Hitting Bottom - [Jim, James, ?]
James's sleep passed uneventfully. And by the next morning, unbeknownst to him, Jim knew his secret, and had already told Christine. Next stop was James'. Jim was not looking forward to it, but he was prepared.
By the time Jim made it there, James had woken with a hangover and resorted to replicated alcohol as a cure. Rather a lot of it, if the various containers were any indication. Though they might have been from last night, and they were hardly a necessary measure with James himself sprawled naked on the bed.
The sight of his own (once and future) body so abused fueled Jim's righteous anger, but added pity to it as well. This was no raving lunatic but a drunken, broken mess. Pathetic. If Jim hadn't known from Starfleet's own records that he was guilty of genocide and probably every lesser crime, he'd have felt sorry for him.
Damn it. He did feel sorry for him. But pity didn't have to undermine conscience, and he and 'James' were going to have a little talk.
"Fuck!" James shouted from his prone position.
Jim frowned. "You're a pathetic drunk, you know that?" James looked up, almost comically startled and clearly just cluing in to the fact there was someone in his room. He scrambled to his feet, swayed, slumped to the floor. "Don't bother." Jim crouched in front of him, out of arm's reach but close enough that James' eyes could focus on him.
"Who th'fuck're you?"
"I might ask you the same. I came here to beard the fierce James T. Kirk in his den, and what do I get treated to? A pathetic waste of a man. Even my evil twin should have some restraint. You've really let yourself go, haven't you? I don't think our worlds are good for you. Too much free time, hmm? Not enough rape and pillage to keep you happy?"
James blinked. "You're who? You look like her." He squinted. "Sort of. You have... hair."
"Yes, I--"
"Golden hair."
Oh god, he was talking about Tina. That was helpful. It pricked his anger again into dominance. "Yes. About Tina. I'm here to tell you that I'm on to you. I know who you are. Which you won't remember later, but regardless, I'll tell you. Stay away from Tina. She has a lot of friends, and they're smarter and better looking than you. Whatever game you've been playing, it's over as of right now."
"'Snot," James insisted. "She wrote me back. She forgave me for the other night." He looked so earnest that it took Jim a moment to register what he'd said.
"What do you mean?" he asked, low and dangerous. Suddenly he was on him, foolishly, his slighter form no match but his fury driving James back against the bed. "What did you do to her?"
And as he should have expected, James was drunk but still dangerous. He punched Jim in the face, and it hurt. He stumbled back, landing on his ass and scrabbling back to his feet. But James didn't come at him again. He looked... lost.
"Couldn't stay," he said mournfully. Jim fingered the side of his face gingerly. The skin wasn't broken. "Dunno if she wanted me to, but I wanted to stay. Y'know? Didn't make any sense, so I got scared and bolted."
Jim grimaced. "Wait. You... didn't go to bed with her?"
"Oh, no, I went to bed with her. Best fucking sex of my life. Jus'... didn't sleep with her. The sleeping part, not the euphor--euphon--that thing."
Hitting bottom, for James, apparently involved the desire for cuddles and the ability to avoid rape when directly asked to. It was a pity they couldn't keep him there. Jim got him a glass of water and shoved it towards him. "Drink this," he said sternly. "I don't know what's going on in that idiot head of yours, and you deserve to feel like shit tomorrow. But you likely will anyway."
"What is it?"
"Vodka."
"Did you poison it?"
"Yes."
James drank. "Smooth," he observed. And then Jim hit him with the detox hypo he'd had concealed in a pocket, jumping back as James lashed out instinctively.
"What the fuck?" he cried, though whether it was in response to the ninja hypo or the fact he was sobering up was not clear. Because at the same time, Jim was taking the opportunity to pin his arms behind him and bind them with decidedly unsexy cuffs he'd borrowed from Security. He tossed James down in a chair, aided by James' inability to balance, and began tying him to it securely.
"You're soft," he pointed out. "This never should have happened--you'd be dead now in your own world."
"Jim?" James said, his brow furrowing.
"Amazing." He came around James' front and sat in the other chair, crossing his legs primly. "Are you with me yet?"
James was struggling against the ropes, but it was no use and Jim knew it. After a minute, so did James, and Jim had deliberately left out the painkillers. "You're a chick."
