1. Meeting

A/N – And so to the very beginning. Thanks for reading.

Lullaby – Augustana

Little girl why don't you go home,

Back to the place you've always known,

Leave when it's over,

You make this place all new,

Cry on this shoulder but don't turn away,

Swim in the ocean,

And fly into tears

Pretend that it never happened here

Stardate: 2254

Jim: Aged 21

Joanna: Aged 5

The house stood far apart from the others on its road, separated by a large garden and hedges round about. The garden was well manicured – the grass was lush and green, flowers near glowed in the mid-summer heat, and birds chirped in the foliage. It was an idyllic scene, the house, a relic from a distant past, neatly positioned in its centre. Many would have dreamt of such a home on Earth. However, the youngest resident of the property was dreaming of somewhere – anywhere - else. This was largely because the tranquillity of the area was once again being broken by shouts coming from the house. Her parents were arguing again. Henry, her mother's special friend, had escaped, leaving the house in a rush some hours ago. She had no such luck and had instead found sanctuary in her favourite place – the treehouse in the large oak her dad had built for her last summer. She swung her legs over the edge and surveyed the world from her lofty height, wondering when it would finally be over. She didn't get to see her dad very often since he'd joined Starfleet, and she really hoped that he had time to take her out before it got dark and she had to go to bed. Or not even out – she wouldn't even mind sharing the treehouse with him. He used to always play with her out in the garden when he was still living at home. Or sometimes they'd lie on the grass and he'd tell her stories of people and places he'd seen long before she was born. He still told her stories now – he wrote to her every week, and she made her mom read his words as many times as she could before she got fed up – but it wasn't the same as hearing his voice.

A soft mew drew her notice, and the small black cat butted his head against her arm in a bid for attention.

"Where've you been, Khan?" The cat miowed and settled itself on her lap ready for petting. She'd made friends with the cat a few months ago – her mom wouldn't let her have pets of her own but he was a secret. He'd turned up one day, scrawny and unkempt, a stray that certainly wasn't from their area. He'd been wary of her at first, but she'd left out some tuna for a few days and he'd come round. Now, although he still went missing for a few days at a time, and sometimes mysteriously returned with cuts and scratches, she had decided that he was her cat. She'd named her Khan after a story about a Klingon her dad had told her once. She stroked his stomach and the cat purred contentedly, settling more comfortably on her and shutting his eyes.

"Well, at least I've got you." It was nice to have one friend, even if it was a cat. Her mom wouldn't let her play with the other kids in the area. She didn't like the other parents, and was worried that the children would be a bad influence on her. She had to be contented to watch them from her treehouse as they played games that she could only dream of taking part in.

Suddenly, Khan sat up, hairs bristling. "What's wrong?" She asked him absently, following his line of sight down the road.

For a moment she saw nothing. Then a figure appeared in her line of sight. She raised her hand against the sun and squinted. It was a man – a Human man, moving funny as he walked like an old person. He didn't look old though, he looked quite young. His hair was brown and he didn't have any of the lines on his face that her dad did. He had an arm wrapped round his middle as if he was in pain. She wondered what he was doing here. She didn't think anyone like him would have walked up this street before. Maybe he was lost? She saw a curtain twitch in the house opposite. Mrs. Ipotu was watching, no doubt. She wondered whether she'd help the lost man, but then, probably not. She liked to spy on people, but never left her house. Joanna liked to spy on her spying on people sometimes. For someone who liked watching others, she sure didn't like others watching her. No, she'd just watch, and write it down on her padd that she kept. The rest of the street was still and silent, as if holding its breath, and she found herself holding hers too.

The man was getting closer. She wondered if she should help him. But she wasn't allowed to leave the garden. That was the RULE, and Joanna wasn't allowed to break the RULE. Not a rule that both her parents agreed upon, anyway. Khan broke the silence was a loud miow that made her jump, then leapt off her lap and retreated into the treehouse. Clearly the stranger was making him nervous. There was a little part of her that was a bit nervous too, but the rest of her was feeling excited. She didn't get to watch strangers very often, and this one was interesting.

