0Title: In Good Hands
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy, Sam Kirk/Aurelan
Summary: Having lost his place at Jim’s side years ago, Sam Kirk takes some measure of comfort in knowing, even without him, his brother is not alone.
While traffic whistles along, a few hesitant white flakes appear and swirl around and melt into dark stars the moment they hit the pavement. Some passers-by stop to stare up at the sky wondrously. Twenty-odd-something stories up a residential high-rise, there’s a stirring in a man standing by a curtain-less window, not of childlike wonder but of longing.
His name is George Samuel Kirk Jr., and he goes by Sam to avoid confusion with the deceased George Kirk, his father. The intensity of Sam’s sudden longing is not unmanageable, just oddly vivid enough to catch him unawares and pull his attention off-kilter. Even the thumps and scuffles sounding through the apartment ceiling, likely young children scrambling excitedly to find their winter gear at the thought of snow on the ground, are too distant to be much distraction.
His brother, always that excitable and as equally impatient, had loved the fall’s first snow, Sam recalls. At their Iowan childhood home, Jim would try to catch the icy wisps on his tongue and tease his older brother for being stodgy until Sam gave in and tried too.
Nearly two decades later, stodgier than ever and infinitely regretful, Sam Kirk is struck by the thought, Does Jim still think of catching snowflakes?
Having no answer is answer enough and jabs at the softest part of him, but for once he doesn’t shy away from the hurt, nor does he turn from the cityscape and force memories away. With a gentle touch to the cool windowpane, Sam imagines two boys running the length of a frozen field and acknowledges that his passiveness never eased his pain. The time has come to try for something better. Not trying means more questions without answers, ensuring the past is all he will ever have to comfort him.
Sam once loved without question his gangly kid brother with the lopsided grin. Jim isn’t that kid anymore. If there’s a place for Sam now, it won’t be the same as when they were young and inseparable. Perhaps, though, that place will be enough to feel like a brother again.
The Romulan attack destroys so many families, it seems inconceivable it could bring one family together. Sam hasn’t spoken directly to his brother in six years and that last time couldn’t be avoided when a cousin accidentally knocked them into each other during the procession at Grandfather Tiberius’ funeral. Oh, he hears about Jim from their mother, who speaks of Sam’s brother in a way that always sounds sorrowful and quietly disappointed, as though she too has forgotten how to talk to him like family.
Jim is not like Sam. Jim is the most stubborn of the Kirk family. When Jim knows what he wants, he doggedly pursues it until it becomes his when Sam may decide to give up. He is quick to anger, but his temper is balanced by the ability to easily let go of small grievances. Sam’s temper simmers, and he prefers to pursue a goal he knows he can capably achieve. Sam wants boundaries and routines to feel comfortable. Jim laughs at the conventional and refuses to be caged by expectations and rules. Sam is methodical and meticulous in his critical thinking of a problem. Jim rarely solves a problem the normal way, preferring to skip steps in between when they don’t suit him.
So, the first time (and the only time) Sam does something brash, utterly selfish, and more Jim-like, it changes everything. In hindsight, Sam realizes that Jim must have considered Sam the steadfast, dependable one in that volatile environment on the farmstead. But where Sam did not see Jim with such clarity, Jim did not see Sam clearly either—certainly not as the quietly seething teenager Sam actually was. When Sam, finally fed up, decided to leave Iowa behind one late sunny morning, that spontaneous act spawned the most vicious fight the brothers ever had.
Jim was understandably upset. He had always come home regardless of the frequency with which he liked to run off to find trouble. Sam’s proposal to simply pack up and not come back had Jim instantly bucking the idea and digging in his heels. At the time Sam took that reaction as a slight, just another way Jim wanted to be contrary and antagonistic as little brothers are wont to be. He called his brother stupid, Jim said Sam was the stupid one if he wanted to be a runaway, and Sam, provoked by the hurt of that verbal jab, accused Jim of desperately wanting attention, even if it came violently from their asshole of an uncle.
Only dogs crawl on their bellies back to their masters after they’re beaten, Sam had snapped. Jim went white with rage, and that was that. Sam left. Jim stayed. Winona caught the first shuttle home after a call from her father-in-law who had Sam in custody. When she realized she couldn’t force Jim to agree to live with Sam or vice versa, she let Sam stay with Tiberius and sent Jim to distant family on Tarsus IV.
Sam cannot think of what comes after that because the guilt is overwhelming. If he hadn’t turned his back to Jim when they saw each other again on the porch of their grandfather’s house, or if he had caved to Jim’s demand to live with Frank until Winona returned, or even if he had managed to coax Jim to go with him somewhere completely unknown to them both instead of snapping back in anger—so many what if’s. All of it to prevent Jim’s presence on that colony once Governor Kodos chose mass genocide as an alternative to starvation.
In the wake of Tarsus IV, Sam realized for the first time he could lose his brother to something worse than harsh words. But by then it was too late: Jim had withdrawn, refusing visits during his recovery period. After his release to his family’s care, Jim became twice as reckless as before and had no kind words for anyone. It was difficult to even meet that angry gaze.
Sam believes Jim is right to blame them for his suffering. Years later, Sam hasn’t shaken that belief. The Kirks could have done better as a family. By giving up too soon, Sam’s little brother, the youngest Kirk who should have been the most protected, paid for their failure with his innocence, nearly with his life.
Sam isn’t a strong man, or he would have found a way to stick by Jim in the following years. He would have begged for forgiveness until Jim said “okay, fine” just to shut him up. Had Sam finally admitted, “I was a dumb kid who needed you too,” Jim might have understood and they could have been close again, as it was before Sam let first his pain and then his cowardice wedge them farther and farther apart.
But life isn’t so simple, guilt is hard, forgiveness is harder, most especially knowing how one starts to forgive himself, and words are the hardest of all. So Sam stays silent, listens to the sporadic update from his mother, maybe does a little discreet digging for intel of his own after his brother’s welfare as time passes. Once Jim joins Starfleet (and of course Jim would end up there, thinks Sam a bit dismally; his brother was always most like their parents) and Sam might be finding his courage for the first time, the attack happens.
Once again, Sam is listening to the incoming horror stories featured on every news channel. People are dying, worlds are falling, courtesy of a maniac long-forgotten, the very same attacker Sam’s father sacrificed his future to in order to stop decades before. Sam sits stunned on his living room couch, hands pressed tightly between his knees. A news anchor reports that the untested youth of Starfleet will join their more experienced seniors in battle. No cadet can be spared from the fight.
His thoughts are tumultuous: never said sorry, never said goodbye, or even hey, I miss you. Never did more than let his mom be the mediator, stating with resignation, “Jim wants to stay on campus for break,” and “Sam, I reminded him to call you but… what if you tried calling him, just once?” He doesn’t want to talk to me, Mom, because why would Jim want to if he doesn’t care anymore. What is there to say?
Sam dimly registers the sound of his apartment door swooshing open. Only once his girlfriend, Aurelan, pulls one of his hands into hers does he realize he isn’t alone in this nightmare. “No word,” he manages to croak. “Lines are all busy.”
