning their lives, and who desperately need you.  And honor your crew, by helping mine."

Kirk started to nod slowly.  After a minute, he opened his eyes.

After another minute, he took several deep breaths and shook his head, as if to clear it of self-pity.

Then, unexpectedly, in one smooth, graceful motion, he rose to his feet and faced Picard.  All of a sudden he looked just like the Captain Kirk of the history vids.

Picard was impressed.  Just like that, make yourself do whatever you have to do.  For the first time, he felt a kinship with this man.

"The dog goes with us."

"Agreed, Captain."  Picard grinned.

"I'm Jim," Kirk replied, and this time he offered his hand.
 

...............

As they walked out of the barren room, Kirk questioned him again.

"So why are there children on the Enterprise?"

"Starfleet allows families to accompany crew on extended tours of duty now."

Kirk's expression grew bittersweet.  "And you?  Is your family there?  A wife, perhaps?"

"No...I have no family, Captain."

"Why not?  What's stopping you?"

"Surely I don't have to explain to you what it's like to be married to your ship."

"I didn't have a choice.  If I wanted a wife, a family, I had to give up the ship. You don't have that dilemma."

Picard was surprised.  "If you could have brought a wife aboard your Enterprise, you would have?"

"In a heartbeat."  He gave Picard a knowing smile.  "So what are you trying to rationalize, Captain?"


...............


They suddenly found themselves outside the nexus, just below Soran's encampment on the mountain.  They stopped for a moment.  To Picard's surprise, Casey was still with them.  He had not believed she was real.

"Perhaps we should formulate a plan," Picard said.

"Perhaps we should just go beat the crap out of him," Kirk said.

Now it was Picard's turn to look like he was evaluating a somewhat slow ensign.

"Just a little humor there, Captain."

Picard just stared at him.

Kirk actually squirmed a bit under that piercing gaze.  "You're absolutely right.  I never do anything without a plan, either."

Picard just stayed silent, wondering where Kirk would wind up.

"Really.  James T. 'Plan First, Act Second' Kirk is practically my official name."

Casey chose that moment to sneeze.

"It's amazing how far off the mark those history books land, isn't it?"  Picard said conversationally to the dog.

They scouted out the area, and Picard filled Kirk in with more background.  Soran was in easily defensible terrain, and shields surrounded his position.  While the two captains were unarmed, Soran had substantial firepower at his command.  And he knew an attack was coming; Picard and Kirk would not have the element of surprise on their side.

After assessing the situation, they did indeed formulate a plan.  And to Picard's delight, he discovered the history books were right about one thing:  Kirk was the most gifted tactician he had ever met.


................


Night had fallen by the time the battle ended.  As he was dying, Soran pulled the trigger one last time.  The blast hit Kirk full in the chest, and he was slammed backwards onto the ground.

He was unconscious for a moment, and then came to, obviously in great pain.  "Oh, Bones, help.." he moaned softly.  He opened his eyes, lifted his head, and saw the damage.  Blood was spurting from his chest, he was having difficulty breathing, and there was a whistling noise coming from one of the wounds.  "Time already?" he whispered sadly.  A foam of bright red bubbles formed on his lips with the words.

Casey whined and circled him, very agitated.

He tried to move.  He reached along the ground and started to pull himself towards open ground, but could not make much progress.  Picard stopped him, not wanting him to aggravate his injuries.

"Please," Kirk whispered, and locked eyes with him.  He said something else but Picard could not make it out.  He was very pale, his lips were blue, and blood was everywhere.

Picard looked at where Kirk had tried to pull himself, and immediately comprehended what the captain wanted.  He quickly came to a decision.  Kirk was mortally wounded and was going to die whether he was moved or not.

Trying not to cause any more pain than necessary, he reached under Kirk's shoulders and pulled him away from the rocks to the grassy area.  Here, for the first time in 78 years, the captain would be able to see the night sky and the stars again, real ones, before he died.

Casey lay down close to Kirk as he was dying, wedging her head underneath his hand.  He did not go easily; his death throes lasted a full two minutes as his body tried desperately to draw the air his lungs could no longer provide.  But the expression on his face was serene as he looked at the stars, and his hand did not fall from the dog.

Casey disappeared while Picard was gathering rocks for Kirk's grave.  He called for her, but she did not come back.

.................


The phrase "Never let yourself believe you can inherit Kirk's luck" had been drilled into every cadet who passed through the Academy for decades now.  But the man honored by that phrase was incredibly unlucky on this day.  Soran hadn't even been looking where he was aiming; it was more of a death spasm than a counterattack.  Had there been the slightest difference in any of the hundreds of variables that went into that wild shot, Kirk would have escaped unharmed.  Would have gone on to live a great portion of his life over, starting as a 35 year old.  Would have been able to marry, father children, and still have a ship, should he choose to do so.  Would have been able to see his dear friend as an adult.

Instead he had been isolated - tortured, really - for 78 years, then brought back for a few hours, only to die an excruciatingly painful death, with just a dog and a stranger to help him through it.  Like he had been put into storage until needed, then carelessly discarded as soon as he wasn't.

And Picard wasn't even sure about the dog anymore.  When he returned to the ship, he had ordered a sensor scan of the area.  There had been enough death and destruction for one day, and he didn't like the idea of the dog starving to death.  Though the ship was heavily damaged, the sensors were able to detect Kirk's body, a multitude of small animals, birds, and even insects...but no dog.

The fact that Kirk's death was extremely improbable was enough to make Picard wonder to what end it was all for, what purpose it all served.  It almost seemed as if Kirk had been punished for some long ago trespass.

Unless there was a purpose.  "What are you trying to rationalize, Captain?" Kirk had asked.

What was he trying to rationalize?  He remembered walking away from his wife and children at Christmas.  He had been happy in that house, happier than he had ever been.  But if he was totally honest with himself - and Picard was nothing if not ruthlessly honest - what did he really feel as he was leaving?

Relief.  Relief that it wasn't true, that he really wasn't that intimate with the woman, did not depend on her or the children, was not that weak-

Weak?  Was that it?  Did he see the need for intimacy, for companionship, as a weakness?  Was he actually proud of his ability to do without it?

Wasn't that like being proud of your ability to starve yourself to death?  Or your ability to go without water for days, when you're near a well?

He remembered watching Kirk gain strength just from the touch of a dog.  Then he remembered thinking that perhaps he was better fitted for starship command than Kirk, and he laughed, long and hard.

If you're starving to death, do you not get stronger by eating?  Do you not get stronger by drinking from the well?

There were certainly times when one needed to starve, or go without water, and there was a certain amount of discipline gained by doing so.  But forsake food and water altogether?

Then he thought, are you really re-evaluating your life because you may have been wrong?  Or are you just afraid of dying alone, like Kirk did?  Is fear of dying alone, with no one you love nearby, a worthy reason for pursuing a wife, a family?

For an instant he thought he heard Kirk respond:

*No, fool.  You find a woman, a friend, a family, for living, not for dying.*

He sat at his desk and thought about that for some time.  Then he replied out loud to his new friend.  "Jim, you may be on to something."

Jean Luc smiled, and reached for his comm terminal.  "Beverly," he said "I was wondering if you might like to join me for dinner this evening."


FINIS

Postscript:  the sentence "Never let yourself believe you can inherit Kirk's
luck," is taken from the story "Kirk's Luck" by Jane.