And here comes the second chapter. Once more I want to stress that this is a slowly building story, and I will spend a lot of time with Jim and Spock being children.

As you may notice, I do not lean on a lot of things that others do. I decided to wing it, and simply go with what feels right.

I hope that you can still enjoy my story.

"Jim, this is the third time you have asked me to join you for 'fun' after school in the last three days. What gives you the impression that my decision will change?" Spock asked, trying to suppress the feeling of light annoyance as he stared at the human boy, trying to keep his face as blank as possible.

"Because three is a lucky number, Spock. One day you will give in, simply to shut me up, I know it. So I'll keep asking, and someday, you'll say yes. "came the cheeky reply from Jim as he smirked at him, waiting patiently as their teacher handed back the math exams they had taken only a day before.

"So you are trying to wear me down." Spock stated, his eyebrows furrowing together ever so slightly like they did so much around Jim. Gracefully the Vulcan accepted the test back, passively looking it over before laying it down in front of him.

"Woah, Spock, you didn't make one mistake. How do you do that? I mean, come on. That's ridiculous." Jim huffed, his own exam being splattered in red ink. "I tell you, this stuff just doesn't make sense. At all. How come it's so easy for you?"

"As I have stated before, Vulcans are in general more intelligent. Also, your failure is conditioned by your constant lack of attention and your refusal to sit down and study. "Spock stated flatly.

"Spock, we already went over the whole 'I'm smarter then you' thing. And I do try to study. It just doesn't make sense. My step dad is going to kill me." He groaned, resting his forehead against the cool wood of his desk. "I don't know what to do anymore. Anything else is easy but this.. this won't ever go into my head."

Spock turned to examine the human sitting next to him. Jim's posture was tense, his shoulders pulled up, his eyes closed. Those always smiling lips were pressed to a thin line. He looked utterly helpless, and pitiful. Spock felt something rise within him. Sympathy. How often had he feared that his father would not be pleased with his achievement, academically or not? How often had he dreaded to return to Sarek with bad news? Of course he would never admit to ever having such feelings, but he could not help but remember how he felt back then.

"Jim." He heard himself say, taking a deep breath, trying to steady the turmoil in him that as about to unravel deep inside him. "I will tutor you, if you stop asking me to 'hang out' as you word it. It will help you improve on your next exam."

The sudden smile on Jim's face almost made Spock flinch. It radiated. A smile Spock only knew from one other person, and he felt some sort of connection.

"You'd do that for me? Awesome, Spock, thank you. We can meet in the library, and you can try and make me understand. You're a good friend." And with that, all seemed well in the world of Jim Kirk.

Spock shook his head in defeat. Not that he disliked Jim. Dislike is an emotion. But Jim Kirk kept surprising him with his words, with his actions, generally anything he did. He had been told humans were irrational and became attached quickly, but Jim barely knew him and was already calling him a friend.

As Spock muttered his usual respond to such a statement, that Vulcans did not have friends, and that he was only doing this to get him off his back, his chest seemed to swell ever so slightly. He, Spock, Son of Sarek, had a friend.

His mother had told him about her friends and while it had always seemed so illogical to Spock, and he still tried to force himself to not feel anything, he was starting to see what a friendship meant, what it could be. He listened to Jim blabbered on, but his mind was wandering.

"Hey, Spock, are you even listening?" Jims question pulled the Vulcan boy from his thoughts.

"I apologize. I was thinking."

"Well, don't think too much or your brain will bust. Anyway, I said that we could meet in the library after we both went home and had lunch. Frank gets cranky when I don't show up for lunch. But after that, we can spend all day trying to make me smarter." The same boyish grin was plastered on his face and Spock sighed once more.

"I will meet you at the library at 3 p.m. , do not be late." And with that, the conversation was once more over, but Jim couldn't hide a small smirk.

School ended too quickly for Jims taste. As he made his way home, the exam in his backpack weighed a ton. He had to get it signed by his so called Step Father. He bit his lower lip. How his mother had thought it a good idea to leave her sons with this bastard was beyond him. Sam was already gone. He was left.

