Chapter Text
Federation vessel destroyed
Earlier this morning we have received the news about the destruction of a Federation vessel USS Kelvin. The ship under the command of Captain Richard Robau had been on a mission, operating 75,000 kilometers from the Federation-Klingon border, when they encountered what the surviving witnesses describe as “a lightning storm in space”. Soon after an unidentified vessel appeared, attacking Kelvin, which lead to a battle during which Captain Robau was killed, having been invited to the attacking ship under the pretense of negotiating a ceasefire. His first officer, George Kirk, assumed command.
The scans as well as the testimony of the surviving bridge crew confirm the enemy ship was equipped with highly advanced technology and weaponry and returning fire had no to minimal impact.
Enemy fire having destroyed Kelvin’s warp drive, Kirk gave the order to evacuate the ship while staying on board himself, to pilot the ship and to operate its weapons in order to protect the shuttlecraft from the enemy’s missiles.
Kirk then steered the ship to collide with the enemy vessel, giving the Kelvin crew a chance to escape. The evacuation had been successful. Over 800 crewmembers survived with the notable exception of Captain Robau and Lieutenant Commander George Kirk.
(…)
(J. Hansen, Washington Press, 2233.05)
Georgia 2233
Leo is five years old.
He’s sitting perched on the armrest of the couch in their living room. The spaceship grandpa Horatio got him for his birthday is still his favorite toy. It’s got glowing lights and – get this – it makes those whoosh noises when it goes into warp. Best gift ever.
Anyway – the sensors spot an enemy ship (the remote Leo found lying on the coffee table) surging up from behind a pile of pillows. It’s Klingons!
“This is the captain of the USS Hermes speaking,” Leo says, “You are in the Federation space. I order you to surrender and return to your territory.”
The Klingons don’t reply. Their ship keeps getting closer. Captain, they’re loading their weapons! Shields up, the captain orders, return fire.
Outside, a car pulls up into the driveway. Leo glances out of the window. His eyes go wide.
“Dad!” he shouts.
He jumps off the couch and runs to the front door. He almost bolts outside, when he remembers – shoes. Mum gets angry when he steps outside in his socks. He shoves his feet into his sneakers and reaches up for the door handle.
The cold outside air sends goosebumps down his back. The sun is hanging low, just above the horizon, stretching the shadows and bathing the world in a warm orange glow.
“Dad! Daddy!” Leo yells and laughs. He runs towards the man getting out of the car and barrels into his legs, hugging tight.
Daddy usually gets home late from work. Too many ill people and not enough doctors, he says. He still smells like the hospital.
“Hey there,” his dad laughs and ruffles his hair. Leo lifts his head but doesn’t let go.
“Where’s ma, Leo?”
“Kitchen.”
“Did she tell you what’s for dinner?” his dad asks and smiles when Leo shakes his head.
“Well, let’s go find out.”
He tries to move his legs but Leo doesn’t let go and giggles when his dad gives him a look.
“C’mon, Leo, you’re too heavy for that.”
Leo just grips his legs tighter. His dad sighs.
“Okay,” he says and Leo lets go. Dad bends down and grabs him under his arms. With an exaggerated groan, he lifts him off the ground and Leo laughs.
“What are they feedin' you, kid, bricks?”
Turns out, dad somehow got the weekend off. He announces that over the dinner, grinning at the surprised looks he gets.
“That would be a first,” mum raises an eyebrow at him but smiles anyway, “In that case - we can spend the weekend at your folks’ place. Your ma called.”
Leo drops his fork. “Yes, daddy,” he pleads, “Let’s go, please.”
Dad smiles at him. “Sure, why not,” he says, “Let’s go. Ma called? What did she want?”
“Said your brother is planetside and coming over tomorrow.”
“Really? I thought he was on that research station on…”
“Rigel 12, yeah, so did I,” mum shrugs and reaches for the potatoes, “They had to evacuate the area because of the Kelvin accident.”
He frowns. A moment of silence passes before he looks up again. He glances at Leo, as if he had just remembered he’s there, and smiles.
“Do you remember uncle Danny, Leo?” he asks.
Leo shakes his head.
“Well, not much of a surprise, he was off-planet for two years,” his dad muses.
Mum nudges Leo with her foot under the table and nods to the forgotten fork on his plate.
“Eat your veggies, young man.”
They eat in silence after that and Leo helps with the dishes. When it’s time to go to sleep he clings to dad’s legs again and begs for a bedtime story. He doesn’t get daddy every day and even though mum reads him stories too, dad makes it more fun.
Dad tells him to go brush his teeth, change into his pajamas, and pick a book.
“Come downstairs when you’re ready,” he says and pets his hair.
When he’s done, Leo takes his book, and with the stuffed lion he sleeps with tucked under his arm, he heads downstairs. He sticks his head into the living room to find his parents on the couch, watching the news. Or mum is watching, actually, dad seems to be fast asleep with his head resting on her shoulder. When mum spots Leo standing in the doorway, she nudges his dad with her elbow. He blinks his eyes open and frowns but she just smiles. He follows her gaze and when he sees Leo, he smiles too.