“It will be okay,” she says softly. “You said your brother is the best cadet in the ‘Fleet.”
Sam chokes, saying when he’s in control of his voice again, “He’s an idiot, but yeah. If anyone can survive this, it’d be him.”
Aurelan puts an arm around his shoulders as they turn their attention to the news again. Aurelan cries hard over the confirmation of planet Vulcan’s decimation. Sam’s grief becomes a hollow clicking in his throat every time he swallows.
Being too slow to shake off his cowardice has made him the bystander twice now.
Will it hold him back a third time?
Sam has a hazy recollection of George Kirk: mostly of his broad smile, the way his forehead crinkled when he laughed, the strength of the man’s arms as he tossed a tiny Sam into the air and caught his son on the way down. While the memorial photos, even the family holograms, do not in Sam’s opinion compare to those few memories, they do allow Sam to recognize George in Jim. In front of that podium, from his bearing to his solemn speech to the faint upturn of his mouth, Jim Kirk looks just like their long-dead father.
Then Jim is off the stage with a gleaming medal of honor affixed to his lapel. The Federation President gives a brief commemorative address to end the affair, and instantly family and fans form queues around Starfleet’s surviving admirals and cadets. Sam is ferried from one end of the auditorium to the other practically against his will. In fact, he is woefully out of place among the cheering and tears.
Why is it he cannot recall a single point of the plan he painstakingly outlined in the past two weeks? It’s going awry without even being enacted. His palms are sweaty, and his ironed dress shirt feels uncomfortably bunched up between his shoulder blades. He had had to rip off his necktie at the start of the parade of cadets filing into the auditorium, his brother leading the way, so he could breathe properly. The reaction had nothing to do with that simultaneous punch of pride and nerves to his gut.
It couldn’t be clearer to Sam Kirk that wanting and doing are very different things. He wants to share in this victorious moment in his brother’s life, yet he doesn’t know how—or if he is welcome to. Jim is soon to be a Starfleet Captain, already a hero, and Sam is a lab assistant with a reserved demeanor and underwhelming ambitions.
His gaze slides sideways to where some folks are already vacating the premises. If he slips into that line before his mother looks for him, before that nosy third-cousin-in-law latches onto his arm to loudly cry on him (he’s the only one who can bear the dramatics without flinching), before Jim realizes he attended the event in person—
“Excuse me,” he mutters, bumping into a cadet-grey shoulder.
“Sam?”
Of course. Sam’s eyes close. The noise of the auditorium grows distant.
Of the two of them, Jim has never been the coward.
He turns to face his brother and manages a pathetic hello. For a long minute, neither Kirk moves. Nor do they move away.
“Sam,” Jim says again, this time like he’s testing an idea instead of a name.
The voice belting “Jim!” is not from Jim’s brother. Sam almost sags in relief at the interruption, shifting on his feet and shoving haphazardly at the tie trying to fall out of his pants pocket as a man with neatly trimmed brown hair pushes his way past the onlookers to get to them, or rather Jim.
“Jim, for god’s sake, I thought you’d ditched me already! Damn, do I hate crowds.” The newcomer’s complaint dies slowly as the man looks past Jim to Sam. One moment of awkwardness later, the guy drawls, “So… you have a twin.”
Sam blinks. “No. I’m older.”
Jim blinks at this comment too before rounding on the man with a flat look. “I told you I had a brother, Bones.”
“A twin,” the man called Bones points out dryly.
Jim looks consternated. “No way. We look nothing alike.”
Out of nowhere, a part of Sam’s brain which had been collecting dust flips on. “I’m better-looking” pops out of his mouth, startling Jim as much as him.
Another awkward pause ensues after Jim has wheeled back to gape at him. It’s the laughter behind the “I like him, Jim!” which changes the surprise in Jim’s gaze to an achingly familiar challenge.
“Who says you’re better-looking?” demands Sam’s brother.
That certainly puts Sam on the spot. Fortunately, he spies somebody he knows will take his side. “She does,” he says, so very grateful now that his girlfriend had offered to meet him here after the ceremony.
Jim turns in the direction Sam is pointing just as Aurelan glides up to greet them. The kindness in her eyes steadies him like nothing else.
Good, Sam thinks, reading Jim’s expression correctly. His brother can recognize beauty.
Aurelan slips her arm into his and doesn’t wait to be introduced. “Hello, Jim,” she says, “I’m Aurelan. I’m pleased to finally meet you. Congratulations on your commendation and your promotion.”
Jim looks between them strangely but Sam doesn’t sense a negative undercurrent to his brother’s unabashed stare. But Aurelan is nervous if the tell-tale pinching of Sam’s sleeve between her fingers is any indication, and Jim’s silence is not encouraging.
Jim finally says, with barely disguised bafflement, “Sam, how did you get her?”
A tension in Sam eases. The dust is almost entirely shaken off the annoying-brother area of his brain.
Ignoring the pricking at the corners of his eyes, he smirks. “Because I am better-looking than you.”
“Sam.” Aurelan does pinch him then, hard, before smiling at Jim. “If you don’t have plans, your brother and I would like to treat you to dinner.” She transfers her smile from Jim to the other cadet while Jim looks flustered. “Any friend of yours is welcome to join us.”
“Thank you for the invite, ma’am.”
Sam takes a moment to wonder why Jim’s friend and Aurelan seem to be taking each other’s measure, almost as if there is some unspoken understanding between them Jim and Sam aren’t smart enough to catch onto. Well, if they don’t leave him and Jim on their own, that would be good, thinks Sam. Otherwise the weirdness of this tentative reunion alone might kill the chances of its continued existence.
“Dinner,” Jim starts hesitantly, and Sam’s stomach begins to sink.
“Name’s McCoy,” the cadet introduces himself, seeming nonplussed all of a sudden as he puts his elbow into Jim’s side, then levels Jim with a hard stare. “You skipped lunch. Dinner is happening whether you like it or not.”
Oh. Sam could like this guy.
Curiously enough, Jim doesn’t argue, only glances sideways at Sam before shrugging slightly. “Fine. If it’s on Sam.”
Sam inhales quietly and nods, agreeing, “On me,” after Aurelan squeezes his arm encouragingly. In that moment, there comes the stirring of something else long-unused, not unlike happiness. Sam adds, feeling braver, as a proper brother should, “I’ll have to since I hear a cadet’s salary pays peanuts.”
McCoy snorts.
Jim breaks into a grin for the first time since they faced each other. “But I’m a captain now!”
Sam huffs. “A concept which is making me totally reorient my idea of captains.”
Jim’s shoulders snap back. As Sam awaits a comeback, that happy little ache grows behind his ribcage.
Jim doesn’t get the chance. Aurelan looks at McCoy, and McCoy none-too-gently pushes Jim in the direction of the nearest exit. Sam is told to behave like a naughty child trying to start a fight.
For the sake of possible future bantering with his brother, Sam does.
The prospect of connecting with Jim again is wonderful to Sam but the reality is far more daunting. The first step toward progress, he is told, is learning how to communicate properly. Sam congratulates himself on setting an impossible task. He and Jim might as well be strangers for all that they know how to talk to each other. It’s not a new hurdle. Their separation started because of poor communication.
