Out of the Big Black Part 1

Date: Thu, 28 Jan 1999

TOS; K/S; TNGx: A/U (NC-17)

It's really almost all PG13, until Ol' Spock baby shows up. Then watch out.

I thought I'd better write the sort of universe were those little vignettes I like to write can show up. Regulars will recognize several references to current threads in the ng.

Plenty of shmaltz to start with, Mary Sue, so don't say I didn't warn you. Some semi-non-con stuff, explicit m/m sex, eventually.

Characters all owned by Paramount. No money made offa this stuff, no infringement intended.

"Out of the Big Black"
Rae Trail

It was a routine day on a routine mission, and Picard was frankly bored. He'd retired to his ready room on an excuse, leaving Riker tapping his feet on the bridge. Jean-Luc was sipping tea with his feet up when two things happened simultaneously.

The intercom whistled, and Q flashed into the ready room with a broad grin on his face.

Accustomed to both occurrences, Picard sighed and put down his feet, tapping his comm. "Picard"

"Captain," Riker's voice came back. "We've picked up an anomaly on sensors relatively small, very short range. Request permission to change course and investigate."

Picard eyed Q suspiciously. "Specify, Number One."

"Appears to be a small vessel, sir."

"Out here?" Picard set down his tea. "Course deviation approved. On my way."

He tapped his comm again and stood up. "Yes, Q?"

"Just don't say I never gave you anything, Picard." He raised a hand in a theatrical gesture, then paused. "Oh, yes. And I assure you that the goods are the genuine article, though altered somewhat for appearance. I found something you seem to have misplaced." He grinned again. "Adieu, mon Capitain. Until later."

"What is it, Q?"

"You should recognize it when you see it. Or should I say, when you see him."

The entity vanished in a dramatic flash. Picard considered that... it had been a while since Q had used such a pyrotechnic display in his presence. Q must be feeling extremely pleased with himself.

Picard paced onto the bridge, glanced around, checking his crew. "Report, Commander."

"Sir." Riker lifted himself out of the centre seat and waved a hand at the forward view screen. "Not a ship, as we thought. Little more than a pod. Perhaps even a life-support unit. We'll be within tractor range in four minutes. Permission to bring it aboard."

Picard frowned. "Yes, but use every precaution, and have a medical team standing by. It may be a present from Q."

"Q? A hunch, sir?"

"Almost a certainty, Commander. He was just in my ready room. I'll be in the shuttle bay. Be careful with the ... what ever it is."

"Acknowledged."

The object *was* some sort of life-support pod, Picard decided, staring at it from behind the force field as it floated toward the deck in the grip of the tractor. Perhaps four meters long and two high, cylindrical. Matte black, certainly not designed to be noticed in the vastness of space. Beverly pushed up beside him. "You requested a medical team? What's the nature of the emergency?"

"I only wish I knew, Doctor," Jean-Luc replied. "It's a gift from Q, apparently. I'm to recognize it, or him, when I see it... or him."

"Q." Crusher sighed. "Very well. Medical staff to full alert," she continued, tapping her comm. "Unknown trauma enroute. Stay on this circuit."

"Acknowledged," came the crisp voice of the duty nurse. Crusher fell silent beside Picard, waiting as the pod settled to the deck and the decontam team rushed forward. Several minutes passed while the crew checked for any kind of unwanted microscopic passenger, then the leader dissolved the containment field and hurried over to Picard, undoing his mask as he came.

"Captain, Chief Petty Officer Smith, Sir. There are no recognized radiations, viruses or bacteria on the exterior, and the interior scans show only one life form. Human, but in extreme systemic suppression. Deep sleep, sir. The sort of thing we used to use..."

"I am familiar with the term, Chief. What is your procedure?"

"Well, we recognize the door mechanism, so... Full filter beam for the ship as we open it, sir, and medical... Oh. Hullo, Doctor Crusher. Medical team standby, sir."

"Very well. Open it. I will go in."

The Chief stepped back a pace. "Sir? That is unwarranted risk, sir."

"Noted. I will go in."

"I'm coming with you, Captain," Beverly said in her tough- doctor voice. "My help may be required as soon as the seal is broken."

Picard hesitated, then nodded. "Let's go then. Filters on, Chief. Stretcher crew standing by, and secure corridors to sickbay. Doctor?"

As they strode to the ship Beverly tapped her tricorder on Picard's arm. "Q?"

"Yes. Apparently he 'found' whatever... whoever is in here, and brought it to us for a 'present'."

Beverly shivered. "Oh, goodie."

Picard stood still as the door was fiddled with and at last opened. He noted the flinching reactions of the decontam crew as a wave of slightly steamy air shooshed out of the pod, and felt Beverly move beside him. When the retracting door stood full open he pushed out a breath. "Any contaminants?"

"Nothing showing, sir," a voice called. He nodded and reached for the slightly raised door frame. Pulled himself up carefully and listened before helping Beverly up into the dark interior.

It was tiny, inside, he could tell by the muffled nature of the sounds from the deck rebounding on whatever was within. Picard called for a hand lamp and waited while Beverly operated her tricorder by feel, peering at the little display. "Yes, one humanoid... can't tell if it's human with such low life signs. Right in front of us, Jean-Luc. Centimetres in front of us..."

Picard reached back into the bright shuttle bay for the lamp, and brought it up to shine around the interior.

// It's like being inside an egg// he thought. The walls were all curved about them. No controls visible anywhere, no lights, no screens. In the centre of the space, a handsbreadth in front of them a raised pedestal, coffin shaped. The top of the coffin reflected the light back, and he moved closer.

"Oh, mon dieu..." he breathed, peering inside. "This man has more lives than a cat."

