Growing up in Riverside, James Tiberius Kirk was a lot of things. Criminal. Alcoholic. Player. Asshole. He was going places, but they certainly weren't good places. After all, he was one who landed in jail before he turned seventeen. He was the one who talked back to every teacher he ever had and landed in the principal's office far too many times. He was the one that got in bar fights and bedded every woman between eighteen and thirty.

So, when the news of how Captain Jim Kirk saved Earth from being destroyed arrived in Riverside, everyone scoffed and immediately dismissed the rumors that it their Jim Kirk that saved the planet. Their Jim Kirk had disappeared three years prior. They had been happy to find that all his things were gone, that he was gone.

After all, he was nothing but a thorn in their side.

Eleven years old

It was very late, or perhaps very early. Officer Michael Potter knocked loudly on Jim Kirk's front door, yelling to Winona to answer. Michael and Winona knew each other through George, and even after his death, they continued to talk whenever she was on Earth.

However, Michael wasn't here to exchange pleasantries, especially not at three a.m. Instead, Michael looked down at Jim Kirk, who was cursing and fighting to get out of the handcuffs restraining him, and sighed. George would have never wanted this.

The door opened abruptly and Michael found himself facing Winona and Frank, both of whom were yawning. Winona's blonde hair seemed to fly everywhere and she was hastily tying a bathrobe on over her pajamas. Frank, as usual, looked angry. He cracked his knuckles, seemingly without thought, and wore a scowl as he sneered at Jim. Michael had never been introduced to Jim before, but as Michael watched Frank watch Jim, he found himself irrationally scared for the boy.

"Michael," Winona said sleepily, "come in. What's going on?"

As Michael and Jim walked into the house, Michael saw Frank grab hold of Jim's arm.

"What did you do?" Frank questioned Jim.

"I found him spray painting the side of the school, Winona," Michael explained. "I didn't want to bring him in to the station, so I just brought him here."

Over the years, Michael had heard a lot of things about the Kirks—how Winona remarried only ten months after George died, about how Sam became a delinquent after his father's death and when Sam ran away, how Jim was headed down the same path as his brother. There were a lot of rumors about the Kirks—some Michael knew to be blatant lies. However, one thing everyone could agree on was that Winona would never look at Jim. Everyone who had seen them together swore up and down that not once did she look at her son. Michael had always dismissed that rumor—while he had never seen her around Jim, Winona had always been very affectionate with Sam.

However, he was being forced to reconsider. Winona looked everywhere but Jim—at Frank, at Michael, at the crack in the tile, at the spider making its way across the wall, but never once did she even acknowledge that Jim was on the same planet, let alone in the same room. Michael glanced down at Jim and could practically see him willing his mother to look at him, just once. After his obviously failure to catch his mother's attention, Jim's eyes became detached and dead in a way that worried Michael.

Frank, unlike his wife, never once took his eyes off of Jim. Michael saw the anger in those eyes but ignored the bells going off in his head. Of course he's angry, Michael told himself. Jim was arrested.

"Well, what will he have to do?" Winona asked Michael, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing major," he explained. "Just paint over the graffiti and we'll forget the whole thing ever happened."

"I'll make sure he'll do it in the morning, then," Winona said, standing. "Thank you for everything you've done, Michael."

Michael, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one, got up. He shook Frank's hand and gave Winona a hug before releasing Jim from the handcuffs.

As Michael walked away from the house, he got the sinking feel that this wouldn't be the final time he had to deal with Jim Kirk.

Thirteen years old

One officer was trying to get a hold of Winona. Another was speaking with child services. Another was putting Frank into the back of a squad car. Yet another was standing on the corner of the lawn watching the scene unfold.

Michael ignored them all and went to the ambulance. Jim was sitting in there, getting his spilt lip fixed by one paramedic as another made an attempt to mop up the blood streaming out of Jim's nose. So far, he was unsuccessful and blood poured unto Jim's shirt and on the ambulance floor. Part of Jim's blond hair was bloodied and matted his head.

As Michael watched the paramedics work, he forgot that he was a policeman and got the sudden urge to beat Frank within an inch of his life for what he did to Jim.

Jim sat quietly and allowed the paramedics to pull and direct his jaw so his head would be positioned correctly for them to work. His eyes were unnervingly lifeless. He seemed to be somewhere else, as if he simply shut down the part of his brain that processed things that were happening to him. Michael wished he could do the same thing.