Jim accepts Sam’s quiet request to call him. That first one is painful, full of too-long silences and awkward pauses. Early childhood memories are the easiest—and least painful—topic, they discover, and so the brothers set about reliving more silly moments from the past than Sam cares to admit to: the footrace to determine who had the fastest 100-yard dash; skating on the pond in deep winter; chasing chickens; the rooster chasing them for upsetting the henhouse; Sam’s eleventh summer when he volunteered at a humane society and all the animals escaped their kennels en masse because Jim thought they should be freed from confinement; that time they made a scarecrow out of the weirdest items around the farm then promptly forgot about it (and nearly giving the neighboring old granny a heart attack when she brought over apple pie one evening and turned the corner of their house in the dark).
The large gap of time from Jim’s teen years to the present is a minefield they cautiously navigate around. For example, Sam might tell his brother what it was like as a part-time student, part-time assistant at the local library while he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be a botanist or an engineer. He could mention he had the worst roommate ever while living in the student dorms at university, but that roommate’s friend’s sister went to high school with Aurelan. The first time Sam saw Aurelan as she dubiously came to that tiny, messy room, cramming in elbow-to-elbow with her pack of friends, he upended a bowl of luckily lukewarm ramen on his lap. She said later she thought his blustering and clumsiness in front of a girl was endearing. (Sam did eventually, reluctantly share this anecdote. After Jim quit laughing, he demanded to know how they could be related. They could only agree that the family gene for suaveness clearly skipped Sam.)
Stories, no matter the serious or humorous content, have a way of resurrecting Sam’s regrets. He missed formative moments in his brother’s life. Jim never lets Sam know if he has a similar sentiment; then again, Sam is too afraid of the answer to ask the question.
This is one of those times where they are feeling braver than usual and cautiously exploring what they don’t know. Sam has inquired how Jim decided to join Starfleet (that story involves a bar fight, unsurprisingly).
As Jim wraps up with “Then Bones vomited on my shoes, and I thought ‘this guy should be fun’,” Sam is reminded that Jim has a deep-seated respect for raw honesty. McCoy may have been sick on him, but he gave Jim advance warning. Poor McCoy.
Jim shifts in his chair and asks Sam, “Did you think about joining?”
The question isn’t accusatory, but it has undercurrent Sam cannot quite tease out. “No, never.”
Jim falls momentarily silent. Then, “Why?”
Sam answers without much thought, “I want to be around for my kids,” and grimaces afterward. He looks down, picking at the grooves on his desk, the result of moving lab equipment around too roughly. “If I have them.”
A quick glance at Jim’s face doesn’t tell him too much, so he shrugs and sighs. “Lame, I know.”
“Not lame,” his brother counters immediately, quietly—and, strange, Jim seems to have a difficult time looking Sam in the eyes too. “I understand.”
If anyone could, it would be his brother. Nonetheless, Sam clarifies, “I don’t blame Mom,” so Jim doesn’t think he feels bad about their mother’s role in their upbringing. Adulthood has given him some clarity he didn’t have when he was younger. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to enjoy work that can take you away from your family.”
“Sam.”
“I just don’t want that for myself.” Sam tries for a smile. “I don’t look at the stars and feel that thrill of the unknown the way you and Mom do, anyway.” He waves a hand around his tidy little cubicle. “Boring desk job guy, that’s me.”
“If you were boring, Aurelan wouldn’t be marrying you.”
That surprises a laugh out of him. “Who told you that?”
Jim smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Sam leans forward, now caught up in the possibilities. “What else did Aurelan say?”
His little brother makes a show of inspecting the personal padd under his hands, hitherto forgotten once Sam called him. “What?”
“Jimmy.” Sam feels a scowl coming on, and normally he’s too level-headed to be provoked but little brothers know just where to poke to incite the reaction they want.
Jim snorts. “Your face will stick like that.”
“Why are you talking to my girl anyway!”
“Aurelan likes me.”
“She also likes cute but dumb baby animals.”
“It’s because I’m better-looking.”
“You just won’t let that go, will you?”
The ready-for-trouble gleam in Jim’s eyes hasn’t changed over the years. Jim mirrors Sam leaning toward the screen from his end of the vid call. “This face has fans.”
Sam rolls his eyes. He should have known. Being Starfleet’s poster boy captain was bound to go to his brother’s head. Jim thinks he’s a celebrity? Ha. Sam won’t believe it. “I’m hanging up now.”
“So you admit it!”
“We’re not discussing this,” he states firmly. He reaches out to close the channel.
“I get fan mail!” Jim booms at the last second, as always wanting the last word.
The screen goes dark, and Sam snickers. Then he pulls up his messenger and makes a quick reply to the last missive from a current resident of the USS Enterprise who is more respectable than Sam’s idiot brother.
He writes, Since you’re designated as my brother’s primary physician, I kindly request you make him soak his head in a bucket of water. Does he actually read his fan mail?
The next day Dr. L. H. McCoy’s response is waiting in Sam’s inbox. It reads, Wouldn’t work. His head has gotten too big for the bucket. But I will ask our chief communications officer to ‘lose’ any future fan letters. She would enjoy that. Also, I heard about your engagement. Congrats. Aurelan says our fancy uniforms should work fine for the wedding, but definitely send me the specs for the outfit you want Jim to wear at the reception. Otherwise, he’ll show up looking like he’s on vacation at Risa.
Yes, Sam definitely likes Jim’s friend. McCoy is a keeper.
The wedding is brutally sentimental. Sam cries more than his bride but less than his mother. Jim decides on getting him and groomsmen drunk the night before, and while it’s not a spectacular disaster, the memories resulting from it do have Jim’s fingerprints all over them. Sam, unused to alcohol, has the alarming reaction of bursting into laughter at nothing at all and therefore an unnerved Jim restricts Sam from imbibing any remaining liquor and has McCoy give him a cocktail in a hypospray. Slumped sideways across two chairs, a fuzzy-minded Sam enjoys listening to the lecture McCoy gives his brother. When he asks, “Is it better to throw up right away or try to wait before you throw up?”, both men don’t understand him very well, and so he warns Jim as he was told Jim’s Bones once did, “I might puke on you,” except McCoy gets the end result of that.
The doctor puzzles, “The shot shouldn’t make him to do that,” and it turns out Sam has more in common with Jim anybody realized: their allergic reactions to common medicine are unpredictable.
Jim owns up to his mistake once McCoy’s second lecture (delivered at a volume considerably higher than its predecessor) enlightens Jim to the possibility he may have incapacitated the groom before the wedding, Christ Almighty, great going there Jim! Miraculously, they manage to return Sam to his pre-bachelor-party-state so he can catch a few hours sleep. Sam does, in fact, marry the love of his life; but Jim does trail around after him that next day like Sam experience a relapse, right up until Sam is walking down the wedding aisle.
A week later, Aurelan shows Sam the family portrait taken after the ceremony. Sam’s eyes are drawn to the radiance of his new wife at his side. He raises her hand in his and kisses the back of it. She laughs and chides, “Not that.”