"Jean-Luc?" Beverly stepped forward and peered through the clear top of the casket. "Is that who I think it is?"

"It can't be... but it is. It's Kirk." Picard unconsciously pressed his hand against the glass. "James T. Kirk. And he looks about 18 years old."

Part 2/5

*

"He's sleeping perfectly normally, Jean-Luc." Beverly waved a hand at the screen on her desk. "It's utterly impossible, but there it is. He's going to wake up soon, and if he is who you say he is, he's going to be extremely confused."

Picard couldn't tear his eyes away from this miracle... the man he'd left so recently dead was lying in his sickbay, looking healthy, looking fit... "He looks so young." Not as young as he'd appeared, defenseless in the deep sleep unit, but still...

"He's barely thirty, according to all my tests. They match, almost exactly, with the scans on record from his first tour on the Enterprise." She fairly hissed in frustration. "It's not possible. It's some trick of Q's."

"Beverly." Picard drew a long breath and shook his head. "If there's one thing I *have* learned from my time in StarFleet, it's that nothing is impossible. When will he wake?"

"I estimate in... two or three hours. Jean-Luc.. Captain, I think you ought to be here when he does. You're the one person on board that he might recognize."

"Yes, I'd like to be here. I'll be in my quarters until then. Call me at once. And Beverly.."

"Yes, Jean-Luc?"

"Can we keep this quiet, for the time being? His identity. Until I've had a chance to talk to StarFleet. And others."

Crusher nodded agreement. "No one would believe it anyway, Jean-Luc. Not without seeing the medical evidence. Especially considering the source."

"My dear doctor, I resent the implications of that remark." Both officers wheeled around to see Q leaning against the wall, dressed in a vintage Fleet uniform from a hundred years before: gold tunic, black trousers. He smiled and pushed himself upright, walked over to the bed. "Besides, I didn't do it, I merely found him. It took me awhile to decide what to do with him, of course, but I'm afraid I can't take all the credit this time."

"If not you, who?" Picard stopped himself before adding 'Q', flinching internally at the embarrassment potential of the rhyme. Q looked up from his inspection of the youthful face.

"There are older, stranger things than the Continuum in the universe, Jean-Luc. Something decided that he didn't deserve eternal bliss in the Nexus, I expect. He pissed off more than a few of us during his lifetime." He smiled almost affectionately at the sleeping man. "Almost as many as you have. Or perhaps something decided that he deserved another chance to piss us off even more. Who knows? Perhaps he can tell you. Adieu."

Q vanished. Picard shook his head and turned for the door. "Let me know, Beverly."

"I will."

Picard strode along the corridor, thinking of the messages to be sent. And one message in particular. He wasn't sure where the ambassador was, but of all beings, Spock had the most right to this news.

*

He woke slowly at first. Picard watched the monitor closely, alternating between that and the still face beside him. Then suddenly the hazel eyes flew open and he was caught in the stunned gaze. One hand flew up from the bed. Picard grasped it and squeezed.

"You're alright, Jim. Do you know me?"

Kirk licked his lips, and the hand grasping his tightened. He opened his mouth to speak, swallowed. Picard reached for the cup of water, held it for Kirk to drink. When he set it aside again he saw the puzzlement, the confusion. "Do you know who I am?" Picard asked quietly.

"Captain..." Kirk cleared his throat and licked his lips again. "Captain Picard. How is this possible?" Kirk released his gaze, let his eyes roam the room. "Where is this? Is this your Enterprise?"

"Yes. How do you feel?"

He saw the patient assessment, the slow astonishment. "I feel.. fine. That thing fell on me... We're in the Nexus, then?"

"No, it's not the Nexus. It's going to be a bit of a shock to you. What's the last thing you remember, before the Nexus, and meeting me?"

Kirk's hand relaxed, fell back onto the bed.

"I was on the Enterprise B I was sucked out into space. I.. I died."

"History records that episode as well." The eyes moved again, taking in the room, rested on Picard.

"Then this is.. There's been some sort of time anomaly. "

"Well, no, there doesn't seem to have been. According to all records you are dead, as recorded, saving the Enterprise B. Possibly existing in an alternate universe via the Nexus. You were found by a... well, a very nearly omnipotent entity, adrift in a deep-sleep pod that dates from the time of the Nexus/Enterprise B incident. As nearly as we can determine, you traveled here in real-time, Jim. In deep sleep."

He watched the groping shock, the tight, shallow breathing. Then that tremendous courage reasserted itself and Kirk took a long, steadying breath. "When, exactly, is this?"

"It's beta watch of..."

"No. How *long*?"

"It's been eighty-nine years since you were reported lost."

Kirk grew so still that Picard almost summoned Beverly. Then, a low voice. "I feel fine."

"Jim?"

"Captain..." The hand flew up again, and this time it caught its owner's gaze. "What the hell..?"

Kirk stared at his hand. Flexed the fingers experimentally. Muttered something low, and let his gaze drop to his arm. Suddenly he was sitting up, staring down at his arms. "What in *hell*?"

"Jim, take it easy." Picard caught one hand, distracting Kirk. "Whoever... whatever found you, however you were preserved so long in deep sleep, this is the side effect."

"I'm *young!*" He looked horrified. "How? *Who* did this?" He threw back his sheet and stared down at his chest and belly, then up at Picard. Jean-Luc's heart melted at the terrified look, and he squeezed the hand he still held.

"No one knows, not even the being that found you. According to the ship's doctor, your biological age is approximately... well, you're about thirty, Jim."

"Thirty.." Kirk's tension dissolved, and he slumped forward. "I don't understand. I'm..."

