This can read either as my alternate headcanon or you can add this to the consistent verse I have for my Star Trek 2009 fics

McCoy's resolution to board the shuttle fails within minutes of sitting down. He ignores the glances of the other would be cadets and retreats to the safety of the tiny shuttle bathroom. Because good god do they really have to have all those windows in the main compartment? Apparently spending half an hour in their convinces the lieutenant in charge of them that there's something wrong with him and against his gasped protest that he's all right (It's really hard to talk when you're about to hyperventilate) he's practically dragged out the bathroom.

His cries of "I have aviophobia..." fall on death ears and he finds himself sitting on a bench next to a for some reason familiar looking scruffy young man who smells of a cheap night out and has the bruises to testify for it. His first thought is who in the hell let this kid in Starfleet? Then that all falls by the wayside as the shuttle begins taking off and his insides lurch unpleasantly.

"I may throw up on ya," McCoy mutters, and Kirk to his credit gives a half-grin not looking at all alarmed, like a little puke isn't the worst that he's had on him. And judging by the smell faintly whiffing off him it's not.

When they reach San Francisco McCoy leaves the shuttle still feeling a little queasy and a whole lot embarrassed. Kirk has apparently taken the whole incident in stride and seems remarkable cheerful for someone sporting a now-vomit stained undershirt and looking so out of place among the rest of the cadets milling around in their academy reds.

"Just you and me, huh? The two social misfits."

McCoy nods but he really doesn't agree with Kirk. There's something odd about Kirk...like the man knows him though for the life of him McCoy can't remember ever meeting Kirk. He plans to get away from the man as soon as possible, Kirk is nothing but trouble and McCoy's had enough to trouble to last a life time. He walks a little ways ahead and lets the tide of students separate them and pretends he doesn't hear Kirk call after him.

XXXX XXXX

A few days pass and then Kirk turns up again. "Hey, Bones..."

He would ask about the apparent nickname that's been given to him, but his concern at the moment is more in line with checking the Kirk doesn't have a cranial fracture along with the hairline break to his jaw that he's currently sporting. Kirk grins "I was looking for you..." Or at least McCoy thinks that's what he's trying to say, it's kind of hard to understand somebody through a mouthful of blood.

He gives Kirk a basin to spit in and passes him a cloth for his profusely bleeding nose then continues with his exam. "You stalking me kid?"

Kirk just grins... "Nah, just wanted to see how you were doing..." He jerks away as McCoy tries to hypo him.

"What's that?"

"Pain meds, an antibiotic and some other stuff who's the doc here?" McCoy tries to hypo him again.

Kirk moves away. " I don't need all that stuff." He reaches up and touches his nose experimentally. Wincing as he wiggles the broken appendage. "I've had a lot worse injuries and I'm still alive without it."

Something about the off-hand way that he says it hints that the comment isn't false bravado but real truth. Thirty minutes later Kirk's jaw is healed after firm insistence from McCoy and several minutes of argument. As he turns to leave the sickbay he calls out. "Bones, want to get a drink tonight?"

McCoy frowns; something makes him want to say yes. Drinking is a bad idea for him for so many reasons, and while his brief attempt at sobriety is already blown to hell he's pretty sure that if he does along with Kirk a lot of other resolutions will be blown to hell. It's no coincidence that this is apparently the third "fall" resulting in injuries that he's had in a few days or that while he looks sober he smells faintly of liquor. McCoy's heard the rumours of James T. Kirk around campus and none of them are good.

"Maybe some other time."

Kirk looks a little downcast and gives a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. "Cool, no problem."

McCoy feels a little bad now, but sticks to his guns . "I'm an old man, not good company kid, why don't you go hang out with someone around your own age."

"Yeah, sure. ...I'll find someone." And then Kirk leaves.

Kirk's words leave McCoy wondering whether he has any friends, but he soon puts the man out of his mind. Kirk's just some kid who probably is only in Starfleet cause his parents wanted it and they had the connections and money to make sure he got there. It's non of McCoy's concern what he does with his time or if he washes out. He'll probably never see him again.

