Chapter Text
He’s four years old, standing by a window and staring up into the night sky. Millions of stars twinkle and shine, but to him, it’s not a pretty sight. He’s crying, sobbing, snot and tears running down his cheeks and chin. His mother is up there somewhere. She’s one of the lights. She’s gone to the stars and left them behind, left them with Uncle Frank at the farm. He cries and cries until Frank comes in, tells him to shut up, to quit whining and to grow up, orders him to bed. He cries himself to sleep, cursing the stars.
This is Jim’s earliest memory.
Other people might remember happily sitting on a swing in their garden, eating blueberry pancakes at their grandmother’s house or getting their first bicycle for Christmas. Jim’s memories are filled with pain, anger and regret.
He’s six years old. His lip is bleeding. He got into a fight in the schoolyard. It wasn’t his fault, just some tough guy picking on a first grader. Frank has picked him up. In the truck in front of the building, he screams at him to get it together, to quit acting up. His breath smells like beer.
He’s eight years old. Frank’s drinking has been steadily getting worse. He’s quick to threaten them, tell them that they’re useless, but smart enough not to actually lay a hand of them. But he doesn’t care for them, either. They’re on their own.
He’s ten years old. Sam has left him. Didn’t say a word, just walked out one night and left the planet. Sam is now one of the stars, just like his mother, and Jim is all alone with Frank. Frank, who hates him, who tells him every day what a worthless piece of shit he is.
He’s twelve years old. He has stopped caring since Sam has abandoned him. He’s failing at school, gets into fights and tries to run away several times. He finally gets why Sam left the planet, because they track him down every time and always bring him back to that fucking farm.
He’s fourteen. He’s started getting into real trouble now. He’s not only picking fights left and right. He steals at the store, hacks into the school’s computer system, steals Frank’s car and nearly gets himself killed. Frank is sober now and listens carefully when he’s told about the youth rehab camp on Tarsus IV.
He’s sixteen. He’s been thriving at the camp, has cleaned his act up, enjoys the work. As he walks home from school one day, he notices the crops at the side of the road have started to turn black. When all crops fail, Starfleet doesn’t come. A few months later, half of the people on this planet are dead and the rest is starving.
He hides, starts taking care of some kids he picks up, but they all die before their plight is discovered. Only he lives and is eventually rescued.
By then, though, James Tiberius Kirk has internalized two simple truths:
- Nobody really cares about him.
- He’s on his own.
These truths will protect him for a very long time. They make him tough. They help him survive. They make it hard for all but very few to reach out to him.
Then he’s twenty-two, and he’s told that somebody wants him, really wants him, has cared about him since the minute he was born, has waited all his life to be with him, a connection denied through light years of distance. It hurts, he’s struggling, he’s angry and he’s confused.
Luckily, he’s also always been one to take a risk. So, for one moment, he lets go of his truths, takes a leap of faith and lets himself fall.