Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.pas.earthlink.net!elnk-nf2-pas!newsfeed.earthlink.net!newshub.sdsu.edu!tethys.csu.net!nntp.csufresno.edu!sn-xit-02!sn-xit-01!sn-post-01!supernews.com!news.supernews.com!not-for-mail From: "PineTrees" Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW TOS A Moment of Grace [PG] K 1/1 Date: Tue, 21 Dec 2004 09:52:52 -0600 Organization: Posted via Supernews, http://www.supernews.com Message-ID: <10sghjcoe9q814b@news.supernews.com> Reply-To: "PineTrees" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Newsreader: Microsoft Outlook Express 6.00.2900.2180 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2900.2180 X-RFC2646: Format=Flowed; Original X-Complaints-To: abuse@supernews.com Lines: 325 Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:161646 X-Received-Date: Tue, 21 Dec 2004 07:51:09 PST (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title: A Moment of Grace Author: PineTrees Contact: p1netrees@yahoo.com Series: TOS Part: 1/1 Rating: PG Codes: K Archive: ASC Beta: Thank you very much to Jungle Kitty, master of clarity, story flow, and the Past Perfect tense. Note: Joan McCarthy is an original character who first appeared in "The Porch", posted to ASC on 9/6/04. This is a companion piece of sorts to that story. A Moment of Grace -------------------------------------------- It had been a very rough year. He wasn't the type to dwell on misfortune. He had a way for handling grief. Keep moving. Think about the ship, your crew, your job, problems to solve, new challenges to overcome. Work out, exercise. Do something constructive. If you keep busy enough, eventually everything will work out. It always worked. He made it work. But here, tonight, it didn't work. His brain kept repeating one thought over and over again, like a mantra: It had been a very rough year. Kirk was lying in bed in his old room on his family's farm. He could see out the windows. It was winter, there was snow on the ground. Christmas, actually. Not that you could tell from the surroundings. No decorations, or lights, or religious icons, or any sign of the holiday his family had celebrated each year. The moon was full and reflected brightly off the snow covering the fallow cornfields. He turned his thoughts to the one thing that always made him happy, or at least too busy to be unhappy: the Enterprise, in spacedock above Earth. The damage incurred during their last mission had been bad enough that Starbase 11, their normal repair depot, could not handle the repairs. So they decided to combine the repairs with a refit of several systems, and made an unscheduled trip to Earth. One month's leave for all hands, during Christmas, and on Earth at that. The crew was ecstatic. Even Spock was excited, for Spock. At the last minute, he had been able to arrange transport to a scientific conference on Rigel. Jim hadn't expected to see Earth for the duration of the five-year mission, but here he was, back in Iowa for the second time in six months. The first time had been to bury Sam and Aurelan. It was so quiet! So quiet he couldn't stand it. He couldn't sleep. The thought kept coming back like an annoying insect buzzing in his brain: It had been a very rough year. On his first night back home, he had tossed and turned for about an hour while trying to dispel that thought. Then he had given up and decided to go back to the Enterprise. The refit team wouldn't let him. They didn't mind anyone else coming aboard for a short visit, but he and Scotty were specifically forbidden. The team lead had even gone to Komack to enforce it. They knew Kirk and Scott would be over the ship with a fine-tooth comb before taking her out, and they did not need the added pressure of working with the likes of them looking over their shoulders. He had used all his command presence, then all of his charm, and then some of his temper, to no avail. He was grounded until well after New Years. So he had come back to the house and tried to get to sleep again. He hadn't had much success, either that night or the nights since. He couldn't figure out what was different, why he was so uncomfortable here, in a place he thought he loved. He shifted in his bed, turned on his side, and his gaze fell to the worn spot on the carpet next to his bed where his dog had always slept. The thought came again, this time with a disjointed follow-up: It had been a very rough year, and he was back on the farm, where it was too quiet, because there were no dogs there anymore. No wonder he couldn't sleep. A farm without at least one dog is just, well, wrong. Something else nagged at the corner of his brain, but he evaded and escaped. He ordered his thoughts to the new phaser array being installed, and how they would be able control firing directly from the bridge from now on, instead of relying on relayed orders to phaser control. Then he thought about Winston Kyle, wondered if he was