Michael tried to speak to Jim on several times, but the paramedics informed him that Jim had stopped talking when they arrived. They assured Michael that this was normal but the silence still worried him. Eventually, he couldn't stand the sight of Jim bloodied and bruised so he left the quiet ambulance.

"Did you get a hold of Winona?" Michael asked his coworker, Scott.

"No, but Starfleet has been notified. They're trying to get her home," Scott answered. Michael thanked him and went to go talk to the social worker.

She looked pretty, despite being called out at three in the morning to handle this.

"What's going to happen to him?" Michael asked her.

Her wide brown eyes didn't look up from the file she was holding as she questioned, "Who? James or his stepfather?"

Michael considered this. "Frank," he said. In some corner of Michael's mind, he knew the answer—years of police work had given it to him—but he couldn't seem to recall the information.

"He'll probably go to jail for a while—not long, unfortunately," she answered, meeting Michael's eyes briefly before refocusing on her paperwork. "It depends on what James's mother does."

"Jim."

"Pardon me?"

"He goes by Jim," Michael said.

"Excuse me—it depends on what Jim's mother does," she said while making a small note to herself, which she underlined.

"What'll happen to him? If Winona doesn't decide to stay with him," Michael asked. He knew she wouldn't stay. She couldn't even look at Jim, let alone live with him. If Michael knew Winona at all, he knew that she'd come home for a month before leaving Jim. Again.

"Well, if there are no relatives willing to take him, he'll be placed in a local foster home until he turns eighteen," she explained. Michael heard her say under her breath, "With a police record this long, no one in their right mind would take him."

While Jim's rap sheet had started with Michael, it certainly hadn't ended with him. It seemed that every weekend, a cop had a story to tell about Jim's many antics. So far, Jim had been able to escape jail on charm and good looks, but Michael knew those days wouldn't last forever.

It had been one of Jim's many run-ins with the police that had brought everything on tonight. Officer McClain had brought Jim home to Frank in handcuffs, which was becoming the routine. As Frank, Jim and McClain started talking about what had exactly transpired, Officer McClain ran out to his squad car for something. He had been gone awhile, apparently, but when he returned to the house, Jim was lying on the ground bleeding as Frank stood over him, hands balled into bloody fists.

"It's up to his mother and a judge, at his point," the social worker continued.

Winona was back on Earth within the week. She was pressing charges on Frank and made no secret of the fact that she hoped he stayed in prison for the rest of his life. Jim stayed with her during that month she was home, but after the trial she once again left Earth, and her son, behind.

Jim ended up in Riverside's only foster home. Jim, whose face was beginning to heal, found Michael at the trial and winked at him in a way that told Michael that maybe, just maybe, Jim would be alright some day.

Sixteen years old

Michael wasn't the first to arrive at the party, but he wasn't the last either. Drunken teenagers scrambled in every direction as Michael and the other cops pulled up, light flashing. Michael had to stop himself from laughing as one of them tripped on the concrete. Thankfully, no one seemed to remember that they had cars.

Some of the other cops ran after the clumsy, drunk teenagers while Michael and a few others went inside to round up the rest of them.

The house smelled like greasy pizza and warm beer. People were curled up in various locations, either passed out or pretending to be. Others sighed, looked up as if to ask, "Really God?" and submitted to a breathalyzer.

Michael ignored them and looked for Jim. Michael knew he would be here. When he got the call about the party, he called Jim's foster parents to ask if he had gone out. "Yes," his foster mom had said. "He said he was out studying." The woman was oblivious.

As Michael was looking, he saw a pretty girl stumble down the stairs, hastily trying to pull on her jeans, but failing miserably. "Whatever, have fun getting arrested Jim," she called angrily. Michael caught her as she attempted to escape and directed her into the living room where other officers were giving breathalyzers before he went up the stairs to search for Jim.

Jim was lying in a bed, probably naked but his bottom half was covered by the sheets. He smiled drunkenly at Michael, as if forgetting that Michael was a cop who had to arrest him.

The two had developed a strange kind of relationship. Michael was one of the only people outside of Starfleet that was actually friends with George and on occasion, Jim would call Michael and the two would talk about Jim's father and mother, for she was as alien to Jim as George was. Despite himself, Jim had grown to like Michael.

