Boomz People! Have I mentioned that I love you people? Well, in case I haven't, I love you all to death! You know this was meant to be a one-shot, and it's all your wonderful reviews that's convinced me to continue, and I want you all to know that it means a lot when you take time off to write something and let me know what you want.

Also, this fic is largely unplanned, so everything will go according to what the general review-consensus is. I'm writing it out as we go along, so you need to let me know what you think and where you'd like it to go, then you'll probably get what you want. Hopefully that made sense. If it didn't, nevermind.

I still own nothing, and am a broke college student making no profit from this.

P.S. Also, some people asked for Winona's reaction or thoughts at the conversation she had with Jim. So that's the beginning part. The bit after that is the equivalent of 'what happened next'. And, forgive me for my lack-of-knowledge of US weather. I don't live there, and am taking liberties like they're going out of style.

"Hello?" she asked into the receiver, cautiously. She wasn't sure it was the right number, wasn't sure if it was a good time, wasn't sure if he'd recognise her, wasn't sure if he would talk to her once he found out. She wasn't sure of more things than she could count, and sure of only one; she wanted this. She needed to make contact, if only to save her soul when she died.

There was chatter in the background as if he was at a party or something.

"Yeah, hi. Who's this?" His voice was polite and calm, the voice one uses when speaking to a stranger. Which was what, she effectively was.

"Hey, Jim." She really didn't know what to say. She'd planned it all out—she'd convince him that he still needed a mother (well, not really, he was twenty-four, but…) and that she did love him and she wanted to know him. But she didn't know exactly how she'd convince him. She hadn't banked on him responding, come to think of it. She'd plotted out a monologue.

"Sorry, do I know you?" He was still unfailingly polite and she wondered where he'd learnt it. She was supposed to have been the one who taught him all that, but she didn't remember doing any such thing.

"Yeah. Jim. It's me. Uh. Winona." She hated sounding so unconfident. She had wanted to impress him, you know, first impressions and stuff. Instead it was coming out like some kind of joke, like she wasn't even sure of her own damn name.

She could feel him freeze. There was a sudden silence on the other side, all background chatter stopped. She wondered what had happened, and only began feeling uncomfortable when he replied, "Ma?"

She could hear the wind howling around him, like he'd moved outside the house into the unforgiving San Francisco winter. He was quiet, and soft, but not friendly anymore. Only then did she register his usage of her title. She probably didn't deserve it, and he knew it, using it only as a title with no endearment.

"Yeah. It's me." And silence. They both didn't know what to say and she felt worse because she'd called him.

"Listen, Jim." She heard a man yelling to get his ass back inside before he froze to death, and felt a pang of sorrow. She should have been the one saying that. She didn't remember once showing concern for Jim's wellbeing when he was young, and now someone else had taken her place. "Looks like you've got a real family, now."

He didn't deny it. "Yeah." The word was bitter, like the cold, and angry.

"I don't know how to say this, because everything I say seems so insignificant and immature, but I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." She knew it sounded so cliché, even when she'd said it in her head, but she had to say it. She had to try.

He was still silent for a long time, before saying, "yeah."

"Jim, please don't. Please don't shut me out." She was begging and Jim almost gave in because no matter what Nyota said he couldn't imagine being to one to hurt someone when it was in his hands, least of all his mother.

But even though she knew this, she also knew that it wasn't fair. She had let her son be hurt, and had even hurt him herself. She shouldn't even ask for mercy, let alone expect it.

"Ma, look. I can't do this right now." His voice cracked as if dry or as if he was crying.

She suddenly felt a surge of rage; god damn the universe for taking away her time with this boy. She wanted it back, all of it, and if not, as much as she could get. Why wasn't he agreeing? "Then when, Jim?" she demanded, trying to convince him that there was no time like the present. Surely nothing could be more important, right?

He seemed to get angry, very fast.

"Look, I don't know. I've been trying to get over it—no, I've been trying to forget it, for my whole life, Ma. I can't sleep at night, because of what happened on Tarsus, and you can't expect me to forgive that so easily, because you sent me there even though there were rumors of stuff going wrong." She let him go on, knowing that she wasn't indulging him but finding out what she had actually done. Finding out the damage inflicted from the point of view of the victim.