Picard watched as Kirk raised a hand and absently rubbed the bridge of his nose. Waited. Finally Kirk looked back up at him. "I need to ask you something. Personal. Confidential."

The hazel slid away as Kirk spoke, and Picard replied softly. "If it's about Spock, he's alive and well, and should shortly be en route to intercept us."

"Oh, gods." Kirk crumpled then, and began to cry. Very tidy, small, sobs that shook his shoulders. "You know, then."

"Everyone knows, Jim. Be easy. The rule is much more lenient these days. Now, how can I help you?"

Kirk looked up and stared around, brushing tears from his eyes. "Get me the hell out of sickbay. Can you do that?"

Ten minutes later, despite Doctor Crusher's protestations, Jean-Luc was strolling through the corridors beside the young Kirk.//Amazing// he thought. //They gave him the Enterprise when he was so young, as young as this...// "Ask anything, Jim."

"About... about Spock. How did anyone know? We were so careful. The fraternization rules in those days were strict about the first line, and after we retired he was still so cautious..."

"Spock himself told us." He grabbed Kirk's elbow as Kirk stumbled, but Kirk recovered quickly, shot Picard a look of astonishment.

"*Spock* told you?"

"When you were lost, Spock published a book. I believe it was an effort to mitigate his grief in some way. It was called 'The First Five Years', and it was on the bestseller list for well over 5 years. It's still a very popular book, considered a classic. It details what wasn't in the ship's official logs over that long journey; your relationship with Spock, the other side of the dynamic for all kinds of wonderful adventures. It made it plain to everyone that the fraternization policy in Fleet meant that your genetic line, and Spock's, was forever lost to the humanities because of Fleet's backward looking policies. It did more to forward IDIC among humans than anything else since Nelson Mandela. All kinds of glass ceilings and invisible walls shattered with that book, and the pieces are long swept aside." Picard steered his charge into a turbo life, requested the visitor's deck. "Well, now you can decide what to do, of course. But be aware, no one on this ship, or in the Federation for that matter, has any false impressions of what your relationship with Spock was. The book is in the ship's computer. You're welcome to look it over."

Kirk stepped out of the turbo lift as the door opened, his face a strange shade of crimson. "Everyone knows?"

"I assure you. And no one cares. In fact, you'll find that most folks are still broken hearted that you couldn't declare your love openly. I know I am. In here, Jim."

He guided Kirk into the VIP suite and released his arm. Kirk glanced around and shook his head. "And... you say he's coming here. He's alive then, and well."

"Yes. He's been working on Romulus for several years as an ambassador. We're close to a treaty, because of him."

Kirk stared, then shook his head. "Spock hates diplomacy. If he joined the DiploCorp, he must have been nuts."

Picard grinned. "I believe he decided to show them how to do it properly. He's very famous, as a diplomat."

Jim moved slowly around the room, looking, touching."And the Klingons?"

"The treaty not only holds, we have Klingons in Star Fleet. Thanks largely to you."

"He must be a hundred and fifty years old." Picard nodded, knowing Kirk wasn't referring to any Klingons..

"He must be. He still looks like a hale, middle aged Vulcan, strong and fit. In fact, if you are actually the age you appear to be, you and Spock have approximately the same life-span ahead."

Kirk whirled around, eyes huge. "You're making a lot of assumptions, Picard. I've been *dead* to him for almost a century. He'll be well used to living without me around." His voice was harsh, angry. He turned away and studied the viewport. "Why didn't he know I wasn't dead? We were *Bonded*, Picard! *Why didn't he look for me*?" His voice dropped. "Why can't I feel him now?"

Picard felt a wrench at the fear in that question. "To you, it must seem like just yesterday that you left him on Earth for that inaugural flight."

"Not quite. I do remember... something about the Nexus. A sense of...doing something. Like a dream. I remember being with you on Viridian 3, the bridge collapsing. It feels like perhaps... a few days. I can still see the look on his face when he turned down the publicity thing on the Enterprise..." A slight smile lifted Kirk's lips, then his face grew stern. "I would rather subject myself to a full day in a human shopping mall, James." The voice was a good imitation of the Vulcan. Picard smiled too.

"How can I help, now?"

"I need to think. I can't believe this yet... the Klingons tried to do this to me once, make me think I'd been in deep sleep for a long time. I woke up looking old, that time, though." Another long perusal of his arms, his torso. "I think I'd like some time alone, Captain. Do the replicators still work the same way?"

Picard pointed. "Right there, just ask for what you want. I'm going to send the ship's counselor to see you, if you don't object." The hazel eyes flashed.

"I do object. I don't need anybody messing around in my thoughts right now, Captain. I want to think, privately." There was an edge to the voice. Picard didn't accede, but persisted gracefully.

"Certainly, Jim. But with your permission, I'll send her anyway. She'll insist, of course, as a medical officer. Simply tell her you don't wish to discuss it, and ask her to help you with any more material needs you might discover. There are a lot of changes to the ship since you were last aboard her. Though even today, a ship's Captain must follow the rules of the medical department."

That earned him the snort of laughter he expected, and then a slow lowering of the shoulders. "The others will all be dead." Kirk looked up to see Picard's face. "McCoy. Scott."

"Yes, I'm afraid so." A pause, then Kirk nodded.

"I see. Give me an hour or so before you send your counselor, Captain. I'd like to shower, and shave. Is there gear for that?"

"Of course. I'll show you."

*

The shock slowly subsided on Troi's face as Picard briefed her on their guest. "Be warned, Counselor. He's not the youngster he appears to be. I would advise you to remember that he's an aging man, with a full life behind him."

"I'll bear it in mind, Captain. I expect the whole thing is very frightening for him."