Sam looks again and sees why she called up this particular photo. Jim, on Sam’s other side, does not look like he hates being there. He had been polite throughout the whole affair, especially when the many offshoots of their family realized, yes, Sam’s brother was in attendance and it had been years since Jim Kirk had made an appearance at a family event. Jim bore the stares and tactless questions well enough. At one point Sam had felt guilty, thinking if he did not selfishly want Jim at his wedding, Jim would not be so uncomfortable. A pessimistic little voice in Sam’s head pondered if Jim would stop contacting him after that.
But in this photograph, Jim is smiling faintly, his shoulder just brushing Sam’s. Next to Jim is Winona Kirk, her attention on both her sons. For once, there’s no melancholy in her gaze, only a proud bearing. Their family, together after so long apart. Sam is happy.
Aurelan tucks her chin against his shoulder. “We should print and frame it for the apartment.”
“Thank you,” he says, two simple words to mean so much more: Thank you for being my partner, thank you for loving me, thank you for recognizing the value hidden in this singular moment captured in time because you understand me so well.
And because she truly can read his heart like no other person, she offers the comfort, “It has to keep getting better if you two don’t give up trying.”
This encouragement is enough. Sam promises, “I won’t give up.”
Thanks for inviting me, McCoy writes back to the gratitude letter from the newlyweds, which Sam and Aurelan read together after a long afternoon of unpacking their wedding gifts in their kitchen. Thanks for Jim’s copy of that wedding photo. He will never let go of his embarrassment at me catching him crying over it to tell you this, but it has an honorary place in the picture rotation of his favorite visited places. In my opinion, a few more personal mementos wouldn’t go amiss if they made into his inbox. Just a suggestion, mind you. He’s your family, after all.
“McCoy is very protective of Jim,” Aurelan remarks as they pause on that sentence.
Sam frowns. “It’s my job to be protective.”
His wife lightly smacks his arm with “Don’t be jealous!” Aurelan returns her attention to the message. “His motivation is different.”
Different how, Sam wants to ask but in the end opts to scroll down to McCoy’s next paragraph. Maybe clues exist in the rest of the letter.
Jim says the Enterprise will refrain from diplomatic runs between the colonies for a while, which is a welcome change for anyone who can’t stomach listening to political posturing for more than an hour at a time. Word of advice: if you’re ever downwind of an argument between a Tellarite and an Andorian, use a face shield. The spittle positively flies! I didn’t have any defense during one particularly nasty spat but was fortunate enough to be in the company of our First Officer, whose remarkable stature is quite effective in its own right. To this day, Spock still believes I was drunk because I thanked him for his protection.
Our latest exploratory mission to Argos was a riot and luckily not in the literal sense. As we were observing the natives—a highly intelligent underwater race whose apparent dislike of land-dwellers necessitated our utmost discretion—Jim shared the story of how he learned to swim.
Sam grins, then.
The pond at the family farm in Iowa was Jim’s favorite place to catch turtles and frogs. Because the turtles and frogs seemed so naturally buoyant in the water, he thought all creatures, namely humans, must be. So, full of confidence, Jim jumped right off the dock—except, common sense might have informed anybody else who had never stepped into any body of water remotely larger than a bathtub or had an inkling about body mass, they won’t magically float. They panic and flail and sink like a stone. Now scary as this story was to me (and I’m sure Jim told his story for reasons other than to raise my blood pressure but I’m hard-pressed to think of those reasons right now), it’s clear the mini-terror that must have been a six-year-old Jim didn’t drown himself that day. Jim said his brother dove right in after him and then didn’t let Jim out of that pond until Jim could perform a decent doggy paddle and float on his back once he grew tired of paddling. Jim also said Sam never scolded him for the mistake. Sam just said—
“Look before you leap. If I’m not there, then don’t leap at all,” Sam fills in.
Aurelan’s eyes crinkle fondly at the corners.
This is the soundest advice I’ve ever heard in a long time. I am reinstating it as a Jim Kirk rule to live by. Lord knows—and so does every person who has met Jim—leaping into things he shouldn’t is simply what he does. I know you all worry about that and worry about not being around when Jim enacts a fool’s leap. I promise to try my best to stand in your place. The next time he looks before leaping, he will know someone is ready to dive after him the way his brother did that day.
This may be news to you, but I’m not the only one who wishes to share in this responsibility. I have a friend… Well, friend is a loose term—more like someone who cannot disagree with my efforts at being the voice of reason wherein it concerns Jim and therefore has joined the cause. He would tell you it’s his duty to ensure his captain is hale and of sound mind, but technically I could say the same, although I already know better than to think of it merely as duty. What he would mean, in truth, is that supporting and protecting a good man like Jim Kirk is a reasonable thing to do. It’s kind of inevitable.
You are Jim’s kin. You care about him because he is yours to care about. Rest assured, there is also a family for your brother aboard the Enterprise too, and we care as deeply as you do. I hope by telling you this, some of your concern can be eased.
And if chasing after him fails, I keep a sedatives hypospray handy. Some days it’s simpler not to let him leap all. The idiot.
Best wishes for your marriage,
the best friend Jim doesn’t deserve,
Leonard McCoy
Sam tries in vain to smooth away the smile on his face.
Aurelan muses, “Do you think Jim wishes he hadn’t recruited Leonard as his Chief Medical Officer?”
“I think he gets hypo-ed a lot and doesn’t regret a thing,” replies Sam. He tucks the padd away and pulls Aurelan into his arms. “Let’s invite McCoy to a family meal the next time the Enterprise docks home.”
“You owe him a steak dinner at least,” she says solemnly, then laughs as Sam gives her cheek a smacking kiss.
“Maybe two!”
Jim is four years away from being older than their father when George died. Sam knows Jim has that in the back of his mind like a ticking clock and it is partly why, Sam suspects, Jim has become more cagey around his birthday in recent years. But Jim is a filial son and a trying-to-be-good brother, and so Sam receives a call from him on the day.
Studying his brother’s face carefully, Sam decides the tumbler in Jim’s hand isn’t the first drink Jim has knocked back that evening. The slight flush to the man’s cheeks could be explained away as over-exertion but the way Jim’s eyes grow unfocused the longer they chat is the tell-tale sign.
Not that this stilted flow of information is much of a mutual conversation. Jim goes off ranting about some silly thing, pauses, fumbles absently with a loose thread on his uniform sleeve, then picks up his half-communicated thought where he left off. Wash, rinse, repeat. Sam is being too polite to tell him to shut up. Maybe he would consider it in another life where they had not walked away from each other once already.
Jim segues into reminiscing about a recent successful mission—dangerous from the sound of it but without any specific life-threatening incident Sam can pluck out to stew over. He wants to demand, What dumb thing did you do while on that planet, Jimmy?
Jim would never provide an answer.
“Once Spock figured out the ploy,” Jim’s tale continues, “and we got the hell out of there, we made a case to Starfleet brass to quarantine the entire star system. So… um, you know, don’t go there for vacation or anything,” Jim ends with a tired snuffle and a light stretch of his neck muscles.
Sam thumps the padd in front of him soundly on the edge of his desk and proceeds to stare a startled Jim down. He is on the verge of complaining, Forget about Captain Kirk’s adventures for a minute, Jim, tell me about my brother! Or is the job all you have?