"You know I was on the last shuttle there. You didn't care. You never cared, even when the problem was closer to home, like Frank. You always pretended what he did was for my benefit, but you—you don't know what he did to me. If that was for my benefit, I have no reason to live my life anymore because I stop people from doing that," and the words hurt. It wasn't that they weren't true, it was that they were perfectly true, and that he knew so much, and it was so clear she couldn't imagine why she herself hadn't seen it back then.

"You can't expect me to just pretend nothing happened, because stuff happened, and I don't know how it changed me. I might even have been normal if—if—" but he found he couldn't choke the words out. "It's not okay. The bridge is burnt and I don't know if I can fix it. I'm not a child anymore, Ma. I can't forgive something so easily when it hurt me so much."

"For so long, my whole childhood, I wondered why you hated me and what I'd done. Everything I did, every second of every day was in hope of finding something that would make you forgive me. I didn't care what happened to me, in the hope that you'd forgive me for whatever I'd done. Can you imagine what it felt like when I found that my only sin was to have been born? I have to take care of me, now."

He was almost yelling at her, and she was almost crying. It was understandable, expectable, even. She needed him to be mad at her, so she could feel that some bit of her debt had been paid. But he sighed and soothed himself, and she hated that she hadn't had the same control as he did.

Still silence, except for the gentle rush of his breath.

"I know, Jim. I know. I'm sorry that I made—that I screwed up, honey, but I'm just trying to say that I—I'm growing old, Jim, and before I die I need to have your forgiveness because it's the only way I can die peacefully."

She'd admit it. She'd even admit her selfish reasons, just please let him forgive her, or at least try. She was doing her best, and she didn't know what else she could do to fix her son.

Suddenly she heard the whisper of his name on the other side. It was a male voice, different from the one who had yelled at him to go inside. Smoother, and deeper. "Jim," and she was filled with fear. Had this entire conversation been overheard? Would he show it to other people? Would he have her jailed? What would he do? Why was he doing this?

"Jim, is someone there with you? Jim are we on speakerphone?" She had to ask, terrified. He sighed.

"Ma, Spock's with me. No, we're not on speakerphone." He sounded exasperated. He hated that she sounded so condescending even when she was asking for forgiveness.

Maybe she knows no other way, Spock's mind reminded him. He nodded unconsciously.

"What's he doing there? Don't you have holidays?" Sometimes, she thought, Starfleet could be so horrible. She had worked with them for a while, until after George die—until after Jim was born. Contrary to popular belief, starships weren't friendly places to be. It was like an office, just that it flew at light speed. Politics and backstabbing, she'd hated it. She's felt like a new-born in a pit of vipers. And on top of that, she was stuck with them for five years when she got pregnant, and it had been so horrible.

She could imagine, her poor boy being bullied into office parties by the high-ups in the fleet.

"Ma, I was having a party when you called." His voice was patient, as if dealing with a child. She couldn't understand why he wasn't more outraged.

"So why is your first officer there? Is it a work party?" she wanted him to understand that he could come home during the holidays, and spend some time with her. He didn't have to stay there. First he had to admit it; he was working himself to death, she just knew it.

"Ma, Spock's my best friend. Then Bones, my CMO, then Uhura the Head Comm. Officer, Sulu the Pilot, Chekhov the Navigator, Scotty the Engineering Head these are my friends. We stick and we're lucky we even got a chance to have a private party." He sounded bitter, and she took that as a sign that he wanted a break but wasn't getting one. She made a triumphant sound.

"So it's a work party."

"Ma, don't you dare presume anything about my life. They're my family, and I'm celebrating with them. They're my only family," he spat, sounding pissed. It just occurred that he was pissed at her, not at them. Maybe he was right, and she didn't know anything anymore. Maybe they were close, really that close. She sighed. She was out of touch.

"Of course. I'm sorry it's just that Captain Robau was never as close to anyone on his crew on the Kelvin, even though he'd known your father four years." She tried to explain to him her reasoning, and her understanding of 'fleet rules. It was the first time she'd ever spoken to him about his father. She couldn't remember anything like it in the past.

He sighed, a resigned sort of sound.

"Jim, I get that I don't know you much. Or at all. But I want to. I want to connect, and they do say better late than never, right?" she hoped it was working. She hoped he'd listen to her, as his mother and stuff. Maybe the conventional wisdom would have an impact? And he'd see that it was right to fix things?

"Yeah, yeah okay." His tone told her he wasn't impressed, but for some reason was still agreeing to this thing. She couldn't care less about the why. She was just glad he'd agreed.