“Ready?” he asks. Leo nods.
When dad tucks him into bed, Leo reaches for the book next to him. It’s one of the few paper books they have. It’s old, read so many times and touched by so many hands it’s almost falling apart.
“Which one is it today?” his dad asks as he takes it from him. “The Little Prince? Okay.”
He opens the book and turns the first page.
“You remember where we left off?” he frowns, “Because I don’t think I… Okay, got it.”
He runs a hand through his hair. He clears his throat and starts:
“The next planet was inhabited by a drunkard. This was a very short visit, but it made the little prince very sad.”
/
"What are you doing there?" he said to the drunkard, whom he found settled down in silence before a collection of empty bottles and also a collection of full bottles.
"I am drinking," replied the drunkard.
"Why are you drinking?" demanded the little prince.
"So that I may forget," replied the drunkard.
"Forget what?" inquired the little prince, who already was sorry for him.
"Forget that I am ashamed."
/
They’re boarding a shuttle to Calhoun the next day and Leo wants to sit next to the window. He kicks his legs back and forward and watches the people milling around the shuttle bay. His lion plushie is sitting on the seat next to him.
There’s a child crying somewhere in the back of the shuttlecraft.
“Your mum said Daniel’s girlfriend is going to be there,” he hears his mum say.
Dad is putting their bags onto the shelf overhead.
“Is she? I forgot her name. Kate? Clara?” he says. He sits down next to Leo and fumbles with the seatbelt. There are two rows of seats, each on one side of the shuttle. It’s almost full, they were lucky to find a place at all.
“It was Kayla, and no, they broke up some time ago, apparently.”
“Who’s this then?” he frowns.
“I have no idea,” mum laughs. Dad shakes his head and turns to Leo.
“Strapped in?” he asks. Leo nods.
The pilot’s muffled voice in the speakers informs them the shuttle is taking off. The engine hums. Leo presses his face to the cold window, his breath fogging the glass. They start moving towards the gate, leaving the platform and the people on the ground behind them. The light outside is so bright Leo has to close his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he watches the skyscrapers float by. He leans forward in an attempt to get a glimpse of the world below them. It never gets old.
“Leo, darlin’, sit down,” his mum scolds him.
He does. They keep getting higher and the shuttle engine is humming softly in the background – until it isn’t. There’s a quiet hiccup and then a loud crack. It feels just like the moment before the roller coaster drops into a dive.
“David!”
The world turns upside down.
When Leo wakes up, he doesn’t know where he is. The ceiling above him is unfamiliar, stark white plastic and steel. There’s something stinging in his left arm, itching under his skin, but when he wants to scratch it, he finds his limbs too heavy to move. It’s hard to keep his eyes open. He drifts off again.
When he opens his eyes again, it’s dark. The air smells familiar, clean, and fresh. He can hear someone talking but it’s muffled as if coming from another room. He feels more awake now, enough to realize he was somewhere else just a moment ago.
One by one, the memories start surfacing from the fog in his head.
David!
Leo is five, alone, in a dark room he doesn’t recognize. His mommy was screaming.
His lower lip begins to tremble. The heart monitor next to his bed starts beeping rapidly and the voices behind the door stop.
The air smells like daddy when he comes home from work.
“Mommy? Dad?” he calls out. His throat hurts.
The lights flicker on and it feels like bleach in his eyes. A nurse rushes into the room and stops in the doorway.
“Lights 50%,” she orders, and the lights go dim. Leo blinks a few times and tries to sit up. The nurse is at his bedside in a moment.
“Shh, don’t,” she says and pushes him back down with a gentle hand on his shoulder. He goes obediently, mostly because he’s too tired to put up a fight. Leo feels her warm fingers on his forehead as she smoothes his hair. He opens his eyes; he must have closed them again without realizing it.
“Where’s –“ he starts but stops when his throat closes up. He tries to swallow but his mouth is dry like sandpaper. He feels something cold pressing against his lips – the nurse is holding a cup of water to his mouth. He takes a sip.
“Where’s dad?” he tries again.
She seems to hesitate for a moment.
“There was an accident,” she tells him.
Years later, Leo doesn’t remember much from the funeral or the days that follow. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him. They’re all trying to cheer him up and he’s too young to pretend it works.
The house feels too empty without mum around. They sell it and move to the old McCoys’ house, so that his grandparents can watch him. Dad spends more time at home with Leo these days, probably to make it up to him. Truth is, nothing can, but that’s not his fault.
It’s no one’s fault, really, and that’s maybe the worst part. Leo is sad and he’s angry without having anyone to be angry at, nowhere to put his anger down. (He learns this at a very young age; accidents happen. People die all the time. You can’t stop it, dad tells him, all you can do is try to soften the blow.)
Years go by and he doesn’t forget, but the memories, blurry to start with, turn pale. He still can’t step into a shuttle and he will always be afraid of heights.
(You can’t stop it, his father tells him. They’re sitting at the kitchen table. It's 4 a.m. - he just got home from a graveyard shift at the hospital. His eyes are red and he looks tired; it’s the kind of bone-deep tired sleep doesn’t fix.
