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Nov. 13th, 2007 06:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
syredronningAnd a
Carol Marcus took a deep breath. "I don't want to watch you kill anyone ... least of all your father."
David looked up at her, stunned.
Feeling stunned himself, Jim slid from beneath the knife and disarmed the boy. Surely Carol had said that just to give him such a chance-
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clark Terrell step forward and take the phaser from the Deltan-Jedda Adzhin-Dall, it must be-who had been covering Saavik and McCoy.
"I'll hold on to this," Terrell said.
Jim stood up and turned to Carol.
"Carol-"
He went toward her, and she met him. She smiled, reached out, and gently stroked a fingertip across the hair at his temple.
"You've gone a little gray-" She stopped.
He put his arms around her. They held each other for a long while, but finally he drew back to look her in the eyes, to search her face with his gaze.
"Carol, is it true?"
She nodded.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It isn't true!" David shouted. "My father was-"
"You're making this a lot harder, David," Carol said.
[...]
She glanced across the cavern toward Jim. She had sworn to herself never to tell him about David, or tell David about him, but telling them the truth had been the only way to keep them both alive. She needed to talk to Jim-to David, too-but since Genesis disappeared they had all three been revolving around each other like satellites, pulled together by her revelation and pushed apart by time and old pain and lack of trust.
[...]
He raised his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Carol Marcus had had twenty years to think about how to answer that question, and she had never decided what the answer should be.
"Jim ... why didn't you ask?"
He frowned. "What?"
"You've known for a long time that I have a son. You know his age, or you could have found out without any trouble. And," she added with an attempt at humor, "I don't believe they take you into the Starfleet Academy unless you can count." The humor fell flat. She did not feel very much like laughing now, anyway. The possibility that Jim Kirk might ask her about David had always existed in her mind; it was one of those possibilities that in the strange and inexplicable way of the human psyche Carol had both dreaded and, on a level she was aware of but never would have admitted to anyone but herself, wished for.
But it had never happened.
"Carol ... I don't know if you can believe this. I guess there's no reason why you should. But it never even occurred to me that David might be ours. I didn't even know you'd had a child till I got back with the Enterprise. And after that I had, I don't know, some trouble putting any kind of life back together. It was like coming to an alien world that was just similar enough to the one I remembered that every time I ran into something that had changed, I was surprised, and disoriented. . . ."
Carol took his hand, cradled his palm, and stroked the backs of his fingers.
"Stop it, Jim. I'm sorry, dammit, I don't know if I'd even have told you the truth if you had asked. I swore I'd never tell either of you."
"I don't understand why."
"How can you say that? Isn't it obvious? We weren't together, and there was no way we were ever going to be! I never had any illusions about it, and to give you your due you never tried to give me any. You have your world, and I have mine. I wanted David in my world." She let go of Jim's hand. She had always admired his hands: they were square and strong. "If he'd decided to go chasing through the universe on his own, I'd have accepted it. But I couldn't have stood having you come along when he was fourteen and say, 'Well, now that you've got him to the age of reason, it's time for him to come along with his father.' His father-someone he'd never known except as a stranger staying overnight? Jim, that was the only possibility, and that's too late to start being a father! Besides, fourteen-year-olds have no business on a starship, anyway."
He stood up, walked away from her, and pressed his hands and forehead against the wall as if he were trying to soak up the coolness and calmness of the very stone.
"You don't need to tell me that," he said. His shoulders were slumped, and she thought he was about to cry. She wanted to hold him; yet she did not want to see him cry.
"David's a lot like you, you know," she said, trying to lighten her own mood as much as Jim's. "There wasn't much I could do about that. He's stubborn, and unpredictable-Of course, he's smarter-that goes without saying. . . ." She stopped; this attempt at humor was falling even flatter than the other.
"Dammit," she said, "does it matter? We're never going to get out of here."
Jim did not respond. He knelt down beside Pavel and felt his pulse. He avoided Carol's gaze.
"Tell me what you're feeling," she said gently. He sounded remote and sad; Carol tried to feel angry at him, but could not.
"There's a man who hasn't seen me for fifteen years who thinks he's killed me," Jim said. "You show me a son who'd be glad to finish the job. Our son. My life that could have been, but wasn't. Carol, I feel old, and worn out, and confused."
She went to him and stretched out her hand. "Let me show you something. Something that will make you feel young, as young as a new world."
Saavik started and blinked. "The admiral's son," she said with matter-of-fact directness.
"Don't you believe it!"
"I do believe it," she said.
Unfortunately so do I, David thought. If his mother had only been trying to keep Jim Kirk alive, she would hardly have kept up the deception after the fight. It was far too easy to prove parentage beyond any doubt with a simple antigen-scan. If McCoy couldn't do it with the equipment in his medical pouch, then David could probably jury-rig an analyzer himself from the stuff they'd brought down from Spacelab. It was just because the proof was so easy that he did not see any point to doing the test. It would merely assure him of what he would rather not have known.
He shrugged it off. What difference did it make who his biological father was? Neither the man he had thought it was, who had died before he was born, nor the man his mother said it was, had ever had any part in his life. David could see no reason why that should change.
"What are you looking at?" Lieutenant Saavik said.
David, in his turn, had been staring without realizing it. He had always been fascinated by Vulcans. In fact, the one time he had met Jim Kirk, when he was a kid, he had been much more interested in talking to Kirk's friend Mr. Spock. David assumed it was the same Mr. Spock whom Saavik had earlier been trying to contact. If David had to be civil to a member of Starfleet, he would a whole lot rather it be a science officer than a starship captain.
Carol Marcus took a deep breath. "I don't want to watch you kill anyone ... least of all your father."
David looked up at her, stunned.
