He hadn't really wanted to see it, that day, when he stepped out of the shuttle after a long day at work at the shipyard. But his comrades where huddled around the video feed, sharing a few beers and one had noticed him despite his best efforts.
"Hey Kirk!" he yelled. "Your family is on T.V!"
Sometimes, on the worst nights that followed, he would turn back to that particular evening and wonder what it would be like if he had walked away and ignored the comments. Something about his mother, he had told himself. Most likely another grand scientific discovery of hers.
But then his stepfather's voice growled form the video and he realized that turning away was not an option anymore.
"I don't know how he did it!" he yelled. "The boy is a menace! I tried all I could think of but some boys are just rotten like that."
The news feed continued with pictures of a boy with a swollen and bruised face, his blond hair dirty and his blue eyes defeated. Then the screen filled with the image of a red and silver wreckage, a burned monstrosity of steel and chrome.
"That's my dad's car!" he gasped, feeling dread pool in his stomach as the reported continued to rant of delinquent children and how a twelve year old had driven his poor stepfather's antique down a cliff.
George Samuel Kirk was tired, after a twelve hour shift, he was sick of Riverside and needed to work as much as he could in order to buy his way out of town. He had left home to never look back.
But something was definitely wrong if his little innocent bookworm of a brother drove their father's beloved car down a cliff and then just stared blankly ahead with that bruised face that only Sam's trained eye could tell was not a result of the crash.
Otherwise his stepfather's wedding ring would not be so cleverly imprinted on his little brother's cheek.
A part of him told Sam he should just head back to the barracks, he was tired, no longer part of that hellhole that have been his home. Let mom be forced to come back, let her be the responsible one for once. He was done with being the adult in that house. He was free.
He made it to his room, to his cot, when Jim's defeated blue eyes flashed back into his mind eye.
"Damn it!" he snapped, grabbing his bag and throwing everything he owned into it. Once he was done he dashed from the shipyard and towards the last shuttle before he realized he had left half of his clothes behind. The shouts of: "Kirk! Hey, Kirk! Come back!" would ring in his ears as the perfect background music to his brother's damaged face.
He finally made it back to the farm at dawn, his breath ragged. Frank's dog was barking madly at him from his pen behind the house. Nor Jim nor Sam liked the mutt, but Frank insisted he kept the place safe.
His stepfather greeted him by the door, gun in hand. A drunken smile on his twisted face.
"So, the prodigal son comes back," he mocked. "I knew you'd be back soon, you can't just get away."
"Where's Jimmy?" he snapped, not wanting to waste anytime. "Where's my brother?"
Frank's smile widened, his eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction. Sam's own hazel eyes narrowed.
"Jim's gone," the man replied. "Your mom said I could send him to a colony near her post, she'll pick him up as soon as she can."
Sam frowned, hands clenched.
"When is she gonna pick him up?"
Frank shrugged.
"Hell if I know," he said. "As soon as her mission's over, I guess, six months, a year, I don't really care."
Sam started to tremble.
It wasn't fair. Jimmy was a good boy, far too smart for his own good. Now he was shipped off to another world just because he'd dared to rebel? Sam could not stand for it.
"I'll get him back! Call mom, tell her she has to send him back to Earth, to me!" he demanded. Frank shook his head.
"No can do," he laughed. "The brad wrecked my car and now he's paying for it in juvie, your mom can pull him out, sure, 'cause she's Starfleet, but she won't do it, not even if her runaway brat begs."
Sam's face went purple in rage.
"You... asshole!" he wasn't sure what happened afterwards. First he knew he had lunged at Frank, determined to wipe that gleeful grin off his face, but then the bastard had easily turned him in his arms, his boot crashing with his face once, twice, a pained gasp left his lips.
Then darkness...
***
He called his mother in the hospital, two weeks later, as soon as the doctors decided his jaw had mended correctly and pulled the metal wiring from his teeth.
"Sam," his mother said sadly. "Jimmy is out of control. You saw what she did to that old car."
"Bring him back, mom," Sam hissed. "I can ground him here on Earth, he's all alone in a colony now."
"It's a model colony, Sam," Winona tried to sooth. "I know it will be scare for him at first, but Jimmy will adapt. He'll get a better education there than he could get back home in Iowa."
