"What happened this time, Jimmy?" the older man said with a sigh. Even at 11, Jim Kirk knew the meaning behind doctor's tone. The disbelief in his voice, that would, nonetheless, avoid giving rise to questioning the story his uncle had forced Jim to rehearse on the oh-so-familiar ride to the hospital.
Jim knew it was worse than usual this time. The fact the he could only see the weary creases of the ancient doctor's face out of one eye, made blurry with the blinding pain that laced his every breath, told him as much.
"Stole Frank's bike again. Managed to get thrown off." He shortened the story to a length his shallow breaths would allow, forcing a half smile as the doctor administered a hypospray to his neck.
The man's lips were pursed, disappearing into a thin line that turned ever-so-slightly down at the corners. "Yeah, thrown off and into a wall, maybe. Two bruised ribs, one cracked. A sprained wrist. Hairline fractures in your left shin, and in your jaw. That's what's got your eye swollen shut. That's not even taking into consideration the bruising and lacerations. You're here for the long-haul, kid. I'm not letting you back out of those doors for a least a week, provided all those fractures have healed properly."
A week in the hospital. Boy, was he gonna get it from Frank for this. It didn't even matter that it was Frank who put him here in the first place. Everything was always Jim's fault, a fact he'd learned pretty quickly to accept. If he'd just listen, Frank wouldn't have to punish him. If he'd just be a good boy and follow the rules, Frank could ignore him like his mother did, and they could both go on living in some semblance of a symbiotic relationship. But that's not how Jim worked.
A team of nurses help the doctor move him onto a hospital bed and got to work healing, starting with the superficial wounds and leaving the ones that would be most painful to deal with for later, when the meds would have kicked in. The physical healing itself would only take a few hours, maybe a day a most. Ah, the marvels of modern medicine (he'd heard a doctor say that once on TV, though he wasn't completely sure what it meant). He was strangely used to the process, but it was usually only one or two bones at most that needed a good patching up. This many definitely warranted an extended stay, as much as the kid hated the idea of spending a week in the unnatural antiseptic cleanliness of the hospital. At least it would give him a week to prepare for Frank.
...
It was day two of his stay. His bones were mostly healed up, but he'd been ordered to stay in bed. And it was driving him crazy. The smell, the stillness, especially the quiet that came at night. His mind raced and sleep never came easily. His legs itched to leave the starched white sheets.
The nursing staff tended to shirk their duties in the small hours of the night. It was a small county hospital, and the regulations weren't nearly as tight as they would have been at one of the bigger Federation-run ones. It was 2am, Jim could very easily get up and do some exploring without having to worry about getting caught for at least 2 hours.
What was he waiting for?
The cool sting of the floor against the bare soles of his feet made him feel alive. Even if he got caught, at this point he wouldn't even regret it. A quick glance down the hallway told him he was right, no nurses were making their rounds. He slowly eased out into the corridor and took a left, deeper into the hospital.
"Hello?"
The small voice that came from the room he'd passed, just next door to his, caused him to jump about a mile into the air. Was there a nurse on duty after all? No. The voice sounded more like it had belonged to a kid, someone his own age. Never one to pass up adventure, he strode into the room with a false air of confidence.
A small, fragile looking girl was huddle beneath the pale sheets, her blue-green eyes peering out, round and curious, from a gaunt face. Her head was smooth, the only trace of hair on it being the thick, dark lashes rimming those eyes.
"What are you doing out of bed? It's the middle of the night!" she asked incredulously.
He let out an amused snort. "You're telling me you like staying in these beds when you can't sleep?"
"No," she looked incensed now. "I just don't have much choice."
For the first time since entering the room, he took in the soft whir of the many machines hooked up to the girl with wide eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't-"
She threw her head back and let out a musical laugh. When she'd finished she shot him a grin.
"What?"
"I think that's the first time someone's ever missed seeing the machines."
...
Her name was Olivia-Oli for short. Same age as he was, should actually even be at the same school. He'd never met her before, though, because she'd pretty much been living in the hospital from the age of 5, when she'd been diagnosed with a slow growing, hard to cure cancer that had her in a constant limbo between life and death.
