Title: Sweet Baby Child
Author: Istannor
Series: TOS
Part: 15
Rating: [PG13]
Codes:
Summary: Jean and Jim have their long awaited talk.

Disclaimer: These are the characters of Paramount and
Viacom, they own them, I only check 'em out from the
Library.

Feedback to Istannor@Aol.com

The ambient room temperature was perfect for earth normal humans.  The
windows were set to high filter with a gentle light shining through
them, casting the room in a soft rust-colored glow.  Jean Little
entered the room and S'Alal-Doe nodded respectfully to her and left
without a question or a comment.  The Chosen crossed over to the large
bed, which commanded the center of the room, sat in the chair beside
it, and stared silently at its occupant.  In her mind, faces upon the
faces were superimposed on his: all the children she had watched over
in her many long years. She had become inordinately attached to this
particular child, perhaps because of his unwillingness to give up. She
had seen more gifted, stronger, and smarter men and women, fail in the
past. She shook her head at her memories; they were sometimes a bane,
sometimes a blessing.

She saw a lot of herself in him and even more of her father. Powerful,
loving, passionate and often wounded by the pain around them, she
loved them both.

"Hello, Jim baby." Jean had a faint smile on her face as she leaned
over her sleeping cousin. His nu-skin covered him to mark the trail of
T'Kuth's destruction, but S'Alal-Do had sped up the healing
considerably. Only the difference in shade marked its newness versus
the deep tan of the surrounding skin. He had lost weight also, as
small as she had ever seen him as an adult; it only served to make him
appear even more vulnerable and bring back unpleasant memories.

Her mind returned to her days on the Enterprise, the horrible days
after Tarsus, when she feared she would have to kill him or mind-blank
him. George, Jim's father, had begged her to come; needless, as she
was already on her way. She had felt the shift as it had happened, and
only her involvement in family business on the far side of Federation
space had delayed her as long as it did.  While she was awaiting his
capture, she toured the sites where little Jimmy had prowled. Me had
run free as he had in his days of flesh. He had killed and written
messages in blood to the troops who would find the bodies: 'you are
next'. She saved the place where he had hidden the children and the
rare adult who had the wisdom to follow him for last. There, wild
grasses were piled for warm beds and crudely carved toys littered the
cavern floor. All mute testimony to his attempts to keep the children
warm, safe and unafraid . . . while he hunted.  Me and The Old One had
fought for his soul and it had played out on Tarsus. His gifts had
awakened and only The Chosen could determine whether he would sleep
again or live.

She had entered the room and he stood defiantly, in all of his feral
glory, held rigidly in his father's muscled arms.  Emaciated, eyes
almost glowing with the conflicting drives of Me and The Old One, he
dared her, screamed at her to kill him and end his misery. It was that
dare which had stayed her hand, more so than any of George's
entreaties for mercy. Her eyes shut reflexively as she remembered
hugging him to her, holding him as he screamed and raged at her and
his father. "You left me; you left me here to watch my family die.
Where were you when I needed you? I hate you; I hate you all. To hell
with you, the family, and the Chosen. You let those cowardly bastards
kill my family. You let them rape her. You let them kill the
children." He fought against his father's grip, kicking and bucking in
rage. "There was food. I tried to show them where there was food. It
grew here in the fucking ground. They killed babies because they were
too fucking lazy to dig out roots. I hate you."

Oh, Father, how long his screams lasted, how great his pain, his
terror at what he had done. Savor the horror my sweet one. Your
horror, your pain means you will live, because you are not Me, you are
my Father's child, and he will hold you for all time because you feel
the pain of others.

A tear ran down the corner of her face and she savored its wetness as
it made its way. Her tear was in memory of the tears he had shed that
day in her arms, cleansing him, and killing for all time, his full
powers as a Fruit of Humanity.

The thirteen-year old James Kirk's voice sounded in her head. "Never
again, Cousin".

"Baby, it doesn't always have to be this way when you use he who is
within you. It can be sweet beyond understanding."