Sam kept quiet, his eyes downcast.
Winona smiled in what she assumed was a reassuring way.
"In a year, we'll finish the xeno-geology research in this quadrant and I'll go straight there to pick your brother, you'll see he won't want to leave. I bet he will do anything in his power to stay in Tarsus IV."
He nodded weakly, refusing to acknowledge the hurt that pooled in his chest at his mother's relieved smile. Once again he had fallen before her.
They ended the conversation quickly and Winona never asked why her first born was in the hospital. Sam never offered an explanation either. He just swallowed up the bitterness creeping in his insides and decided he was the only one fit enough to welcome Jimmy home.
Whatever happened a year from now, Sam would be ready to greet his brother, he would be ready to protect him from Frank, from his mother if it was necessary.
If he ever believed in destiny it was at that moment, when he realized that he was a Kirk, and as such, he could never run from his responsibility.
He took the firs shuttle for San Francisco he found, in between chickens and pigs and illegal immigrants, clutching his bag to his chest as tightly as he could and memorizing the paperwork he had in his hands and the name of the man he needed to find, the only one with the power to help him now.
***
Jonathan Archer was indeed surprised to see him when he opened the door to his house. A smelly, dirty and tired sixteen year old was not exactly what he had expected when he received the memo from George Kirk's first born. Much less that said first born would stare angrily at him with fierce hazel eyes and demand his father's pension was handed to him directly from now on. There was fire on the boy's eyes, something raw. He realized George Jr. would not take no for an answer.
He quickly ushered the boy in, making sure no one saw them, and proceeded to explain to George Jr. who'd rather be called Samuel, that the money he was asking for had been placed by his mother in a trust fund until he and his brother were of age to go to College.
Samuel's eyes had narrowed, reminding the Admiral of his heroic father.
"I need the money now," he snapped, growing impatient as the old man only continued to stare at him in disbelief. "Jim and I can't wait until he's 17!"
Jonathan served him tea, an eyebrow raised.
"And tell me, Samuel, what would you do with your half of the money? It is an enormous amount," he asked. Sam looked down into his tea, somewhat lost in the lukewarm drink.
"I'd buy a house of my own," he said softly. "Finish school, get a job, study, I don't know."
"You can do all that back home, young man," Archer said. "In your mother's home."
Sam's frown darkened.
"That's not my home no more, sir," he sighed. "Please, Admiral, tell me what do to to get that money, I only have a year to be a responsible adult!"
Now Jonathan was intrigued.
"Samuel, you are sixteen, why would you want to be a responsible adult now?"
The boy fidgeted, visibly troubled.
"Because if I'm not, I can't take Jimmy away from Mom and Frank," he said finally, his whole pose defeated.
The Admiral's eyes widened, unable to believe his own ears. Commander Kirk was a model officer, always performing her duties admirably. It was hard to imagine something was going on in her model home, if her own son wanted to part from her and take his brother with him.
"Would your brother Jimmy be happy you took him from your mother and stepfather?" he asked cautiously.
The boy nodded miserably.
"Mom sent him to a colony," he said. "He was just angry, I'm sure he didn't meant to, he could have died. And instead of coming back to make sure he was ok, Mom signed him off to Tarsus IV. He's just a baby, Admiral, sir, he's my baby brother, he needs me!"
Archer sighed, not sure what to think. Samuel Kirk's eyes shone with determination. It was almost moving, the way he spoke about his little brother Jim. It showed great things about the older boy and his maturity. Any other child would have everything in his favor to resent the little baby that had gone back home instead of one's beloved father. Especially if the reports were accurate and young James Kirk was the splitting image of his dead father.
Yet Samuel adored James and was willing to travel all the way from Riverside to San Francisco on his own, beg a man he hardly knew and wage a war against his own mother to ensure said little brother's safety and happiness.
The man let a small smile curl his lips.
A remarkable young man indeed.
"You'll need a lawyer, then," he said. "To begin the process of your emancipation."
The bright smile he got in return was reward enough for the old Admiral Archer to ignore he was helping a boy raise hell and defy all known authority.
It had been a long while since his last adventure, he guessed.
To Be Continued.