Feeling stunned himself, Jim slid from beneath the knife and disarmed the boy. Surely Carol had said that just to give him such a chance-
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clark Terrell step forward and take the phaser from the Deltan-Jedda Adzhin-Dall, it must be-who had been covering Saavik and McCoy.
"I'll hold on to this," Terrell said.
Jim stood up and turned to Carol.
"Carol-"
He went toward her, and she met him. She smiled, reached out, and gently stroked a fingertip across the hair at his temple.
"You've gone a little gray-" She stopped.
He put his arms around her. They held each other for a long while, but finally he drew back to look her in the eyes, to search her face with his gaze.
"Carol, is it true?"
She nodded.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It isn't true!" David shouted. "My father was-"
"You're making this a lot harder, David," Carol said.
[...]
She glanced across the cavern toward Jim. She had sworn to herself never to tell him about David, or tell David about him, but telling them the truth had been the only way to keep them both alive. She needed to talk to Jim-to David, too-but since Genesis disappeared they had all three been revolving around each other like satellites, pulled together by her revelation and pushed apart by time and old pain and lack of trust.
[...]
He raised his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Carol Marcus had had twenty years to think about how to answer that question, and she had never decided what the answer should be.
"Jim ... why didn't you ask?"
He frowned. "What?"
"You've known for a long time that I have a son. You know his age, or you could have found out without any trouble. And," she added with an attempt at humor, "I don't believe they take you into the Starfleet Academy unless you can count." The humor fell flat. She did not feel very much like laughing now, anyway. The possibility that Jim Kirk might ask her about David had always existed in her mind; it was one of those possibilities that in the strange and inexplicable way of the human psyche Carol had both dreaded and, on a level she was aware of but never would have admitted to anyone but herself, wished for.
But it had never happened.
"Carol ... I don't know if you can believe this. I guess there's no reason why you should. But it never even occurred to me that David might be ours. I didn't even know you'd had a child till I got back with the Enterprise. And after that I had, I don't know, some trouble putting any kind of life back together. It was like coming to an alien world that was just similar enough to the one I remembered that every time I ran into something that had changed, I was surprised, and disoriented. . . ."
Carol took his hand, cradled his palm, and stroked the backs of his fingers.
"Stop it, Jim. I'm sorry, dammit, I don't know if I'd even have told you the truth if you had asked. I swore I'd never tell either of you."
"I don't understand why."
"How can you say that? Isn't it obvious? We weren't together, and there was no way we were ever going to be! I never had any illusions about it, and to give you your due you never tried to give me any. You have your world, and I have mine. I wanted David in my world." She let go of Jim's hand. She had always admired his hands: they were square and strong. "If he'd decided to go chasing through the universe on his own, I'd have accepted it. But I couldn't have stood having you come along when he was fourteen and say, 'Well, now that you've got him to the age of reason, it's time for him to come along with his father.' His father-someone he'd never known except as a stranger staying overnight? Jim, that was the only possibility, and that's too late to start being a father! Besides, fourteen-year-olds have no business on a starship, anyway."
He stood up, walked away from her, and pressed his hands and forehead against the wall as if he were trying to soak up the coolness and calmness of the very stone.
"You don't need to tell me that," he said. His shoulders were slumped, and she thought he was about to cry. She wanted to hold him; yet she did not want to see him cry.
"David's a lot like you, you know," she said, trying to lighten her own mood as much as Jim's. "There wasn't much I could do about that. He's stubborn, and unpredictable-Of course, he's smarter-that goes without saying. . . ." She stopped; this attempt at humor was falling even flatter than the other.
"Dammit," she said, "does it matter? We're never going to get out of here."
Jim did not respond. He knelt down beside Pavel and felt his pulse. He avoided Carol's gaze.
"Tell me what you're feeling," she said gently. He sounded remote and sad; Carol tried to feel angry at him, but could not.
"There's a man who hasn't seen me for fifteen years who thinks he's killed me," Jim said. "You show me a son who'd be glad to finish the job. Our son. My life that could have been, but wasn't. Carol, I feel old, and worn out, and confused."
She went to him and stretched out her hand. "Let me show you something. Something that will make you feel young, as young as a new world."
Saavik started and blinked. "The admiral's son," she said with matter-of-fact directness.
"Don't you believe it!"
"I do believe it," she said.
Unfortunately so do I, David thought. If his mother had only been trying to keep Jim Kirk alive, she would hardly have kept up the deception after the fight. It was far too easy to prove parentage beyond any doubt with a simple antigen-scan. If McCoy couldn't do it with the equipment in his medical pouch, then David could probably jury-rig an analyzer himself from the stuff they'd brought down from Spacelab. It was just because the proof was so easy that he did not see any point to doing the test. It would merely assure him of what he would rather not have known.
He shrugged it off. What difference did it make who his biological father was? Neither the man he had thought it was, who had died before he was born, nor the man his mother said it was, had ever had any part in his life. David could see no reason why that should change.
"What are you looking at?" Lieutenant Saavik said.
David, in his turn, had been staring without realizing it. He had always been fascinated by Vulcans. In fact, the one time he had met Jim Kirk, when he was a kid, he had been much more interested in talking to Kirk's friend Mr. Spock. David assumed it was the same Mr. Spock whom Saavik had earlier been trying to contact. If David had to be civil to a member of Starfleet, he would a whole lot rather it be a science officer than a starship captain.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-18 01:58 pm (UTC)The line about 14 year olds not belonging on starships is very strong, coming alongside the death of Scotty's 14 year old nephew.
There's a lot of fandom hostility towards Carol, but when I look at canon, the only hostility there is between her and McCoy, and that's over Genesis.
Anyway, long-ramble-short, this truly fits as a missing canon scene.