XXXXX XXXX

Except he does. Kirk somehow has managed to have almost every class that he does. Even though it's beyond McCoy how Kirk manages to convince a academic counsellor that xenobiological surgical techniques are relevant to anybody but a medical student.

It's beyond creepy by the fifth class, when Kirk scoots into the seat next to him yet again. McCoy opens his pad to the correct page and the waits as the rest of the classroom to file in as he pointedly tries to ignore Kirk, which is difficult to do. Kirk meanwhile has leaned back and just like the last five class makes no attempt to take notes or even pay more than marginal attention to the lecture.

The class passes without event and McCoy tries to make a hasty departure only to find Kirk sliding the meagre tray that passes for his lunch next to McCoy's minutes later. McCoy's had enough, he has no idea why Kirk is following him like a shadow...or an errant puppy but he has a few ideas.

"Look kid, I'm sure you're nice and all but I don't swing that way so—"

"What?" Kirk looks genuinely confused "I wasn't... oh...You thought..."

McCoy feels his face turn slightly red, but he's damned if he's going to be the one who's embarrassed when he's not the one acting like a creepy stalker. "Then why are you stalking me?"

"I'm not."

"Bullshit, you are"

"I'm not."

"I'm not a fucking idiot. You—"

"I just have the same classes..."

McCoy narrows his eyes, not believing it for a second. "Your schedule is like a xenobiology medical major?"

"Yeah—"

McCoy shakes his head cutting off the lie. "What's your course of study?"

"Command track, major in engineering and sciences, minor in astronav , security, and linguistics." Kirk grins at McCoy's expression of shock. "I've got more than looks."

McCoy's not to be distracted. Even though having two major and three minors is pretty damn impressive and somewhat distracting. " Advanced xeno surgical techniques isn't a recommended or required source of study for any of what you just named."

Kirk shrugs. "I'm interested in that stuff okay."

"You're a fucking stalker kid." McCoy adds. "You want to tell me why you're following me?"

Kirk hesitates and the takes a deep breath, and catches McCoy off guard with something entirely unrelated. "You used to work in Atlanta a few years back ...In the ER right?"

McCoy narrows his eyes. "Yeah." When Kirk doesn't say anything in response he adds. "You're not doing my opinion of you any favours, how'd you know where I worked?"

Kirk starts to answer "I—" then abruptly shakes his head. "Nothing, I just read your academy profile."

McCoy raises his eyebrows. "My academy profile doesn't have places of work listed...maybe my cadet file does but you can't access that."

Kirk doesn't even answer that he just stands up. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a data chip, it falls to the table in a clatter. "Here's the note for your lab assignment, you got the last question wrong...I'll leave you alone from now on." He turns to walk away and adds. "I'm sorry and thanks for everything."

Then he's goes leaving McCoy staring confusedly after him. Sorry about what? For stalking him? Thanks for what? For fixing his broken nose a few days ago? Somehow McCoy knows he's missing something, like a crucial piece to a jigsaw puzzle.

XXXX XXXX

True to his word Kirk doesn't approach him again. He still has the same class schedule but he carefully sits almost a few seats away. Kirk drops in the academy clinic a few times with cuts, scrapes, bruises and goes out of his way to avoid McCoy. But that doesn't stop the random anonymous comm messages with the notes for the lecture he missed or the answers to the spatial physics questions he's stumped on.

It's a little weird and a whole lot confusing.

McCoy does a little research on Kirk...and finds out that he's that Jim Kirk. It explains some things, like why he's in the academy when he so obviously doesn't belong...but it also opens up so many more questions...McCoy starts to watch Kirk and notices some things. He always sits alone at lunch, picking at his food. He's curiously absent during a meet and greet of cadets and their familes . He breaks the screen of the data Padd he's holding when a professor asks him how his mother is doing and the whole time he's smiling a smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he says fine. He regularly sports a collection of half healing cuts and bruises like a fighter regularly on the wrong end of a fight and yet after seeing him a few times in their hand to hand combat class McCoy knows he can be deadly lethal when he wants to be.