really ready to pass the OCS admission boards. Kyle was very sharp, and would make a splendid officer. Jim decided he would do well on the exams if he kept his confidence level up. He'd be sure to check in with him before the... The thought hit him again: It had been a very rough year, and he was back on the farm, where it was too quiet, because there were no dogs there anymore. Exasperated with himself, he decided to go on the offensive. Instead of trying to get rid of the thought, he chased it down: Okay, it's been a rough year. So what? You've had others. It had been a very rough year, and he was back on the farm, where it was too quiet, because there were no dogs here anymore. Well, what do you expect? You had to find a good home, there's nobody left to take care of them... He couldn't follow the thought any further. He tried, but he had trained himself too well. Keep busy. Think about something else. Maybe you should go for another run. Earlier this evening, as he had done twice a day since he'd returned home, he ran down the snow-packed road leading away from the farm. He went as fast and as far as he could go, until he felt sick from exertion. Then he turned around and walked back. When he got back, he started the second half of his routine. He went to his old makeshift gym in the barn, and did pull-ups and pushups until he couldn't lift his arms anymore. Then he looped his legs over the pull-up bar and started on sit-ups. By the time he couldn't do any more of those, his arms had recovered a little, and he went back to pull-ups. Then back to sit-ups. Back and forth he went, until he collapsed on the cold dirt floor with sweat dripping off him. Jim thought going for one more run tonight was a good idea. Exercise is a good, constructive use of time. I never have enough time to exercise as much as I want on the ship. I can't sleep anyway, so why lie here doing nothing? And it was cold, and the moon was full. Perfect running weather. He leapt out of bed to put on his workout clothes. While he was standing naked on the cold floor, the thought snuck in again. It had been a very rough year, and he was back on the farm, where it was too quiet, because there were no dogs here anymore, because there was nobody left to take care of them. His parents were both dead. After their father died, Jim and Sam had discussed what to do with the farm. Neither liked the idea of selling; the farm had been in their family for centuries. Either Sam would come back, or Jim would have a family here, someday. In the end, they had hired a property management company to take care of it in their absence. The company maintained the house, leased out the fields to a local farming consortium, and handled bills and such. Now Jim decided he wanted to sell. He circled around that idea for a few minutes, and then made up his mind to call the management office first thing in the morning and see if they were interested in purchasing. After a while, he remembered that the next day was Christmas, and nobody would be working. Then he thought, maybe one of Sam's boys would want the farm when they were older. He found himself comforted by that thought and held onto it for a while. Then the other thought came back again, and he decided to follow it just a little further. It had been a very rough year, and he was back on the farm, where it was too quiet, because there were no dogs here anymore, because there was nobody left to take care of them, because your whole family is dead. Still not fully dressed, his sweatshirt in his hand, he sank against the wall to think. ... No, that's not quite right. Your nephews are alive, living with Aurelan's parents on Earth Colony 2. And you have a son. The night before their parents' funeral, his brother's sons had fallen asleep with him on the porch after asking him endless questions about what their father was like as a kid, how he and their mother met, what was the wedding like, and so on. JT, the youngest, cried himself to sleep while lying in Jim's arms. George kept asking him about life on the Enterprise, and Jim had told him about some of the more colorful adventures he and his crew had faced. Peter did not talk much, but stayed very close. His own son did not know who he was. He did not know that he had cousins who were now orphans. He did not know that his uncle, whom Jim loved dearly, had been tortured to death by a fucking flying parasite. If he ever had another son - one whose life he was allowed to participate in, Jim thought bitterly - his name would be George Samuel, Sam for short. ... It had been a very rough year, and it's too quiet here, and your whole family is dead, and you have no life outside of your ship. What a useless, stupid, unproductive line of thought. Kirk decided to get a hotel room somewhere. He got dressed and packed the few things he had brought with him. He would get a room, go find a woman, bring her back to the hotel, and