This story started was the product of thinking about what it must have been like for Kirk and his mother after he got home from Tarsus . The first few weeks must have been extremely hard and here's some of what I think happened (This is a collection that will be added to in a series of one-shots)

She didn't' know what to do with him. It had been three months since he had got off the U.S Yorktown and a few more months since he had left Tarsus. It had been over 2 years since she had shuttled her eleven—almost twelve year old on a flight and tried half-heartedly to convince him that she wasn't just trying to get rid of him.

She could tell he didn't believe her words when she had spoken that day so any years ago now. And she couldn't blame him, because with every fibre of her being she had just wanted him gone. She had wanted him away from her eyesight no longer around to torment her with his face or eyes which every day were beginning to look so much like George's. It had been a blessing in disguise when he had finally almost killed himself in yet another of his reckless and—she recognized attention-seeking endeavors and George's relatives had called her asking how things were. It had been a blessing when the woman and her husband had offered to take jimmy.

Maybe they could sense she was at her wits end, maybe they just wanted to see what was technically their cousin by some accounts and nephew by others—either way it didn't matter she could finally get rid of her son. So she had packed him away ignoring the defiance in his eyes or the comm. messages she had read days before that he was planning to ditch the shuttle when he got the chance. Sam had already left—he thought she didn't know where he was but with her connection it wasn't hard to keep a tab on her eldest son. If her second son wanted to leave who was she to stop him?

Kirks weren't made to be cooped up, they were made for freedom, doing or dying…just like George…and even the stars couldn't contain him.

She had ignored all the signs when it started. Sporadic comms at first forced by his aunt and uncle had changed into terse messages and then into silence. It was atmospheric disturbances she assured herself, Tarsus was almost impossible to reach by shuttle craft or comms, for months out of the year. She had forced down the worry. And then it had all shattered with one comm. from Pike, her worst fears were confirmed. They had found Jimmy. And her son and the entire colony had been at the mercy of a madman.

She hated herself for ignoring her suspicions that something was wrong, but she hated herself more for what she did next . Because even though her son was most likely dying in some cold sterile , sickbay she couldn't bring herself to go to him. She had deleted the message and the others that followed. And when she finally answered it was only after Jimmy had gotten better. It was easy enough to feign lack of knowledge and claim a deep space mission hadn't allowed her an opportunity to get any comms or recent news. She had seen Pike believed he. After all what mother would let her own son, lay dying and not come? He didn't consider for a moment that she hadn't simply decided not to come. He hadn't considered that maybe she had already experienced too much loss.

When she finally met her son, she couldn't believe he was Jimmy. He was taller than she remembered, so much thinner. His face was pale, his cheeks sunken, his hair limp. He looked like he was hanging onto living by a thread.

What struck her most though was the eyes. They didn't have a spark of life left. Pike had given him a small push forward and he had come and reluctantly stood in front of her…like he was wary and waiting. Tears were streaking down her cheeks at her selfishness as she went to hug him— something she hardly—had ever done he flinched.

Her arms fell back to her sides, like she had been slapped. She recognized the wary look in his eyes now; it wasn't unfamiliarity with the situation. It was the skittish movement of a feral animal that was trapped and ready to fight survival the only thing he knew how.

Winona watched as Pike—Chris, as Jimmy seemed to know him, crouched down and talked to him and only after their conversation did Kirk move forward again. Winona's face burned with embarrassment that anybody could have took for sadness and what was happening. How was it that a man she barely knew made Jimmy more comfortable than his own mother?

She was well aware that the hug she finally gave him was uncomfortable for them both. Her because she was unaccustomed to it. Him because his body was trembling against hers and he didn't seem to want to touch her, pulling as far away from her as possible in her embrace like he expected the show of affection to be the precursor to something more sinister.

She had accepted the counseling recommendations from Pike, and the nutrition plan and follow-ups from the doctors and then she had bundled Jimmy home. Like an unwanted package she had just received…again.

The next days had been tense and unpleasant for them all. Frank was uncaring, She didn't want to act like things were different and Jimmy…well he just wasn't Jimmy anymore.

