universal_charm | AOS Meets TOS

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AOS Meets TOS - Kirk x Kirk

He knew better than to count the days. He stopped when his mind just naturally lost track, and it was better that way. Keeping track of the time was a really fast way to drive yourself mad, wasn't it? And he needed to keep sane. He had to.

Never mind that he hadn't showered in... who knows when. He was used to his own odor by now and tried not to think to much on how greasy his hair must his look. His jaw and chin at least stopped itching from the growing beard. He liked to imagine he looked like quite the rugged sort of mountain man, and not the desperate strandee he was.

For the upteenth time that he dare not track, he wormed his way into the shuttle he had managed to only partially crash planet side. Carefully he edged towards to the front where the controls were, reaching out to check one of the few functioning pieces left - the SOS signals. Still working, thank god, quietly beeping as it released out his cry into the infinite abyss. A long shot, but his only shot, and he rather hoped that the code attached - the call sign for the Enterprise, using the captain's particular signature code - would help with a response.

He had to have some kind of hope, right?

His check done, he wriggled his way back out, going over to his survival kit and grabbing his knife. Time to go check the traps and see if he could scrounge up some plant life and pray that it didn't kill him.

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Captain's Log -- Stardate: 220331

We've picked up a short-range distress signal that would be otherwise unremarkable but for the fact it seems an exact match for not only one of our own shuttles but my own personal code. Since both myself and the shuttle in question are safely aboard, the question is both obvious and inescapable. Scotty has a security team in Transporter Room 2, and I and Mister Spock are on our way to greet our... guest.

Jim strode down the corridor, a familiar thrill racing through him that, when he became aware of it, made him smile briefly and glance a this First Officer sidelong. Spock would never admit to such a thrill, and call Jim's own sense of it illogical given that they were walking yet again into the unknown, but that was exactly why they were both here, wasn't it?

How this mysterious individual had gotten hold of their tech, let alone this particular signature, was naturally a matter of some concern from a Federation security standpoint. But it was also just... interesting. Was is someone Jim had known? A friend, or someone he'd crossed? Was it a form of revenge, or mere survival taking an unexpected form? Or was there some other explanation, verging into sheer coincidence? He rubbed his hands together as the doors opened and they stepped in. Nodding to Scotty, the chief engineer began the process, and Jim hoped it wasn't too much of a shock.

They'd tried signaling back, of course, but whatever equipment was left down there wasn't in good enough shape to take a message. So Jim waits near the transporter pad, hands behind his back, eager for an answer.

Well, the day had officially gone to shit. One little slip and his shirt was torn open, because of course it would be, and he had no extras, along with the bleeding. Just what he needed. A possible infection. He'd have to forget getting anything more to eat for the night, so into his rations it was, though it pained him. First things first - back to the shuttle and pulling out the first aid kit.

The brush was dense and thick, the air sticky and hot and sweat poured down him as he marched back towards his encampment. He pushed and shoved, ignoring the stinging on his chest, even as it made him want to cry out and sob in frustration. He had always thought himself stronger than this, that he could manage it, but...

"Hello?" he paused when he stepped into the small clearing, his voice trembling with hope when he spotted the vivid colors of bright yellow and ocean blue. Command. Science.

Someone answering his call. Help.

There was a phaser at his hip, of course, but he made no move towards it as the figure stumbled upon them. They'd beamed down close to the signal, but not on top of the life sign, though it was clear now the stranded person had been coming towards them anyway.

The figure was pathetic; torn and bleeding, dirty and unkempt, a scraggle of beard and an air of being underfed that caused a twinge in Jim's soul he tamped down. But alive. And apparently having survived here for awhile, if the beard's growth was any indication.

"We mean you no harm," he said, raising his hands. Spock was watching silently, his dark eyes darting from the victim back to him in a way he found unsettling for some reason. "We're from Starfleet. We intercepted your distress call, and we were unable to reach you on your equipment. We'd like to know what happened here--when you're ready, of course."

Pathetic did indeed just about cover it. He liked to think better of himself, and he tried to (very careful to avoid reflections if he could), because the delusion helped keep him strong, helped him keep his sanity. Ridiculous, but it worked. He thought. Maybe.

"Of course I know you're from Starfleet, you're..." he trailed off, finally taking the men in.

