The Crossover Lyric Wheel

Epilogue to V'Ger

Finally, I get to put two of my favorite guys together. Thanks to emma for the lyric. As usual, I'm pop music challenged so I've never heard the actual song but I think it fits. No profit made, neither of these guys is mine. (Maybe in another lifetime?) No harm intended...

Admiral James T. Kirk Current Assignment-Starfleet Academy -
Recruitment and Training- Senior Class Advisor

I tapped my thumb print into the keypad, and sighed with relief as the apartment door closed behind me. It had been a long and totally frustrating day and I was getting thoroughly pissed off at the stupidity of Starfleet's bureaucracy.

They had assured me I'd be able to take Enterprise out again but instead of sailing orders, the Enterprise was being held over for a training cruise and I was stuck with monitoring the cadet Kobiyashi Maru exercise, one I'd always hated.

The message waiting signal was flashing. Impatiently, I hit accept.

"Admiral Kirk, this is Duncan MacLeod. You indicated that you were interested in the Heinlein sword and I'll be in San Francisco later today. You can reach me at this number after 1:00 PM."

I called up my schedule on the screen. Talking to the antique dealer would be a lot more pleasant than making sure Spock's little training cruise was properly provisioned. I'd sent the requests in two days ago anyway.

I put the call through. "MacLeod." The broad shouldered man on the screen was certainly not what I expected. Dark haired, eyes that looked as brown as Spock's one moment and almost gold the next. I would never have taken him for an antique dealer.

"It's Jim Kirk, Mr. MacLeod returning your call about the sword. I'd be happy to meet with you tomorrow. Can I buy you lunch?"

MacLeod's laugh was pleasant. "Sounds good, Admiral. Where?"

I thought for a moment, "How's the St. Francis Hotel?"

"The St. Francis? I'm staying there as a matter of fact."

I laughed in spite of my day, "I should have realized an antique dealer would appreciate a classic. One o'clock OK?"

"See you then, goodnight, Admiral."

"Thank you, Mr. MacLeod. I'm looking forward to it."

The heat of the old fashioned water shower felt good and I turned the pressure up to let it pound some of the stiffness out of my muscles.

MacLeod had a good reputation. His family's main store was in Paris but they had one in the Metropolitan Seattle area and he was a partner in their New York store. I'd purchased a couple of other antique weapons there. This was the first time I'd met him, though.

He looked more like the men who had wielded those weapons when they were new and gleaming in the light of fires gone cold centuries ago. I couldn't help wondering what the sword looked like.

The offer letter stated that it was a Cadet saber from the US Naval Academy at Annapolis back when the "United States" had been a separate entity with it's own Navy. The papers said it belonged to Robert Anson Heinlein, Class of 1929

"Some things never change," I thought to myself.

The fine dark wood of the St. Francis' dining room still gleamed and the linens were just as crisp and white as they'd ever been. The whole place still had the air and feel of the nineteenth century original.

It wasn't difficult to recognize the Admiral. His face had been all over the newsvids after he managed to eliminate an invasion force with only two lives lost. He looked ... uncomfortable.

I suddenly realized that I was seeing a look my own mirrors reflected from time to time. He knew how it felt to save the world. The problem is, and has always been, what do you do for an encore? I remembered Joe Dawson, handing me back my katana all those years past.

I shook off the past with a certain irritation and walked over the meet with Kirk. We shook hands and Kirk signaled the waiter.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Admiral."

"Thank you for coming, Mr. MacLeod. I'm looking forward to seeing the sword."

"I thought we could look at it after lunch, Sir."

"Please, call me Jim."

"Then I'm Mac or Duncan."

Drinks were ordered and we made our selections from the old fashioned, elegant menus. Lunch went quickly. We talked about swords and antiques. I asked about his travels. He had a good eye. Comparing his impressions of some of the places both of us knew would have been interesting but I managed to keep my current persona's experiences in mind.