"Never. I can never forget how I came into my powers and how I
corrupted them and myself. Choose another, it will not be me. If it
was to be me, you and my father would have arrived on time . . . and
spared the world and the children."

"We are not all-powerful, or all-seeing, Jimmy."

"Then I will tell you the future. Never again. And now that I have
killed, call me Jim."

She slowly swept her fingertips over his forehead and then trailed
them down to rest her hand against his left cheek. His breathing
deepened while she stood there patiently until his eyes finally
opened.  "You had me worried for a minute." She stroked her cheeks
gently. "I'm so sorry for everything you've had to go through.  McCoy
is fine and so is Sarek.  You gave them a scare but there was no
permanent damage.  Come on, Baby, say something. "

"You should've killed me, Jean," he whispered softly. His pupils were
dilated as he stared at her.

"Which time, Baby." Perhaps he was right, but she had never been
convinced enough to act.

"All of them," he answered with no more volume than before. "Where is
McCoy?"

"I sent him home." She touched his cheek again and held her hand
against it. " I have told him that he is to leave you alone, until you
seek him out, and only then may he join you."

"Why?"

She sighed. "You released Awa Dun Sol and chained him again with your
will alone. You did this without my assistance. It also means you can
release him and use him to your advantage. The family has decided your
personal limits and will must be tested. We must know what you will
do, if challenged. We must know who is dominant within you."

"Me would have killed Bones and Sarek. I only returned for them."

"I believe you, but you returned and sent Awa Dun Sol wailing back
into imprisonment. I grant that McCoy and Sarek probably would have
died without your help, especially since they believed they could.
Nevertheless, . . . and this is a major sticking point, only the
Chosen should have been able to banish him with a flick of the hand.
What have you become, Sweet Baby, and why is it happening now?" She
shook her head in wonder.

"I have become a grown-up. It was long overdue, don't you think?" His
voice was dry and soft, like a desert breeze at the sun's zenith. He
turned and looked out of the window towards Selaya. "So, I was damned
if I did, and damned if I didn't. Sweet irony, ain't it?" The rays of
the Vulcan sun made the window shade glow the color of dried blood.
"Filter off." The sun blasted in, suddenly full of red fury and flame.
Stretching out for many kilometers, was the rocky, harsh terrain of
the arroyo surrounding Sarek's lands. In the distance, a mountainous
range known as The Sehlat's Shadows jutted high up against the
horizon. "See those mountain, Jean?"

"Yes, Baby."

"I have become those mountains. Hard and steep, with no life, no
future except the desert or the sun. Where would you rather I wither
and die? It doesn't matter a damn to me anymore? I'm old, and I've
lost too much: Sam, Aurelan, Penda, Edith, Spock, McCoy and now my
soul, my ship. Just like those mountains, I will stand, but don't
expect me to enjoy it; I'll merely survive it."

She reached out and gently stroked his forehead. His errant lock of
hair was untamed and she believed it would always remain so. "Jim. . .
Sweet Baby, please believe me, it will get better."

He grunted softly. "Remember when you told me you were not all-
seeing?" She nodded. "Forgive me if I don't believe you anymore. I
guess it's the cost of adulthood. I've lost my innocence and I won't
be getting any more any time soon." He fell silent and closed his
eyes. For a moment, she thought he had fallen asleep. Then he started
singing a soft song, almost too low for her to her the words. "I was a
fool to want to be a hero. I was a fool to want to trust. I should've
kept my distance, been the tin man gone to rust." His singing stopped.
"I can't remember who sang that song and I sure as heck didn't know it
was about me when I first heard it."