It can’t be—no, Sam knows it isn’t everything. So he settles on, “Jim, all I hear is blah, blah, Spock does this, Spock does that, Spock is fantastic, I like Mr. Spock so much.”
His brother’s face changes from flushed to bright red. “Sam!”
“So what about your Dr. Bones then? Moved on already?”
Now from bright red to apoplectic. “It’s not like that!”
“Uh-huh,” Sam says in a tone that only a fool would think of as agreeable. Then, as he would have done at the age of ten, he singsongs, “JimJim has a crush!” He yells over his shoulder (though his wife isn’t home), “AURELAN, MY BABY BRO IS SWEET ON HIS FIRST OFFICER!” He turns smugly back to the vid-screen. “Just wait until I tell Mom.”
Looking soberer than he has in the past half-hour, Jim shoots Sam a glare accompanied by an obscene gesture. The call disconnects abruptly.
Sam plants an elbow on the table and drops his chin into his hand in contemplation. Ah ha. Jim’s It’s not like that was not a denial after all. Jim had been trying to say he hadn’t replaced McCoy with Spock. So that’s why the protest was raised so vehemently!
Brother, what’s going on in that head of yours?
But Jim until calls back, Sam can’t know and certainly cannot test any theories.
Aurelan returns home later in the day and inquires after his chat with his brother. Jim rambles when he’s drunk, Sam could say. It’s cute but annoying as hell. Oh and he might actually have a crush on a subordinate—or two.
He helps Aurlean out of her coat. “You know how it is with Jim. Never a dull moment.”
She laughs. “Oh, things are better!”
“We’re still trying,” Sam acknowledges.
Jim pauses in picking at his salad, pushing the leafy green parts around until Sam wants to shove a forkful of it into his brother’s mouth. “That sounds more like a phaser to the head than a choice.”
Up to that point, Jim had been listening very patiently to Sam’s recounting of how he came into his latest work project. “I could have said no. They would have assigned someone else to take on the research.”
Jim purses his mouth. “Why didn’t you say no?”
Sam raises his eyebrows. “Because I like my job and want to keep it?”
“Sam, it sounds like the higher-ups think you’re a doormat.”
A muscle jumps in Sam’s jaw. “I’m respected for my expertise and my skills, Jim. Yes, there may be the occasional project I don’t necessarily enjoy but it is work. Someone must do it, and I know I’m given the work because I’m trusted to do the job well.” He studies Jim’s expression closely, a suspicion niggling at him. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
His brother drops his fork and scrubs his hand over his forehead. “I might have… screwed up.”
Sam says calmly, “I’m sure the situation is salvageable.”
“Shouldn’t you ask what I did first before making that judgment?”
“Why would it matter? I know you,” Sam says, and Jim seems shocked to hear that. “You did something unexpected, probably against the rules,” Sam surmises, “and now your higher-ups are having a fit about it.” His half-smile is directed at his dinner plate. “What’s there to be surprised about? Whatever you did, Jim, would have been the right choice for you.”
Jim sighs, sitting back from the table.
“You shouldn’t regret it.”
His brother sighs. “I don’t.”
“You won’t lose your ship.”
“Okay.”
“Okay then,” echoes Sam, who then points at Jim’s untouched meal. “Eat.”
“Bossy,” mutters the other man, but he picks up his fork again. “I think there might be a chance for a long-term assignment if things are smoothed over.”
Jim is meant to be among the stars, Sam knows. “It’ll work out.”
“After I get chewed out by Pike, I hope so.” Following a pause, Jim adds, “Thanks, Sam.”
“Anytime.” Sam means that. Jim may have his doubts over his command decisions and feel anxious about the consequences that arise from his unorthodox methods, but Sam will be the one who never doubts him. Jim only needs to accept that.
The medical ward is a blinding white, the austere decor heightened by its exacting cleanliness. By extension, the on-duty staff seem as impersonal as the sterile environment while conducting their duties, but Sam had not missed the sympathetic gazes cast his way. He does his best to ignore the attention and keep focused on the unconscious man in the adjoining room. Relegated to a small guest observatory with the delay of a higher clearance for his visitor’s pass, this physical distance creates a sense of detachment which is close to genuine pain.
Sam presses his hand to the one-way window as he thinks, That’s my brother in there. And Sam isn’t with him. Again.
Fatal exposure to a warp core, he had been told, but an experimental procedure saved Jim’s life. Reading between the lines, Jim was very likely clinically dead when they pulled him out of the engine room.
Sam can barely finish the thought without his stomach cramping uncomfortably.
Hadn’t he vowed he wouldn’t lose his brother a third time? What a fool’s wish. A man like Sam cannot shelter his own brother from death.
The speakers in the observatory pick up a soft groan through a microphone: Jim waking up. Sam strains forward against the window to catch the moment his brother groggily blinks open his eyes—and then Jim’s gaze falls on the two officers at his bedside.
The evidence of the men’s relief is unmistakable from the way they subtly lean into Jim’s personal space. Drawn into an orbit by the magnetic pull of a star, muses Sam. Sam may regret not being in that room but there’s nothing in Jim’s tentative smile that has room for Sam just then. Because, even without Sam, Jim Kirk is not alone and has not been alone for some years. Jim has his Mr. Spock and his Dr. McCoy.
The pain is bittersweet now. Does Sam begrudge these captain’s men their place? No. Yet he hurts for himself, for what could have been if he wasn’t so… plain. And cowardly.
No matter. Jim is in good hands, and Sam is grateful for that.
He retreats from the window to settle in a chair along the wall to wait.
After some time, the tall figure of Mr. Spock enters into the guest observatory, having left his captain to a series of softly delivered questions by Dr. McCoy and an even gentler inspection. Perhaps Jim is still fragile enough to break, given the way McCoy is acting. That’s a sobering thought for Sam.
“Mr. Kirk,” comes the Vulcan’s greeting. “I am to inform you your clearance is in order. You may see the Captain momentarily.”
“Sam,” he says, glancing away from the scene in the other room, where Kirk is already looking long-suffering from his doctor’s fussing. “Just call me Sam.”
Mr. Spock cocks an eyebrow. “That would be improper.”
Sam has already seen what lurks behind Spock’s impassive countenance, the emotion so strong it could not be hidden the instant Jim opened his eyes.
“I think,” Jim’s brother decides, “I can skip formalities with the man who saved my brother.” He turns fully toward the Vulcan to offer sincere thanks.
Mr. Spock acknowledges the gratitude with a slight incline of his head.
“Bones,” they hear the complaint, though muted through the speakers, “enough. I’m fine.”
Sam sighs heavily. “‘Fine’, he says. I’d clock some sense into him if I thought it would make a difference—but Jim won’t change. He likes to convince himself he can handle anything, that he’s in good shape despite it all. Except,” Sam’s voice falters a moment, “who says the rest of us are?”
“A worthwhile inquiry,” remarks Mr. Spock with similar gravity. “The concern, coming from you, may have the desired effect.”
Sam opens and closes his mouth, baffled.
