Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to people who are not me. No money is made of this, etc. Basically, I'm just curing boredom by playing with other people's genius.

Tabula Rasa the sign above the rows of assorted liquor bottles read.

Jim Kirk has heard the phrase before. The origin of his knowledge on this concept was probably impossible to trace. Maybe it had come from some course tracing the origins of various theoretical concepts. Was it from one of the dusty books he'd dragged off the bookcase when he'd been avoiding his step-father? Most likely, Bones had drunkenly lectured about it during his love affair with all things psychological a couple years back.

Regardless of the derivation and relative unfamiliarity Jim had with the term, he found himself laboring over the idea as the Enterprise was docked for repairs and he was only 12 hours into officially being titled "captain" of his ship.

His ship.

Who would have thought? Pike had, of course. Apparently, Jim's mother had been convinced of his greatness, regardless of his incredibly numerous past indiscretions. His brother may have been surprised but he hid it with brotherly praise like "You won't screw this up." Bones swore he wasn't too terribly shocked because James T. Kirk always achieved something, one way or another, when he really wanted it.

Spock had down right known. Well, one Spock had, at any rate. But his thoughts on the matter should be irrelevant. Jim wanted them to be because, otherwise, he tended to mesh his views of the two Spocks together and that didn't do anyone a hell of a lot of good. After all, letting it slip meant the entire universe could implode on itself and that was reckless even by Kirk's slightly skewed standards.

Why did whiskey do this to him? Jim shoved his elbows off the bar and leaned against the back of the stool, waving the nearly empty tumbler toward the bartender before draining it in one swift motion.

The burn of the whiskey had faded a couple drinks ago, but the effects were starting. He was sure he'd be moving on to one of his infamously witty rants from his alcohol-erected soap-box before long. Whiskey always did this to him when he was in a mood: it started him thinking along lines far too serious for anyone's liking. Well, save Bones, who reveled in such intoxicated intellectual debates.

Speaking of Bones. "Damnet, Jim," the newly appointed Chief Medical Officer called over the typical bar noise as he reached the bar. "There's an actual party going on. You're the guest of honor, man. What in hell's name are you doing at a damn bar?" Good ol' Bones, eloquent as ever.

"Running through the nature versus nurture debate." Jim took a full tumbler from the leggy, blonde bartender and gave her a nod on appreciation. "Thoughts?"

"Both. Can't go wrong with that." McCoy took the next stool over and ordered a beer, an oddly tame choice, before he made any further commentary. "Why are you trying to be deep? There a cadet somewhere you're trying to impress? Isn't the new title enough now?" Friendly pride filled his voice. McCoy was Jim's closest friend and had actually achieved something more like brother-status.

"Probably," Jim laughed, knowing it was. Then again, having his reputation, Jim didn't really have to work for much. Girls, especially considerably younger, thought they could tame him out of his playboy ways. "But that damn sign," he nodded toward the back wall before gulping from the glass.

McCoy took a long swig from his newly procured bottle before shrugging. "John Locke. Blank slate. What of it?"

"Do we start as a blank slate or do we have a destiny we're going to achieve come hell or high water? Do we even have a damn choice, Bones?"

"I'm a doctor, not a philosopher," McCoy muttered, staring at nothing. "I think it doesn't matter right now."

"Dude," Jim paused then to chug his drink, but Bones stopped him from ordering another. "You're the first one to start in with the philosophizing over drinks. Don't go changing on me now. There's too much damn change already."

Giving him a knowing look, a placating look, McCoy shook his head. "I'll use a hypo on you if you start having some existential crisis on me." Feeling his pockets, he was suddenly hit with the realization that they were off duty, away from the ship, and his threat was useless. No need carrying around a whole arsenal of drugs when you weren't technically in charge of anyone's well-being. Then again, being friends with Jim Kirk was always like being in charge of that. Kind of.

"Calm yourself," Jim muttered and picked up Bones' temporarily forgotten beer. "Just wondering if I was going to be here no matter what or if something I did really put me here."

"Did you miss the part where you saved our asses up there? Oh, yeah, and Earth itself." McCoy scowled as Jim drank his beer, but didn't complain. It was still technically Jim's day however. For another hour or so anyway.

But I didn't save Vulcan or the ships which beat us there. The thought weighed on him heavily. Jim had known, but he'd been too slow. The only reason he'd been able to do anything at all was thanks to his friend here, but he should have seen what Nero was doing earlier. Five minutes would have made all the difference.

Ambassador Spock's Kirk would have done that. He'd have known way earlier. But he'd led a different life, meaning the Jim Kirks were not as synonymous as Spock had thought. Maybe he had started out a blank slate and then Nero had completely screwed everything. Screwed everything up and then Spock version 1.0 had come along to try to rectify the situation. Therefore adding to the slate Jim had been haphazardly creating, but not helping out fate. Or it could have been this predetermined fate and Jim would have found Scotty and made it back in time anyway.

Pretentious fucking sign.

He nearly choked on the beer as he tried to speak around the last gulp. "Okay, maybe I'm being existential. Leave me to it, will ya?" His voice had an edge which his friend promptly ignored.

Waving over the bartender, McCoy settled Jim's tab. "My gift to you, Captain. Let's get back to this party, right? You have plenty of people begging to see those damn baby blues of yours."

Jim tried to protest, but McCoy had his mind set and wasn't letting Jim sit in this bar and drive himself insane trying to reason out a riddle which had been debated for centuries.

"Nurture versus nature," McCoy muttered under his breath as they broke out into the open air. "Snap to, ol' boy. There are guests to impress. Try to fake some charm," he chuckled, knowing Jim Kirk and Charm were not mutually exclusive concepts.

They had a good five minutes' walk to reach the shindig that they were throwing for him, lucky Jim because he needed that time to make sure he was sober enough to be his usual charismatic self.

"I so got this," he grinned, forcing Tabula Rasa to lock up somewhere in his brain. Never let it be said that Captain Kirk didn't have the emotional control of a saint when he wanted to.

But not of a Vulcan. The thought shrewdly shoved his control (and smirk) a notch down for a moment, reminding him that there was some uncharacteristic apologizing he probably should be doing.

They reached the doors and loud music and unintelligible chatter drowned out whatever Bones was saying. The energy of the room really started to infect Jim about that point. He was a Captain, damnet, and he was going to celebrate his promotion in his typical fashion.

Actual grin in place, he made the silent resolution to contact Spock 1.0 and see how much he really was like his alternate self. Existentialism be damned. It shouldn't matter anyway. Life was what you made it and blank slate or fate couldn't change how damn proud of himself Jim should and would be.

It didn't matter, of course. Jim wasn't a blank slate, anymore, either way. Though, just maybe, act two of his life was offering him that literally sign-professed "Tabula Rasa."

AN: This is the first Star Trek fic I've ever posted (My previous TOS stuff never seemed good enough), but I'm so supremely in love with the new movie that I couldn't help myself. I feel like I just may be able to do the characters justice in this new timeline.

I know I'm probably beating a dead horse with this concept, but it's been bouncing around in my head so…yeah. And I know we didn't see Jim's brother in the movie, so I'm technically taking a liberty there, I suppose, but he's supposed to be older and it bugs me that he's ignored.

Also, I finally found a way to use SOMETHING I learned while working so hard on that psych degree ($70G well spent haha)! I may or may not at least continue this into another chapter, but it depends on the reception.....Should I go beyond that, there will probably be some romance somewhere along the lines...though I haven't decided if it would become slash or not. So please R&R! (Also, suggestions are totally welcome).

* XTina *