It was much later when Kirk looked around to find we were almost the last people in the dining room. I followed his gaze.

"Were you due somewhere this afternoon, Jim?"

"Not really." Kirk looked a bit lost. "All the planning is done, staff assignments made, I don't really have anything else on tap until the cadet training cruise."

"Must be a bit dull for you," I said, "I imagine it was simpler when all you had to deal with was life and death."

There was an edge to Kirk's laugh. "Yeah, It was. I was too busy trying to keep everybody alive, trying to get the job done... " He took another look at his luncheon guest. "You're very perceptive for an antique dealer."

"Studying antique weapons lead to studying the men who use them. But it seems to me that training others to lead is important too, passing on those skills..."

Kirk nodded. "Yes, I know it's important. It's just... Well, shall we go up and look at the sword?"

His fingers grazed the polished Morocco leather case. He opened it carefully, the brass work gleaming in the old fashioned lighting of the suite. He took out the provenance, looking through it, judging it's accuracy.

"You said the sword was purchased at an estate sale?"

"Yes, my great-uncle was a collector as well as a dealer. He bought the remaining stock of a swordsmith in Texas at an estate sale. The man's son had no interest in the business... Thought it was worthless."

"I know there was a lot of discussion when several of the swords in the Naval Academy's collection disappeared during the consolidation of the services in the late 2080's."

I nodded, "It looked like they were sent out to be cleaned and repaired and the paperwork got lost. I sent John Paul Jones' saber to the Joint Services Museum."

"Why not the Heinlein sword?"

"They have limited space these days. I really wanted it to go to someone who would value it."

He put the file back. "I read his books. An amazing man, his wife was remarkable too." He drew the saber, balancing it along his arm, appreciating the beauty of the deadly thing.

I was impressed with the way he handled the sword. "You've fenced a lot?"

"Not in years. I learned the basics. Haven't had much time to keep up with it though."

"I guess it's family tradition for me. We seem to gravitate to antiques and old weapons."

"Family businesses... My father went into the Space Service. My mother's family owned farms, going way back. Some of the furniture in our house was 3-4 generations old. My nephew owns it now. Peter's a biologist. He and his wife are off-world, teaching on Deneva."

"I imagine some of the older pieces are beautiful. I have a place up in what used to be British Columbia furnished with handmade furniture. The area's a nature preserve now. Been in the family since the late 1800's.

"Good fishing at this time of year. Matter of fact, I was planning on driving up for the weekend."

"God, I haven't been fishing for... " Kirk laughed, "A long, long time."

I got us drinks. "Jim, why don't you come up with me. The cabin is comfortable, two big bedrooms, miles of streams, the lake, a couple of fireplaces. Throw some jeans in a bag and get away for a few days."

Kirk sipped at the brandy, then put the gleaming saber back into its velvet lined case. "I wish I could but..."

Suddenly, I really wanted him to come with me. "A number of my personal pieces are up there. You might even find something else for your collection."

Kirk looked at me, gauging my sincerity. "You really want me to drive up to BC with you? Why?"

I took my time, examining the color of my brandy. "Maybe it's because I like the way you handle that saber."

"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard."

I laughed, "OK, maybe it's just that I'd like to share some things my family has treasured through the years with someone who will appreciate them. And, frankly, Admiral, I think you could do with a break, time off."

I smiled to soften the comment, but it was true. Kirk looked tired, frazzled. I could see him evaluating the situation; see the sudden choice made.

"You know, it may well be crazy but... OK, MacLeod. If you really mean it. You've got a weekend guest."

"Good. It'll take me a few minutes to pack up and check out.

Two hours later, the Admiral in jeans and a denim jacket was leaning back in the passenger seat of my ground car, watching as the miles slipped by.

"Not too many people actually drive these days."

"I use the drive to separate myself from the work world, I guess. There's a transport pad there, I just use it for emergencies though. Not too many of them in my line of work."

