A Spot of Blackmail

[madimpossibledreamer]

This chapter was about half-written since the last thing I posted for this AU, only I didn't want to post it yet because it didn't feel right.  And I'm glad about that, because there was a very good reason it wasn't working: originally, Carol had planned everything, rather than just getting Kirk involved in a last-ditch effort, and that was the kind of character butchering that just didn't work.  Here, it's more like the messy relationship they had in the Prime!universe, and if not for being backed into a corner she wouldn't have even gotten him involved at all, which makes Kirk a lot more upset about the situation than with Carol.

Main Points:
Star Trek (the 2009!movie verse) Cambion AU (New Genesis)
Summary: A comm call throws Kirk's world into a spin.
Word Count: 870
Rating: Gen

         “Captain, priority two coming through.” Uhura holds a hand to her ear, listening intently. “Sir, you are meant to hear this message alone.”
         Kirk bites his lip, fidgeting slightly. That…doesn’t sound good, considering he hates keeping secrets from his crew and as far as he knew he didn’t have any left. ...Aside from Tarsus. “All right,” he decides, trying to swallow down the worry. “Patch it through to the second briefing room. I’ll take it there.” He stands. “Spock, you have the conn.”
         “We are here to support you,” the Vulcan states logically as he stands up from his own station. It’s meant as some kind of reassurance, presumably. Uhura reaches out and pats his arm on his way to the turbolift, and he swallows and tries to give her a confident smile.
         The thing is, he has a bad feeling about this. He’d be the first to admit it’s not logical. If Uhura had heard anything weird about the message, her emotions would’ve said. Or. You know. She would’ve said it out loud. With her words. Because communication is her whole deal. Unlike some of them.
         His mind goes wild before he reels himself in. Of course, a priority two isn’t meant to be good news. It’s not a priority one, but it’s still not good.
         He barely sits down before the message starts playing—and it’s obvious it’s a message, not live, because she doesn’t react to his gasp.
         It’s Dr. Carol Marcus. He’s read her papers, part of checking into all the people from his other self’s past. He doesn’t even remember having met her, yet apparently he has, judging by the way she addresses him. “Hello, Jim.”
         “We’ve met?” he manages, but she doesn’t respond. Her expression doesn’t even change.
         “You may or may not remember me. We had sex.” He freezes a little. As far as he knows, he hasn’t forgotten anyone—“We were both drunk, but I guess you were blackout drunk.”
         “No.” He’s sitting, not standing, and he couldn’t fall over, so why does it feel like the ship shifted underneath him? He’s suddenly lightheaded and it takes him a few seconds to realize it’s because he’s hyperventilating but he somehow can’t bring himself to stop. “No, no, no…”
         She seems surprised. Why would she be surprised? Oh yeah. She doesn’t know the thing about how he isn’t fully human. And if they were both drunk, he probably didn’t make her do anything. Probably.
         It’s cold.
         “Kirk. I didn’t think you would care.” Like father, like daughter, but. Wait. She’d reacted. ...This...isn’t a recording.
         He starts laughing, curling in on himself, trying to warm himself up with his arms around his shoulders, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough… “You didn’t think I’d care about neither of us being able to consent properly. And you didn’t think I’d want to check the hell in with you afterward and make sure you were okay.” He’s actually kind of shocked when he speaks, because that’s definitely his voice, but he sounds...more normal than he should. Less like falling apart.
         The horror of what they’d done begins to creep into her expression. Too little too late. “I...wasn’t sure if you’d actually want a child.” His vision whites out. He’d thought it’d been different, this time around. But what does he know. He’s not entirely sure how long it’s been before he comes back to himself. Because this could break everything. This could expose everything. And she didn’t even know.
         Pull himself together. He can fall apart later. “All right, rewind. I think you’d better start again at the beginning.” His voice is cold, so cold, but it’s the only way he can get through this. Be just as cold inside and outside.
         She nods, taking a shuddering breath, and asks, “You’re...familiar with my father, aren’t you?”
         “He hadn’t thought I’d mind after Ytheon II, either,” he responds bluntly, and she flinches.
         “He runs Section 31. Basically black ops, in the Federation. And he has been using my work to make weapons,” she fires back, just as blunt, and he realizes her hands are shaking, despite her defiance. “You’re going to help me.”
         She’s desperate. Desperate people do desperate things. “Is this channel encrypted?” he asks, all business, and the switch clearly throws her off.
         “As far as I know,” she answers, which means the answer is ‘not at all’. Or rather, if you’re not sure, it can’t be treated as if it is. Still, he’s starting to get ideas. Ideas he can’t share on an open channel, but he can make this work, maybe.
         “You put the Genesis Project on the backburner, right? You wanna go back to it?” Her surprise makes him ache. She hadn’t thought he would’ve kept up with that kinda thing, but, admittedly, she hadn’t known him barely at all.
         “Yes, but…” She doesn’t see where he’s going with this, but that’s fine. She will.
         “I’ll make this work.” He surprises himself again by smiling at her. “And Carol?” He has to make sure she knows. “I would’ve helped without you using a kid as blackmail.”
         Her surprise is heartbreaking. He has to cut off the call before he breaks down again.