“Family matters to Jim. You are his family,” Spock points out.
Sam turns back to the window, once again caught up by a wave of regret at the sickly pallor to his brother’s skin. But now he sees something better too: Jim’s fierce spirit, revived, in the sharp if amused gaze tracking the tricorder whirring about his head.
Sam stands. Spock’s words effectively remind him he has already made a promise to himself. So what if his place in Jim’s life is less significant than it used to be? Sam is still a brother. Jim has yet to tell him to quit trying to be one.
“If you think so,” he says tentatively. “I could at least tell him dying is no laughing matter.” For Jim’s sake, for his own, and for Spock and McCoy’s too.
“Very good,” Sam thinks he hears the Vulcan murmur.
Mr. Spock turns from the exit, Sam follows him a room over and, in his haste to live up to Mr. Spock’s expectations, blurts out an ill-timed delivery with a resounding volume his voice has not had in years to the man tucked tightly into the biobed, a tongue-depressor stuck in his mouth. “Try walking into a warp core again and I’ll kick your ass clear to the Gamma quadrant!” Sam yells.
Jim eyes Sam, eyebrows raised, before leaning back onto his pillows while a nurse retracts the tongue depressor. “Duly noted.” Amusement makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.
Sam deflates a bit, then rallies himself as he moves closer to peer down at his brother, who shamelessly meets the stare. Sam flicks a glance at McCoy. “Can I touch him?”
Jim’s face twists strangely. “Sam.”
“Gently,” McCoy advises, laughter in his voice. “But try to hold back on the ass-kicking for the time being.” As Jim’s head whips in the doctor’s direction in dismay, McCoy and the nurse are already packing up their equipment. McCoy nudges the Vulcan from the room as well. He calls back to Jim, “Stay put, kid, and be nice to your brother.”
Sam waits until the door slides shut. “I see why you fell for them.”
“What,” says his brother dumbly, eyes popping.
Then Sam leans down, and Jim’s eyes pop wider.
Determined now, Sam puts a steadying hand on the man’s arm. “Just one hug.”
“Sam.” Jim’s voice hitches.
As instructed, with great care, Sam tugs Jim into a one-armed hug. A moment passes, then another, before his little brother goes slack against him all at once.
“Who ordered you to hug me?” comes a muffled, not-quite demand.
“Aurelan,” Sam lies.
Jim snorts into his shoulder but acknowledges, “Aurelan knows best.”
“She does,” he agrees. “She absolutely does.”
That, at least, is reason enough for both of them to keep the embrace going a while longer.
Tragedies happen, disasters strike, death comes and yet life goes on. Sometimes celebrating life—new life—is the best remedy of all to ease away one’s misfortunes.
Sam is nervous, has been nervous since he and Aurelan returned from the doctor’s office yesterday. They haven’t spoken to their families yet, but a plan is in place. Aurelan’s parents, her sister and Sam’s mother are coming over for a family dinner that night. Of course the imminent visit has already set Sam off into one of his cleaning flurries. Everyone will be happy, he tells himself, rather irrationally. The pep-talk doesn’t make him less nervous.
Aurelan agreed—no, almost insisted—on telling Jim before the rest of the family. Sam understands why. His calendar already has a place-marker for the monthly vid call with Jim. If Sam doesn’t break the news to him today, then that’s another month to wait to deliver it in person. And he so wants to see Jim’s reaction. He just does.
But now, staring at his brother on the screen inlaid into his living room wall, Sam has forgotten every rehearsed line and all dumb jokes he could manage afterward. He doesn’t know what his face must look like, but evidently Jim is disturbed by it.
Jim scoots closer on-screen. “What is it?”
Sam’s throat closes on a simple reply of ‘nothing bad’.
“What’s wrong?” Jim’s voice dips with concern. “Is it Aurelan?”
Great question. Very intuitive of Jim. Aurelan should be here next to Sam. He’s not supposed to tell his brother anything without her. Too bad the bladder of a pregnant woman lives by a timetable of its own.
And oh no, why are his eyes burning? He’s not going to cry, Sam promised himself that.
His brother sucks in a breath and says more urgently, “Sam.”
Sam turns his face away to discreetly wipe at his eyes. “It’s fine,” he says. “We’re fine.”
“No you’re not!” Jim explodes, startling Sam into forgetting about his tears.
With Sam’s full attention again, Jim demands, “Tell me what’s happened, or, or—!” His expression is terrible to look at, blotchy with anger and something slightly desperate.
Is this what panic looks like on Jim Kirk?
Sam softens a bit and doesn’t want to cry anymore. “You care.”
Jim presses his mouth to a thin line, but looks like he might be crying in another minute.
Sam takes pity on him and interjects some brotherly indignation. “Did you just yell at me? Hey, be nice.”
“Then stop freaking me out.” Jim questions with a too-controlled tone, “Why were you upset just now?”
“I’m not upset!” Sam protests, because truthfully he is very happy. Elated, actually. And moved to tears.
Jim explodes again, this time banging a fist against the desk. “Don’t lie to me, Sam. Who made cry?” In the background of Jim’s screen, something crashes to the ground—probably a data padd.
It’s like Jim believes he is the older brother, thinks Sam.
“What happened to Aurelan?” Jim barrels on. “I want facts now, mister!”
So it’s worse than older brother syndrome. Jim is trying to pull rank.
Sam is about to growl a remark like ‘captains never outrank big brothers’ when the guest bathroom door slides open along the hallway, and as if summoned Aurelan groans her way into the living room. “I heard yelling,” she says, almost accusingly. “Sam, you didn’t tell him already, did you?”
“No,” he assures his wife. When she reaches the couch, he moves over so Jim can have a good view of her and in fact forget this nonsense about Aurelan being hurt or in danger or whatever crazy thing his brother’s overactive imagination has settled on.
Aurelan smiles at her brother-in-law, and Jim’s reaction is immediate. He draws a long breath.
Sam looks at Aurelan, slides her hand into his, and she meets his gaze before they both face Jim.
And suddenly Sam’s tears are back. But his crying doesn’t seem to scare Jim as much this time, probably because Sam is also smiling like an idiot.
Jim’s expression does something strange then: clears then grows solemn, finally pinches around the eyes.
Oh, Sam realizes, that is most definitely Jim’s ‘don’t wanna cry in front of people’ face. Jim looked like that at eight years old, trying hard to stave off tears as Sam picked him up from the ground where moments ago he had crashed their neighbor’s dirt bike.
The second thing Sam realizes is Jim was always too good at reading a room. He has guessed what the news is, Sam can tell.
Aurelan confirms it since Sam is busy with his crying. “You’re going to be an uncle, Jim.”
Sam’s smile breaks open to a grin, and he drags his sleeve across his face. “Congratulations,” he chokes out to his brother.
“That’s my line, idiot.” Jim grins too, then, and yeah that’s a lone tear escaping down the man’s cheek but today Sam can take the high road and not tease him about it.
“You’re the idiot,” he shoots back.
Aurelan is the only one with a legitimate excuse to indulge in tears (her hormones, she likes to point out, are to be blamed for everything for the next six months, no matter what it is). She looks at Sam and Jim both fondly before poking her husband. “Are you going to act like this when we tell everyone else?”