Of course, he could have run as well, but then Frank would have been alone with the only thing Jim had left of his father. The car his father had driven when he was still alive. Frank drove it, of course, but Jim just had a feeling that if he left as well, the car would be sold. His mother had never been able to stand up to Frank.

She had left to space, leaving her sons with the psycho as Jim liked to call Frank.

Frank was rotten from the core, and Jim hated him with a passion. Whenever Frank was drunk, and h was drunk almost all the time, he was so angry. Nothing and nobody was good enough for him in this state, and while Frank was bad when he was just drunk, Jim knew he got worse when he had to sign for another failed exam.

It did not matter that Jim passed everything else with flying colors, that his IQ was already off the charts. It just wasn't good enough. He would scream, grip his arm so much it hurt, and then just shove him out of the kitchen without lunch. A normal routine. A routine Jim had gotten used to long ago.

The worst was the neglect. No one looked after him. Not that he couldn't look after himself, but he always missed his mother's loving touch. The way she'd smile at him, praise him, and put him to bed. But those memories were far away, from a time long gone. All he had left was himself.

And as he walked toward the door, he could already hear the screams echoing in his ears from the last time he had brought home a bad mark. He could still feel those strong fingers curled around his arm, the bruises they left. His steps grew slower.

He wanted to turn and run, run from Frank, his house, everything. He wanted to hide himself away, but there was nowhere to run. No place to hide. He was all alone.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for just a second, before he stepped onto the porch, opened the door and walked in.

Frank was already hitting the bottle pretty hard. Empty glass bottles littered the floor, and Jim shook his head.

"What are you looking at boy?!" The angry voice made Jim jump.

"Nothing, Frank. Just admiring the view."

"You watch your mouth, boy. I told you to call me Sir. Now get over here. Your teacher called, said she needed to talk to me about your grades. Get yer ass over here, boy!"

'Don't feel.' Jim told himself. 'Don't back down.' He walked over to Frank who was standing by the door to the kitchen. 'Just get it over with.'

For once he wished he was like Spock. That he could just not feel. To be as controlled and disciplined as the Vulcan. But he wasn't. He was a human.

Quickly he pulled the exam from his backpack, handing it over to his step-father.

"This is probably what she was talking about, Sir." He said, looking up at Frank as calmly as possible. Frank didn't even take the time to look at the test for more than a second before the bottle in his hand went flying toward the wall.

"You worthless piece of shit! How can one human being be so stupid?! Do you know how that will reflect on me when your mother comes home and her good for nothing son is failing?!" Jim tried to back away slowly, but Frank had already grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him into the kitchen.

Gathering all his courage he spat out "Maybe she'll see what a good for nothing husband she has and throw your ass onto the street where you belong!"

The fist hit him unexpectedly and it took a second for the pain to set in. His lip burnt, burnt like someone was pressing a hot piece of metal onto it. He slowly let his tongue run over it, and his taste buds were greeted by the coppery taste of blood.

"Shut your mouth, you ungrateful son of a bitch! You should be thankful I look after you now that your dad is dead and your mum left you behind!" The anger in the adult's voice dripped off his words like poison.

"She didn't leave me behind, she had to go!" Jim screamed back, struggling against the ever strong grip Frank had on his wrist. "If she had known what a Monster you are, she wouldn't have gone! She would have stayed!"

Frank pulled him over to the table, roughly forcing Jim to lay down on his stomach, pulling out the belt he was wearing, one hand on Jims neck, pressing his cheek against the wood of the table, the other hand holding the belt and pulling down the boys pants.

"Your mother left you because she couldn't stand the sight of you. She left because you look so much like your dear old daddy, and you reminded her that he died saving you. She left because she hates you, hates you just as much as I do. I will teach you how to speak with an adult, boy. You'll regret ever having raised your voice against me. You're gonna learn some respect just like I did, and my father did before me, and my grandfather and so on."

The pain was blinding as the metal hit his skin violently. Jim bit back a scream. No way in hell was he going to let that bastard know how much the biting sting actually hurt. Again and again, the belt came down against his skin, ripping it apart, marking him, over and over. At some point he could no longer hold back the screams. It was too much, too much pain, too much shame, too much hate.

