The Fall

Disclaimer: No money; perfectly content.

A/N: For those of you coming at this having read Iowa Loam: this is a somewhat darker look at the kids' backstories, particularly Jim's and Len's. Be advised: the tone is a little less lighthearted. For those of you coming at this not having read Iowa Loam, I hope you enjoy regardless.

Jim and Len and Hikaru

"This is a stupid idea."

Len scowled when he was annoyed—which, Jim had noticed, was often. He also crossed his arms. He had a great scowl, like nobody Jim had ever met, but that didn't make it any easier to be on the receiving end, trying to convince Len of something he really didn't want to be convinced of.

"Please?" Jim asked. He edged towards the nearest tree, a knotty, ancient sycamore with just enough footholds close to the ground to make it climbable.

Len didn't budge. "It just rained, Jim."

"So?"

"So, you'll slip and fall and break your neck," Len said irritably. "And then I'll have to explain how and why to your mom when she gets back from off-planet."

"C'mon, Len, it's the same dumb tree, I've climbed it a hundred times."

"Yeah, when it's dry."

"Not always!"

"I don't see why we can't just play spaceship."

"We always play spaceship."

"We don't. We play tag. We do leaf-diving at Hikaru's. Y'know," he added, significantly, "stuff you can do on the ground."

"One tree," Jim begged.

Len planted himself firmly in place. "I'm not going."

Jim was left with his arm stretched out at the tree, grinning and fluttering his eyelashes like a girl in one of those old-fashioned movies. Len didn't budge. After a few long, drawn-out seconds, Jim dropped his arm. "Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "Chicken." He turned around and gripped one of the higher knots, hooking the tip of his sneaker onto a lower toehold. "One tree," he said again. "Just until Hikaru gets here."

"You're being reckless," he heard Len call after him as he hoisted himself up another branch.

Well, so what? He felt reckless. Frank had called him as much that morning, when he'd tried sliding down the tiny staircase banister and knocked over a glass vase. Frank had been all right up 'till then. He was always ok for the first couple days after seeing Jim's mom. The problem was, she was only ever home for a week at a time before she had to return to her work off-planet. A few days would go by and then it'd be the insults again, and then eventually the back of Frank's hand, or—if Jim got him mad enough—his belt. When Frank had seen the shattered glass in the hall and Jim standing awkwardly at the foot of the stairs, he'd let out a long breath before smacking Jim upside the head and muttering at him to clean up this mess.

Jim reached the first branch and pulled himself up past the knot where his hand had just been. He looked back out behind him. He already had a much better view of the abandoned lot and the stretch of Derby Drive, muddy from the rain, that stretched out along the cornfields.

He maneuvered himself into the crotch of the tree. If he found the right spot, he'd probably be able to see Hikaru approaching through the leaves.

Below him, a groan: "Oh fine."

Jim glanced down to see Len walking toward the tree and grinned.

The next branch was trickier because it was slightly further up than the others had been. Reaching up, Jim could see that the bark was damp and the leaves were still covered in water droplets. Still, it was nothing he couldn't handle. He heard a grunt from below and looked down again to see Len hoisting himself up the trunk.

"SPOTU. Slowpoke of the Universe," Jim called over his shoulder.

Strictly speaking, that wasn't true. Len had climbed trees all over Georgia before he'd moved to Riverside. It's so freaking empty here. Where the heck are all the good climbing trees? he'd asked Jim a week after they'd first met, and Jim had grinned and pointed him to the "woods" next to the abandoned lot.

Len didn't respond, which meant he'd taken it as a challenge. Jim grinned and gripped the higher branch with both hands, then kicked up his feet and wrapped his legs around it, hanging upside-down like a sloth, his floppy, blond hair hanging down off his forehead. He'd just barely started to maneuver himself up and over when he felt something shift against the fabric of his jeans.

Then his left leg flipped down into empty space, and he felt his heart leap and his stomach turn over, and—

He opened his eyes, and found himself straddling the branch, his face pressed to the rough bark. His momentum had carried him around and up, and adrenaline must have done the rest. He let out a deep breath through his nose.

He stayed there for a moment, hugging the branch like a stuffed animal, before gently pushing himself back up to sit against the trunk.

There was still a lot of tree left to climb, but he could wait a minute for Len to catch up. Besides, the view was even better from up here. He could now see the tops of other houses, and, in the distance, the tall apartment buildings near the center of town. Still no Hikaru, but maybe he hadn't left home yet. Apparently he had chores. That was the one thing about having real parents, Jim reflected.

"If ya don't get moving you're gonna be the SPOTU," came Len's drawl from behind him. Jim looked over his shoulder. Len had taken a different route up. Jim could see his smirk through the gap where the trunk split into another two branches.

"I was waiting to give you a fair shot," Jim replied, turning and pulling himself upright.

"Is that so?" Len asked, shifting carefully and searching for the next branch. "Well, in that case—"

He broke off, the smirk gone from his face. His eyes met Jim's, and a split second's sickening realization passed between them. Jim didn't stop to think. He lunged across the crook of the branches, his hand outstretched.

"Len!"

Too late.

"Hikaru Sulu, I do not appreciate your attitude right now," his mother had said angrily, tucking Yumiko's squirming feet into her tiny shoes. Right before she'd told him she expected the dishes to be clean, dry, and put away—not just sitting in the drying rack—by the time they'd returned from the doctor's office, or else he'd be grounded into next Tuesday. Then she'd whisked Yumiko out the door, locking it behind her.

What would Len do? What would Jim do? Hikaru had asked himself. Realistically, probably skip out on their chores and head straight for the abandoned lot. Then again, neither of them had his mom for a parent.

In the end, he'd stayed. Kinuyo Sulu didn't make idle threats.

Hikaru had grumbled his way through the entire cycle, checking up regularly on the dishwasher which, sure, said that it had only twenty minutes to go, but was clearly fudging it.

When the machine had finally finished, Hikaru sped through the drying process, only narrowly avoiding sending a stack of bowls tumbling to the kitchen floor before shoving them, still vaguely damp, into the cupboard and running to lace up his shoes. It was only two p.m.; with any luck he wouldn't have missed much. Maybe an alien invasion. Maybe, he thought with a grin, he could sweep in and save the day.

He ran all the way to the abandoned lot, leaping over shallow puddles on the wet pavement. The air had that cool, clean, after-rain smell, and that made him run faster. He rounded the corner to the abandoned lot—their playground—where the antique cars and the old, claw-foot bathtub sat, rusty and undisturbed. No Jim, no Len.

Hikaru jogged to a stop, frowning. Hide and seek? No—he would have seen one of them.

He blinked and turned around in a circle. Had he missed them? It was Saturday; there was no reason he should have. According to Jim, no self-respecting kid hung around the house when he could be out exploring, especially not on the weekend.

"Len!"

Jim's shout came from across the junkyard and made Hikaru jump. His head snapped around to the tree line—just in time to see, high in the branches, Len slip and lose his balance.

Hikaru didn't see him fall. He was already sprinting to the trees.