Michael knew what day it was and a part of himself couldn't blame Jim for wanting to escape for awhile. Jim's birthday was never something to be celebrated. Instead, families across the galaxy mourned today as the day that the U.S.S. Kelvin was destroyed and both Captains were killed in a matter of minutes. Michael had almost called in sick to work because he missed George so much.

Jim's eyes were glazed over and it worried Michael. Michael had seen many, many men drunk, but never before had he seen that blank expression.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" Michael asked.

"If you know I am, then why are you asking me?" Jim said, surprisingly level-headed. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a long drag. He closed his eyes, tilted his head up slightly and slowly exhaled. The moment seemed so personal that Michael was almost embarrassed to be there.

A clatter downstairs brought Michael and Jim back to reality.

"You know you can't get out of jail this time, right?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, I know," Jim said. "It's been a long time coming."

Michael sighed. "Come on, get dressed," he said. "I'll take you in."

As it turned out, Jim wasn't naked; however his boxer shorts hung low on his hips, as if he had just pulled them on. Jim got dressed slowly and Michael couldn't tell if it was because of drunkenness or if he just wanted to avoid being arrested.

The country jail was nearly vacant, despite the amount of drunken kids at the party. For most of those kids, it was their first interaction with law enforcement so sympathetic officers probably just brought them home. However, sympathetic officers had been Jim's chauffeurs for five years and both Michael and Jim knew it had to stop.

Jim's foster father came to pick him up the next morning. Jim had gotten off pretty easy as far as jail time went—just two weeks of it at the beginning of his summer vacation, which was coming up in a month.

Jim spend the rest of his summer smoking by the creek and Michael didn't have the heart to stop him, despite knowing that it was in Jim's best interest.

Michael and Jim continued to have lunch sometimes and it was during those times Michael knew that despite everything that had happened to him, Jim would get through it and become a better person than anyone in Riverside.

Nineteen years old

Michael was sitting in his cruiser drinking coffee. It wasn't a particularly busy day as a police officer (what day was in Riverside?) and the man had parked himself in front of Starfleet's building grounds, just to watch them work tirelessly on the new ship. They had finished the Vanquisher just one year ago and almost immediately began work on the Farragut. It would take them a long time to finish the ship—four years minimum. Michael had always enjoyed watching them put the ship together. When they were teenagers, he and George would sneak onto the grounds and explore the unfinished ships. "I'm going to serve on one of these babies some day, just you wait," George had once told him.

Michael remembered the day George had told him that he enlisted. Michael had actually laughed, despite knowing that it was George's dream. "What the hell are you going to do in space, George?" Michael had mocked. George took the teasing gladly and a week later, George and Michael were saying goodbye. All too soon, it seemed, George had graduated from Starfleet Academy and was on his way to the stars.

Michael tried not to think back on that time as something to be resented. George had always been happy in space. He had gotten married to Winona onboard the USS St. Mark and just two years later, George was telling Michael about his first born son—George Samuel. "He's so perfect," George said and Michael never teased him about how George was crying. George and Winona had been overjoyed when, while they were on shore leave, they had found she was pregnant with Jim. Their stint on the USS Kelvin was only supposed to be ten months so they left Sam with his grandparents.

The night that Michael was told of George's death he drove to the shipyards and snuck unto the unfinished ships, just like he and George did when they were teenagers. Michael trusted the unfinished ship to keep his tears a secret.

A call on the radio interrupted Michael's thoughts. The mechanics had caught some townie sneaking around the Farragut and Starfleet was pressing trespassing charges on the young man.

Michael answered the call with a fair idea of who the young man was.

When he got to the office, Jim's hand was handcuffed to a chair and three Starfleet personnel were staring at him.

"Hey," Jim said quietly.

"Shh," a Starfleet officer said and began explaining the situation to Michael. "The man was walking around the bridge of the Farragut, which was a potentially harmful situation to both him and Starfleet mechanics. He was sitting in the Captain's chair when I found him. I had security handcuff him and escort him here. We have been in contact with Starfleet officials in San Francisco and we've agreed to press charges."

"Jesus," Michael said. "Jim Kirk, what the hell were you thinking?"

Jim shrugged, a sad frown replacing the cocky smirk that was normally plastered on his face.

"Jim Kirk?" The Starfleet officer asked. "George and Winona's son?"