"Bear this in mind, too, counselor. He's not one to admit fear to a lovely young woman, ship's counselor or not. Go carefully, or he'll shut you out completely."

"Teaching your grandmother to suck eggs, Captain?" It was said with a smile, and Picard responded in kind.

"Merely reminding her that appearances can be very deceiving. Let me know how it goes."

*

Kirk was stepping out of the bathroom as the door chimed. He was deep in thought, considering the implications of this new, younger body. His own body, he certainly recognized it. It's responses were the same, its ticklish and tough areas identical. He hadn't tried to pleasure it, though; he feared surveillance. The thought of the erect cock on the monitor screens of sickbay had withered any erection before it began. After all, he knew nothing about this culture, nothing at all.

The door chimed again. Kirk hurried to the couch and perched on one arm, trying to look casual. "Come in."

The door opened. Kirk shifted slightly as a young woman walked in, a smile on her face, dark hair piled up high on her head. "Captain Kirk? I'm Deanna Troi, ship's counselor."

"And I doubt I'm *Captain* Kirk now, counselor," he replied cooly. "You may call me Jim."

"Then you may call me Deanna. May I sit down? Can I get you anything?"

"No thank you." Troi settled on a chair and crossed her legs.

"How awfully shocking this must be for you."

"It's a shock, certainly. I'm fairly adept in dealing with shocks, counselor." He looked at her more carefully, something subtle about her sparking his sixth sense. "Pardon my asking, but are you human?"

Troi sat up straighter. "As a matter of fact, I am half human, half Betazoid. May I ask how you knew?"

He considered. "Something about the eyes, I think. Aren't the Betazoid people telepaths?"

"Yes, they are. I am telepathic, with pure Betazoid people. With others I am empathic. Don't worry, I can't read your mind, Captain."

He noted the return to Captain and smiled. "I'm not worried about that, counselor." The talk of half-humans and telepathy filled him with a sudden longing. He saw the counselor wince. "So, very empathic. Perhaps you'd give me hand with something, counselor. It's a strange new world to me, and I'd very much like some assistance in adjusting. My main dilemma is one that I'm sure you can guess at."

"It is a different world, perhaps you'd like some advice on customs, and so on."

"Actually, my problem is that I despise powder blue." He smiled and waved a hand at the sick-bay issue lounge wear that was his only outfit. "I haven't the faintest idea what people here and now wear, or if I have any credit, or how to shop for clothes on this Enterprise."

Her jaw dropped, and she blinked. "You want me to help you shop for clothes?"

"I'm only trying to prioritize my return from the dead, counselor. Dead heros coming back to life ought to be decently attired, don't you think?" Kirk shot her the cocky smile that had endeared him to many a pretty female in the past, and she smiled warmly.

"Of course, Captain. It would be my pleasure."

It was some time before Troi left Kirk at the door to his cabin. About four hours, a general tour of the ship, a lot of chat about Star Fleet and life on Earth, a dozen new outfits that he was very pleased with and a light lunch later. Not a word had been spoken of the trauma of dying and resurrection, of love, of Spock, of the future. Nothing of the confusion of this new, younger Kirk, though Deanna often felt the confusion coming from him in waves. Not a word about the loss of all his friends and contemporaries. Deanna debriefed to Picard with a sort of disgruntled admiration for their foundling, and suggested that the Captain invite Kirk to dinner.

"Yes, I shall. Visit him again tomorrow, Counselor. Perhaps I'll have some word from Star Fleet by then about announcing his identity, check with me first." Picard dismissed the counselor and keyed in Kirk's quarters. It was a long several seconds before the voice came back. "Kirk here."

"Sir, Captain Picard. I wonder if you'd join me for dinner. I'll pick you up at 1900, if that suits you."

"Fine. Sure, that's fine."

"Picard out."

Kirk released the button on the intercom that no one had thought to show him how to use, and stepped back, shaking his head. So much to learn. So many changes, some subtle, some so broad that they could hardly be called *changes* at all, but wholly new. This vast city in space, full of civilians and even *children*, aliens of many species... Picard was more of a mayor than a starship captain, Kirk thought. Or perhaps a bit of both.

Spock. The name came to the front of his thoughts again. Kirk paced over to the small corner desk in his living room and sat down. Considered how to make this piece of technology work.

"Computer?"

"Working." Hmmm. Same response as in the bad 'ol days, but a much more human voice.

"Computer, I am not familiar with the working of this type of remote access. Can you give me a basic tutorial?"

"Affirmative. Please specify your main area of interest."

"History of the last century, emphasis on Earth and the Federation, condensed format to begin with."

"Access panel is now illuminating in the desk top..."

Kirk spent several hours learning the intricacies of accessing information from the ship's mainframe, and in the process got a good, broad picture of major events over the last century. He was forced to revise his estimate of "Picard as mayor" after noting the Captain and the Enterprise as directly responsible for several pivotal moments in the recent history of the Federation. //So what else is new?// he found himself thinking, smiling. Enterprise was Enterprise, after all.

He also noted that most familiar of names appearing again and again in the doings of the Federation. Spock negotiating a treaty, Spock proposing a complete restructuring of Star Fleet hierarchies, Spock publishing papers on this and that scientific enquiry, Spock receiving various awards for various intellectual and diplomatic accomplishments, Spock publishing a book...

"The First Five Years: the true story of the maiden voyage of the Enterprise 1701." Kirk read the reviews first, wincing at this very public discussion of his very private life. Then, reluctantly, requested a paper version of the book itself from the computer.