She felt chipper as she said, "Great, Jimmy," but he cut her off.

"Don't call me that." He sounded helplessly angry, tired. She didn't know why. Maybe it made him feel like a child again. She hoped he understood he'd always be her son.

"Uh, okay. Jim, then. Great, I'll call soon, okay?"

He hmmed and she left it at that. She couldn't expect anymore, really.

So the phone clicked off and she sat down, filled to the brim with a sense of satisfaction at having made progress. She hoped it would all go well, and hoped it was the right move, and picked up the phone to book shuttle tickets to San Francisco.

Heys everyone! I know this is as long as a normal chapter, but it's just the other POV of the last chapter, so here's the next one!

Two days later…

Winona wasn't fool enough to assume Jim would let her live with him. They were practically strangers, and he was kind hearted, but not stupid. So she'd booked a room for herself in a hotel just outside the academy. She'd arrived a day prior, and was getting used to the area and telling herself she wasn't scared of meeting him.

In hindsight she should have called, but it was too late for that, and he'd most likely have said no.

So she was sitting in a bar on the premises which looked to be the most lively place in the whole campus. She'd been lucky, finding herself a small booth in the corner before it got too crowded. Now the whole room was packed, people standing and chatting, cradling drinks. She wondered if it was like this everyday, before remembering it was Friday night. She'd spent every Friday night like this with George in the academy, in a club which used to stand on the very floor she stood on now.

She didn't notice him enter, but a man came and standing beside her asked, "Is the seat taken?"

He was a good bit younger than her, in his late-thirties while she was in her late forties, fifty next year. But he was handsome in a roguish way and once people reached a certain age, good conversation was hard to find. She shook her head with a smile, knowing she probably still had it. She hadn't allowed the alcohol to settle on her hips and had taken care of her teeth. She definitely still had it.

He grinned and sat down, taking off his hat. He was already nursing a mint julep, and she'd just noticed but he spoke with a slight southern drawl. He sipped his drink, put down his glass and held out his hand. Okay, so he wasn't interested in sex. That was fine by her.

She took the proffered hand and said, not sure if she'd be heard over the din, "My name's Winona."

"Name's Leonard, but you can call me Bones. Friend of mine re-christened me and it's stuck like a cat on fly-paper." He was still smiling good-naturedly. Bones… reminded her of something, but she couldn't place her finger on it.

"Nice to meet you. What are you doing out here this Friday night?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't be insulted because she didn't mean to.

"I'm a doctor for the 'fleet. I enjoy my drinks and can't normally drink because I'm surrounded by idiots who can't keep themselves out of trouble. So I locked them up and I'm having myself a good drink before I ship out. And what finds a fine lady like yourself in this place?"

"My son's—" She was about to say 'Jim Kirk', but wasn't entirely sure if she should, because she knew he'd be neck-deep in politics so… "he's in the fleet and I'm here to visit him."

"And he left you here, alone?" the doctor looked outraged.

"Well, he doesn't know I'm here. I haven't told him. Me'n'my son aren't on good terms. I wasn't a really good mother," she confessed, hoping she could just talk to him. He seemed very friendly, and in her experience it was easiest to spill your soul to strangers.

He nodded as if he understood. "Me—I got divorced when my little girl was just two and a half. She's eight now, and her mother won't let me see her much. Says it's not good for her to be exposed to a person who's not constantly around. I know how you feel."

"Well, that wasn't in your hands. I know it probably doesn't help but it's not your fault. It was between you and your wife, and she made that into something between you and your girl. For me…" She sighed. Maybe she shouldn't do this. He seemed to sense it.

"Miss, I don't know you and you don't know me, but from one parent to another, what could you possibly have done that you can't forgive yourself for? I'm sure your kid's forgiven you by now."

She shook her head. "He'll never forgive me, because what I did was horrible. You see, my husband died on the U.S.S. Kelvin," and the mans' eyes narrowed, "and my son looked too much like him. I couldn't stand to look at him, couldn't bear him as the reminder of what I'd lost. I never realised that I'd been given something wonderful at the same time he'd died. I always thought I'd have exchanged his life for my husbands'." She was careful to never use their names, but knew it was bound to slip out and she hoped he didn't notice after his second julep.

"Then I sent him to Tarsus."