Now, Frank had left on a trip . And Jim as her son now liked to be called and she had settled into an uneasy routine. It was marked by minute long one-sided conversations by Winona, dinners that nobody had the appetite to eat and nightmares in which he woke up screaming that she couldn't comfort him after.

She left the house that day because she needed to get out. Somewhere, anywhere…Jim hadn't seemed to care. He was sprawled on the couch staring blankly at a Holovid. His lanky legs dangling over the edge of the couch arm, his body swamped in clothes that hung off him. He had barely turned his head as she had spoken to him. His eyes had tracked her briefly like he was watching her to see what else she planned and when she hadn't come any closer he had turned back, settling into the sofa like a person for whom the effort of merely breathing was taxing.

And Winona had left. Shutting the door behind her and standing on the steps she let herself cry, because she knew there was nothing she could ever do that would fix what had happened.

XXX XXX

Kirk stared at the insipid commercial and even more insipid drama on and then flicked idly through the channels. He couldn't bring himself to be interested in any of it anymore. He let his mind fade back and briefly wondered what Kevin was doing. He had tried to contact the others but Starfleet had refused to give up their locations and Kevin's grandparents had refused to let him see the boy when he had called. They said they wanted him to just forget it all. They didn't understand Tarsus wasn't something you could forget. Because you couldn't forget hell, It stayed with you forever.

Jim shifted uncomfortably on the couch. His body was all sharp angles, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. It was easier on the ship, when they had finally stopped making him sit down at meals and just let him grab what he wanted when he wanted it. It felt more normal then, like he was used to. A protein bar one hour— a few hours later some fruit. That was better than the full course meals that the nutritionist had insisted on at first because even if it was a small portion of food, the little heap was only a reminder of all the times they had sat there and fantasized about what they would like to eat, only to wake up and find that another of their number has succumbed to starvation.

Eating even that few spoonfuls had felt like a betrayal. And second even though the feeding port he had in his stomach had been removed as well as the central catheter he had inserted, his body just wasn't used to eating much anymore. Plus he seemed to have a lot more allergies than he had before. He had always had issues with some foods, but ever since Tarsus and probably the effects of the drugs Kodos had given him, he had allergies to about half the things he normally would have been able to eat. Just one more side-effect of his time spent in hell.

Now Kirk's stomach rumbled unpleasantly, it ached slightly too. He hadn't eaten anything since dinner last night in which his clueless as ever mother had set a plate of food in front of him and he had tried to eat it only to wind up puking in the bathroom after a few bites too many of the rich meal.

He laid there a little longer, letting the ache intensify and then reluctantly dragged his body up and went to the kitchen to find something to eat. His eyes landed on a banana, it was soft in spots and clearly on its last legs but he had eaten worse. The flesh was sweet and yet bland. He chewed the mush slowly, as he raised it to his mouth for another bite he faltered. His eyes burned, his throat felt tight.

He wondered briefly whether he was having an allergic reaction and then he felt something drip down his face and then another. They were tears salty and warm…and as he stared at the banana they grew.

He dropped the yellow fruit to the floor and just stood remembering a time months ago. It had been one of the few somewhat good days they had. Somehow, in a stasis pod of which the owners were either dead or long gone to Kodos compound, were clusters of bananas, most slightly over ripe. But it had been more than enough for all of them. And Jim hadn't had the heart to try to ration them out or save some for tomorrow. Because who knew when tomorrow would come.

Now almost all of those kids were long dead and he was left with a mouth full of half chewed banana and a mind full of memories. He spat out the now sickly sweet fruit and at the same time bit off the sob that was welling within him. The sharp ache intensified in his abdomen and suddenly he couldn't take it anymore. The pain was too much, it was too much of a reminder , the sharp gnawing in his abdomen only brought back more starved faces and terrified nights. And he wanted it to end.