"It is not my purpose to aggrandize or embellish the accomplishments of either James Kirk or myself in these pages. Rather, I wish to show for posterity that the events of that semenal voyage were the work of a team, a complex and interconnected group of people with myself and James Kirk at the hub. I further wish to demonstrate the fallaciousness of the argument preventing intimate relationships between persons in the same line of command..." Kirk got over his initial embarrassment at the Vulcan's straight forward and unemotional writing, and settled into an armchair to read his lover's words.

The door chime startled him into leaping to his feet. He remembered Picard's invitation to dinner, and relaxed, setting the book aside. "Come in."

The door opened and the Captain strode in. "Good evening. Ah, I see you're reading it. What do you think?"

Kirk glanced at the book, felt himself blushing. "He writes well, of course. I'm enjoying it. I wonder, did Sarek ever read it? I suppose I'm assuming that Sarek is dead..."

Picard nodded. "Yes, yes, and... let me think, I'd like to tell you his exact response." He pondered a moment, recalling the proud, hard face, the still hands. "Though I could not publicly approve at the time, I appreciate my son's choice of partner. It was eminently logical, given the lives they had chosen. The book is adequately written, though somewhat over-zealous in praise of the emotional aspect of the relationship. My son is still very young."

"Spock! Young!"Kirk began to laugh, and then was suddenly sobbing. This posthumous acceptance by Sarek struck him as almost tragic. He sank into the chair, hands covering his face. "I'm sorry, Captain, I can't seem to help it," he gasped. Picard knelt by the chair and set a hand on one shaking shoulder.

"No apologies, Jim."

"Did Spock know? That Sarek..."

"Yes. He knew. They were reconciled." He refrained from talking about the meld, Sarek's illness and slow decline, and his later meeting with Spock. Kirk slowly got himself back under control, and stood up.

"I'll just wash my face. Excuse me."

A few minutes later they were walking companionably along the corridors of the ship, Kirk drawing startled gazes from many passers-by. "Rumours of your identity are going around," Picard said, noting the looks. Kirk shrugged.

"Bound to happen. Only other person I know of who returned from the dead was... Spock. Oh, dear, if he does still want me, what a topic of dinner conversation."

"Painful, I agree." Picard waved his guest into Ten Forward. Lightly populated now, the early diners gone, the party people not yet arrived, there were a dozen or so intimate groups scattered around. "I happen to know that he took no other partner after you vanished."

Kirk faltered, then continued on to the table Picard indicated. "Thanks for that, I think. I hate to think of him lonely for almost a century, though."

They sat down, ordered drinks and were silent for a few moments. "I've had a message from Star Fleet, regarding your arrival, Jim."

"Yes?"

"Rather tentative, asking me to double check my facts considering the involvement of a certain semi-omnipotent being. Altogether a sort of *welcome back, we think,* attitude."

"Tell me more about this *semi-omnipotent* being, Captain."

Picard launched into the story of Q, from Farpoint to the present day. They were mid-way through their main course before he finished, and Kirk ran out of questions. "So you believe him then, about his merely finding me, not being the one to actually... take me from the Nexus?"

"I do. If Q had managed a feat like that he'd want to brag about it, believe me. He's the vainest entity I have ever met. Though he's come down a peg or two in the last few years."

Kirk pushed away his plate and sat back. "The food's certainly good on this ship, Captain."

"Thank you. I had another message, Jim. From Spock... or rather, about Spock. He's en route, as I told you before. His estimate to the Enterprise is about seventy hours." He didn't add that at Star Fleet's order the Enterprise had changed course to intercept the Vulcan's ship. The Brass all wanted the Vulcan's confirmation that this was really Jim Kirk, and not some sort of Continuum hoax.

"Three days." Kirk closed his eyes briefly. "God, that makes me feel sick. So many questions, Captain. So few answers. I must have been dead, or he would have known..."

"Not necessarily, Captain Kirk." The hazel eyes flew open again and lit on Guinan, arriving silently at their table, a tray in her hand. "May I join you?"

"Jim Kirk, meet Guinan. She, too, was once briefly in the Nexus."

"What did you mean, then, *not necessarily*?" Kirk pushed out a chair.

Guinan sat down gracefully, and set down her tray. She poured three glasses of dark amber liquid and handed one to each man, taking the third herself. "Brandy. Hope I got that right. Captain Kirk, I don't think that any sort of bond or telepathy could cross through to the Nexus. Once you're in it, the old world doesn't exist for you any longer. Jean-Luc here is the only person I've ever met who managed to remember a sense of purpose while in the Nexus, but he's also the only one ever to cross over that had the lives of millions of people resting on his remembering. And he was forewarned of the effects. Spock would have felt... did feel, the shock of the bond breaking, and after that, nothing."

Kirk paled and took a gulp of the brandy. "Did feel..."

"I checked up on what happened to him right after you vanished. He wasn't seen for almost two weeks, and when he was he went immediately to Vulcan, to Gol. Reports say he's lost considerable weight, and moved like an invalid. He refused medical treatment on the transport vessel. A year later he returned to Earth and wrote the book, then carried on with his life."

"Oh, Spock." Silence fell as Kirk struggled for control. Guinan refilled his glass twice before he managed to raise his head and blink at her. "I needed to know that. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She got up and smiled at him. "Come by any time, Captain Kirk."

Picard surveyed his guest carefully, trying to decide what would be best for the sorrowing man. "Jim, would you join me in my quarters for another drink before you turn in? This place will get busy, soon."

Kirk looked up and then gazed around the room. "Sure. Or... hey, you're busy. I should just head back to my quarters and get some sleep."

Picard stood up. "Do you think you'll sleep? But perhaps I'll walk you home and have a brandy with you there. We could watch a show, talk, play checkers... whatever."

"Chess?" Kirk staggered, then, looking astonished, folded to the floor like a ragdoll. People sprang to their feet all over the room, and Guinan appeared to kneel over the fallen man. She looked up at Picard.