The rumours circulate. Jim Kirk...the playboy...the fighter...the son of a hero...the drinker...the genius...all that may be true but the more McCoy watches him it becomes even more clear what he is...Jim Kirk is lonely.

Not once has he seen Kirk with someone else. Sure he's around them but he's never actually apart of them. He's, laughing , joking, being the life of the party, but it's a facade like he's trying desperately to keep up, like if he tries hard enough he'll fill in fill the gap of what's s missing.

It's pitiful and a bit sad and yet McCoy knows how that feels because Kirk is like him. McCoy feels too old, too screwed up to fit into the academy of bright young optimistic cadets. Two social misfits seems a more correct classification now than ever.

XXXX XXXX

It's late at night and McCoy is pulling a double shift. He's close to falling asleep when the door opens and a cadet stumbles in. His voice is smudged with dirt and blood, he's holding one arm tucked against his chest like it hurts and his blonde hair is flecked with blood.

McCoy stands up and moves forward, eyebrows raised as he recognizes the late night patient. "You're a walking disaster kid."

Kirk glances up, and takes a step backwards. "Shit, sorry I didn't know this was your shift to work." He takes another step backwards turning. "I'll go somewhere else."

McCoy snorts at that. "Like back to your dorm room with a broken arm?"

He still looks like he's about to run so McCoy adds. "Come on, I'll even promise not to report this one, isn't this the third time this week? Aren't they getting a little suspicious of all the times you've had accidents?"

Kirk moves uncertainly to a exam bed and sits stiffly. He doesn't speak for several minutes as McCoy runs a dermal regen unit about over the lacerations on his face.

"So what was it about this time?" McCoy says conversationally.

"What was what?"

He makes a gesture taking in Kirk's whole appearance. "What's the reason you came in with your ass kicked again?"

"I fell down the stairs."

"Bullshit kid, total fucking bullshit." McCoy sets the regen unit down and glares at Kirk. "You got your ass kicked. I want to know why."

Kirk shifts uncomfortably, looking like he wants to run and avoid the questions...but his arm is still broken and McCoy hasn't fixed it yet on purpose. Explaining away a broken arm will be difficult...Kirk knows that he's effectively trapped until he answers.

Abruptly Kirk changes tactics from lying to evasion. He smirks and adds. "You should see the other guy. What makes you think I'm the one who got their ass kicked?"

McCoy doesn't take the bait. He grabs the regen unit finishing up Kirk's face and unsmilingly lists the facts. "I don't think I know. I've seen you fight, you're almost better than the instructor in a lot of areas—"

"Most actually—"

McCoy ignores the comment and the pompous grin that accompanies it and finishes. "So if you're getting beat up this bad either you're fighting a few pissed off Vulcans or you're intentionally getting your assed kicked."

"I felt like it."

McCoy raises his eyes at that offhanded, and yet he senses true, statement. Instead of asking he says. "So you just wake up and decide today's a good day to get my face pounded in? What about the other times these past few weeks? What are you a masochist?"

Kirk's pissed now, McCoy can tell. One of his hand is already tightening, knuckles bending, fingers curling, skin blanched white. But he's keeping it together. His voice is clipped as he adds. "Pain can be very cathartic doctor, don't that teach you that in medical school or do you need a demonstration."

McCoy ignores the threat, Kirk's only threatening now because his other tactics haven't worked. "You're so goddamn full of it. What's up with you? Following me around, picking fights, "

Kirk explodes unexpectedly startling McCoy. Kirk's cold and calm, all jokes, sarcastic remarks and controlled anger not this. "Just shut the hell up and fix my arm and stopping prying or you're going to regret it."

"That's the second time in less than five minutes that you've threatened me—"

"Call security then, get me kicked out...it's not like you owe me anything."

McCoy breaks off what he's about to say by that, something clicks as he runs over the comment. He's watching Kirk but the other man's eyes are curiously blank just like his expression, like he's trying so hard to keep some emotion hidden.

"I never said I did." Kirk doesn't say anything else so he adds "but you seem to think you owe me."