His screams echoed through the empty house, and when Frank was finally done, Jim was sure he would never be able to stand or sit again. His tears were drying on his cheek, and he laid there until he heard Frank disappear out of the front door.

Slowly, the boy with the brilliant blue eyes stood, taking a deep breath to sooth the aching pain he was feeling. Slowly, he let his fingers travel over the hurt flesh, quickly pulling back as he felt something wet connect with the tips of his fingers. Blood. He was bleeding. Jim shook his head.

He didn't have time to pity himself. He needed to get something to eat, and then meet Spock in the library. It was the only thing he could think about. To go see Spock, his friend. Somehow, he felt as if Spock could make it all better. Make his pain go away. He always made him smile. Not that smile he put up for show, but a real smile.

He pulled up his pants just high enough to be able to walk to the bathroom, wetting some toilet paper and gingerly pressing it against his wounds. It burned, but he had to clean off the blood unless he wanted it to dry. Over and over, he tried to clean as much blood off as possible with as little pain possible. It didn't take long for the burning to turn into an even more intense kind of pain, but Jim had no more time. He wouldn't even be able to go through the always empty cabinets in the kitchen in hopes of finding a few crumbs. He had to go.

He pulled up his pants, shouldered his backpack and left. Every step hurt, the fabric rubbing against the raw flesh, making him flinch, pushing tears into his eyes, tears he refused to shed. He was 12 years old, not a baby, almost grown up. He had to keep it together. He had to be strong.

He reached the library 5 minutes late. Spock was already waiting for him at the entrance, his face as blank as usual. Kirk couldn't suppress a whimper at the sight of the person that seemed to be the only light in the entire universe.

Immediately, Spock heads turned to look at the human. His eyes widened. Jim stood, shaking, his lip split, his fingers digging into the strap of his backpack so hard his knuckles stood out white. The face was normally showed such joy and happiness was now screwed up in pain. Jim was rapidly blinking and it took Spock a few seconds to figure out that he was holding back tears.

And then Spock acted in a way that went against everything he stood for. He rushed forward to the boy's aide, a boy he barely knew, grabbing his hand, ignoring the shocks it sent through him, pulling him inside with him.

He had only cried once in his life, and he had not only felt awful, but also embarrassed and ashamed. He was sure Jim didn't want to be seen like this, either. He rushed them to the bathroom, pulling Jim relentlessly behind him, the whimpers behind him making the hairs at the back of his neck stand at attention.

When they had finally reached their destination, Jim was in tears. Sobbing, whimpering, tears spilling down his cheek in a never ending stream, as he stared at Spock, ragged breaths shaking his body. Spock simply held Jims hand. He didn't know what to do, and it aggravated him. He was angry that he could not help this stranger, and he did not know why.

Suddenly, he remembered what his mother had done when he was much smaller and in pain. He didn't think about it a second longer, quickly wrapping his arms around the shaking figure, holding him in a stiff hug.

"Spock…Oh god.. Spock…" Jim whimpered, slender fingers digging into the Vulcans jacket as he wept into it.

"Jim…" Spock answered his voice barely above a whisper as he held him. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? What would his mother have done? Spock wrecked his brain, tried to find something he could say or do to stop Jim from crying, to make him feel better, but there was nothing he knew of. He had never seen an emotional reaction this severe.

So he simply stood there, holding Jim, his friend, as he cried. It seemed like hours, hours spent crying, and it got harder and harder to bear.

But then, the sobs grew quieter, the shaking came to an end, and finally, Jim went quiet. Just as Spock thought he had made it, that Jim was done being emotional and they could carry on where they had left off after school, he felt the boy slump down in his arms.

"Jim..?" he asked, hating that his voice shook ever so gently. But Jim didn't react. "Jim?" He asked again, louder this time, but once more he did not receive a reply. Slowly, he pulled back, still holding Jim upright. His eyes were closed, his breathing was even, his face peaceful. It wasn't until then that Spock realized that Jim, the one that had called him a friend, had passed out in his arms.

Please let me know what you think. The third chapter will be up sometime today or tomorrow.

Yours faithfully,

Akikofuma