Still feeling bold, Sam argues, “Jim started it.” Jim stiffens in outrage but Sam rolls over any protest, “Aurelan and I want you to name him.”
Jim’s mouth stays open a moment. Then his throat works until he confirms, “A boy?”
Sam and Aurelan nod.
Ah, Jimmy, Sam thinks, at the emotion tightening his brother’s face. He knows the feeling.
“You don’t have to,” Aurelan lets Jim know, squeezing Sam’s hand, “but we would be honored if you could give us a few options.” She adds almost too lightly, “You know Sam is not the one to decide our son’s name.”
Sam huffs while Jim laughs. It’s a well-known fact Sam’s naming sense is notoriously awful. Not that he thinks so, but everyone else seems to.
“Can’t even name my own kid,” he mutters. If Jim offers a name, that will be more than enough for Sam.
Jim leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, everything about him more settled, oddly peaceful.
Sam teases, “We’re not naming him James.”
There’s a sparkle to his wife’s eyes. “Or Tiberius. Sorry.”
“Damn,” Jim says dryly, “there go my best suggestions.”
Sam senses a decision has already made. “So what’s your second best?”
Jim smiles. “Peter.”
Sam and Aurelan repeat the name and share a look. “Peter,” they say one more time, pleased.
When baby Peter is born with the first heatwave of summer, he opens his eyes, an unmistakable shade of Kirkian blue, while in the arms of his mother and Sam is bursting with pride. As he catches and kisses his newborn son’s teeny fingers, he tells him, “We’ve waited a long time for you.” Then he offers his wife a sweeter, longer kiss.
Jim—or more precisely, Captain Kirk’s senior-most officers, Sam learns later—finagles a shore leave on Earth two months following the birth. When Jim holds his nephew for the first time, he looks as proud as Peter’s father feels. “Hey there, little mister,” he greets the baby, and Peter obligingly pops a spit bubble at him. Then Jim looks to Sam. “You’re doing great.”
Sam swallows gratitude. “I expect you to tell me if I’m not.” He trusts Jim to do that for him in a way he can’t properly express in words.
Jim only smiles at the baby again and says, as if daring it not to be true, “Peter’s in good hands.”
Seeing where Peter currently is, so carefully held by his uncle and apparently cheerful about it, Sam wholeheartedly agrees. With Jim to back him up, Peter certainly is.
Sam’s life changes again when Peter is four and Jim is at the end of the five-year mission (though technically the Enterprise has been under his brother’s command for much longer, and Sam likes to make certain everyone is aware of that).
Following the Yorktown attack, Sam had taken his family there to retrieve his brother, as Jim and his crew were given a brief reprieve of commission for their heroics while the flagship was restored. Colony living really hadn’t seemed so different than what Sam was used to on Earth. Aurelan, like him, had been pleasantly surprised.
From the time the rebuilt Enterprise once again departed for the uncharted territory until now, Aurelan and Sam have occasionally pondered what if‘s about their living situation and future. Then, as though someone has been listening to this dreaming, an opportunity comes along.
“Mom told you,” Sam guesses in lieu of greeting his brother outside his apartment, whose gentle smile is telling. He ushers Jim inside.
“I’m happy for you, Sam.” Jim bends down to scoop up Peter who toddles their way as fast his short legs will allow. “My favorite nephew!”
“Uncle Jim! Uncle Jim!” Now safely in his uncle’s arms, he shoves his toy at Jim’s nose.
Jim pokes the stuffed giraffe aside since most of it is wet from the boy’s drool. Sam and Aurelan look forward to the day Peter stops chewing things that aren’t edible.
Jim moves to the living room where he flops down on the couch with gusto, shaking squeals of delight out of his nephew. Sam takes the opportunity to change his t-shirt since it sports the yucky half Peter didn’t want for his lunch.
“Where are your shadows?” Sam asks upon returning. “You didn’t tell them they couldn’t come over, did you?” Because Jim is undeniably a genius but he is also the dumb kind of genius.
Jim grunts, capturing Peter’s tiny kicking feet in one hand. “Why would I do that?” comes the slightly sour response. “Everybody is always telling them to visit, anyway. You’re my family!”
See? Idiot. “Where are they?”
“Work,” mutters Jim.
Sam takes a seat on the couch. Peter immediately squirms loose from Jim and climbs into his father’s lap. Knowing what the kid wants, he obligingly puts Peter on one knee and bounces him. “Then why aren’t you working?”
Sam receives a nonplussed look.
“We’re docked for a full six weeks. If I spent every minute in some admiral’s office, I’d lose my mind—or punch one.”
“Ah.” Sam tries to quell the urge to laugh. “In other words, McCoy is handling Spock’s lab projects so Spock can handle your meetings.” It wouldn’t be the first time they coordinated Jim’s schedule without Jim’s input.
An irritated sigh bursts out of the man, but it isn’t directed at Jim’s brother or nephew. He looks like he wants to throw his hands up in exasperation and is just barely managing not to. “I didn’t tell them to!”
Bingo. When will Jim realize he doesn’t have to ask? Spock and McCoy will always proceed with what they believe is best for Jim’s well-being.
Sam simply shakes his head at the man’s obliviousness. “You’re lucky. I wish I had at least one colleague who felt that invested in my personal life. Maybe then I could spend have free time to spend at home.” He switches Peter to his other leg, per usual, tired of the bouncing motion long before his son is. “Isn’t that right, buddy?” he tells his boy. “Don’t you wish Dad was home more?”
True to form, Peter yells, “No!” around the giraffe leg.
“Oh?” Jim perks up from his slumped position. “Why not?”
Peter pulls the leg out of his mouth. “Uncle Jim stay home!”
Sam rubs the boy’s back, wishing he could do the same for Jim upon noticing the glint of sadness in Jim’s eyes before it’s swiftly masked. “Uncle Jim always comes home, Peter. See? He’s here now.” Sam tugs at the stuffed toy. “No, don’t chew that part.” He eyes the subdued man beside him. “The promotion is good timing, actually. You know, before Peter starts school. We’re planning to move in a few weeks.” He reads something in Jim’s face and decides then, “Not before you take off, but soon after, I think.” He’ll ask his boss to hold the paperwork for another two weeks after talking about the delay with Aurelan later that evening.
Jim nods, finally catching his gaze. “Deneva is gaining a reputation as a great community.” That gentle smile returns. “And not so far away by starship. I can swing by whenever you want.”
They both know Jim can’t, but Sam appreciates the sentiment. “Make sure you do, brother.” He sighs as Peter decides to fling the giraffe clear across the coffee table. Jim goes to retrieve it. “Aurelan and I could use the help with this one. He’s too much like you. A troublemaker.”
“Your memory must be going, old man,” Jim says, smirking as he hands the toy back to Peter. “I was a well-behaved kid.”
“I never knew what mess you were going to make next.”
Still smirking, Jim reaches over and pinches Sam’s arm.
Peter gleefully tries to pinch his father too, which Sam turns into a tickle fight. When Jim joins in, on Peter’s side obviously, Sam puts up a remarkably good defense but, in the end, is happy to concede the battle to his favorite people.
