universal_charm: (Default)
James Tiberius Kirk ([personal profile] universal_charm) wrote2020-12-14 11:29 pm

SANCTUM IC CONTACT


You've reached Kirk Industries, Inc. 

Just leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

If this is personal, well, do the same - except you've called James Kirk. 
oldfashionedfutureboy: (Default)

Re: Action

[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-10 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
"Then why d'ya keep look'n at me like I'm some kinda disappointment for be'n more will'n to fight? For not lett'n you roll on through do'n whatever you want? For hav'n a job and keep'n to it instead of dropp'n everything to do whatever it is you think I oughta be do'n? I know you're used t'your McCoy do'n whatever you ask him to but Jim, I can't. I got obligations. I got decades of this-" He flicks his fingers at the names. "On my back."

It'll wear any man down, nevermind a doctor. "I know you don't mean noth'n by it. But I can't help but feel like I"m supposed'ta be a little different when you look at me like I"m a stranger."
oldfashionedfutureboy: (Say that with a straight face)

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[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-11 05:49 am (UTC)(link)
"Habits." Habitual reactions, arguments, jokes. Things they just don't get out of each other because they are and aren't...who they think they might be.

Still.

The idea that he might be dissappointed in this kid? Has him shaking his head and hooking an arm around his shoulders for a brief squeeze. "Kid, c'mon. You ain't him. I'm GLAD you ain't him cuz after chris...he went in a bad way. Then he went miss'n. THen he turned up a right angry, bitter Jackass and if there is one thing the world don't need it's a bitter, surly James T. Kirk. It don't fit. You're him as he should be. All the shit that happened in your world and you're- you're still the right timeline. Wouldn't wish what we got go'n on here on anybody. So I ain't dissappointed. I'm a little astonished, that's all."
oldfashionedfutureboy: (Not quite a man but sure as hell not a b)

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[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-12 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
"It is what it is." He shrugs, hands peeling back the paper of his sandwich. It's no big thing to him anymore, eating here. He used to be unable to. Hell he used to not be able to look at meat anymore- not with the smell, the bones, the sounds of it tearing as the atmosphere slowly turned toxic. NOw...he's not so much bothered.

It's damning in it's own way.

"Family. Duty. Had to find a cure, you know? Had to hold the line. Take care of people like my Dad did up till he couldn't. That's still the goal- find a cure. Get you lot home." Maybe not die choking on air or getting ripped to shreds. Who knew.
oldfashionedfutureboy: (so how am I supposed to help)

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[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-13 05:56 am (UTC)(link)
"If I had my old data from when I was treat'n my father- maybe. But that got confiscated when I was declared legally dead." He snorts, staring down at the bread and meat in his hands. Another bite, another hard swallow- he can look at that data now. He hadn't kept it backed up because it'd been so fucking hard to look at it again. To watch himself fail.

To watch David McCoy Die.

"Look'n for you. If they are anything like they seem t'be."
oldfashionedfutureboy: (got the world on my mind)

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[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-14 08:48 am (UTC)(link)
"Used t'be you go miss'n for three years- you're considered dead. Now? If you're stuck outside the dome, no supplies, no transport, noth'n for three weeks? You're dead in the eyes of the law. I was out there for two months." So he came back to no house, no wife, and no legal rights till shit got sorted.

God Bless Keith for helping him get things fixed.
oldfashionedfutureboy: (got the world on my mind)

Action

[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-15 06:06 am (UTC)(link)
"Our transport got stolen by Kilo. Left me and my team in the lurch well what as left of it. Me and Golf were the only ones that survived- we were out to get some data and samples from an old medical outpost from when the whole thing started. Research on native animals, originally, and it became a place where they studied the first strain before it got so goddamn mutated and infectious. Me and Golf were stuck walk'n back home and had to duck in at what few safe points we could find. Old bunkers, houses that still had air circulation. It was slow go'n since the suits only carried so much by way of air scrubbers and I had to carry him. He was injured pretty bad, needed to remove his leg as soon as we got in..." Whiskey shakes his head, trying to clear it. "Two months. Two months to drag our raggedy asses back in."
oldfashionedfutureboy: (I've got a bad feeling about this)

Action

[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-15 08:52 am (UTC)(link)
There are details he doesn't really wanna get into if he doesn't have to. Things he'd rather not say. Places he'd rather not go. Things he had to live through that he'd rather leave buried back out with the last of the crew that died. He got their dog tags and their names and that's all he could manage. No ports. No bodies. The few that lived long enough to be infected didn't need their families knowing about it.

No, just him. Just him. Golf hadn't even known. Better that he didn't- not that he'd remember now. Better to carry that and many little nuggets quietly.