His laugh was forced, "Way too many of them in mine. I'll let you in on a little secret, the "romance" of space consists of months of boredom punctuated by seconds of absolute terror."

Sounded much like my life. "Being ground bound would be hard after being at the edge of the universe."

Jim Kirk nodded. He turned around, really looking at the interior of the car "This looks like one of the old SUV's."

"This is a re-creation, yeah, I like classics. Occupational hazard, I guess."

We chatted about everything and nothing as the miles slipped away along the northwestern coastline, two strangers in a car. The car's lights came on as the late evening sun touched the blue waters of the Pacific.

I stopped on one of the high turnouts to give us a short break. We stretched and looked out as the sky turned red, faded into deep purple and into indigo night.

I heard my passenger murmur something and threw him a querying look.

"An old poem... And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by."

"Sea Fever, John Masefield, isn't it?"

"You know it?"

"We've had seafaring men in the family, too, " I said, thinking of Connor.

"It's hard to deny the appeal of a sailing ship. The sound of the wind in the rigging..." Kirk sighed, "Maybe things were easier then. The ship's master had his letters of mark and went after the pirates or the Spanish fleet... All clear cut. No worry about the "Prime Directive".

I passed him a bottle of water and took sandwiches out of the carry case. We found a couple of convenient rocks to perch on and sat there watching the stars come out while we ate.

Then we climbed back in the car for the last leg of the journey. He found the lever on the side of his seat and reclined it, finally relaxing.

It seemed as though we didn't need to talk anymore. I watched the road, too many years of driving by hand to let me really be comfortable with the automatic controls.

Jim was almost dozing. I was flattered, in a way, that he trusted me enough to sleep. He reminded me of Methos in that.

Methos. I wondered where the old man had gotten himself off to this time. It had been almost a hundred years since that month in the islands. The teasing about Bora Bora finally pushed him into challenging me to take a vacation.

We'd actually talked about the Horsemen. I apologized for asking Methos to take my head all those years ago.

Then one magical, moonlit night we'd made love in the big bed with moonlight pouring over us.

Methos had been gone in the morning.

From time to time there'd been notes, most of them e-mail of one sort or another. Each time I changed identities, becoming another one of the MacLeods or a Nash cousin in a complicated pattern Connor and I'd devised before his death, there was a wry comment from Methos.

He never mentioned that night. Never appeared at the barge or any of the dozen or more residences he obviously knew about.

Automatically, I checked the road behind us. I'd told the desk clerk I was heading back to Paris with the new watcher youngster listening and trying not to be noticed behind one of the specially grown potted palms. Not fair, perhaps, but I wanted to be free of him. Nothing showed in the rearview mirror. Nothing on the satellite screen either.

Now all I had to do was decide why I was driving up to the island with this man.

The loneliness I was seeing in him was something I understood, on a gut level. There, driving through the darkness, the losses of the last few centuries came back to touch me again. I could still see their faces. My parents, Deborah... My beloved Tessa... Darius and his teas. Fitz's laughter and gallantry. Brian, lost to the fear and the drugs so many years ago. I watched Richie with his racing bike.

I saw Robert and Gina wed again. Saw the entry, "Terminal Report: Amanda Montrose". My loving, playful thieving friend lost her head when she took a challenge for her student, Michelle. Nick Wolfe, her other student challenged him, only his second fight and made the kill.

Memory lane is a super highway for us. Irritated at myself, I clicked on the sound system. I'd had all of Joe's music transcribed to the crystal technologies as they developed, and if I closed my eyes, I could pretend I back in the bar with him.

I could see Adam teasing Richie and his face when he met Alexa... I didn't even bother to try to hold back the tears. It was dark and Kirk was asleep.

I must have made a sound of some kind. Kirk was awake, looking around for the source. "You all right?" he asked. I kept my face turned away from him. "Just got caught up in the past for a moment."