"What?" Kirk looks up at that, his eyes widening, guilt automatically darkening his features. McCoy recognizes the expression.

"You remember me now?" Something about his face says he's hoping McCoy doesn't.

McCoy gives him that. "No." Kirk visibly relaxes. McCoy's privately wondering what can be so bad that Kirk wants to keep it hidden, a memory is tickling the corner of his mind...but that's for later. "How about we call it even if you stop seeking out a fight every night and let me have a quiet night at the clinic for once?"

Kirk shifts at that guilt still warping his expression. He looks close to confessing and McCoy wants to know what it is but something tells him that he doesn't. "We'll throw in some free tutoring too, astronav and spatial physics is a bitch."

Kirk still doesn't smile at that, he's serious...too serious. What did he do...kill somebody? And who? As far as McCoy knows all his family is still alive. He thinks about asking, when Kirk takes that choice from him. He's biting his lip looking for all the world like a scared little kid when he asks. "Do you want to know?"

"Do I want to know what?" McCoy asks even though he already knows what.

"Why I owe you?".

He picks up the regen unit and starts on Kirk's arm, taking his time before answering. Kirk seems to be holding his breath and is perfectly motionless. McCoy decides. "No."

Ten minutes later his arm is fixed and Kirk's stands up, looking a lot more guilty and even more tired. "Thanks—Bon—" He breaks off. "Dr. McCoy." McCoy doesn't miss the aborted nickname and the curiosity kicks back into high gear, against his will he likes Kirk. He's a puzzle and his mother always said he did like people who were bad from him...why not add Kirk to the list...except he just needs a few things answered.

Kirk's halfway to the door when McCoy blurts out. "You kill someone?"

He freezes and turns around, his face being all the answer McCoy needs and that's something interesting, but misdeeds in the kid's shady past he doesn't really care about. He's seen Kirk's back and arms and no one gets the amount of deliberate scars that he has without someone somewhere deserving a permanent dirt bath. McCoy decides to clarify his questions "Somebody I know?"

Kirk relaxes like he can answer that easier. "No."

"You hurt one of my family or friends?"

"No."

Kirk turns to go.

A thought occurs to McCoy, he knows he probably shouldn't ask but he does anyway. "Me?"

There it is again, the frozen I can't answer because I'm screwed either way face. McCoy's intrigued, keep your friends close and your enemies closer...except McCoy's not really sure what Kirk is at this point. He desperately wants to know what the big deal and yet has a sneaking suspicion that if he pushes Kirk to tell he'll wind up with the kid at his feet confessing his sins like a death row inmate hoping for heaven.

Nope, that kind of stuff is catching; McCoy has no more desire to hear his sordid tale anymore than he does to reveal his own. Kirk doesn't seem to be a stone cold killer or anyone too terrible. McCoy knows he should probably stay far away but he ignores the voice of reason and calls out. "It's a good thing then kid I don't care much about myself." He adds. "Meet me in the study hall tomorrow after xenolinguistics, and you can start working off some of what you owe me."

"Yeah okay." Kirk nods and adds before he leaves. "I'm sorry."

McCoy sighs. "We'll file this under past fuckups under the bridge, you promise not to snoop in my file anymore, and I'll leave whatever your big bad secret is alone. I tend to be too godamn forgiving of my friends."

Kirk raises an eyebrow at that. "I'm your friend?"

McCoy realises what he had said only a moment after Kirk did and considers taking it back but decides on. "Are you an enemy?"

"No"

"We'll go with friends then." McCoy scowls. "Now, get off to your dorm before I change my mind about reporting you."

The door hisses shut as Kirk leaves but McCoy catches the "See you tomorrow Bones."

McCoy cleans up the exam room and settles back at his desk. It must really be late and he must really be dumb. He massages his temples...who in their right mind decides to be around a person who has done something bad that they feel the apologize at every turn? Not sane people.

Obviously McCoy is insane.

XXXX XXXX

He's back in his dorm trying to get to sleep before dawn comes and he's losing the battle. And then he finally remembers.

Shit. No wonder Kirk felt guilty.