Talking about it again- it's. Difficult. He's always kept it vague because that hell? That'd been a highly personal hell. Something that he'd never thought could be any worse until he arrived home.

Home.

Where he thought he'd be safe. Where he thought he could get a good meal and tea and see hsi baby girl, his wife again. To walk in his home and sleep in his bed and breathe the recycled air and simply be Leonard McCoy again. Instead of the home he'd ached for, the wife he missed and prayed to see, the little girl he'd wanted to raise more than anything- there was ash.

Ash. Pity. And the bottle.

News from kind lips cutting unkind things into his heart, bleeding him out all over the street in front of the blackened shell of his home. No survivors. All's lost. Legally deceased. Climbing out of that hole- he was still working on it. He still has his darker days even now with jojo home and by his side. THey both did. Days where they curled up under a quilt from the farmhouse and held holos of Joyce and tried not to cry. Told stories.

"...The house was gone." A beat, he crumples the paper from his sandwich slowly, voice low and ragged. "Joyce was gone. Jojo was gone. Lost. Hid in the Immune housing, my smart girl. Knew not to trust anyone."
oldfashionedfutureboy: (I've got a bad feeling about this)

Action

[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-15 10:23 am (UTC)(link)
For a long moment he's quiet. Still and squeezing Jim's hand to remind himself it's not that- it is and it isn't that awful. That he's gotten through it. That he's endured.

"And I...had some rough times for awhile. Lived outta hotels till I got a flat. Fought with lawyers till I could prove I was me and got my shit back, but not much of it. Just what was left after it got put into the public archives or data logs back up at Bifrons." He pushes through. Skips to the part where shit ain't so awful- but it's always awful. That's just life here.

"Kieth died, I got the house- moved in. Moved Delta and Foxtrot and Golf it. Delta retired, got sent back with his family. Golf retired, headed back to work in the private sector in D3."
oldfashionedfutureboy: (Not quite sure about this)

Action

[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-15 07:02 pm (UTC)(link)
"...More or less." THe rest this guy was here for. Anything more feels like digging up old hurts just to show them off and while he's plenty scarred in many places and didn't do much to patch 'em over after the fact, he doesn't stand with his shirt open for everyone to enjoy his wounds. They're healed, or as healed as they're gonna get without him cutting on them just to share.

Jim's heard enough. He's said plenty. All he wants right now is to just. Sit and listen to the flow of water, breathe in the scent of something green and remember what the stars looked like.

"Jim." A beat. "What's it like, sailing between them? The stars. What's it like in space?"
oldfashionedfutureboy: (Default)

Re: Action

[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-16 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
"From what i heard there wasn't anything to see when ships went through the warp gates. NOt a lotta windows on the craft used to colonize this planet. Just solid bulkhead." Which was a comfort to him in more ways than one. "...I think Jojo would love to see 'em."

No matter how Ringer, how Jim, or how anyone else is so goddamn sure he'll live to see this shit fixed he knows he's gonna die trying. He's too banged up to make it and too used to this rock to matter if everything changes again. Better to hold out hope for his baby girl- for his friends and family.
oldfashionedfutureboy: (so how am I supposed to help)

Action

[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-21 05:01 am (UTC)(link)
"SHe'd get a kick outta that." There are so, so few people he'd trust to keep an eye on Jojo after he inevitably kicks it. Jim's on that list. Frank, Jack, Christine. It's a precious short list. Mostly Immune. It's not enough to keep her safe- they have to get her out of here. One way or another- all the elder McCoys were of the same mind. If there's a way to get Jojo the hell off Zeus and somewhere safe? Taht is what they work for. Their own lives are lived through. It'll break his heart if it happens and he can't go and ain't dead yet but-

She needs to live. Not just survive, and that's all any of them are do'n under this fuck'n fishbowl, surviving. She needs to see the stars, to wonder and dream and not worry about the sky falling down or the air she breaths shredding her lungs.

Jim could give her that. And he'd love her just because she was Whiskey's. That's more than enough for him.
oldfashionedfutureboy: (so how am I supposed to help)

Re: Action

[personal profile] oldfashionedfutureboy 2015-02-22 08:18 pm (UTC)(link)
"Not your fault, Jim." He knows that tone. He saw guilt and regret less and less in his own as they got older- that this man still feels it is a point in his favor. Even if it's over shit he couldn't help. He reaches over, curling his arm around Jim's shoulders for a moment, a soft squeeze before he lets his arm drop.

He knows the feeling.

They're sitting in the middle of a wall marked with his regrets. Sure he was only 12 at the time but he comes here to remember that he could always do more. Be more.

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