He is, though, and he knows it. In some ways it's a point of pride: his timeline has been fucked with, battered, abused, and yet they've carried on with the values and goals of the Federation, they've kept Starfleet as an exploratory and humanitarian operation without turning it into something like the Terran Empire's military. Every awful thing has gone on and they've persevered.

Still. Her impassioned defense is touching, and he lets it show. His smile isn't wide and beaming, but it reaches his eyes, making the corners crinkle up in an easy tell that it's genuine.

"Thanks, Kathryn."

Jim's not sure how to articulate the feeling - oh sorry, I'm not the golden boy of your historical records, I'm the other one. The one who grew up ditching class and getting arrested and being abused. The one whose very presence seems to have ended the lives of both father figures, who couldn't offer Ambassador Spock the right kind of comfort. The one who couldn't get to Vulcan quite in time. (Things he and Hikaru try not to talk about.)

Then again. Maybe the correct Captain Kirk wouldn't know how to handle any of that. Maybe he's the sort of person who daydreams about being retired and happily married, and is deep down too soft to be able the pick up the pieces of utter desolation and carry on.

"We're close neighbors in that big, weird puddle. We have the same values and when it comes down to it, I think that's the most important thing. I've seen enough other ones-- further down the block, things begin to twist. But we're still Starfleet."