Michael nodded.

The officer looked sharply at Jim. "Your parents and I worked together on the Kelvin. Honestly Jim, what would your father say?"

Jim's hands clenched into a fist and he moved to swing at the officer, but the handcuffs kept him in place.

"Alright Jim, let's take you to the station for booking," Michael said quickly, wanting to get out of the uncomfortable situation.

The ride back to the station was silent until Jim finally whispered from the backseat, "I read somewhere that the Farragut was the Kelvin's sister ship. I talked to Mom about it and she said that Farragut would basically look exactly like the Kelvin, except updated. I just wanted to see if I would be able to feel what he felt when he died."

Michael looked back at Jim and instead of seeing the man with a quick smile and charming good looks, he saw a sad young man who looked as though life was beaten him.

"I'm sorry about your dad," Michael said. "I don't know if I've ever told you that before."

"All my life, everyone expected me to just like him. I sure showed them, huh?" Jim laughed even though there was no humor in the situation. Suddenly, his face was sad and beaten again. "A lot of good that did me." Jim appeared to forget that Michael was there; instead he seemed to be musing aloud. "No one cares about me," Jim whispered.

"Of course they do," Michael said.

"I don't even care about me," Jim continued as though Michael had never interrupted and for the first time in his life, Michael wondered if Jim had dug himself into a hole that he couldn't climb out of.

Twenty two years old

Michael watched from the sidelines as Jim spiraled downward. Michael stood by as Jim got in bar fights he wouldn't remember and shook his head as he saw Jim take home woman after woman. Jim's rap sheet was growing longer and longer. He seemed to tell his genius IQ to fuck off as he took on a job as a mechanic.

One night, Michael woke to hear someone pounding on his down. His clock blinked 2:54 a.m. as he rolled out of bed to answer the door.

He had to resist the urge to shoot the person knocking on the door and he opened it. He was surprised to see Jim standing there, face bloody and eye bruised.

"I need your help," Jim said.

Michael invited Jim in as he said, "I hope you don't need someone to help you hide a body. I can't really do that."

"I was offered a spot at Starfleet Academy."

Michael stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at Jim. "Are you shitting with me?"

Jim laughed. "No, I'm not. Captain Pike dared me to join the Academy and do better than my dad."

"Well, are you going to do it?"

"I don't know. That's what I need help with. I've spent my entire life hating Starfleet—they killed my dad, they took away my mom, they gave me Frank—but now that it's actually here I kind of want to try."

There was gleam in Jim's eyes that Michael hadn't seen since Jim was sixteen.

"I haven't seen you this excited in years," Michael said. "I'm going to be completely honest here Jim: you are wasting your life. If you stay in Riverside you'll never amount to anything. You can't; too many people want to hit you. I think Starfleet's an excellent opportunity for someone like you. I think that you really want this and I also think that scares you a little bit. But most of all, I think you should enlist."

Jim looked at Michael for a very long time before smiling. He pulled Michael into a hug and whispered, "thank you," so quietly that Michael wasn't even sure that he had said it.

Twenty five years old

Michael felt like he was the only one in the room that wasn't employed by Starfleet. He wore a blue button-down shirt and was in such stark contrast to the others in the room that he was actually embarrassed at first, but quickly stifled the emotion. Today was about Jim.

Pride surged through Michael as he watched Jim become promoted from Cadet to Captain. After the ceremony, people who Michael assumed to be friends of Jim all came to hug him and congratulate him. Michael's happiness doubled—Jim had never had any real friends and now he seemed like he had more than he knew what to do with. Jim was happier than Michael had ever seen him and once again, Michael felt proud.

Jim had been so busy accepting congratulations from his peers that he hadn't been able to find Michael. Finally their eyes met and Jim practically ran to hug Michael.

"How's it feel, Captain Kirk?" Michael asked, giving Jim a pat on the back.

Although it seemed impossible, Jim's smile widen at the sound of his new title. "Feels pretty damn great," he said.

The two talked for about ten minutes before Michael heard one of Jim's friends call him over. Jim told them to wait but Michael quickly said, "Go ahead Jim, we'll catch up later. I know you have a lot to tell me."

As he began to walk away, Michael heard Jim's friend ask, "Who was that?"

Jim answered laughing, "He's a friend from back home. I owe him everything."