"You're observant. And here I was wondering how you'd managed to rise to the captaincy." Jim sobered, leaning forward. "Listen to me, James. In case you missed it before, I'm on to you. So is everyone on this ship. Your little Lisa Frank act is over, for all the good it did you, and I had a good long look at your record when I was on your ship."
James was glaring daggers at him but that was all it was. It highlighted something that had long been bothering Jim--if this was his evil twin, why was he so pathetic? Surely he himself, in the same situation, would have fared better. But didn't that actually, in a way, reflect badly on him? If this was the man he'd be in the same situation, what did that say about him? Especially when he had Pike and Beardy-Spock to look at.
"What I don't understand," he continued, "is why you felt compelled to lie to us. Marlena didn't. Pike didn't. But you attempted to maintain a subterfuge. Badly, I might add."
"I don't have to tell you anything," James spat.
"Very true. But I think it's time to come clean, don't you? After all, Pike and his Spock and Marlena were all allowed some position on this ship. Despite what we knew about them. They were given the benefit of the doubt. You would have been, too."
"Right. Pike and his Vulcan are one thing. Marlena's..." James scowled. Jealousy? Or mere territoriality? "Very good at what she does. But me?" He laughed. "You hate me. You hate me irrationally, because you see yourself in me, and you don't like it."
"Maybe," Jim said. "But you feel the same. Only I'm willing to overlook that. I've been overlooking it for months, now. And what I hate most about you is that you're a liar." Okay, that wasn't true. He hated that the man had cold-bloodedly caused the death of untold numbers of people.
So had Pike, he told himself. And Jim had judged him based on what he was now, in this world. What he was willing to be. Jim had even encouraged him.
"The captain won't question me if I have you sent to the brig," he said. "I could leave you tied to this chair for as long as I like. I'd rather not do either one. I'd rather trust your sense of self-preservation--which you could, alternately, see as me giving you the rope to hang yourself with."
"Are you seriously giving me the 'I've got my eye on you' talk?" James scoffed. "Do you think I'm afraid of you?"
"I think you are, in a certain way. But it doesn't matter. You don't need to be afraid of me to understand the consequences. To understand that you're outnumbered, which you know already or you wouldn't have tried what you did. I'd give you advice, but you're not going to listen to me. I'll just say, if we're anything alike, you'd rather live and die by your own merits. And you'd much prefer to live. Stop trying to make everyone like you and start figuring out what this world offers you. A fresh start. A world where you're not constantly on your guard for assassination. A world where someone like me can get somewhere, so surely, you should have no trouble."
James' lip twisted wryly, in an expression that seemed wrong on his face. Bill had been so right. "Maybe that's what I was doing," he said. "Maybe I want to be from rainbowland."
"You don't really get the part about lying not being an option, do you?" Jim rose and started going through the room, poking through drawers and discarded clothing.
"What are you doing?"
"Disarming you," Jim said absently, as he carried two knives, an agonizer and a phaser to the recycler. He left the uniform he found carefully folded up.
"You can't do that."
"Sure I can. We're not allowed weapons on board, which I'm sure you know."
"Tina has a knife," James shot back, and in a flash Jim was in front of him and James' head was rocking back from the blow. When he shook it off, he was grinning. "That gets to you, doesn't it? That I can give her what you can't. That I got to her."
Jim's face screwed up in disgust. "By now, she knows what you are, too. And I'll see to it that she keeps the knife." He fairly trembled from the force it took to hold back. "And if you ever, ever harm a hair on her head, I will be after you with no more compunction than you've ever shown in your life."
There was an odd light in James' eyes Jim did not want to recognize. "I wouldn't hurt her," he said, sounding, for once, sincere. It made Jim's gut churn.
"I'm leaving," he said abruptly, turning for the door. "There's no talking to you."
He heard the chair groan behind him. "You can't do that!"
"Sure I can. The computer is still voice-activated--you think of one person who doesn't think you're an asshole and go ahead and call them. Otherwise, think about what I said." He dropped the code to the cuffs on the table, and left.
Outside, he leaned against the bulkhead and tried to get his racing heart under control. He'd wanted to beat the man to a pulp, all the more because every poisonous thought was moving behind his own eyes. He didn't know what else to do with him; he couldn't condemn him, and yet his conscience was weighed down heavily by what James might do. But for now, what could he do but warn everyone? And hope, as he'd said, that James wasn't a complete idiot. And wasn't interested in taking out the ship with him.