The man limped up the road, until, much to her surprise, he stopped outside her front gate. He was looking at the house, her house, with a frown. He opened the gate unsteadily and stepped through, then paused. In a sudden movement, he looked up into the treehouse where she was hiding. She squeaked and flew backwards. Had he seen her? Did he know she was there? Maybe he was one of the bad men her mother was always warning her about – one of the scary ones that would take any opportunity to steal her. She sat motionless for a moment, expecting to hear him climbing the rope ladder, waiting for him to come and get her. When there was only silence her courage flared into place again and she crawled forwards across the wooden floor.

The man was lying, motionless, on the lawn. His eyes were shut, his face pale. She watched him for a while but he made no movement. Was he dead? She began to feel guilty that she'd thought he was a bad man. Quietly she began to climb down her ladder. She paused on the ground, ready to run if he moved, but he didn't. She approached him slowly and cautiously, like Khan had with the tuna in their early days, ready to flee at any provocation. She looked down at him from her lofty height and realised that his shirt was red and wet. It must be blood – she'd split her head open a few months ago, and they'd been a lot of it on her top too. He was breathing with heavy breath like he'd just been running really fast. She was pretty sure that she should go and get her dad, but, in a sudden flare of courage, she poked him with a shoe. He groaned, his eyes fluttering open. They were the bluest eyes that she'd ever seen. She took a step back, just in case, and peered down at him.

"Are you lost?"

He stared at her for a moment, but there was no real anger on his face. Then he gave her the most brilliant smile. "Not now."

"Oh." She wasn't sure what that meant. It must be a grown-up thing. She indicated to his soaked shirt. "Is that blood?"

He chuckled breathlessly. "It feels like it."

"Oh."She frowned at him in thought. "I should get my dad."

"Your dad?" The man was silent for a moment, as if listening to her parents fighting in the house. Then his eyes opened wider suddenly, as if he'd worked something out. He gave her a sympathetic look. It made her a bit nervous, but he smiled at her again reassuringly, and she found herself moving closer to him. "What's your name?"

"Joanna McCoy."

The man laughed suddenly, as if this was some sort of joke. "Incredible."

She frowned at him. She didn't see what was incredible. He was making no sense. Maybe he was a crazy man, lying on her lawn covered in blood. He was still watching her with amusement in his eyes and it made her reproachful. "You scared away my cat."

The man's eyebrows rose, but he gave her a contrite look. "Sorry."

She shrugged. "That's ok. He's only my cat sometimes."

"What's his name?" He appeared to be interested. She liked that.

"Khan."

The man started to laugh again, but held his stomach hard. His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. "Joanna?"

"Yes?" She was pleased he'd remembered her name.

The man had shut his eyes again. "Could you get your dad for me?"

"Okay."

"Thanks kid."His voice was slurred, almost a whisper. She would have told him she didn't like being called kid - Henry called her that – but his head had slumped suddenly, and she didn't think he was listening.

She ran across the grass and let herself in through the back door. Her parents were still shouting in the living room, and she stood in the doorway, waiting until they noticed her.

Her dad recognised her presence first. He paused, mid-word, and the angry look on his face softened. "Joanna?"

Her mom was still scowling. "See Leonard? You've upset your daughter now. See what happens when you just turn up here?"

He rolled his eyes, but ignored her. "Is everything alright? I was just coming out to find you." He gave her a small smile.

She wondered if that was true. "There's a man bleeding outside." She told him frankly.

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "Come on then." He picked up his bag, then took her hand and walked out without a backwards glance at his ex-wife. She had the feeling he was happy to have an excuse to leave. She could feel her mom bristle behind them, but she kept silent for once. Saving it for later, probably. Joanna wasn't looking forward to tonight.

Her dad took one look at the prone form on the grass and scowled. "Unbelievable." He dropped her hand and hurried to his side. She followed him quickly, standing beside him as he knelt on the ground.