"It's not serious, Captain. He just hasn't had a drink in a century, and downed three double glasses of my best brandy in ten minutes. Have him carried home, let him sleep it off." She kept her voice pitched low, and Picard nodded.

"You help, Guinan. Take his arm... there. Up now..."

Between them they got the semi-conscious man upright, and towed him out of the lounge and into the corridor. It was hard work, maneuvering him down to his cabin and finally rolling him onto his side in bed, and Picard was sweating as he straightened up to watch Guinan tuck the covers around their charge. "You're sure he's alright, Guinan? I mean, in view of the pod, the near-century sleep... I ought to call Beverly."

"He's fine, Jean-Luc." She stood up. "This body of his is a complete virgin, that's all. Brandy doesn't go down that well with a youngster. He's fine. But call Beverly by all means, if you want to embarrass him further."

Picard smiled. "I trust you, Guinan. Should I stay, or will he sleep through the night?"

"Go home, Jean-Luc. I'll check on him myself in the morning." She straightened the bedcover and smiled. "He's okay, he just didn't know he'd have to re-adapt to his vices. It's all learned behaviour. Trust me. Go to bed."

"Very well." Once Picard was gone, Guinan turned back to the bed and set about getting Kirk out of his clothes. He'd sleep a lot better, she decided. Besides, she was curious.

Jim woke with reluctance, forced himself into almost-sleep a dozen times before he acknowledged the thirst and the full bladder. He hauled himself, queasy, to the edge of the bed and set his feet on the floor. "I haven't felt this bad since the party after Survival Training," he mumbled, and was surprised by a chuckle from the doorway. He looked up and saw the woman from the restaurant. Guinan? Belatedly he reached for the sheet.

"I've seen it before, Captain. Think of me as your little helper. Now, I think you'd like a drink of water?"

Kirk drained the pitcher she offered in six long gulps, handed it back. "Thanks. Who drugged me?"

"You did. That's a brandy hangover." Guinan stood up. "If you can find the shower, use it. When you come out your breakfast will be on the table."

"I only had three!" He pulled the cover around his waist and looked up. "That's not enough to get anyone drunk."

"Think about that. See you shortly. Shower."

Jim stumbled into the shower and set it for hot, spent several minutes with his face turned up into the spray. As the numbness slowly left he soaped up and washed his hair, then rinsed thoroughly and shut the shower off. "Three brandies - okay, large brandies. Nonsense. She drugged me."

He dried off and tied a towel around his waist, then stalked out to the bedroom. Guinan was no where to be seen, but small noises from the living room betrayed her presence. He dressed quickly and sauntered out. "You drugged me," he said flatly. She looked up from her perusal of "The First Five Years" and smiled.

"After a fashion. I gave brandy to a child, is what I did. If I'd been thinking, I might not have done it."

Kirk scowled, then the scents rising from the various dishes on the table attracted him and he paced over, hunger warring with anger. "I don't understand you. I'm not a child, not in any sense."

"In one sense. That liver you're carting around has been almost a century without a drink poured into it. The brain..."

"Oh!" Kirk began to chuckle, then laugh outright. "Oh! Like giving brandy to a child... Oh, gods, I must have looked stupid!" He was laughing helplessly, and Guinan joined in, admiring his sense of humour. Many men would have been angry at being made to look silly in public.

"You just crashed to the floor - no harm done, Captain. Everyone will assume it was some side effect of your long sleep, instead of what it was. The brandy going straight to your head."

Kirk's laugh slowed to a chuckle, and he wiped his eyes with a napkin. "I appreciate your discretion, Guinan. Did you carry me home and put me to bed?"

"Picard and I did. Eat your breakfast now, and the cure will be complete. If you can't yet handle your liquor, you'll also recover with the speed of that young constitution." Kirk, still grinning, sat down and waved a hand at the other chair.

"Join me?" Guinan stood up and straightened her dress, shaking her head.

"Thanks, but I have work to do. And I meant what I said last night; drop by Ten Forward any time."

"I will. Thanks."

He wolfed down most of the food, and sat back in amazement; she was right, his hangover was vanishing at a tremendous rate. Once full he dropped the various dishes into the recycle slot below the replicator and stretched out on the couch to continue reading Spock's book.

He was well into year two when the comm chirped at him - he stood up and crossed to the desk. "Kirk here."

"Good morning, Picard here," came that rather distinguished voice. "I trust you've recovered?"

"Fully, and my apologies for the display. Disgusting at my age, but what can you do?"

Picard chuckled. "No apology required. I'd like to send Counselor Troi down to you again. She suspects you might like a more thorough look at the recreational facilities, and perhaps a tour of engineering. Doctor Crusher would also like to see you in sickbay, when you have time."

"I appear to have nothing but time, Captain. Thanks for the heads up. Kirk out."

Picard stared at the intercom in bemusement, then looked up at Deanna. "Well, I must say, that's the first time I've been dismissed on my own ship. Of you go, then, Counselor."

Deanna, smiling, nodded. "He's used to being deferred to, of course. Only natural; old habits die hard, Captain."

She spent the morning with him; a complete tour of recreation and of engineering. He surprised Geordi with the insight his questions showed, with how quickly he seemed to understand this new and complex technology. He was reluctant to be dragged away from the main engine room for lunch, and even more reluctant to be shown into sickbay for a check-up. When Deanna, at his insistence, left him alone with Doctor Crusher, he grew shy.

"Doc, I've got a question. A worry, actually."

"Not surprising, Captain. Go ahead, I'll help if I can."

"Am I aging normally?"