By the time Jim made it there, James had woken with a hangover and resorted to replicated alcohol as a cure. Rather a lot of it, if the various containers were any indication. Though they might have been from last night, and they were hardly a necessary measure with James himself sprawled naked on the bed.
The sight of his own (once and future) body so abused fueled Jim's righteous anger, but added pity to it as well. This was no raving lunatic but a drunken, broken mess. Pathetic. If Jim hadn't known from Starfleet's own records that he was guilty of genocide and probably every lesser crime, he'd have felt sorry for him.
Damn it. He did feel sorry for him. But pity didn't have to undermine conscience, and he and 'James' were going to have a little talk.
"Fuck!" James shouted from his prone position.
Jim frowned. "You're a pathetic drunk, you know that?" James looked up, almost comically startled and clearly just cluing in to the fact there was someone in his room. He scrambled to his feet, swayed, slumped to the floor. "Don't bother." Jim crouched in front of him, out of arm's reach but close enough that James' eyes could focus on him.
"Who th'fuck're you?"
"I might ask you the same. I came here to beard the fierce James T. Kirk in his den, and what do I get treated to? A pathetic waste of a man. Even my evil twin should have some restraint. You've really let yourself go, haven't you? I don't think our worlds are good for you. Too much free time, hmm? Not enough rape and pillage to keep you happy?"
James blinked. "You're who? You look like her." He squinted. "Sort of. You have... hair."
"Yes, I--"
"Golden hair."
Oh god, he was talking about Tina. That was helpful. It pricked his anger again into dominance. "Yes. About Tina. I'm here to tell you that I'm on to you. I know who you are. Which you won't remember later, but regardless, I'll tell you. Stay away from Tina. She has a lot of friends, and they're smarter and better looking than you. Whatever game you've been playing, it's over as of right now."
"'Snot," James insisted. "She wrote me back. She forgave me for the other night." He looked so earnest that it took Jim a moment to register what he'd said.
"What do you mean?" he asked, low and dangerous. Suddenly he was on him, foolishly, his slighter form no match but his fury driving James back against the bed. "What did you do to her?"
And as he should have expected, James was drunk but still dangerous. He punched Jim in the face, and it hurt. He stumbled back, landing on his ass and scrabbling back to his feet. But James didn't come at him again. He looked... lost.
"Couldn't stay," he said mournfully. Jim fingered the side of his face gingerly. The skin wasn't broken. "Dunno if she wanted me to, but I wanted to stay. Y'know? Didn't make any sense, so I got scared and bolted."
Jim grimaced. "Wait. You... didn't go to bed with her?"
"Oh, no, I went to bed with her. Best fucking sex of my life. Jus'... didn't sleep with her. The sleeping part, not the euphor--euphon--that thing."
Hitting bottom, for James, apparently involved the desire for cuddles and the ability to avoid rape when directly asked to. It was a pity they couldn't keep him there. Jim got him a glass of water and shoved it towards him. "Drink this," he said sternly. "I don't know what's going on in that idiot head of yours, and you deserve to feel like shit tomorrow. But you likely will anyway."
"What is it?"
"Vodka."
"Did you poison it?"
"Yes."
James drank. "Smooth," he observed. And then Jim hit him with the detox hypo he'd had concealed in a pocket, jumping back as James lashed out instinctively.
"What the fuck?" he cried, though whether it was in response to the ninja hypo or the fact he was sobering up was not clear. Because at the same time, Jim was taking the opportunity to pin his arms behind him and bind them with decidedly unsexy cuffs he'd borrowed from Security. He tossed James down in a chair, aided by James' inability to balance, and began tying him to it securely.
"You're soft," he pointed out. "This never should have happened--you'd be dead now in your own world."
"Jim?" James said, his brow furrowing.
"Amazing." He came around James' front and sat in the other chair, crossing his legs primly. "Are you with me yet?"
James was struggling against the ropes, but it was no use and Jim knew it. After a minute, so did James, and Jim had deliberately left out the painkillers. "You're a chick."
"You're observant. And here I was wondering how you'd managed to rise to the captaincy." Jim sobered, leaning forward. "Listen to me, James. In case you missed it before, I'm on to you. So is everyone on this ship. Your little Lisa Frank act is over, for all the good it did you, and I had a good long look at your record when I was on your ship."