"Open your eyes, you idiot." He sounded annoyed, but Joanna could hear that he was worried too, like the way he was when she was sick.

The man groaned, but obediently opened then. "Bones, good to see you." His voice was faint, like he was half-asleep. So he knew her dad? He wasn't lost then? His eyes flickered shut again and her dad swore under his breath.

"Who's Bones?" She asked curiously as her dad began to scan the man.

"Me. It's an annoying nickname." He frowned at the man but his hands were gentle as he pushed up his shirt and began to probe the wound. That was her dad really – he was loud and grumpy all the time, but he was never really mean, not even to her mom. She might only be little, but she was big enough to know that everything that her mom told her about him might not be true. "Pass me the dermal regenerator, Joanna."

She peered into his bag and pulled out the stick. She'd known most of his equipment by sight since she was three. She handed it to him.

"Who is he?" She asked as the wound knit itself together neatly.

He dad sighed and wiped his hands. "This is James T. Kirk. His friends call him Jim."

"He's your friend?"

"I know him from the Academy, yes." She'd never met one of her father's friends before. She studied him closely. Colour was returning to his face, making him look healthier. He was well-muscled – she could see that from his arms and stomach. He must do lots of exercise. He had a scar over his left breast, crescent shaped. Joanna had never seen a real scar before and itched to touch it, but didn't quite dare. She also noticed that he had a knife tucked into his pants and wondered why. He couldn't be a bad man if he was her dad's friend – but only bad men carried knives. That's what her mom said. The more she looked at him, the more interesting she found him. She prodded him gently as her dad went through his bag.

"Are all your friends so odd, dad?"

Her father gave her an amused look. "Odd?" He snorted. "Probably." He gave the man a hypospray and he opened his eyes with a start. Her dad patted him on the shoulder. "Stay still, Jim. You're not fit to get up yet."

"You always say that." Jim muttered.

"And you never are." He scowled as Jim pulled himself to sitting position with clenched teeth. "What the hell happened?"

Jim grinned wanly. "I ran into Hyland and some friends."

Her dad shook his head. "I thought I told you not to go near him. Hell, Jim, you know he has it in for you. Do you have a death wish or something?"

Jim's grin widened and her dad rolled his eyes. "Actually, I don't want to know. How did you find me?" Jim shrugged and her dad sighed. "I suppose I don't want to know that either."

"You probably don't." The man agreed.

"Well, you managed to make a nice mess of yourself. Disruptor would be my best guess."

"You're right – he pulled it out of nowhere. I only just managed to get away. Luckily I realised I was in the area and thought I'd pay you a visit."

"Luckily? Hell, Jim, you almost bled to death!"

Jim snorted, but glanced in her direction. "Don't be melodramatic. Now I should go. I think there's a hoard behind me, and I don't want to lead them here."

"You can't leave like this!"

"Watch me." He pulled himself to his feet with nothing but a wince. "Nice daughter, by the way." Her dad seemed to suddenly remember her presence, and frowned, moving slightly between them. "She doesn't seem much like you though – she's much more polite for a start." He flashed her that smile again, and she returned it shyly. She couldn't help but like him. He was just so different from anyone she'd ever met. Plus, he hadn't told her dad about Khan. She was a bit relieved about that. "It was nice to finally meet you, Joanna McCoy."

She nodded seriously. "You too."

"Goodbye." He saluted them both with a grin, then let himself through the gate and began to walk back up the road.

Her father watched his retreating form with a solemn expression. She felt worried suddenly. What if something happened to him? What if those men found him again and shot him and he was hurt and all alone?

"Dad?" He glanced down at her. "Will he be alright?"

Her dad chuckled and put an arm around her, squeezing her to him. "Joanna, the first thing you have to learn about Jim Kirk is that he's always okay. He's the luckiest man alive." She smiled, feeling reassured. It must be nice to be so lucky. She wished she was. Then she'd get to have her dad here all the time, and meet more of his friends. "Now, let's go get some ice-cream before your mother notices."

She grinned, took his hand, and let him lead him from the cage that was her home.