It was years ago, and he hadn't thought about the incident in years...except every time he walked outside...every time he got on a shuttle...

He had been working in his residency in the ER at the time; some kid had come in, barely more than a teen. And somebody had kicked his ass, his face was bruised, with more bruises scattered down his arms and chest...angry red, and deep purple. New marks on top of old injuries...his eyes had been glazed, some from pain and more from some drug no doubt burning its way through his blood. Fat drops of blood spattered the floor , the rag he was holding against did nothing to stem the flow and the cut underneath was too deep...too deep and deliberate to be an accident.

The kid hadn't said a word when they asked him how it had happened and the shift was so busy they hadn't had a chance to find out more before he somehow slipped away.

McCoy was walking home when he noticed the teen again. He was following him, McCoy was sure of that, and he was also sure it wasn't for a good reason. He thought was about to reach for his comm, when the boy came forward his hand outstretched. "You dropped this." He held the wallet out.

"No I didn't." McCoy made no move to take the wallet even though it was his. "You took that from me and now you're giving it back why?"

The boy's widened at that, the odd shade of blue seeming even more prominent. He turned to run tossing the wallet on the ground. McCoy reached out catching his jacket.

"Let me go! I didn't take anything."

"Then why'd ' you take my wallet in the first place?"

He seemed to be debating how to answer then blurted. "Sometimes people give you some credits if you give it back to them." He straightened up, jutting his chin out a little. "I don't want to be a thief."

McCoy filed that comment away, "I don't want to be a thief" not "I'm not a thief."

"I just want some food."

McCoy thought about his options. He could let the kid go and no doubt he would run off and get into god knew what trouble, he could call the cops and let them sort it all out but then he would have to file a report and that would take a while, or he could bring the boy home and figure out what to do later.

He was tired and it probably wasn't the best option but it was the easiest. "You got somewhere to stay?" He already knew what the kid was going to say but then again..maybe he was wrong.

A long pause, finally. "No".

"What's your name?"

That got an even longer pause and he seemed to stop and start a few times before blurting out like the word was choking him. "J.T."

"How about you come home with me, we'll figure everything else out in the morning, you can spend the night get something to eat."

The offer was tempting, McCoy could tell, but J.T. hesitated. " What do I gotta do for it?"

McCoy knew what he meant...knew that this wasn't the first time he had asked that question of someone and gotten a much worse answer than the one he received now. "Answer some questions." As an afterthought he added "truthfully."

J.T. gave the slightest of nods and McCoy released his jacket. He started walking again, and the teen dropped into pace alongside him.

"Where you from?"

"Earth."

McCoy scowled. "Where on Earth?"

"Midwest America."

"Are we going to have to play twenty questions for me to get a straight answer?" McCoy growled out irritably.

"Maybe."

"I'm trying to help you here."

"Didn't say I needed help did I. And what make you think you can help me anyway?" He glared at McCoy challengingly for a moment before the defiance faded from his eyes and he sighed."Fine you wanna know where I'm from? " He mumbled a burst of coordinates too fast to memorize.

"That's latitude and longitude kid, I want a name and a town, not a string of numbers I can't remember."

J.T. shrugged. "You wanted the truth, I told you. Not my problem you didn't understand it."

Fifteen minutes later all McCoy has gotten for his trouble was similar evasive answers. McCoy considered snatching the piece of cold pizza from his hand before he could take another bite and holding the food hostage for answers...he suspected that was the only way he would ever get anything useful. But the way the kid was attacking the food like he hadn't eaten in days made McCoy feel guilty for just thinking of it.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"What no..." McCoy adopted a mocking voice. "I was born during the winter solstice or some other cryptic crap?"

J.T. snorted at that, nearly choking on the last swallow of pizza he was scarfing down as he laughed. He grinned. "I like you doc."

"My names Leonard McCoy"

"I think I'll stick with doc."

"Because you're a disrespectful little shit right?"

The teen snorted at that and stood up rummaging through the kitchenette cabinets, no doubt looking for something else to eat. "Because I give everyone I like a nickname."