I couldn't see his face but I could read his understanding in the warm hand on my shoulder.

"The past can do that... I've had a few of those moments myself."

There was so much pain in his voice. In the dim light of the control board I could see his eyes fill with tears. Who or what had he lost to hurt this man so much?

I understood loss. The mission Enterprise had completed cost many lives, all of them important to me.

There was Edith Keeler's face, as she looked from me to McCoy, trying to understand... I heard the breaks squeal again... The professional losses are part of the job. Their pain is real and is with me forever, but it's different than the pain of losing Edith... Lorie, too.

Spock deals with it by controlling his emotions. I... I'm not dealing with it. I'm not sure what made me decide to take MacLeod up on his offer.

Sometimes my hunches mystify Spock. Hell, sometimes they mystify me. I feel as though I understand MacLeod and he understands me. Over the years I've known men and women like him. He feels like my father, like Gary in some ways; the sense of honor and quiet strength... Right now, though...

"Duncan, what's the matter?"

He shook his head, his voice low, strained, "The past. Working with old things sometimes you get blind sided by it, I guess"

He's very still.

"I wish there was something to say...."

"No, its OK. I must be more tired than I thought."

Neither of us said anything more and after a while, I fell asleep again.

Hours later, I pulled in to the shelter where I left the car on visits to the Island.

A gentle nudge woke Kirk. He even woke up like Methos, fully aware and checking the surroundings for danger.

"It's all right, Jim. We're here."

He stretched, sniffing at the fir trees and cedar.

"Everything is so fresh, cool..."

"The canoe's over there."

I pulled the cover off it and hauled it to the bank while he brought his bag.

The canoe slips through the dark water like a ghost.

"We're far enough from the populated areas to see the stars."

Mac nodded, his face almost invisible with only the moonlight. "Beautiful, aren't they."

"I fell in love with them the first time my dad held me up and pointed to them, naming them all like old friends."

A light came on ahead of us and Mac steered us toward it. We beached the canoe and I hauled my bag up the bank and we walked up to a building that looked a lot more substantial than the "cabin" I'd expected.

MacLeod grinned at me, "It's old, but comfortable."

The main room was dominated by a big, old style fireplace. Bookcases lined two walls and my host pointed me toward the bathroom. I took advantage of the time to wash my face too and when I got back MacLeod had a fire started and handed me a large mug of coffee.

It tasted good, warming me all the way through. I started looking at the assortment of weaponry on the wall. There were a number of blades from a variety of eras. All of them well cared for, shining in the firelight.

"May I handle them?"

Mac laughed and handed me a pair of white cotton gloves. The centerpiece of the collection was a massive Claymore. The hilt was fine leather, pommel and cross guard of carefully polished brass. The blade itself... I reached out to touch it.

"Is this what it looks like it is?"

"Yes. It's a Damascus blade."

I couldn't believe my eyes. It was an elegant thing, a handsome example of the sword smith's art.

"Anything this beautiful has to be both old and well loved."

He took a sip of the coffee. "It belonged to one of the16th Century Clan Chiefs, Ian MacLeod. About 300 years ago his descendent left it to one of my relatives."

There was something in his eyes as he looked at the sword in my hands. I'd seen Spock look like that when he spoke of his home, growing up on Vulcan. He knew now that he could never return there to live.

There was something of that in the look MacLeod gave the sword.

"Family's important to you."

He nodded, still caught up in the memories.

"Maybe it's the Scot in me. The Clan is more important than any one member. The sword is the symbol of the Chief's responsibility to preserve and protect it."

"Something like the Captain of the ship..."

"Very like. Back in the 16th Century, you were part of that close knit clan or you were dead. A clanless man had no brother to guard his back in battle, no one to care for him if he was ill, no one to talk to through the cold winter nights..."

"You're a student of history."

Suddenly he was back, focused on the here and now. "Scottish history, at least. The claymore, well it seems to bring out the clansman in me."