Their friendship evolved over the following years, with him in and out of the hospital until, around the age of 14, he was big enough to no longer be completely helpless in the face of his uncle. He'd continued to visit her weekly-sometimes more often, and sometimes landing himself back in the hospital after the occasional bar fight-for the next two years. Those rare times when she wasn't in the hospital, or was unhooked from the machines that seemingly kept her alive, their adventures were the stuff of legend. Never before had there been someone he'd really allowed himself to call a friend. Caring about people only ever led to the heartbreak that came when they left. But for 5 years, there she'd stayed, one of the few constants in his life.
...
It was the fall of his Junior year of High School. The cold nipped at his nose and he pulled his scarf up to cover it in response. His backpack was slung carelessly over one shoulder, and he cradled his skateboard under the opposite arm. It was a Friday, the day he normally visited her. He'd missed visiting the week before after a blowup between his mom and Frank that resulted in him getting a bloodied nose. That wasn't something she needed to see again. He saw the worry in her eyes every time she took in an injury that marred his face. Those were the only ones he couldn't cover up.
He loped up the stairs and threw the doors open, striding to the front desk and giving a charming smile to the nurse that always bent the rules by letting him back to see Oli for hours at a time. This time, however, she didn't smile back. Something was off, but he tried not to jump to conclusions. It didn't necessarily mean anything was off at the hospital. The nurse may have just had an off day.
"James T. Kirk, here visiting Olivia M. Guimares. Do I get a sticker this week, or did you finally get in those snazzy new badges for VIP visitors like myself?" he quipped, eyebrows quirked in a sarcastic expression, trying to act like he hadn't noticed her lack of reaction.
The nurse looked strained and hesitated before answering. "I'm...I'm sorry Mr. Kirk, but she's not here."
No. Not here. Not here? His mind reeled. If she wasn't here, where was she? Did he even want to know? That was silly, of course he wanted to know. Not knowing would kill him.
"What happened?"
He winced. He'd meant to ask where she was, but his subconscious seemed to be a little less optimistic than he'd like.
"I'm sorry, I can't-"
"Like hell you can't!" he bristled, fists slamming into the desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ancient doctor that had treated him since he was a kid, coming in with whatever 'punishment' Frank had decided to dish out. The same doctor that had attended to Oli's mishmash of machines and medications. He jumped the desk, running-more than walking-over to him. "Where's Oli? What happened?" He had to know.
The man sighed, managing to somehow look considerably older than his many years. "Look, Jimmy, you know I can't-"
"Don't give me the same shit she did. We're talking about my best friend. You know she'd tell me herself if she were here."
After some deliberation, the man answered. "The most I can tell you is that she had a medical emergency that required her to be transferred to the Federation hospital in Chicago late Wednesday night. I don't know what happened after she left our care."
"...will she be back?" Of course she'd be back. Her family lived here. As soon as she was well enough, she'd return and everything would be back to normal.
"I don't know, Jimmy."
...
It was a year later that he finally gave up the hope of her returning.
He'd taken to going by her house every day on the way to school, looking for a sign that she was there, that her family had returned and she was better.
His heart had plummeted when he'd seen the moving trucks, the unfamiliar men packing the family's things into boxes.
She wouldn't be coming back.
...
It was 11 years after he'd met her that he found himself sitting on a table in a bar, two napkins shoved up either side of his nose to stem the flow of hot, thick blood. Judging by the way the room swam, he was likely concussed as well, but none of this was new to him. It was for this very reason that he was banned from all the bars within walking distance of his apartment. Sure, it made things with the ladies a little more difficult when getting back to his place was a little more than inconvenient, but oh the stories he had to tell because of it...
A ruffled looking Captain Pike rested his burning gaze on Jim. Disappointment. It was a look he thought he'd grown immune to. Evidently not.
The next morning, he found himself on a transport to the Starfleet Academy in San Francisco. Iowa, and the many painful memories he'd buried there, would stay in his past, possibly forever if he managed to not get thrown out of the Fleet.