The dark air, gently pointed ears, severe eyebrows and the impassive face he knew so well. That he could have drawn in his sleep if he so wished. The other less familiar if only because he not keen on looking at himself in the mirror so long as to memorize it. But he knew. Because who's side would Spock be by but his own? Except if that was him then... oh stars above.

A crushing weight pressed in on his chest, felt tight and made breathing hard. Already aching from his wounds, the sprung to life anew, burning as he called up the wizened fact of a friendly, though sever looking Vulcan, and the story he told of falling through a wormhole...

Oh stars above.

"Of course it would be you, Spock..." he smiled, tired and forlorn before the weight crushed him and he collapsed, the world going dark, not a star to be found.

The man collapse, and oddly, it was Spock who was there to half-catch him. He looked down at the stranger for a long moment, and Jim can almost hear that Vulcan mind at work, but then he was looking up at Jim.

"We need to get him to the infirmary," he said, as if that wasn't patently obvious but something was going on and Jim was happy to give him the benefit of the doubt. He moved over and Spock seemed hesitant before allowing Jim to drape the man's unconscious arm over his shoulder. "I will stay for a few minutes to find his craft and determine the reason for the anomalies we witnessed. With your permission, Captain."

There was a reason Spock wanted Jim to go and for him to stay, and while he wasn't used to being ordered around, the rarity of Spock making such a call himself made it poignant. So Jim nodded, and, instructing the rest of the away team to assist Spock, he contacts Scotty to beam him back up. And tells McCoy to meet him. The man is no threat, certainly not now and now, Jim thought, even when he was conscious.

It was short enough work getting his dead weight to sickbay, and it wasn't long before Jim was staring down at their new passenger, something buzzing around the back of his head he hadn't had time to put his finger on yet. He'd noted, of course, the height and weight similarity--it felt a little like being around his brother when they'd sort of caught up to each other. Somehow, he knew this frame, was familiar with how it felt next to him. As McCoy patched up the superficial wounds and ran a scan (showing little other than dehydration and malnutrition, though there were more tests McCoy had wandered away to confirm) Jim found himself trying to puzzle out just what was bothering him.

And that was when he remembered--the man had recognized Spock.

“Now that can’t be right...” Leonard growled to himself, looking at the readout on his board.

His eyes drifted to the man currently being treated in his sickbay, a nurse dutifully and carefully removing the man’s beard at present as he was stable, letting the machines work on cleaning and sanitizing him an inch at a time with as much dignity as was possible. He couldn’t see well from the angle, but was it... no, couldn’t possibly be. Still he looked down at the board again, and there was no mistaking it. A near perfect match for one James Tiberius Kirk.

But his captain was standing on the other side of the medical glass of the isolation room, and even if this person had some DNA similarities it would only be on a familial level. Not a 99% DNA match. Impossible. Not even shapeshifters could manage that. Frowning, he walked back closer to the man, peering down - gasping as he looked down at the freckled, sleeping face of his captain.

“It’s him, isn’t it? But...” the nurse looked at Bones, biting her lip.

“Have you noticed anything else?” He asked briskly, tapping the input for the machine to do another blood draw.

“Tattoos,” the nurse said, pulling back a sheet to display a series of numbers on the inside of the man’s forearm, and a much larger, more familiar set running down his left rib cage. NCC-1704. The Enterprise’s call number. It even had the Star Fleet symbol in its center. A quick reference showed the numbers on his forearm were the universal coordinates for Earth.

Bones rubbed his face. “Damn it, Jim, what have you brought me this time?” He muttered before addressed the nurse. “Continue with your tasks and once the machines have finished theirs let him sleep. God knows the man needs it. We can look more into this when he’s properly awake and not delirious.”

Leaving the nurse to her tasks, he turned and marched out of the ward - and right over to Jim. His board beeped as he did, and he felt like the embodiment of the adage about insanity, resisting the urge to run the test again.

“We’ve got a name on our mystery man,” Leonard declared, shoving the board at Jim, glowing with a particular Star Fleet records.

NAME: KIRK, JAMES TIBERIUS

“Really, Jim, this is a long way to go to avoid a physical.”

Not that he believed that, not from the crease of his brow and the concern on his face. Because what the hell were they going to do?