I closed my eyes, seeing Sam chasing me around the barn... "Bare is the back without a brother."

I took a long sip at the coffee to cover the sudden loneliness. There was a light touch on my arm. "You might enjoy this," he said. The brandy was as fine as I'd ever had. I let it spark into my belly and soothe my sadness.

For a moment Kirk looked the way Methos did when we buried Alexa. I poured him a cognac, a French import over a hundred years old. I think it startled him with it's silky flavor. I grabbed his bag and walked him to the guest room.

"Get some sleep, Jim. Morning is the best time for us to catch our limit."

He took a deep breath and grinned at me. "OK, looks like you've got a deal. I'll even clean ‘em, I think I remember how."

I made sure there was nothing else he needed and went back to sit by the fire. There was a kinship with him. In a way, it made me miss Methos even more.

I needed to see Methos again. My dreams were troubled. The last few years had been fairly quiet but instead of my fears fading into memory, they wait for the wee small hours of the morning to haunt me with images that terrify me more because I can't remember them in the morning.

Not quite dawn, as I started making coffee so we could get an early start. Kirk came out of the bathroom still drying his hair in jeans and a T-shirt looking a bit more rested. We each drank a cup of coffee and I tossed him an apple. I peeled an orange for my breakfast.

"Ready?" I asked. He tossed the core in the compost bin and we grabbed the old-fashioned carrybags. I'd packed more coffee and fruit, bread and some hard-boiled eggs,

"Just in case the fish aren't biting..."

He laughed and we headed down to the dock. The sun was just coming up. It didn't take long to get hooks in the water. We could see ripples where the trout were feeding. He caught the first one and in short order we had three more.

"Enough for breakfast?"

He made a face at me, "How about an early lunch?"

"Trout are very nutritious." Suddenly I could see Charlie De Salvo, sitting with me on a day very like this one. I caught myself.

"Of course, I can make pancakes if you'd rather..."

Kirk had seen something... "Mac, it's OK, I like trout. Just hadn't thought of them as breakfast food."

I tried to laugh it off, but the quiet mood was gone and since mealtime seemed to be over for the fish, we headed back to the cabin. Message lights greeted both of us.

Kirk took his in the bedroom. He came out, carrying his bag.

"I'm sorry, Mac. It seems that the exercise I love to hate has been set up for this afternoon. We always try to surprise the cadets. This time they surprised me too."

I was disappointed, but after seeing the call source on my phone, I was glad I'd be alone. I opened the security gate and helped him set up the destination for transport. He thanked me for the vacation, short though it had been.

Then, he was gone.

The vid was blinking again. "MacLeod"

"It's been a while, Mac. How do you feel about visitors?"

For the first time in far too long, the familiar snarkie grin was on my screen and I found myself grinning right back.

"Well... I guess you can come help me clean the trout, old man. Come ahead... I've missed you."

~Fine~

"Strangers In A Car"

words and lyrics by Marc Cohn

There's a stranger in a car
Driving down your street
Acts like he knows who you are
Slaps his hand on the empty seat and says
"Are you gonna get in
Or are you gonna stay out?"
Just a stranger in a car
Might be the one they told you about
Well you never were one for cautiousness
You open the door
He gives you a tender kiss
And you can't even hear them no more--
All the voices of choices
Now only one road remains
And strangers in a car
Two hearts
Two souls
Tonight Two lanes
You don't know where you're goin'
You don't know what you're doin'
Hell it might be the highway to heaven
And it might be the road to ruin
But this is a song
For strangers in a car
Baby maybe that's all
We really are
Strangers in a car
(Driving down your street)
Just strangers in a car
(Driving down your street)
Strangers in a car

This song is on Marc Cohn's first self-titled album. The whole thing is pretty cool; it's got "Walking in Memphis" and "True Companion" on it too, which were both released to radio a few years back

Comments, virtual chocolate and good scotch are always welcome.

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