A/N: I haven't uploaded any form of story for a while and I've got some I really need to be updating XP but this came into my head when watching Star Trek 2009. Because I adore the George watching over his son idea. I suppose this could be better or something, but it's just kind of a short sweet little thing, so I hope you enjoy it.
I do not own Star Trek or its characters!
It was one of those days. They did not occur often, at least twice a year, sometimes less. But they happened. And George Kirk blamed many people for these days, but mostly he wanted to blame himself.
On the star ship, in the vast expanse of space, George watched unbeknown to the young man curled up on the bed. The live human did not cry; he sat still and staring, knees pulled up to his chest and arms constricted tightly around them. His eyes, though not letting the tears escape, were red-rimmed. His beloved ship was suffering damage from an engagement with a hoard of any Klingons. They were safe now.
James Kirk hid his feelings about his father underneath many layers, refusing to confide in anyone. Whether there was anyone available anyways. There had never been anyone before, and Jim refused to believe there ever would be. He had worked through life in a pattern of recklessness and a devil-may-care attitude. But George would never blame his son for the way he behaved. He could only blame the people that were supposed to care for his son. The women who was never home, who married the abusive alcoholic, without caring to pay more attention.
While Winona had given George both his sons, one whom he had never been able to raise, he felt a furious bubble rising in his chest at her actions everything time he saw or thought of them. All George wished for, was that someone would come be there for his son, to guide him and care for him. George himself could not be there for him physically, but he could still love Jim. Love him with all his heart and soul as the son that he gave his life for struggled through the hell that Frank caused for him and his brother. For years, Sam was there to keep Jim going, bandage his injuries and take the brunt of the punishments.
And then, Sam left. Ran away from home, leaving Jim alone with the gorilla of a man. George knew deep down that he could never forgive his eldest son for that, no matter how much he loved him, too.
But these days started before Sam left him. When Jim would happen across the old photo of George and Winona sitting together in each other's arms, his eyes would fill to the brim with salty tears and his bottom lip would tremble as he tried to retain any such reactions. There was nothing he could ever do, so why make anything of it?
To James Kirk, he felt weakened by these moments. He never got to know his father, and Sam never said anything about him. Winona refused to speak of George Kirk. Jim believed there was no reason to be upset since he had never met him and no one would tell him anything about this stranger that was his father. Jim tried to remind himself that he cannot miss a man who he never even knew. But there had been a day once, long ago before his childhood went downwards, that Winona told Jim the story as he lay in his bed, fighting sleep to hear the rest of the story. His father did indeed love him. James held that thought close for the rest of his younger days and still, letting that guide him through the hardships.
Now Jim squeezed his eyes shut then reopened, telling himself to be strong as George watched him from across the room, wishing he could cross into a physical form and tell his son he loved him at least one time. Remind him that even when Jim had thought he was completely alone, George was there, watching over him.
Now Jim did indeed wipe at his eyes and unable just stand by anymore, George crossed the room and placed himself at his son's side, sad eyes bearing down on the handsome young man. He was so proud, but near devastated that his son still had to deal with these moments. James Kirk was strong, inside and out.
The intercom chirped and Captain Kirk's First Officer called him to the bridge. Jim replied with a yes and sniffed once, shaking his head a little. George lifted his hand and rested it gently on Jim's shoulder, unable to really feel his son. But for a moment, a fleeting moment, James Kirk looked up right into the ghost eyes of his father. He could not see him, George knew, but he felt him. Watching and protecting.
"I love you, James." The whisper went unheard in the room. Though for a second, Jim's lips quirked up in perhaps a smile, a tiny, barely there smile. Maybe, just maybe George thought, he had somehow heard him.