“Right,” Kirk said. He understood the logical argument that the other Kirk had just put forward, but thinking about these time-related concepts seemed dizzying. It’s more than dealing with time, Kirk thought. It’s also about not wanting to leave the nexus. “Why should I trust you?” he said, hunting for a reason to stay here, but as soon as the words had left his mouth, he knew they carried no weight.
“I think you do trust me,” the other Kirk said. “I think you know who I am. I think you know that I’m you.”
Kirk nodded, unable to do anything but agree. He looked away, toward the beautiful city of Mojave off in the distance, then back at his other self. “What if I don’t want to leave the nexus?” he said, choosing to speak more plainly. He remembered refusing and then acquiescing to Picard’s request for assistance in stopping Soran, but he also recalled all of the joyous times of his life that he had lived and relived here, mostly before that, but also afterward. He had agreed to exit the nexus with Picard, but then he hadn’t done so, instead experiencing that first meeting with Antonia all over again.
“What can you tell me that I haven’t already thought of myself?” the other Kirk said. “We both know that none of this- ” He spread his arms wide, taking in the extent of their surroundings. “- is real. We’ve been through the same events here.”
“Not all the same events,” Kirk said. “I got to meet Antonia for the first time again, and it was different. I made it different. I can go back to our relationship and this time make it work.”
The other Kirk walked over to him. “You made it different how?” he asked, his tone almost combative. “You know, because I know, that no matter what you did, no matter what you changed, it would still never work out.”
“I told her who I was,” Kirk said. “This time, I didn’t hide my identity from her.” In the real universe, Kirk had simply given Antonia his name, but here in the nexus, he had also mentioned that he’d retired from Starfleet. “I told her flatly that very first time that my life in the space service was over,” Kirk continued. “I didn’t wait until later, and this time, I won’t act in a way that allows her to doubt my commitment to her. This time, I’ll keep all of those implicit and explicit promises I made and I’ll stay with her. This time, I won’t let myself desire a return to Starfleet.”
“‘Desire a return to Starfleet?’” said the other Kirk. “Jim,” he went on, the name sounding odd coming from his lips, “you know you didn’t leave Antonia because you wanted to go back to Starfleet. You went back to Starfleet so that Antonia would leave you.”
Kirk said nothing, recognizing the hard truth of the other Kirk’s words.
“You lied to her-we lied to her-from the beginning,” the other Kirk continued. “But then, we lied to ourselves too.”
A deep sense of shame threatened to overwhelm Kirk because he knew that his counterpart was right. He had lied to Antonia, even when she had pleaded with him for honesty. No matter what he did here in the nexus, he would not be able to alter the reality of what had really happened between them.
And although he didn’t want to, he couldn’t help remembering the day that he’d first begun to betray her.
Outside, snow dusted the Idaho hills. Kirk stood at the window in his living room, holding open the curtain with one hand as he gazed into the night. He squinted out at the darkness, unable to see past the reflections in the glass. Cupping his free hand over his eyes, he leaned in to the windowpane, which felt cold to the touch. His vision now shielded from the indoor lighting, he saw snowflakes still drifting lazily down from the autumnal sky, as though the heavens had chosen to sprinkle the stars down upon the Earth.
He heard footsteps behind him and knew that Antonia had returned from her self-appointed task in the kitchen. “Here we go,” she said as she came up behind him. He turned to see her holding two ceramic mugs, steam curling up from each. “My famous hot-buttered rum to go with the first snow of the season.”
Kirk accepted the mug Antonia offered and sipped at the concoction within. The sweet scent of the drink gave way to a taste that seemed almost like apple pie, though with a kick he hadn’t expected. He pursed his lips at the strong flavor of the rum. “You make drinks like a ship’s chief medical officer,” he said.
Antonia offered him a quizzical look. “All right,” she said. “I’m not exactly sure what that’s supposed to mean, so I’ll just choose to take it as a compliment.”
“It means that some doctors love to kill the pain, no matter how much alcohol it takes,” Kirk joked. “My CMO on the Enterprise- “
“Bones?” Antonia said.
“Right,” Kirk said. “He made a drink called a Finagle’s Folly that he claimed was known all the way to Orion.” He sipped again at the rum. “Somehow I think they probably know Salvatori’s Hot-buttered Rum there too.”
Antonia smiled at him, but quickly and thinly, as though filling a moment she didn’t particularly enjoy. It surprised him, but he decided not to address it. Perhaps he’d mischaracterized her expression, and if he hadn’t, if something troubled Antonia, he doubted that it had anything to do with him or their relationship, which seemed to be unfolding very well. If something weighed on her mind, though, she would tell him only when she felt ready to do so. If he’d learned one thing about her during the months that they’d been seeing each other, it had been that she couldn’t be pressured into doing anything she didn’t herself elect to do, even simply talking.
Antonia moved away from the window and over to the sofa. She wore long dark slacks that flattered her athletic figure, and a red and blue sweater that reflected the onset of the wintry weather. She sat down on the sofa and peered at the crackling fire in the hearth.
Kirk went over and settled in beside her in the cozy setting. She put down her mug on the end table, then wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned in against him. They sat that way for a while, quietly, comfortably-an apt description for all the time they had spent together in the spring and summer and now into the fall.
After their initial meeting, Kirk had tracked her down through her veterinary practice to the nearby small town of-appropriately enough, given her profession-Antelope Brook. He’d made no pretext about visiting her office because his horses needed her care, but had instead simply gone there and asked her out, his impression being that Antonia would appreciate a forthright approach. She had, and they’d begun seeing each other once or twice a week, a frequency that had increased with time.
They had spent many days together riding through the Idaho hills, occasionally taking in a film in town or heading into one of the bigger cities for dinner or a concert or a sporting event. Mostly, though, Antonia liked staying home, playing games or reading or making love. Their physical relationship had actually taken some time to progress, but once it had, they enjoyed each other fully. Kirk found her energetic and playful, both in bed and out. Though she took some things very seriously-such as her practice and the general good care of animals-Antonia for the most part maintained an air of lightness about her.
As Kirk drank his rum with Antonia by his side, his gaze came to rest on the mantelpiece, atop which he had placed three handcrafted models of old sailing vessels. Several other antique pieces dressed the shelves he’d built on either side of the fireplace, including a clock that his uncle had left to him, a sextant, an orrery. On the very day he’d met Antonia, he’d vowed to himself that he would start living his life again, that he would do his best to forge past the memories of sadness and loss that for so long had held him back. With the personal adornments he’d added to the house and with his new romance, he felt that he had in large part succeeded in those efforts. He had even lately thought about taking the next step with Antonia.