He found a box of cereal and some milk McCoy was going to tell him the milk was probably spoiled but before he could the bottle got tipped in a bowl and followed that with the last of the cereal. He settled back across the table from McCoy. "So if you're a doctor why do you leave in this crappy place?" He gestured with a spoon flecked with milk around the apartment. "Aren't doctors rich?"

"Because I'm a resident and residents are poor. My dad's the big shot doctor with the big bucks, and the fancy vehicles and house to match"

"Huh." Something changed at that and J.T. shifted awkwardly like something was bothering him before blurting out.

"Does your family care about you?"

"What kind of weird question is that?"

"It's not weird." He glanced away. "My mom wouldn't care if something happened to me."

"How about your dad?"

He seemed to consider that then added. "Which one? My real dad is dead...no help there. My step dad would care less than my mom."

"You asking me because you have nowhere to go?"

Kirk shrugged looking shifty. "Yeah maybe."

McCoy sighed. "I'll see what I can do in the morning , but as I said before—"

"Yeah I know I can't stay here. I know. I wasn't asking for a handout." He said the last bit sullenly. Abruptly he asked another question, five minutes and five more questions later McCoy stopped him.

"What's with the Q and A?"

"You asked me everything under the sun, I'm just returning the favour." But after that he clammed up.

When McCoy woke up the next morning J.T. was long gone. Sans a few credits from his wallet and an empty cereal bowl on the counter McCoy would have never known he was there.

He went about his day and a week later the strange teen with the weird blue eyes and dirty blond hair had faded to the back of his memory.

Two weeks after he met J.T. , he never made it back to his apartment. A hypo in his neck, a fake comm message and a few hours of unconsciousness later he woke up freezing and bruised in a cargo bay. He was somewhere in space, he could tell by the feel of the warp engines thrumming beneath the cold decking he was trussed on.

He was held for ransom and threatened with death. His father had refused to cooperate initially, and McCoy was sure—hoped he was—bluffing. But his captors weren't so willing to wait.

Nobody talked to him, it was dark and the only time he saw light was when the door opened for a few seconds occasionally and someone would slide food in.

Days or it could have been weeks later (he had no way of knowing)McCoy was awoken to a strangely familiar voice whispering and quick fingers fumbling with his restraints. He blinked in the darkness finally able to make out the face almost hidden in the shadows. It was J.T. the kid from back on Earth.

"Quick, before they come back." He gestured McCoy to move with a disruptor he held.

McCoy stood on shaking legs. "What are you doing—"

He broke off , there was no need to ask when he already knew...

The teen was speaking again, his words tumbling over each other like he was panicked as he lead the way through twisty corridors of an unfamiliar ship. "They said your dad paid up."

"So they're letting me go?"

J.T. turned back for a moment. "No, they're coming to kill you."

McCoy nearly froze at that but the boy grabbed his arm pulling him through a last threshold. McCoy stumbled as he was shoved onto what he vaguely recognized as a transporter platform. The teen was already keying in something on the transporter.

He couldn't help asking. "Why'd you set me up?"

J.T. hesitated his finger hovering over the last sequence. "Didn't have a choice." He met McCoy's eyes as he said it and the way his eyes burned said he was telling the truth.

McCoy knew now why he had asked all those questions...he was choosing a mark to ransom..."Why don't you leave with me?"

Kirk twisted his neck pulling away his hair, and McCoy noticed for the first time a gleaming neural implant. "I can't." Footsteps were coming nearer and voices yelling in the distance, a look of pure fear flashed across J.T.'s face .Then his fingers were flying across the console and McCoy felt himself dissolve, next thing he knew he was standing in the middle of Atlanta.

McCoy had always wandered who that boy had been and what had happened to him...now he knew.

Note: This is technically apart of a series called. "I Don't Hate you, I just want to save you." However, this sites formating does not allow me to link series or fics...so I'm posting this as a stand 's losely linked in spirit to the chapters (in the after Tarsus fic) Just Lose it, and I can't hate myself more than I do (but I'll try). These fics are all about looking past the bad aspects of someones past to see what they can become. Thanks for reading.