You can’t stop it, he says. All you can do is try to soften the blow.)
Leo is 12 when he decides he wants to be a doctor.
Iowa, 2245
Jim is 12 years old and mum is off-planet again.
It happens every time she goes, but this time she’s been gone for almost a year and it’s bad.
Sam is four years older than him and Frank hates him.
(He doesn’t hate you, mum says. It’s just… it can be a lot to deal with, you and Sam, sometimes.)
Jim caught him at the front door, putting his shoes on. It’s Saturday and it’s still dark outside. It’s too early to be up; Jim only woke up when he heard footsteps in the hallway. They were too light to be Frank’s. Jim could recognize him blind, just by the sound of his clumsy, drunk feet stumbling on the stairs. He waits and then gets up to follow the footsteps downstairs.
It’s Sam.
“Where are you going?” Jim whispers.
“As far as I can get,” he says and reaches for the backpack on the floor. He goes and Jim follows him outside, still in his sleep clothes. The grass is cold and wet under his bare feet. The sky above them is just beginning to turn from black to blue. Around them, the world is still. They’re in the middle of nothing, not a soul to hear, only acres and acres of corn stretching as far as he can see.
“Please, don’t go,” Jim begs. Sam doesn’t seem to hear him. He strides to the fence gate and grabs the handle.
“Please, don’t leave!”
“Shhh, Jimmy!” Sam hisses and grabs him by the shoulders. He watches the front door as if Frank is going to bolt outside any moment.
“Quiet, don’t wake him up,” Sam frowns and shakes him a little.
“Don’t go,” Jim whimpers, tugging on his brother’s sleeves.
“I can’t take it anymore,” he says and tries to shake him off, “Mum has no idea what he’s like when she’s not around.”
“Don’t go.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam shakes his head. Jim grabs at him again but Sam catches his hand and squeezes it.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. Jim tries to keep quiet but he can’t stop the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Sam crouches in front of him. He’s taller than Jim; he’s going to be tall just like their dad was.
“You’re gonna be fine. You always are,” he says, “Just be good, do what he says, you’ll be alright.”
Jim can’t speak. He keeps his mouth shut to be quiet and his shoulders shake. Sam looks at him, but his eyes keep twitching back to the house.
He gets up and reaches for the gate.
“I’ll see you,” he says and never does.
/
Sam was right about one thing, Jim figures out.
It’s almost midnight and he’s sitting on the barn roof. He’s looking at the stars. In the distance on the highway, he can see the headlights of cars passing by even though it’s too dark to see the road itself. There’s the bus stop he would walk to every day when he goes to school. They used to go together before Sam left and played games on the way there – race you there, Sam would yell and break into a run. (Jim never wins.)
Downstairs he can hear Frank looking for him, slamming doors, getting angrier every minute. He’ll find him, eventually, because Sam was right. It’s not enough. It will never be enough and it doesn’t matter what Jim does, Frank will always find a reason to hit him again.
It’s been two months since Sam left. Jim isn’t angry anymore; he gets it now. Without his older brother around for Frank to take it out on, there’s no one to shield him from his stepdad’s drunk meltdowns.
It doesn’t matter what I do, Sam told him once and he was right. Frank doesn’t care if he does his homework and gets good grades or whether Jim washes his car just like he told him. If anything, it irritates him even more, because then he has to find an excuse himself.
“You can’t hide forever, Jimmy,” Frank yells. He sounds drunk. And it’s true; sooner or later he will find him, because it will never be enough. Nowhere is far enough.
“This is my house. Not your mother’s – mine, and if you think you can steal my shit and get away with it, I got some news for you, Jimmy.”
He’s getting louder; or maybe closer.
Jim is looking at the stars.
/
When it doesn’t matter what you do, when your actions have no impact on the consequences, he figures out, you might as well misbehave.
Jim does. He drives the car off a cliff and that seems to be the last straw.
(Years later he finds out it wasn’t even Frank’s car; it was George’s. Jim doesn’t regret it then either, because he’d rather see it at the bottom of the canyon than have Frank sitting behind the wheel.)
The look Frank gives him when he gets to the police station is positively furious. His hands tremble with barely contained anger, with the need to hit something – someone – but he balls them into fists at his sides as he talks to the officer at the front desk. They don’t let him take Jim home. Despite everything, he’s not his parent or legal representative; Winona Kirk is. They send her a subspace message but it will take a while for her to get here. Frank leaves, though not without causing a scene first, but there’s nothing he can do. It’s strange, seeing him this powerless.
Jim spends the night at the police station. He sleeps on one of the benches in the backroom; they probably can’t bring themselves to put a kid in a cell. Someone even gives him a blanket.
He wakes up with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Jim?”
They say the first thing you forget about someone is their voice. He finds this to be true – this woman’s voice is one he almost doesn’t recognize, not until he sighs and turns around.
She’s still in her science blues. She’s looking at him with a mix of grief and disbelief as she takes in his bruised face. Years later Jim would realize that it might go both ways – maybe she began to forget too.
“Mom?”
She hugs him and it feels like touching a stranger.