He grabbed the nearest thing and this time it was a handful of dry cereal. It spilled from his hand as he raised it to his mouth. The flakes choked him. Tears were running down his face, half-hitching sobs shuddering through his frame, he was gagging as he choked the food down. Every mouthful was like a promise broken. Every mouthful reminded him of how he was alive and others, people he had swore would live, laid buried in the ground somewhere that there bones might never be found.

He couldn't stand the memories brought on by the hunger tearing through his frame and he couldn't stand the memories brought on with every mouthful. Each swallow was a battle against his body and ultimately his starving fourteen year old frame won out, choking the food down, bite by bite, swallow by swallow.

He opened the stasis cabinet and grabbed eggs shoving them raw into his mouth the shells crunching between his teeth yolk running down his chin. He grabbed a bottle of juice gulping it down , the liquid spilled down his chest, overflowed his mouth, the bottle fell from his grasp. But it wasn't enough. He was hungry, desperately in need of something anything to wash away the images flashing through his mind. He ripped open the pantry grabbing boxes off the shelve and ripping them open, he opened the stasis compartment and randomly grabbed items. Dried pasta, half-rotten lettuce, off-date milk, he ate it all. Stuffing it in gorging himself. After all this time he was hungry and…

It felt wrong.

He grabbed a handful of bread off the floor and nearly choked as he tried to swallow it.

He was crying and chewing and swallowing and the sharp ache in his stomach he had was now replaced with a dull pain as it protested at the items he was cramming down.

The door opened and Kirk didn't even look up from where he was doing his best to gorge himself to acknowledge the person staring at him in horror.

XXXX XXXX

Winona smoothed the tears off her cheeks and drove the air skimmer home. She hadn't gone anywhere, just drove around trying to forget the shell of a child she was coming back to. As she walked in the house, she glanced toward the couch and was surprised to find Jim gone; usually he wouldn't move for hours at a time. Puzzled and somewhat worried she walked further into the room. Her anxiety only grew as she heard a gag from the kitchen and the sound of something spilling across the floor. She made to to the kitchen doorway and stood perfectly still staring at her son. He was kneeling on the floor , sobbing she could tell by his shoulders shaking even though the only sound was him choking as he shoved food in. The bag she was carrying fell from her fingers, to lie on the floor. He flinched at the sound and turned his face towards her , his face and clothes were smeared with food.

Her voice was barely above a whisper and shaking. "Jimmy dear, what are you doing?"

"I'm hungry." The voice was blank, quivering in intensity. He bowed his head , hair falling into his face and his hands released the handfuls of food he was holding. He shuddered and then she heard it, a quiet keening sound like an animal dying, like a person being tortured. She kneeled down, her legs touching the sticky mess he kneeled in but he didn't move towards her. Instead he wrapped his arms around his legs rocking back and forth. His body shuddered again and this time , the food he had swallowed came up, spilling onto his shirt and trousers and finally after several heaves he settled back breathing heavily.

She reached out, trying to wipe his mouth and he flinched away again, pulling even tighter into himself. His eyes turned up to hers and he knew she saw the tears dripping down her own cheeks. As he whispered yet again, "I'm hungry."

She moved closer not trying to touch him, but just an arm's length away. Her own reply of "I know Jimmy" was so silent it wasn't heard.

But she heard him, repeating it over and over, in between sobs, gags and panting breath. "I'm hungry."

The sun set outside and they both remained sitting on the floor for hours after. Winona cried as she watched the once vibrant child, now a wreck who she couldn't begin to know how to fix. He was hungry.

She saw that now. He always had been. She had once had the power to fill that void.

Now it was a hunger that could never be filled, because she couldn't replace what had been stolen from him months ago. She couldn't nourish him with the life.

In my headcanon Winona was not a very attentive mother to Kirk , so when he comes back from Tarsus it's probably extremely difficult to connect with him. I see him as having issues with eating and feeling guilty about that and then of course the PTSD from the whole ordeal. Also he doesn't have anybody to talk to about what happens and so he's trying to sort things out himself.

I liked to say that this story is dedicated to those who across the world suffer hunger and starvation and to those with eating disorders related to trauma. Thanks for reading