Beverly blinked, then smiled her best bed-side smile. "A perfectly understandable concern, considering what you've gone through. And one I can't ignore, or answer properly today. I'll do a full survey today though, to compare to our original reading from when you first came aboard. Another reading every day for two or three days, and I should have your answer."

He sighed relief. "Yes, thank you. I'd like to just ignore my fears about this, but considering that every time I look in the mirror... it's a shock. It's a wonderful gift, if it's real... but it's..." He waved a hand at himself, at a loss for words. Beverly nodded.

"It's a worry, and a valid one. Lie back and let me get my readings, and then show up here after lunch tomorrow and the next day. I should have an answer of sorts for you by then. Alright?"

"Good." Kirk marveled at how easy it was to lift himself to the bed and lie down. "It's amazing, being so limber again after feeling my body slowly tighten up over the years."

Crusher smiled, pulling a monitor forward. "I can't imagine."

"No. Uh, doctor, I'm not familiar with practices on board starships these days. In my day, all the cabins were monitored for physical... well, norms. Is that still the case?"

Beverly was busy scanning her monitors, recording the data. "Yes, of course. In case of a cardiac arrest, an allergic crisis... things of that nature. Why?"

"Well... you don't... do you have cameras, audio sensors, these days?"

She stopped dead and stared. "Certainly not! I didn't know that *those* were in use a century ago. What a horrific invasion of privacy! No, I assure you, it's all computer monitoring within acceptable parameters... and it would take a heart going into arrest or a brain wave pattern going near flat before the computer would alert the medical staff. Cameras, indeed! What a notion. Your Star Fleet was certainly a lot more invasive than mine is, Captain." She went about her work with abrupt, angry movements. "I can't believe it. How demeaning."

"Well, it was very rarely used, in my time," Kirk offered, by way of appeasement, propping himself up on one elbow. The doctor glanced up, eyes glittering.

"I should hope so. That's spying, pure and simple. A tremendous invasion of personal privacy. No wonder you and Spock had to be so care..." She stopped, staring. "I'm sorry."

Kirk swallowed his laughter and shook his head. "Don't be. I'm afraid I've led you on... we didn't use those things in my day, either. But I was afraid, because I'm a... a *curiousity*, that you might be monitoring *me*." He ducked his head. "It might've been embarrassing. If you were."

Crusher paled, then flushed from her collar to her hairline. "Well, we're not. You could conjure up a flock of geese and dispatch them by hand, if you wanted to... you can pretty much do what you want in your cabin, Captain, and no one will be the wiser. Now lie down and let me finish this."

Kirk thanked the doctor when she had finished, and returned to his quarters alone, over Deanna's protests. He managed to shut her out with various excuses of tiredness, and threw himself onto the couch.

So strange. So many new things, too much to learn. "Computer."

"Working, Captain Kirk." So. The computer now called him "Captain". He grinned and sat up.

"How would I go about sending a message to Captain Picard; not an urgent message, just a memo."

He listened to the instructions, then crossed to the desk and tapped the intercom. "Kirk to communications."

"Lieutenant Salvos, Sir. Go ahead."

"Lieutenant, will you leave a message for Captain Picard that I would like to speak with him, at his convenience."

"I'll inform him immediately." Kirk grimaced.

"No, just prioritize with his normal messages, please. There is no urgency about this message."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."

Kirk tapped the comm again, sighed when it beeped almost immediately. "Kirk here."

"Jim? Jean-Luc. Now don't be too hard on the comm officer, I wasn't busy, and he's very young. What's going on?"

Jim smiled and stroked the desk. "I was wondering if I rated a tour of the bridge, sir. I'm dying of curiousity."

A chuckle sounded back over the comm. "Just don't get any ideas, *Captain*. This one's taken."

"I know. I wouldn't presume... I wouldn't know where to begin. Besides, it looks like the Enterprise has the best Captain she could have... if they stuck me in charge I'd just pick a fight with someone and screw everything up."

Another chuckle. "If you want to come up now just go to the turbo life nearest your quarters and ask for the Bridge. You're fully authorized. I'll meet you at the door."

Jim checked his appearance, then ducked into the bathroom to comb his hair. Weird, having all this blond hair again. He'd have to pay attention. He decided he looked perfectly respectable, the dark wine and grey tunic and trousers suited him. He squared his shoulders in front of the mirror and then gave himself a salute. "Captain, to the bridge. Aye-aye."

Jean-Luc was just striding up the walkway when the door opened, giving Jim a wonderful view of the busy Bridge of the Enterprise. He stepped out slowly, accepted Picard's hand in greeting. "It's lovely, Captain."

"Yes." Picard turned slightly as Riker paced up behind him. "James Kirk, my first officer, Commander Will Riker."

"An honour, sir," Riker said, shaking the offered hand. "Welcome home."

"Riker? Any relationship to Bill Riker?"

"My grandfather, sir. A family legend."

"Hmmm. We'll talk. Captain, can I beg a tour?"

He tried to take it in, as Picard showed him around. Ops, Nav. Comm, and the officer blushed purple. Environment and Sciences. At Weapons a glowering Klingon who spoke in very complimentary tones, for a Klingon. Jim managed to summon a phrase of thanks in the officer's own language that made him flush darkly, and execute a half-bow. As he followed Picard away he heard the Klingon rumble "what nice manners he has.." and stifled a snort of laughter.

"Jim?"

"Nothing. Please, show me more."

"Not much more to see, but you're welcome to observe. Pull up a chair."

Both men settled, Picard in the centre seat, Riker on his right and Kirk on his left. "Where are we now? What is your current assignment?"