Jim knew before Bones got to him. Even if it took him a little while to articulate it to himself, the evidence had become incontrovertible.

It helped, of course, that he had met doubles before. Androids. Transporter accidents. But he'd never been hailed by a distress call from himself. There was that, and the tattoos--none of which he had--and other incongruities. But there was no point denying this was Jim Kirk. He scrubbed a hand over his face, turning from the window to the doctor.

"And it didn't even work, did it?" he returned, taking the PADD. He was familiar enough with his own record to know what it all spelled out. "So he's not a robot. Or an evil twin?" He raised an eyebrow, and McCoy glared back at him.

"Maybe you're the evil twin," he ground out without any heat. It wasn't as if Jim did this to him on purpose.

Probably.

"No, I'm pretty sure I'd know," Jim said with forced cheer, because really, what else could you do? "How soon before he wakes up?"

"Not long. He's mostly dehydrated and malnourished, but nothing we can't take care of. He'll be good as new in a few days. But he's been through a lot, and I don't need you coming at him right out of the gate."

Jim raised another eyebrow. "Bones. You know me. Which means you know that I know he'll want to talk to me just as much as I want to talk to him."

The thing was, Jim was right, and McCoy had to relent, so once they'd done everything they could with hypos and hydration and a new set of clothes, Jim waited by the other man's bed for him to wake up.

He relented, but that didn't mean Bones didn't keep a close eye on things, and also begin trying to parse what that other, tiny bit of DNA was, that slightly differential that kept these two from being a 100% match. Spock was curious about the matter as Bones was, but like the doctor relented to the logic of the Kirk's speaking with each other first. It was, after all, pointless to try and hide one from the other, and he set himself to the task of researching any anomaly that could produce their current situation.

As for Jim, he slept. It was deep and dreamless and for that was thankful. To often his dreams were wild and harsh and full of teeth and dark shadows. Survival instinct perhaps? Never to deeply asleep, ready to act at all times. True, blissfully unaware sleep was a gift and he would have kissed McCoy for it if he could.

As it was, when he woke, he did not act surprised to be in the surroundings he was in, though clearly he was taking stock of his situation however slowly. He was quiet for a long while as he came back to himself before turning his head to face himself.

"You know, I had really hoped you were a hallucination from something I ate or an infection fever."

It was boring work, waiting, so Kirk had some requisitions brought to him to sign off on while he waited, since that was another task he also hated. He didn't want to risk not being there when the other woke, however, and he was grateful when the other Jim finally opened his eyes.

"I can't think why," he said with forced easiness. "You're a damned good looking fellow."

He winced as he laughed. "Damn, that's not fair, you're charming as well."

Because he was also charming. They were both charming. And that was dangerous. How odd, to see his own face looking back at him like this, though he supposed if he looked long and closely enough that he would find the differences in their experiences there.

"So - I assume there are questions. Or can I get a drink first? McCoy sanctioned, of course. I assumed Bones is CMO?"

"Sorry," he said, with that oh-so-charming grin. "Questions first. Drinks once I'm absolutely certain you're not a robot, my evil id, or from another universe and about to take over my ship."

He spoke lightly, as if pretty sure already none of those things were the case, but Jim might notice that he wasn't actually joking.

"I think it's pretty clear," he continued more soberly, "that you're not exactly me. Bones has found traces in your DNA that don't match. And yet," he studied the other man's face carefully, "how to explain that you're not me, but we both call our CMO Bones, that's a question." Not specifically that, of course. The nickname itself doesn't matter. It's the fact they share it. "So first things first--you're on the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701. We're on a five year mission of exploration, it's stardate 220331, and we found you stranded on a planet I've never been to. That track so far?"

He smacked his lips, just a little, which wasn't so much an admonishment as it was his lips actually being dry. But all the same, he kept his gaze on Jim (James, perhaps, in his head, just to help himself), and listened. The DNA part was not surprising - he was him, but also not entirely now, thanks to a certain incident.

His eyes flicked to the side, clearly turning over what to say in his head. Spock, the Elder Spock, had been so careful with his, but did he need to be here? It seemed, from what James was saying, that they were lining up with their timelines - at least in so far as neither was ahead of the other, so there wouldn't be the risk of altering anyone's choices or destiny or what have you. The star date did not entirely track, but it wasn't unlikely that there might be a slightly different notation format.