She took a deep breath, leaned over, and kissed his shuttered eyes. "
I love you now and I always will. It will get better." He didn't move
or respond. "Sweet Baby Jim, my Jim, you have gone through hell and
back, lost so much and gained far more. You have saved worlds and
little children. You have laughed and loved and cried. Baby, that's
life and you lived it to its fullest and knowing you, you will come
back to the table to sup again. It is the only game in town. Now,
you're tired and disappointed, feeling abandoned, and wondering what
you did to get here. You did what you were supposed to do. You tried
to do your best. I don't care what you say now, you can't do anything
but keep trying, and one day, one week, one month from now, you'll see
my point." She turned as a knock sounded on the door. "I have to go.
It's time to talk to Sarek and Amanda." She kissed him again and
walked slowly from the room.

When the door closed softly behind her, he opened his eyes and stared
out into the desert, until the last rays of light dropped behind the
horizon. When the house was silent, he rose and dressed himself
laboriously. When he arrived at the front door, Jean stepped out from
the shadows and silently blocked his way. He sighed and shook his head
from side to side. "Let me go, Cousin", he whispered in a voice
dripping with exhaustion.

"Where would you go, Cousin?"

He chuckled, but it held no humor. "Back to Earth and my new life."

She stared at him for a long moment. "I only ask that you wait until
the morning to take your formal leave of Sarek and Amanda. You owe
them that much."

"And if I refuse?"

She smiled without humor. They both knew he was too weak for a
confrontation with her, and even at his best; he would have lost . . .
quickly. "Do it because you know you should."

"You and I both know you can enforce your will, but maybe my loss to
you would be a blessing in disguise. It would solve both of our
dilemmas."

She reached up and held his shoulders in her hands. "Sweet Baby, there
is no need for me to force you. You will do it, because to do
otherwise would be cruel, and you were never cruel to those you cared
for. You don't want me to have to tell McCoy, Amanda, Sarek, or
especially your Mother and nephews, that I was forced to end your
life."

He blinked. Some of the tension fled his body as the acknowledgement
of defeat passed through him, and the will to fight disappeared. "You
win again. I'll go back to my room like a good little boy. A word to
the wise. You win now, but don't try the same tactic ever again. You
have no idea what I can or will do, when pushed."

"Wrong, Baby, I know precisely what you can do, and continue to refuse
to do. Power without the will to use it is meaningless." Her skin
began to tingle and burn. She fought the urge to step back; then it
was gone as if I never had happened. She took a deep breath and tried
not to show her relief.

"Jean," his voice was dry and cold, calling up visions of frosted
Alabama trees after an ice storm when the branches were heavy with ice
and fragile from the weight that pulled them down towards the ground
and certain death. "You keep forgetting what I told you a life time
ago. Now that I've killed, and killed, and killed . . . call me Jim."
He turned and made his way back to his room. The sound of his
footfalls were soft and measured against the backdrop of the household
creaks and distant tinkling of water from the fountain in the
entryway. She watched his back as he retreated into the darkness of
the long hallway that led into the guest wing.

It took longer than his trip down the hallway, for her tension to
drain from her shoulders where it beat a slow throbbing rhythm on her
neck muscles. She had felt the power building in him, a slow swell of
energy raising up out of the wellspring of ancient skills and memories
embedded deep within his soul. A groan had almost escaped her lips at
the force she had sensed being aimed at her. She had readied her
defenses and begun the counterattack that would have obliterated his
mind. The grief that had gripped her chest with the thought of killing
this particular child had been almost overwhelming. Joy, and absolute
relief had flooded her, when she felt him release the power, allowing
the rage to dissipate, and with it the threat.  Close, it had been so
very close. Whatever the Vulcan had released in her Cousin, he still
managed to constrain it, fence it, and hold on to his center . . . for
now.  How long that would last against the temptations of ruling
Starfleet was unknown and in truth, she hated the uncertainty which
stretched in front of her like a gaping cavern in a dark mountain
range. That gash in the flesh of the world stood there mocking all of
her careful planning, all of the schemes of the Chosen, and waited for
the unwary to make a fatal misstep and fall into the abyss.

In the distance, a door closed softly.

Jean sat up for the night, listening to the sounds of the house;
remembering his . . .and her days of innocence.