James was glaring daggers at him but that was all it was. It highlighted something that had long been bothering Jim--if this was his evil twin, why was he so pathetic? Surely he himself, in the same situation, would have fared better. But didn't that actually, in a way, reflect badly on him? If this was the man he'd be in the same situation, what did that say about him? Especially when he had Pike and Beardy-Spock to look at.
"What I don't understand," he continued, "is why you felt compelled to lie to us. Marlena didn't. Pike didn't. But you attempted to maintain a subterfuge. Badly, I might add."
"I don't have to tell you anything," James spat.
"Very true. But I think it's time to come clean, don't you? After all, Pike and his Spock and Marlena were all allowed some position on this ship. Despite what we knew about them. They were given the benefit of the doubt. You would have been, too."
"Right. Pike and his Vulcan are one thing. Marlena's..." James scowled. Jealousy? Or mere territoriality? "Very good at what she does. But me?" He laughed. "You hate me. You hate me irrationally, because you see yourself in me, and you don't like it."
"Maybe," Jim said. "But you feel the same. Only I'm willing to overlook that. I've been overlooking it for months, now. And what I hate most about you is that you're a liar." Okay, that wasn't true. He hated that the man had cold-bloodedly caused the death of untold numbers of people.
So had Pike, he told himself. And Jim had judged him based on what he was now, in this world. What he was willing to be. Jim had even encouraged him.
"The captain won't question me if I have you sent to the brig," he said. "I could leave you tied to this chair for as long as I like. I'd rather not do either one. I'd rather trust your sense of self-preservation--which you could, alternately, see as me giving you the rope to hang yourself with."
"Are you seriously giving me the 'I've got my eye on you' talk?" James scoffed. "Do you think I'm afraid of you?"
"I think you are, in a certain way. But it doesn't matter. You don't need to be afraid of me to understand the consequences. To understand that you're outnumbered, which you know already or you wouldn't have tried what you did. I'd give you advice, but you're not going to listen to me. I'll just say, if we're anything alike, you'd rather live and die by your own merits. And you'd much prefer to live. Stop trying to make everyone like you and start figuring out what this world offers you. A fresh start. A world where you're not constantly on your guard for assassination. A world where someone like me can get somewhere, so surely, you should have no trouble."
James' lip twisted wryly, in an expression that seemed wrong on his face. Bill had been so right. "Maybe that's what I was doing," he said. "Maybe I want to be from rainbowland."
"You don't really get the part about lying not being an option, do you?" Jim rose and started going through the room, poking through drawers and discarded clothing.
"What are you doing?"
"Disarming you," Jim said absently, as he carried two knives, an agonizer and a phaser to the recycler. He left the uniform he found carefully folded up.
"You can't do that."
"Sure I can. We're not allowed weapons on board, which I'm sure you know."
"Tina has a knife," James shot back, and in a flash Jim was in front of him and James' head was rocking back from the blow. When he shook it off, he was grinning. "That gets to you, doesn't it? That I can give her what you can't. That I got to her."
Jim's face screwed up in disgust. "By now, she knows what you are, too. And I'll see to it that she keeps the knife." He fairly trembled from the force it took to hold back. "And if you ever, ever harm a hair on her head, I will be after you with no more compunction than you've ever shown in your life."
There was an odd light in James' eyes Jim did not want to recognize. "I wouldn't hurt her," he said, sounding, for once, sincere. It made Jim's gut churn.
"I'm leaving," he said abruptly, turning for the door. "There's no talking to you."
He heard the chair groan behind him. "You can't do that!"
"Sure I can. The computer is still voice-activated--you think of one person who doesn't think you're an asshole and go ahead and call them. Otherwise, think about what I said." He dropped the code to the cuffs on the table, and left.
Outside, he leaned against the bulkhead and tried to get his racing heart under control. He'd wanted to beat the man to a pulp, all the more because every poisonous thought was moving behind his own eyes. He didn't know what else to do with him; he couldn't condemn him, and yet his conscience was weighed down heavily by what James might do. But for now, what could he do but warn everyone? And hope, as he'd said, that James wasn't a complete idiot. And wasn't interested in taking out the ship with him.