"Oh, good, she's still the Enterprise," he nodded slowly, a sort of pleased gleam in his eyes. "And yes, it all tracks," he added. "I think I was on that planet for a month and a half?" His eyes rolled back in that way they do when people are recalling, trying to do the math. His shuttle had been able to keep time, but he had also made a point of not tracking to closely either. It had been long enough.

"As for being you and not you..." Another pause as he gathered the words. "I am James Tiberius Kirk, son of Winona and George Kirk. However, due to an incident in my universe, I had to have a particular blood transfusion that has added new DNA to mine - though I'm sure Bones could see it was scant. Obviously, I'm a 99.8% match for you or something." Theoretically it could have been 100% if he was a clone, but he wondered if the missing .2% somehow made him more believable or not. "And yes, I did say universe. My conjecture is that the shuttle I was in got pulled through some sort of wormhole, and spat out near the planet you found me on. Lucky for me it was livable, otherwise we would be denied the pleasure of each other's company."

And he could not help but smile that charming, James Kirk sort of smile, tired though he was.

His eyes narrowed through the other man's explanation. Partly because he was listening and taking it in, not wanting to miss any part of what might be a clue as to how he'd gotten there. But the more the other Kirk talked, the more Jim realized the amount of information, of certainty, was suspect. Not in the nefarious sense, but simply because it suggested a greater familiarity with this type of thing than he would have expected.

From, well. Himself.

He was going to need medical treatment in a minute, if this kept up. And a drink.

Speaking of which, he hadn't missed the lip thing, and he hadn't really meant all hydration or anything, so he moved over to the synthesizer to get a cup of water which he brought back and handed to Kirk.

"I know we're taught about the possibility of other universes at the Academy," he says after a moment. "And I know I've seen enough out here to make me believe... well, just about anything. But am I wrong in thinking you've seen something like this before?"

If he went into how his timeline even came about, then you would really need that drink. And probably a nap. Definitely a nap.

He nodded gratefully when his other self brought him the cup of water, sipping slowly. Oh, god, fresh water he didn't have to boil. It seemed like such an insane luxury now after months out on that wilderness. His eyes watched James though, letting him parse what he'd just said, and ask his question as he kept his mouth from turning into a permanent pucker.

There was a pause as he considered how to answer, trying to model Elder Spock as much as he might, though he did not have the moral quandary of being ahead in a time-stream. Just different.

"I'm the product of it, in a way," he settled the cup in his lap. "And I've met someone where I had no choice but the believe. Kind of like right now, except they were much older than their counterpart."

Again he was quiet, debating, his brow furrowing and eyes going distant for a beat as he mustered his next question. The important one, to really determine how different they were.

"Is Vulcan still in existence here?"

In a macro, more philosophical sense than he was used to dealing with, they were all the product of some sort of whim of space-time. If the multiverse theory were true--and the Terran universe implied heavily it was--then every choice or chance led to another offshoot. None, he supposed, truer than any other.

But that was not what Kirk--the other Kirk--seemed to be talking about. His experience was specific. And... intimate, somehow. Personal. His brow furrowed in something like quiet shock at the question.

"Vulcan? Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Relief eased his chest, oddly enough. So - he was in a universe where Vulcan was all right. Maybe he was even in Elder Spock's universe, though at a different time point, clearly. Even so, he gave thanks that there was a universe where Spock and his people did not have to suffer such a calamity, where his other self was spared the guilt of that failure.

"Just a bit of proof that I really am in an alternate universe," he said softly, hands gripping his sheets. "In my world, Vulcan is gone - imploded, to be more accurate." If there was a way to convince someone what he said was true, this felt like one of the best ways. Though, he supposed it could come across as a ridiculous lie. But for himself it was the most glaring point that he could perhaps ascertain where and even when he was.

"Believe me or not," he added. "Though I'm sure Spock and Scotty can come up with several tests to confirm what Bones' medical analysis has already said about me. I would prefer not to, though. Scotty's experiments have a tendency to get shocky, no?"

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AOS Meets TOS - Kirk x Kirk

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doot doot I'm a flake

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