Picard straightened his tunic. "We were on a restocking run out along the neutral zone stations, showing our strength, as it were. I'm afraid we were rerouted when your recovery was relayed to Fleet. We're on route now to intercept Ambassador Spock. He was working undercover on Ch'Rihan."

"They rerouted Enterprise, for me?" Jim felt his emotions drop into turmoil. "That's not right."

"I'm afraid it is," Riker piped up. "Although we are all convinced of your veracity, it'll take a Vulcan's opinion to prove it to Star Fleet."

"Commander!" Picard snapped, as Kirk paled. Kirk didn't move, though his eyes narrowed. After a moment he turned to Picard.

"La plus ca change, hmmm?" He shook his head. "Well, in my time they'd have thrown me in the brig until I could prove my identity. So some things do change."

"I'm sorry, I meant no insult." Riker shifted uncomfortably. "Please accept..."

"Nonsense." Kirk sat back. "Though one should be careful about insulting the company one works for, whether it's the corner clothing store or Star Fleet, commander. In fact, this waiting might be easier if I were in the brig, Captain Picard. It would certainly be less confusing."

"Well, the accommodations there are hardly what we'd call adequate for a visiting VIP, Captain." Ah, now even Picard was calling him Captain in public, and without any sarcastic emphasis. "Did you enjoy your earlier tour with Counselor Troi?"

"Yes. She's a very interesting person, and well informed about your ship and crew." Kirk let Picard turn the topic to the ship's facilities, and a few minutes later let himself be taken off the bridge to the Captain's ready room.

"Lord! Wish I'd had one of these! An office right off the bridge." He glanced at the view, smiled at Picard. "Your first officer's a little quick off the mark."

"A valuable trait, to me. I just wish Star Fleet would accept the evidence and declare you outright. It's not fair to you, or to my crew, to have this ambiguous sort of 'maybe' hanging over us all."

"I understand. As to seeing Spock, I am looking forward to it... and dreading it. What sort of partner will a sixty- something make for a man almost 150 years old? I dread even more him walking up to me and... rejecting me. Being all Vulcan, and cold. The tremendous life experience he's had since I... since I left."

"Since you died. Yes. Can I offer you brandy? Or tea?"

"Brandy. A small one, and water it down, please. I think I learned my lesson about that last night." Picard ordered the drinks as Kirk prowled the small room. He stopped before the fish tank. "Lion fish. Interesting."

"Yes. One of the loveliest of tropical reef fishes, and one of the most deadly." Picard handed Kirk his brandy. "Tell me about dying."

Kirk sipped the brandy and gazed at the fish, then turned back to the viewport, gestured toward the stars. "It's like that, Jean- Luc. Like hurtling through the stars without fear, toward something wonderful. Only I never got to the wonderful something. I stopped in the Nexus and... I don't know. I don't know what happened there. Then I was with you... and then, again, hurtling through space until I woke up in your sickbay."

"No feelings? No emotions?"

Kirk sipped the brandy again, then swung himself down onto the couch. "A tremendous sense of loss," he whispered. "Like I was tearing myself in half, with my own hands."

Silence fell, Picard perched on the edge of his desk, Kirk slumped on the couch. When Kirk looked up at last, tears were streaking his cheeks. "I'm frightened, Jean-Luc. What can I do if he rejects me? I'd rather be dead. Or... God, I almost wish he were dead..."

"So you could mourn him in turn, and you two would be even?"

Kirk nodded, eyes falling back to the amber liquid. "I feel so guilty," he whispered.

"But you've forgotten; you did mourn him once already, Jim. So you two are even, if you care to apply competition to such tragic circumstances. He died saving the Enterprise. In case you've forgotten, you did too. Don't you think he will understand the logical necessity of that?"

"Is there a god, Jean-Luc? Who, what, is doing this to us? Did you read Spock's book?"

"Yes."

"Then you know... I'd rather jump out an airlock now than have him reject me. I'd rather die."

He didn't weep any more, but sipped his brandy. "You know another thing that bothers me. I look so awfully young. How will anyone take me seriously?"

Picard chuckled. "Are you forgetting you were about that age when they first gave you the Enterprise? Youngest ship's Captain ever. Good god, Jim, I was studying battles you fought, and strategies you pioneered, at the Academy when I was in my twenties. Things you did in your early thirties, during that first mission. I don't think you need to worry about people taking you seriously."

"I can't believe they did, now. When I look in the mirror, I think; who would listen to the opinion of such an obvious tyro? How are people going to know, looking at me, that's I'm well into my sixth decade?"

"They'll know. Get used to the idea, Jim. You're a cultural icon."

Jim snorted and drained his brandy, then set down the glass. "You'll have work to do. Captains always have work to do. And I'm hardly fit to be company. I think I'll go back and... finish the book."

Picard stood up and offered his hand, which Kirk took automatically. "If it's any help, I do understand that it's very hard for you. Come and talk to me anytime. While we're on our way to meet Spock - it's unlikely anything in this sector of space is going to require my attention before we meet him. And Captain... perhaps you'd like to go riding."

"Pardon?" The sheer irrelevancy of the question brought Kirk up short, his hand falling to his side. "Riding? Horses?"

"Horses. Yes. I take it Deanna didn't show you our holo-decks."

"Hollow decks? You have empty decks to ride horses in?" Kirk looked so lost that Picard almost cried.

"Holographic projection decks. I'd be more than pleased to take you for a horse-back ride. Tomorrow morning. You'll like it, trust me. I'll pick you up at 0900; it's my normal day off."

Kirk's brow furrowed. "Alright. But I've no gear. No riding clothes."

"I'll bring some. Good afternoon, Captain. And try not to worry to much. What will happen, will happen.

"You're right. I'll be okay, Captain. It's just angst, or something. Thanks for the drink."