"Holy fuck."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Wait, wait. Your husband died on the Kelvin, right? And you gave birth to a son on the spot? And you sent him to Tarsus? You're Jims' mother, aren't you?" She froze. He knew Jim by his first name. He was close to Jim. Fuck.

He seemed to know what she was thinking. He pushed away his half-empty glass and took a deep breath. "My name is Leonard McCoy, and I'm Jim's CMO and best friend, ma'am." He paused. "Why have you come here?" He made it sound like she was invading some foreign territory that was off limits. Gone was the handsome young man who had only just been flirting with her; this was a Starfleet officer, and more than that this was Jim's best friend.

She looked at the table and fiddled with her hands before answering. "I need to make up with him. I need him to know that I do love him, do love him now." She tried to sound as if she wasn't convincing herself along with him, and probably failed. He gave her a scrutinizing look.

"So you didn't love him then."

It was a little too close for comfort, and despite knowing that she should probably be nice to this guy if she wanted to get to Jim, she snapped, "That's out of line, mister," in her best professional bitch voice.

He smirked. "Lady, you don't want to even contemplate how bitchy I can get. That's not gonna work. I know you called, even though Jim didn't tell me. Anything to do with you turns him so off, it's not funny. So you called him to make nice, and decided to pop by to scare the shit out of him?" Judging by the look on her face, he'd hit the nail on the head.

"I don't think so. I know you haven't told him 'cuz Jim hasn't told me. I don't intend for you to ruin the rest of his hard-earned leave, because I care for him and love him like a brother."

She tried to process in which universe some random friend of Jims' could tell her what the fuck to do and what to not do. She felt her blood-pressure rising as she stood up.

"I don't give a fuck who you are, Doctor, but I will have you arrested if you continue harassing me this way." Silence fell around them, her words echoing slightly. She almost smirked, but that would have given her away.

The bar-tender made his way through the crowd, a plump-ish man with high coloring, who looked to be only five years younger than her. "Whut's guin on here?" he asked, accent very obvious. The doctor smirked.

"Hey, Scott. Guess who this is."

"Who?" he asked, studying Winona's face from beside the Doctor. He was absently polishing a glass. People around them were still watching.

"This here, is Winona Kirk." McCoy was still smirking, and she knew he'd had the ace all along.

He stopped polishing the glass. "Well, I'll be blown." He suddenly spun around and demanded from the silently watching crowd, "Well, don'tcha peeple have anything bettah tah do?" They went back to their business, knowing Scott and how he'd handle stuff. He was, after all, in charge. "Lass, prettey as yah may be, I dunt accept peeple like yah in heyr. I dunt know why yahr heyr, but Jimmy's mah CO, and ah love him lyke a bruther. He's nevah told me whut yeh did, but I'm smaht enuf to put two un two togethah. Ah'll leave Bonesey heyr tah deal with yeh. Bones. See yuh tonight?"

McCoy nodded, smiling. "So now, you see, ma'am. Jim has far too many people who love him to be weak to that kind of attack. And I'm no idiot either. He's better off without you, and I'm sorry," and for a bit he genuinely looked sorry, "I know you would have gained something by making peace with him, but can you imagine how that'd destroy him? A living reminder of his childhood? It's taken a whole damn crew plus others to convince the man that he is worth the money spent on his clothes, he has such serious confidence issues, I'm sure you can guess," and she could. "I'm not going to let that resurface. And don't try going behind my back either. I'm ready for that."

She just glared at him, lost for words. She slammed her glass down and walked out the door, and McCoy made his way over to Scotty to let him know they might have a problem.

----------------

Okay, whoa. That was one long baby. To start off, I think people will have a problem with the way Bones was in this one, but let me hold my ground on this.

He's Jim's brother-by-bond, and his physician and psychologist. He knows Jim inside and out, and really, if he could help it, do you think he'd let that kind of reminder get anywhere near Jim? I don't think so.

I think he'd be the first in the wall between Jim and Winona, and if you remember Jim never agreed to meeting Winona face-to-face, because that would be seriously detrimental to his well-being. (REVIEW!!!)

I'm sorry for my awful Scottish accent, no offense to anyone out there. I'm just making it up as I go along, so sorry 'bout that! I hope people can accept my version of Bones and if anyone sees any way to improve on him, please let me know. REVIEW!!!

Loads of Love,

Lady Merlin

P.S. Sir Gawain of Camelot, I hope this Bones is still good! Let me know?