The send-off, no matter how many times Sam goes through it, makes him want to hold on to his brother and ask him to consider not leaving. Since that desire isn’t fair to Jim, Sam never voices it. The relationship they have now is better and stronger than Sam imagined it could be when he first dreamed of Jim becoming a part of his life again. He thinks they are both happier and if they were to be separated again, it would take a force greater than misunderstandings and pride to keep them apart. They will always have different approaches to life, the occasional opposing viewpoints, aspirations that don’t match, but where Sam and Jim Kirk now meet on common ground is in their commitment to support each other.
And a good brother, decides Sam, especially in the case of the eldest, must make certain of the other brother’s happiness. Just his luck, then, that Jim’s closest friends have lingered behind on the plankway connecting the station to Jim’s ship. All crew but Kirk, Spock, and McCoy have completed boarding procedures. They remain behind for this last chance for farewells.
Sam hands Peter to Aurelan but hesitates a moment too long before drawing Spock and McCoy aside. By then, Jim is alerted to his movements, the captain’s gaze bouncing questioningly from Sam to his comrades and back again. Aurelan comes to the rescue with perfect timing, stopping Jim from moving forward by distracting him with Peter and some last-minute chatter of their relocation plans to Deneva.
Sam draws a breath. He meant to have this confrontation earlier but to his dismay spent very little time in the company of Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy, barring that single day-trip to the local aquarium. With Jim canceling at the last second due to a meeting with Command (a priority, it turned out, as Jim was officially awarded a second five-year mission as the Enterprise’s commanding officer, and Sam doesn’t begrudge him that at all), Spock and McCoy had landed on Sam’s doorstep with his brother’s apology and an offer to take Jim’s place. How entertaining that outing was, with McCoy insisting on carrying Peter (and feeding Peter snacks and enticing Peter to call him Uncle Leonard by the day’s end) and Peter’s rapt attention remaining split between the sea creatures and his Vulcan tour guide. (If Peter managed to finally pull on one of those pointed ears as he clearly so desired to do, no one complained to Peter’s parents about it later. Vulcans do have some skill at handling small inquisitive children, it turns out, once sufficiently convinced of the need by their more reasonable partner.)
In a way, Sam thinks Spock and McCoy weren’t being hospitable just for an outing. They had had something to prove to Jim’s family—likely Sam in particular—but never quite formalized what that something was.
So now Sam’s confronting them, his hands on his hips, their oddly unconcerned gazes never wavering under his challenging one.
McCoy breaks the stalemate by leaning toward Spock to mutter, “This is the shovel talk I told you about.”
Spock cocks an eyebrow.
Sam is suddenly thinking Aurelan might be more suited to this showdown. How could he have forgotten that these two men are the kind of people who would willingly ride-or-die alongside his reckless brother? They’ve already endured some of the most bizarre situations the galaxy has to offer and surely faced down scarier threats than one George Samuel Kirk, Jr.
But Sam has spent a long time fighting his way back to Jim; he has spent even longer living with regret. And the cowardice in Sam has all but vanished since he became a brother again.
He takes another steadying breath, releasing it slowly.
“If Jim matters to you, you’ll take this seriously,” Sam begins, “and you had believe he certainly matters to me. So, I will lay it out plainly for you, gentlemen: my brother can fight against every kind of menace, maniac, and usurper this galaxy throws at him but when it comes to fighting for his own happiness, he sucks at it. That’s his one shortcoming. If you were to forget that or use his feelings against him, I would have to do something about it. And I wouldn’t be particularly kind. Do you understand me?”
“Clear as day,” says McCoy at the same time Spock remarks, “Impressive.”
McCoy chastises, “Not now, Spock.”
Spock nods ever-so-slightly, informing Sam, “I understand you very well.”
“Good.” Sam firms his mouth a moment before adding, “I have great respect for you both. And I know you’re good for my brother. Good to him. Just… keep it up, and take care of him out there.”
Emotions swell within Sam then and he wants to push them all down yet cannot help appreciating the memories which accompany them: the desire to protect his sibling from the worst of their uncle’s temper; bandaging Jimmy’s scraped knees while his own knees ached in sympathy; tucking Jim into bed on the first night each time their mother shipped out as a measure of comfort for them both; catching his brother’s hand mid-flight toward some mischief, irritated but happy to see the sparkle in Jim’s eyes; being irrationally angry at the schoolyard bullies who thought his brother looked like a target for their meanness; helping Jim prank those bullies later on and then easily taking the fall for the misbehavior to keep expulsion off Jim’s school record.
Fighting on that dusty road, feeling something precious break between them. Watching Jim walk toward the shuttlecraft bound for Tarsus IV. The last of their connection shattering when Jim returned. Standing in a crowded auditorium, an adult Jim mirroring the same pain and hope Sam felt.
Jim with Sam’s infant son cradled in his arms.
They share a scar that is not easy to acknowledge, much like a deep wound healed over with the skin forever split apart. But while the flesh might not be smooth any longer, Sam has learned it has toughened over the years and can withstand more pressure.
McCoy says to whatever expression Sam bears, bringing him back to the present, “Jim is safe with us.” Spock affirms that.
Sam is aware of his brother sidling away from Aurelan and Peter, likely sensing some kind of heavy conversation happening without him. Jim is coming over, and Spock and McCoy love Sam’s brother, and Sam will worry regardless because Jim is leaving again and anything could happen to his brother while they are far, far apart.
But the ones you love most, you must let go, and Sam wants his brother’s happiness most of all.
He expects Jim to fit himself in between Spock and McCoy and give Sam a bright smile and a nod and declare it’s past time to head to the bridge of the Enterprise, where these three naturally seem to belong.
Jim aims his bright smile at his two patient-looking officers and slides across Sam’s shoulders.
Sam turns to his brother, surprised, pleased, a bit misty-eyed. He recognizes, then, something he had not fully known before and likely could not have accepted as true even had it occurred to him before that moment: there has always been a place at Jim’s side for Sam.
And Sam finally has the courage to claim it.
Aurelan comes up to her husband’s opposite side, Peter drowsy against her shoulder.
“Ah, no, Sam.” Jim’s teasing, when it comes, is from affection. “We said no crying!”
“Who’s crying?” counters Sam, voice catching. “Why are you still here? Idiot.”
Jim pats his shoulder. “You’re the idiot. We’ll see each other on Deneva.”
“You two,” demands Sam of McCoy and Spock, “get him out of here.” Or the tears will fall in earnest.
As ordered, Jim is collected and gently encouraged to move along the connector bridge toward the final checkpoint of departure. Aurelan leans into Sam, murmuring, “Look how happy he is.”
Sam’s brother skips to a stop halfway along, jostling his companions so he can turn back a final time. Then he salutes his family sloppily, in Sam’s eyes just a kid excited for the next adventure.
“Safe journey, Jimmy,” Sam whispers. This brother will wait for you.
The End
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- Say a Little Prayer – from November 10, 2021
- Twist and Take – from October 31, 2021
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- Consider Me Accounted For – from October 3, 2021