seduce her. That's what sailors are supposed to do on leave, right? It's practically written in stone somewhere. Not mope around, thinking about dead families and a centuries-dead woman. He grabbed his suitcase and fled down the stairs, out of the house. He had a purpose and a goal, and that was all he needed to defeat pointless, futile thoughts. He was halfway to the flitter when the enemy found another weakness in his shields and invaded again, stopping him in his tracks. I wonder if she knew? he thought. Did she die instantly? Or did she survive for a while, long enough to realize who had killed her? He hadn't been able to look at her. So he didn't know whether she died quickly or slowly, didn't know whether she had suffered before dying, and hadn't offered any comfort as she died. Kirk had a box full of medals that all proclaimed his bravery in one fashion or another, but he had been too much of a coward to comfort a dying woman. It had been a very rough year, and he had no woman, no family, and no close friends that did not report to him. He found that he could not complete the twenty meters to the flitter, nor could he make his way back to the house. For some reason his legs had mutinied and would not obey his commands to keep moving. So he just stood still for a while, dropping the suitcase to the ground without conscious thought. He looked up and saw the pale, wide streak of the Milky Way cut a path across the sky. The stars had never failed to comfort him; there was something about their complexity and vastness that he found calming. They worked their magic this time, too, and for a short while, his tortured brain had a respite from the thoughts that kept pummeling him from out of nowhere. After a while, he lowered his gaze. He saw a light in the darkness that had not been there before, and heard the soft sound of people laughing and talking from a quite a distance. The light was due west of the farmhouse, about half a mile away. Mrs. McCarthy's house. He had stopped by to visit his old neighbor several days ago, but nobody was there. He called the property manager - Sam had also arranged for the management company to look in on the elderly widow and perform chores around her home as needed - and was told that she was away, spending the holidays with her deceased husband's family. It was past one in the morning, and Jim wondered why she had returned at such a late hour. Then he remembered that it was Christmas. Mrs. McCarthy always attended midnight mass on Christmas Eve and had family over to her house afterwards. He decided to walk over and see her now. A little voice in his brain whispered that it was rude to intrude on a family gathering, especially at this time of the night, during Christmas, but it was overridden by the part of him that needed company. He left his suitcase in the snow, covered the distance to her house in no time, and took the porch steps two at a time. But he hesitated outside the door, hearing the sounds of laughter and overexcited kids running around inside. How pathetic is this? he thought. Standing outside someone's door at one in the morning, working up your courage to knock. It was so...needy. Kirk hated being vulnerable. He ordered himself to turn around and go home, and come back to call at a decent hour, like normal people do. But his legs mutinied again, and he was left with no option but to knock. She was gracious, and welcoming, and happy to see him, as he had known she would be. She introduced him to the people in her house. He discovered that he knew some of them, even if he didn't recognize them because he and they had been children the last time they had met. They seemed to recognize him, though. Mrs. McCarthy had not changed, except, of course, that she was older, her gait much slower than when Jim was a kid. Everyone smiled, shook his hand, offered him drinks, food, and coffee. The kids went on with their frantic routine, and the adults went back to their conversations. He sat down and joined in, a little. But mostly, he just sipped the excellent coffee and enjoyed the novel sensation of being around other people in a normal social situation. His mind kept going back to one thought again, but this time it was a good one. He had known Mrs. McCarthy would be gracious, and welcoming, and happy to see him. He had known she would open the door and invite him in. But for some reason, the smile that had appeared on Mrs. McCarthy's face when she recognized him brought forth such a feeling of relief and gratitude in him that, for a moment, he hadn't been able to speak. Then she had given him a big hug and shooed him in the door, and, thankfully, he regained his voice and his composure before he could make a complete fool out of himself. He sat there, and sipped his coffee, and enjoyed the company and the conversation going on around him. But mostly, he thought about that welcome, and smiled as he did. FINIS NewMessage: