Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, and nor do I make an profit from this.

Hello! I hope the wait was worth it! This is my longer chapter so far! You guys are so lucky. There are a few things I would like to say before I let you guys read.

1) This is beta-ed by bookworm-4-ever2012, who had offered to help me. I would like to thank her.

2) The F-bomb is dropped about 12 times in this chapter alone, compared to the whole 13 times for the entire story. I believe it would be best if I raise the rating on this.

3) There are a few Irish influences in here. The Temple Night Bar's name have been influenced by the Temple Bar in Dublin. Bulmers is a drink in Ireland, and it is sold in America under a different name, Magners, but i have decided to use Bulmers instead, because that was the name it was first served under.l.

I do hope you enjoy it!

Updated

Chapter 6:

Hang them All

"Dammit!" Jim yelled as he hammered his finger once again. It should be noted that Jim wasn't the best at being handy, so it was probably a good thing that he was a bartender. He knew more about drinks than most people, including most bartenders, who should know about alcohol. "OUCH!"

Pulling back his finger, there was nothing holding up the wood, and it fell on his foot. Now, that wouldn't be a problem, if there weren't a nail sticking out of it and if it hadn't pierced his foot. On the plus side, it wasn't a long enough nail nor did it have enough momentum to go all the way through his foot, but it still went in 3 quarters of an inch. Without thinking, he yanked the nail out of his foot, which resulted in him biting down on his lip. Placing half of his weight against the part of the fence that wasn't broken, he pulled himself into a standing position as the blood filled his shoe. "Mother F-" he bit down again on his already bleeding lip.

He wasn't buzzed, and he certainly wasn't drunk, when he drove his bike into the fence. He had only a couple of beers, but considering he wasn't a lightweight, they didn't affect him or so he told himself. If that were the truth, he wouldn't have driven his bike into the wooden fence that lined his driveway. The good thing was that he wasn't going fast enough to damage his bike; however, that couldn't be said about the old shabby fence, which fell like dominoes in a row. Five yards needed to be repaired, which Jim wasn't too happy. He still had to fix the roof, which should've been completed already, but his inexperience hindered him. It took twice as long to fix anything, and it only served to irate him more. He had other things to worry about like trying to get out of that Federation receptions. A simple 'no' wouldn't work with his mother, having already tried that on several occasions. She wouldn't take no for an answer; nevertheless, he would still try it.

There was nothing that interested the retired starship Captain. He was sick of this house and everything that it stood for. He hated it. He downright hated it, and if he didn't have his ego, he would be gone. He wasn't going to show Starfleet or his stepfather that they were right. They weren't. "How do I get myself into these things?" he asked himself. He wasn't talking about the accident, but rather how did he get himself in this spot. Why was he always the screw up? Everything he ever did blew up in his face, and he was left with nothing, but he should've been used to it, considering it was all he ever knew. He came into the world with nothing, and fate made sure he continued life with nothing.

He limped back to his house, using the wobbly fence for support. It could barely support his weight. He groaned at the thought of having to replace the whole fence; having not finished the roof, he didn't need another large task. The fence stopped a few feet from the house, and he was left to hop the rest of the way as his foot couldn't support his entire weight. "This is nothing." As a trained Starfleet officer, he could handle the pain, and during his time as Captain, he had been injured many times. This injury didn't compare.

Jim dragged himself into his porch and into the house. Limping his way to the kitchen for the first aid kit, he returned to the living room shortly. The living room was littered with clothes, and papers were spread across the room. Plates laid on several surfaces across the space. The room was a complete mess, but Jim just didn't care. He had other things on his mind to worry about. He hadn't had the time to clean his house, with his job and the outside to worry about. It could also be that he didn't feel like it. He was a man after all.

Sucking on his bloody lip, he pulled off the left shoe and sock to reveal his bloody foot. Wiping off the blood with a wet nip, he examined the hole in his foot. He knew he should call Doctor Martin, but he was a grown man and didn't need a damn doctor to look over this tiny wound. The bleeding had slowed, and he could take care of it himself, having taken care of other injuries. While reaching for the alcohol to disinfect it, he felt himself curse. He hated the very idea of wasting alcohol, but he had no one to blame but himself. It strung as he poured the alcohol onto his foot. He reached for the kit and pulled out a large Band-Aid and some disinfectant cream. He carefully applied the cream and wrapped his foot. Scooping up the first aid kit, he placed it on an end table, too lazy to walk back to the kitchen.

Picking up his bloody shoe, he headed to his room to freshen up for work. He had a long day ahead of him, and he had only a few days before they headed off into space, which meant he only has a few days to think of a way to get out of it, in case a simple no continued to fail. He was 26-year-old man, and if he didn't want to go, he didn't have to. But his mother was stubborn. She would do everything in her power, not that she had much, to make Jim go. He wasn't sure what she had planned, but he knew it couldn't be good. If he had to guess, he would guess that she would drug him and drag him on that ship, and after he was in space, he couldn't escape. In addition to his mother's craziness, he also had to deal with that Doctor (who his mother was paying). There were many things that woman could poke him with; he couldn't even imagine what she could do to subdue him. He hated doctors. If doctors didn't save lives, he would suggest they hang them all.

*O*O*

It was a slow day at the bar, and Jess hoped it would speed up. She needed the money, and she would do almost anything for it, short of selling her soul, but she wondered if she would do that. In a way, she already had.

During the time that Jim Kirk had worked at the Temple Night Bar, he hadn't talked much about his life. There was a word here or there, and once or twice upon hurting himself while doing something stupid, she had heard Kirk curse 'Bones' as if he or she were a real person. She didn't understand this, but she didn't need to understand. As long as his cursing didn't drive away customers, it was none of her business. She didn't need to know him to work with him, even if she wanted to. She had asked him about his life and he had always dodged the questions as if they were too painful to answer. She didn't know what had happened to him, but she knew he had a story tell. She might not be the one, who was meant to hear it. Nevertheless, it needed to be told.

Just by hearing Kirk's mother's screech, Jess could tell that she wasn't someone he could turn to. Her very presence could make the temperature drop ten degrees in any room. So when Mrs. Kirk stepped in the bar a few hours ago, Jess wanted to run away screaming. That woman made her sound stupid, not saying she was a genius to begin with, and she wouldn't let her say no. Mrs. Kirk wanted to see Mr. Sunn, and she wanted to see him right away. Whatever Mrs. Kirk wanted from the owner wasn't good if Sunn's mood was to judge.

Restraining himself from kicking her out the door, he escorted her to the door with a huge, fake smile. "That woman," he hissed, unable to finish his sentence. "Who the hell does she think she is?" In his anger, he kicked over a nearby chair, which sent him hopping around in pain.

Jess stared at her boss as he hopped around the whole bar, looking like an idiot. "What does she want," she asked, when she mastered up the courage.

Sunn stopped and rotated to face Jess. "What doesn't she want?" He twitched. He hated dealing with people, which was why he usually stayed in his office and away from the insanity. It was a few minutes later, when Jess turned to wipe off some of the tables, that he answered her. "She demanded that I give him time off. It's like she think she can order me around," he started, going off into a rant. "I said no to her request, saying if Kirk wants time off he should ask me himself, but she goes on saying that he would never ask for time off, and it didn't matter who asked." He paced to release his anger. That woman had gotten under his skin. "I then asked her what if Kirk doesn't want time off, because he doesn't seem like a guy who needs his mother to ask for time off! You know what his mother said?"

It was best for Jess just to go along, because there was no stopping Sunn; however, it was a good thing that no one else could see this rant. The bar had emptied, when Mrs. Kirk and Sunn entered his office to talk; that woman could clear a bar fast. "No, what did she say?"

His whole body shook. "That it doesn't matter what he says. It's like it doesn't matter what he wants." There was a long pause as he tried to regain himself. "I'm going back to my office. Don't bother me." He left her alone without another word. Jess shook her head at the day's event. That woman was indeed crazy, and she wondered how Kirk dealt with his mother. Just five minutes alone with the woman made her want to jump out a window. She would hate to be related to that woman; however, she didn't have time to ponder that as people started to arrive. It still looked empty, though it could be worse. At least she would have tips.

Wiping off the counter, two new arrivals caught her eye as they sat down a few tables away. She had seen one of them before, but she couldn't remember where. She stared long and hard at the woman as she walked to the bar to order drinks, leaving her friend alone at the table. There was something awkward about the girl at the table. "What can I get you," Jess asked.

"Can I have a Classic Bulmers and a Slusho Mix?"

"Coming up," Jess smiled, pulling out two glasses.

"Do you know when Jim Kirk is coming into work?" the familiar woman asked as she was served the Bulmers. She glanced toward her table to where her friend was sitting.

"He should be in later today, why do you ask?" Jess was curious as to why her colleague was so important today.

"Just want him to meet someone," the woman said as Jess served her the Slusho Mix. "Alright, thanks." She paid Jess and headed back to her table with the drinks.

Shaking head, Jess turned to another customer, but she still wondered about that woman. Even though the town was small, it was impossible to know everyone. Still being a bartender, she knew many faces and always had the feeling of familiarity. She probably served that woman before. Exhaling, Jess put the feeling behind her and focused on her job. If she let these feelings get to her, she would go crazy. However, she kept an eye on the pair because Kirk was a friend, even if he didn't consider her a friend. They remained at their table for an half and an hour as they waited for Kirk to show.

Jess still eyed them curiously, wondering when he was going to show. He should be in any moment; Kirk was only late a few times, which Jess found impressive. She didn't know why, but Kirk hated to be late. He would do anything to be on time, and she meant anything. He would always factor in traffic, even if there were hardly any traffic in this small town and would be 15 minutes early to his shift. On the rare occasion that he was late, there was a sour expression on his face, and Jess knew better not to ask.

When Kirk appeared, his face was distorted, but it wasn't his stay-away-or-I'll-kill-you face. He was stressed, which was something that Jess understood quite well. "Kirk," Jess waved him over. She let out a soft cry as he hobbled his way over to the bar. What did you do? She wondered, remembering him to be a risk taker. Her eyes left him for a brief second as they wondered over to the pair, which had yet to notice him. It gave Jess time to brief him about the day's events, knowing he would like to know them. Plus it would be safe to warn him about Sunn's rant about Mrs. Kirk.

"What, Jess," he said, using her first name. He had no interest in her gossip.

"First, your mother was in today to talk to Sunn," she paused, knowing he would interject.

His face sported an expression that Jess couldn't explain; it was a mixture between anger and shock. Kirk stayed that way for a few seconds. "She what," he asked louder than expected, but his voice didn't carry. "What in the hell did she want?" His tone was frightening, and it could send chills down anyone's spine.

"She wanted to talk to Sunn—"

"About what?" Kirk sneered.

Jess exhaled slowly, knowing that he probably wouldn't like it. Kirk may not talk about his life, and today was the first day she met his mother, but she could tell that they didn't get along. He wouldn't be very happy about this. Between Kirk, Mrs. Kirk, and Sunn, she would be hearing a lot about this for a very long time. "Time off. She demanded that Sunn give you time off."

"She what?" This time his voice carried, causing a few heads to turn. "Who in the hell does she think she is?" His whole body shook. "I don't need nor want time off! She's just trying to get me to go with her to stupid event. You know what? I'm not going. She can jump off a cliff for all I care. Where was she when I needed her as a child? Nowhere! That's where! And now, I don't need her!"

Yep, Jess knew it. However, she never expected him to reveal this. "Kirk, calm down."

"I'll calm down when she disappears!" His hands balled. "Is Sunn here," He asked, taking a deep breath.

"Um, Sunn can wait. You have two guests over there." She pointed in the direction of the pair, who was in deep conversion. "They asked for you."

Kirk turned, and his eye twitched when he saw them. "What are they doing here?"

"I don't know. They didn't tell me. All I know is that that they want to talk with you." Jess took the bar rag and started to wipe off the counter. "I can handle the customers, so go. Besides, who are they?"

Kirk shook his head as if he was thinking over his next move. "I only know one of them, and she is my 'personal doctor,'" he said, putting up air quotes.

Personal doctor? What the hell? She wondered about that for a few seconds. "Go," Jess ordered. She learned so much about Jim Kirk in such a short time, and she didn't know what to make of it. "Go."

"Fine," Kirk replied.

*O*O*

His mother had pushed his last nerve. How dare she come down to his place of work and talk to his boss? Who in the hell did she think she was? Well, he knew who she thought she was, but she was wrong. He'd had enough. She needed to know that he was the boss of his own life and that she couldn't control him. She may be his mother, but that didn't mean he wanted her in his life. He wanted nothing to do with her, but she couldn't understand that. In fact, it seemed like she couldn't understand anything. She didn't understand how much anger and resentment he had toward her, and it didn't matter what he told her. She wouldn't listen, which was one reason they didn't have a relationship. His words couldn't get through to her. It didn't matter what he said to his mother, she wouldn't listen. She would never listen.

To make matters worse, she had talked to his boss and he had no idea as what she said. Was he going to be fired because she ran her mouth? Was it going to destroy his working relationship with Sunn? He didn't want to think about it, for he might kill his mother. Might? Funny. He was going to kill his mother, who had taken it upon herself to ruin to his life. He had so much anger toward his mother that he wondered how long it would take him to lose control. Spock had commented on multiple occasions that he lacked control over his emotions, which on every occasion ticked him off, and his temper had only gotten worse after the rape trial.

However, he had other things at that moment to worry about, causing him to redirect his anger at his mother for a different time. His doctor and her friend needed his attention at that moment. His anger was replaced with annoyance as he limped his way to the table. Lucky for his doctor, he just disliked her and she wouldn't feel the force of his anger, which was reserved for his mother. Unlike his mother, she respected his wishes for the most part. She didn't bother him unless it was medical or when his mother forced her, which he couldn't hold against her. Winona had made it impossible for Ms. Martin to say no; it was easier just to do what she wanted than to fight with her. His mother was like a racehorse that would never tire unlike the rest of the world.

His annoyance was slightly overshadowed by his curiosity to what Martin wanted. Considering she was bothering him at his place his work, there had to be something. However, coming to the bar, he couldn't kick her out if she was a paying customer who was behaving. Could this be a trick of his mother? Did his mother force Martin down here? But what role did the friend play? Was this all a game? He shook his head as he stopped halfway toward the table. The occupants had yet to notice him. Was he overthinking this, seeing backstabbers everywhere? Slowing his breath, he reminded himself not to jump to conclusions before he had all the facts. He had made a habit of it, which was something that Spock annoyingly commented on all the time. He forced his mind to take a step back and to focus on the issue in front of him. He had to figure out what Doctor Martin wanted, so he could return to work, before Sunn came out of his office to discover the fact that he was not working.

It didn't take much to push him forward as his curiosity had gotten the best of him. With his arms folded across this chest, he arrived at the table. Hiding his annoyance, he asked, "What do I owe this visit to?"

Both girls jumped as they didn't notice Jim before that second. "Kirk," Martin breathed.

"What do you want?" He rephrased his question, revealing his annoyance. His eyes wandered between the two girls, catching the not so sneaky glances from the silent friend. She was studying him, which made Jim wonder why. What was going on?

"Why don't you sit," Martin smiled, tapping the table.

"Why are you here?" he asked, as he remained standing. He had no interest in being friendly; he wanted this over as quickly as possible.

Martin let out a harsh breath as she glanced toward her friend. "I wanted to introduce you to-"

"Why," he asked, interrupting her. He shifted his weight as he eyed the friend. There was nothing special about her that he could see. She seemed like a normal girl with nothing important to tell, so why should he waste his time? He had other important things to do.

Martin stood up as if it would give her the upper hand. "You'll benefit from it." It was clear that the doctor was annoyed with him.

"Says you," he muttered, as he was sick and tired of everyone telling him what was best for him. How did anyone know what was best for him? He was the only one who knew who he was, and the only one who knew what was best for him.

Martin had opened her mouth to speak, but the friend had beaten her to it. "It's pointless to try to tell it to him, trust me." Martin and Jim both turned to her. "There was a time that I felt the same way as he did." The friend wasn't smiling, but it wasn't a frown on her face. It was kind of a mixture of both.

Jim eyed the chick as his annoyance had started to turn. How did she know how he felt? What made her think that she had anything idea of what he was feeling? She had no idea of what he had went through, no one did.

"Nicole," Rae muttered as she eyed her friend, who had remained in her seat.

The friend, or the recently named Nicole, glanced to Rae before locking eyes with Jim. "Rae, why don't you leave Jim and me alone to talk?"

Rae was hesitant as the air could be cut with a knife. It was clear that Kirk didn't want to talk or listen to anyone. There was no point in talking if Kirk wasn't open to it. "Alright," she said, looking between them. She backed up slowly before turning to leave.

Jim watched her leave, before he turned back to Nicole, who sat plainly at the table. He stared at her, as he rewrote his thoughts of her. Referring to him by his first time unlike Ms. Martin, who at least knew him, annoyed him. She didn't know him or anything that he was going through, so why should she be allowed to use his name? "What do we need to talk about?"

"Why don't you sit?"

What was it with people and wanting him to sit? Would it change the message if he were to sit? He didn't think so. "I would prefer to stand." He hoped that standing would speed things up, as sitting would invite a long conversation.

"So be it," Nicole exhaled. "Rae brought me here to talk with you."

Jim glanced back to bar to make sure that Jess was okay. "Listen. I thank you for coming and all, but you're wasting your time. I don't need the lecture or whatever Doctor Martin had in her mind." He may have been curious to why they wanted to talk, but that didn't mean he wanted to talk.

He went to walk away, when Nicole spoke. "You can't let the fact you were raped overpower you." Being in a public area, there was always a chance that someone could overhear; however, the good thing about a bar was that it was loud and it would be hard to overhear things.

Her words had stopped him dead in his steps. How did she know? Was he that readable? He prided himself on the fact that he wasn't an open book, which was how he kept it a secret on the Enterprise. If this woman who he hadn't known met before knew, who else knew? "You're mistaken." Denial was his best friend, and it was the thing that got him through the day.

"I'm not mistaken. Anyone with training could tell." Her eyes locked eyes with the back of his head. She had gotten his attention, but it would mean nothing if she didn't get him to listen.

Her last statement stroke a chord, making his anger show its face, but it wasn't directed at her. If a total stranger could tell, why couldn't his crew figure it out? Why couldn't Spock?

"I know the signs." Nicole watched him turn to her, and she could see the emotion in his eyes. Her voice got soft as she spoke. "I was raped."

What hit him first was her strength, when her words came of her mouth. Unlike him, there was no stutter or pause. Unlike him, she could say the word. Unlike him, she was calm and sure of herself. How did she do it? How was she able to stay strong when he couldn't even speak the truth? He wished he could be that way—he needed to be that way. He hated how he was now, and he despised how he was acting. He hated himself for feeling jealous of the girl, who had somehow gotten past it.

"Why don't you sit?" she asked.

This time, he listened and took a seat across from her. Everything in the bar disappeared and Nicole was the only thing that existed at that moment. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask, but he kept them to himself. He had no interest in feeding her, even if he wanted to. "Who knows? Who—" His heart beat quickly.

"Calm down. You have nothing to worry about," she said. He had surprised her as five seconds ago he had denied the whole thing. He may not have admitted it, but he was still talking to her. She hadn't expected him to. "Now, what was your question?"

"How could you see it? I don't know you." His voice was shaky.

"As a doctor, Rae had made some observations that made her suspect it. Rae and I became friends before I was raped. She had noticed how I reacted, which is similar to how you are acting. She came to me hoping I could help you." Nicole looked toward the bar at Rae.

He turned his head slightly, seeing Martin at the bar with Jess. "Who else knows?" Though it was somewhat calming to have someone to talk to, he didn't want other people to know.

"Just Rae and I," she answered.

It was a relief that he didn't want to worry about his mother knowing; he didn't know what his mother would do if she knew. He assumed she would move in and wouldn't let him leave the house for anything. He couldn't take five minutes with his mother, so he hated to imagine spending every second with her. "Why would she want you to talk to me?"

"I thought it was obvious," Nicole said, as she finished off her drink.

His face twisted in discomfort. He didn't want to talk about it, even though it was killing him. "Would you like another drink," he asked, changing the subject. Though he was uncomfortable, he didn't stir from his seat. He couldn't find the strength to leave his seat.

"No," she responded. She knew this was going to be difficult, but she couldn't understand how difficult until that moment as she stared him down. He may deny the whole thing, but she was still going to talk to him. When she was raped, she wished there had been someone to talk to. "Changing the subject with me won't work," she warned. This was a serious conversation.

"Damn," he kidded. "So what will work?"

"Jim, just hear me out. What will you lose?"

He hated the fact that she was right. Listening to what she had to say wouldn't make his life any worse, and if she was right, he would only benefit. He sighed, "Fine."

She smiled slightly as she started off into her story. Nicole was once a therapist, who worked at the same hospital that Rae worked. In her job there, she had counseled many people and had known that one of patients had taken a liking to her, but she had believed that she could've discouraged him. That was not the case. The patient's obsession with her had grown to an unhealthy level, and to this day, Nicole blamed herself for not seeing it. He was her patient; she should've known. She should have seen the signs; then again, she wasn't looking for them. She wanted to believe that he was improving, but she was wrong. He was just getting worse, and it had burst one night. He had followed her home one night and had knocked her out from behind. He had tied her to the bed and raped her repeatedly as she could do nothing to stop him. Sometime after she had fallen asleep from pure exhaustion, he had disappeared. She used that time to escape, knowing if she didn't, he would have raped her again.

Jim couldn't even look at Nicole as she told her story, feeling ashamed. He knew the pain that she had gone through, but he couldn't bring out any emotion except pity, which was something he didn't want for himself. "Did they catch him?" he asked.

"Yea, when I escaped, I went straight to the cops, and they caught him in no time. The trial, though painful, went very well," she said, remembering the whole event.

At that, he felt semi-annoyed as he remembered his equal, if not more, painful trial, because it didn't go as planned. It didn't go well at all.

"You can't put your life on hold. You need to live your life and return to your purpose, your dream," she declared before he could ask another question. She needed him to rethink his choice and his life.

His pity had turned to spite as he listened to her. How dare she lecture him, when she was doing the same thing? As he recalled, she was no longer working at the hospital. "And how about you, huh? I understand that you're no longer working with the hospital. Don't lecture me, when you're doing the same thing."

She should've expected his much from him; however, she took it as a good sign. He was no longer denying it, which was a huge step. Now, she just needed to get him to listen, which she knew was hard. "It's true that I no longer work with the hospital—" Jim snorted. "—but that doesn't mean I no longer work as a therapist. In fact, I work with a nonprofit organization, whose mission is to help special victims. I counsel rape victims."

"And what am I, your next patient?" He growled. He disliked doctors of all kinds, and he was sick and tired of people hanging over him. He could take care of himself.

"I didn't come to give you therapy. I came to talk, but I'm here if you need to talk. If you need a therapist." Her hand danced closer to him, but she didn't make contact.

"I don't need your help," he said, sounding as if he was covered in itchy poisoned ivy.

"Jim—"

"Kirk," he snapped. He was fed up with her talking to him as if he knew him, because she didn't.

"Kirk," she restarted, "I can help you." She locked eyes with him. "I know what you been through. I understand what you're going through." She stopped. His eyes told her everything that she needed to know.

"You say you can help, well than tell me. How long did it take you to get over what happened to you?" A part of him knew her answer, but he hoped he was wrong and that she was over it. He didn't know how long he could deal with himself; all he did was whine and it annoyed the hell out of him.

Her eyes were soft. "I," she paused as if she was looking for the right words, "I can't say I got over it, but—"

"Then you can't help me." He stood from the chair.

"Wait," she said, standing as well. "Just because I'm not over it doesn't mean you can't move past it and live your life." She watched his back as if it would give her any clues.

"How can you move past something if it's always there?" He stood completely still. "How can I live my life if every time I close my eyes I see his face?" His whole body froze as the face of his rapist flashed in his mind.

"That's because you're letting it," Nicole commented.

Upon her words, his anger forced him to act. Rotating rapidly on her, he slammed his fists down in front of her, startling her, and she almost jumped out of her seat. "I'm doing this to myself?" He sneered. There was no fucking way he was doing this to himself. There was no fucking way. How mess up did someone had to be to purposely make himself insane? Did she think he was insane? "I have no choice, because trust me, lady, if I did, it wouldn't be his face that I'm seeing. It wouldn't be that one night that haunts my dreams." His outburst had caused a few heads to turn and linger on him, but he didn't find it in him to care.

"You do have a choice, but you've got to rise above it. You've to live your life."

His anger started to build. "What do you want me to do? I've got a job, a house, and a life," he stressed. He wasn't lying on the sofa doing nothing. He wasn't wasting away on the sofa, which was what he wanted. He wanted to hide and never come out. He didn't want to see the light of day again.

"You aren't fighting. You don't care anymore. You're letting everyone and everything take you down. You're embracing the darkness without the possibility of there being something more, something better." Nicole stared up into his eyes, trying to get a read of him. He had already snapped.

He wished that people would just leave him alone and stopped trying to tell him what he was doing wrong; however, he couldn't fight her with this one. She was right that he was embracing whatever came him way—he hated how things were, but he didn't have the strength to chance it. Maybe, he thought, she's right. He quickly shook that thought from his mind, because he couldn't take being wrong. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You'll never move forward if you don't live your life."

"What do you call what I'm doing now," he hissed. The last time he had checked, he was living. He wasn't laying around in some ditch somewhere. He was living, just not the way he wanted or the life path he wanted.

"Just walking through life won't make you happy. You can't wait for life to throw you a lifeline, because it won't. You have to make it happen yourself. That's the secret, Kirk." She was honest, but she had no idea if he would listen. "I know. I did, and after a long time, I'm happy."

He shook his head as he backed up from the doctor. He was so sick of doctors and their efforts. When would they learn that he didn't need their help? Would anyone ever listen to what he wanted? Did his voice mean nothing? "Who said I wasn't?"

"You did," she replied as she remained in the chair.

Kirk had turned from her. "Funny, I don't recall saying that."

"Not in so many words."

He forced himself to take a deep breath as anger threatened to overtake him. At times, he wished he had the control of a Vulcan, and this was one of those times. His emotions were all over the place, and he had no idea how much longer he would be able to control himself. He snorted as he turned his back on her. "Why don't you stop thinking that you know what I'm feeling, because you don't," he snapped.

Overlooking his injured foot, he stormed away, and his disregarded her calls. He needed to get out of there, and he needed to get out of there now. He didn't care that he was on the clock, and he was supposed to be working. He didn't care that Jess came after him, trying to stop him. "I've to get out of here, now," he told her. He didn't care if he was fired. He just wanted to get the fuck out of there.

*O*O*

He didn't know how he had gotten himself home because all he could think about was what Nicole had told him. She had given him a lot to think about, and he didn't know what to make of it. His head felt like it was going to explode from all the pressure. There were too many things going through his mind, and there was only one thing that could clear his mind.

It didn't take long, even with his limping, to receive two bottles of whiskey from the kitchen and returned to the porch. He knew his drinking was becoming a problem, but he couldn't bring himself to care because right now, it was the only thing getting him through the day. It helped him forget how messed up his life was. He smiled as the alcohol burned as it went through him. A chuckle escaped from his mouth as he felt his senses go.

He wished for a carefree life, where he didn't have to worry about anything. Why couldn't the world just give up on him like he did? Why would anyone care? What made people think that he was special enough to be saved? He just wanted to be left alone, where he could be depressed all he wanted. He deserved nothing more than a lonely life. Why would anyone like him deserve to be happy, especially after what had happened?

Sure, it hit some cord inside him that his mother cared enough to make his life a living hell, but he really couldn't stand her. Everything about her pissed him off, even on his good days (which weren't many). Her voice alone made him want to tear off his ears, and the sight of her made him want to gouge his eyes out. Even her retarded ideas made his gut twist in pain, but that could be because they were horrible ideas in general. The Captain in him couldn't respect or trust her, as her track record with him sucked. That was why the very idea of being alone with her in space drove him batshit. He was already going insane and he didn't need her to add to his insanity.

Someone somehow had gotten within a few feet of him, but he would blame that on the whiskey. "What do you want?" he asked. His high tolerance was the only thing keeping him up.

"Your mother sent me."

He didn't know what pissed his drunken self off more: his mother butting into his life again or Frank being a few feet in front of him. He decided that he would be pissed more at his mother because he could always hit Frank to release his anger. He snorted, "I never expected you to take orders from my mother."

"You little shit," Frank snapped, slapping the bottle out of Jim's hands before he could react. The full bottle of whiskey shattered, hitting the ground. Broken glass scattered everywhere and the liquid scattered across the deck, covering everything. "I take orders from no one."

Launching himself off the porch, he grabbed hold of Frank's shirt. He'd wanted to pound his stepfather's face in since the wedding, but he hadn't had the chance until now. "Now, why did you do that," he asked.

It didn't take much force to push the drunken Jim off him. "Listen, you little bastard, I'm this close to pounding your face in." The only thing stopping Frank from hitting Jim was Winona, who would surely pound him for touching her beloved son. When the boys were younger, he would get away with slapping them around as she was off planet more often than not, and he also knew where to hit them to hide the marks. Plus, she couldn't even look at Jim without seeing his father, and both Jim and Frank wondered what had changed to make her so attached to him. "I don't have to worry about hitting an underage brat or a Starfleet captain," he said, glancing over Jim.

"Why the fuck are you here," Jim asked. Frank's threats meant nothing to him anymore, but it seemed like Frank didn't realize that. Frank still thought he was that big tough man he was all those years ago, but time wasn't friendly to him. The man had put on 75 pounds in all the wrong places. Even though it mentally scarred him, he wondered how his mother had sex with Frank. It made Jim want to puke to think of him naked. Well, that could be said about all people, considering what had happened to him.

Frank glared at Jim. "Your mother—"

"Yes, yes, I know. Get to the point, Stupid," Jim teased. He knew it was a bad move to pick a fight with Frank, especially with an injured foot, but he blamed it on the whiskey. Alcohol could make him do the craziest things, but he didn't care. His attempt at ending his life was proof to that. He didn't think it was possible, considering Frank lacked all communication skills, but the man was growling at him. "Does speech escape you?"

"Why you!" Frank was seconds from attacking the drunken Jim, who had such great joy in insulting him. After a few breaths, he was able to calm himself. "Your mother believes I can convince you."

If there was no way his mother could convince him, he doubted his 'loving' stepfather could. "How so, Tubby?" he asked. It would be any insult now that would cause Frank to give in and attack him.

"I could think of a few ways, Shitface."

"You could think? I never knew a primate like you could," he commented, smirking. It didn't matter what Frank said to him, because he had heard worse and experience worse from his crew, during his last month.

Frank glanced around the place. "I could never live in a dump like this, but hey, it's the best you will ever get. Trash like you should live in trash."

Now, that insult hurt a little bit, mostly, because he said it to himself every time he looked in the mirror. Though it was Frank, it still hurt to hear someone else call him that. "Why, Flab, are you jealous?"

"You could say that, considering this would be a nice place to store my shit, though I have to be looking at shit all day," he said, glaring at him. It was quite clear that he was referring to Jim.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you're going to visit me more." Well, that would be one way he could be convinced to go into space with his mother. He couldn't stand one more second with this man. "Sorry, I don't date fatties." Neither his mother nor Frank had any idea of whom he had interest in, considering he never told them.

"Well, I don't date fags."

"What did you just say?" Jim hissed. He hated that term more than anything else. It showed such disregarded for the world around them.

"You hear me, Faggot," Frank laughed. This was the first visible outbreak that Jim had showed. "I should've known you were such a pussy. I'm sure you open your legs for whoever comes knocking. Is that how you became a captain?"

Jim's fist balled. Sure, he loved getting into fights, but he doubted that would serve any good, considering it would send his mother running. He didn't need her yelling at him. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be alive," he responded. He tried to calm himself down, but it wasn't working. Once again, he wished he had Spock's control.

"I'm sure that Vulcan enjoyed his time with you. How many times did you invite him to bed? I'm surprised he let some a slut into his bed."

It took Jim a few seconds to respond. "What the fuck are you talking about?" Frank didn't know about Spock, did he? How could he? He didn't tell anyone outside the Enterprise about his relationship with his first officer.

"He visited you at the Hospital, when you were unconscious. It was rather disgusting if you ask me." He let out another chuckle.

Jim found himself growling at Frank. How dare he insult Selek? He was one of the few people Jim could count on. Though Selek and Spock were the same person, Selek was different and wouldn't turn his back on him. He would do anything to help or defend Selek. "Only thing disgusting here is you." He was ready to attack.

"If I was your mother, I would disown you. Selling yourself? I wonder what people would say."

Jim found it funny that Frank thought he would care if she disowned him. He would rather enjoy it if she did. He didn't want her as a parent. "Get off my property," he hissed.

"How much did that Vulcan pay you?"

"Get off!" he yelled. It surprised himself.

Frank chuckled. "Or did he simply have his way with you? Don't worry; he's probably a slut as well."

Jim grabbed him by the collar. "Don't you dare insult Selek in front of me. He did more for me than you or Winona ever did."

"I can't insult him? That's fine. I can insult you for days without repeats." He just let another laugh as if he wasn't afraid of Jim, whose hands were inches from his neck.

"You ran out of insults for me a long time ago," he hissed

"What made you like this? Were you raped? Is that why you're a faggot, because you liked being raped?"

That was it. The minute that Jim heard the word rape, he lost total control over himself. He dropped Frank and pounded into him. Sure, Frank 'kicked' his butt at the wedding, but Jim wouldn't count that, considering he was seriously injured. This time, his stepfather couldn't defend himself from the ex-Captain. Jim was a trained Starfleet officer, who had no trouble beating the most skilled opponent, not counting Vulcans or Romulans. The last time he took on either of them, their hands were tightly around his neck. With their super strength, there wasn't really a way he could win in hand-to-hand combat. Weapons, on the other hand, could even up the field.

Frank swung his fist. Jim went to block, but considering he still had alcohol in his system, he missed, and Frank's fist collided with the side of Jim's face. It sent him back onto his injured foot, which couldn't support the sudden weight, sending him onto his back. Frank didn't waste anything in tackling Jim and laying into him; however, it didn't take long for Jim to push his fat, portly 'Uncle' Frank off him. Pushing himself off the ground, Jim locked eyes with the man, who he hated with all his heart. There were only a few people he hated more than Frank.

"Come here and let me kick the gayness out of you," Frank demanded. His breath was short and hollowed; he wouldn't be in this fight for much longer.

Jim started to laugh. He never understood why people could be so stupid. Why there so much hatred toward gays? What were they afraid of? "You kick my ass?" Jim's laugher wouldn't stop. "That's funny coming from a man taking orders from my mother."

Frank charged him, but it didn't take much for Jim trip the man to the ground; however, Frank yanked his bad leg, sending James to the ground as well. That was where they stay for a while, as they struggled with each other. Somehow, Frank found himself on top. "I bet you like being bottom," Frank hissed, sending chills through Jim. "It's people like you who deserved to be raped."

Hearing Frank say that brought up anger that he hadn't felt before. He wanted to kill the man on him and bury him in the backyard. What really surprise Jim was the fact that he was inches away from doing it. His whole body ached at the chance to end this man's life. Rolling on top of Frank with his anger aiding him, Jim unleashed his fist into Frank's face. There was nothing stopping Jim from pounding his stepfather's face in, as the man was defenseless. Jim had overpowered him in the matter of seconds.

A few minutes later (or what seemed like seconds), Jim was hauled off Frank. He didn't know who had pulled him off Frank, but he fought against the person. Forgetting about Frank, he blindly sung at the man, who held him. His fist landed on his cheek forcing the man to let him go. Jim was about to throw another punch at the man, but his voice had stopped him cold, "Jim, stop."

Jim's hands fell to his side as he caught sight of his brother, Sam. All of his anger toward his retarded 'Uncle' had turned to shame, and he felt worse than he ever before. He looked up to his brother in a way, and now, he had slugged him. He would be sporting a black eye the next day. What did that make him? Was he anything anymore? "Sam," he muttered.

Sam walked to Frank, pulling the old man up from the ground. Frank's face had gone through the ringer; his face had started to turn a dark blue. His lip was slit and bleeding rather profusely; in addition, scratches covered his body. Frank was bloody mess, and it was shocking that Jim hadn't noticed it sooner. He was close to killing the man, and he felt no guilt about it. Sam had whispered something to Frank that Jim couldn't hear, but he didn't care.

Frank glared at Jim. "You're lucky that I don't sue, or maybe I will, Faggot," he hissed. He limped away to his car.

There was no doubt that Sam had heard, but he didn't seem to care unlike Jim. He launched himself in Frank's direction, but Sam stepped in the way and blocked his way. "What the hell!" Jim had cursed as Frank made it to his car.

His brother pushed him back. "Jim, calm the fuck down!"

Jim's eyes wondered to Frank, who had already started to drive away. The fight was over now whether he liked it or not. "Why are you here," he hissed.

Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother. He knew something had happened to Jim, but he had no idea what it was. "After Mom sent Frank, she called me, figuring she had made a major mistake. I came here as fast as I could, knowing something would happen."

Jim shook his head and turned away. "Well it did. You can leave now." He really did love his brother, but it pissed him off that he took orders from his mother.

"Jimmy," Sam called out to him.

"NO! Don't you call me that." Jim shook his head.

"Jim," he called out again. "I don't know what's going on with you and Frank—"

"Don't you even dare try to defend that jackass," he ordered. "You know how he is." He shook his head as he headed to the porch.

"Yes, I know how he is, Jim, and I heard what he said. I have no doubt that your earlier conversation was dreadful, but you shouldn't have attacked him. What were you thinking? He would do anything to hurt you." Sam shook his head. He didn't want anything to happen to his little brother.

"You don't think I know that? I know that, but that doesn't mean shit."

Sam studied him brother. Jim was never the one to lose his cool so fast, but lately it was becoming a common thing. What was going on? What made him like that? "Jim, tell me what happened."

Jim turned to look at his brother. "Frank pissed me off."

"That isn't what I'm talking about. Why did you quit Starfleet?"

"I didn't quit."

"Fine, you resigned. The same difference! Now, what the fuck happened?"

Worry was clearly present in Sam's eyes. "Nothing happened." However, he didn't need to worry his brother who had other things on his mind to worry about like his pretty little wife.

"Bullshit! I know something's wrong, that something has indeed happened. I'm your brother. I know you." Sam walked closer to his brother, who had taken a seat on the porch.

Jim felt his anger peak again. "No, you don't," he hissed, standing up. "You left, remember? Before I resigned, I haven't seen or spoke to you in over five years, so don't tell me you know, because you don't!" He was inches away from his brother's face, ready to strike.

"Jim," he said through his teeth. Sam was getting defensive, which was common when someone was getting into his face. "Calm down."

"Oh, shut it. You walked out on me, so you don't get a say." His hands balled. Like everyone else.

The older brother took a deep breath, trying to calm him down. He wanted to understand what was making Jim act this way, but his patience was running low. "I'm sorry. What do you want me to say?"

He shook his head and backed away from Sam, trying to think. He didn't know what he wanted Sam to say. "I don't know, but don't say you know me!" There was pause. "I don't know you," he whispered after some time.

"You know that isn't true." He paused. "Sure, there was that five year gab, but that doesn't change anything."

Jim eyed his brother. "So what happened to Aurelan? Last, I heard, before heading to Starfleet, you were going to marry her." Sam stared at his brother with a painful/angrily look in his eyes. "Judging by your look, it isn't a subject you would like to talk about. So what did you do to her? Did you cheat on her with some slut?" Silence. "Maybe, what you're asking me isn't something that I want to talk about either," he hissed.

"You know what," Sam yelled, "fuck you. I was trying to help, and look at what I get." He rudely gestured at Jim. "I'm so sick and tired of trying to help you."

"I don't want your help. I don't want anyone's help, so fuck off!"

Sam dug his nails into his fist, trying to keep his temper under control. "We're fed up of you being so sullen and temperamental. We're only trying to help, but god forbid. Stop being a bitch, because no one's going to want to be around you if you keep acting like this."

"I don't want you people around! I want to be alone, dammit!" That was what he deserved in his mind.

"Why? What are you afraid of?"

"NOTHING! I just hate you all!" He was at his end of his ropes when he said it, and the minute he had was the minute he regretted it. "I wish you all would just leave me the fuck alone."

Sam's face was unreadable. "Is that how you feel?" Jim's silence was his answer. "Fine, we'll leave you to your horrible life. Sorry we caused you so much discomfort!" He shook his head, and turned his back on his brother.

Jim knew he had really hurt his brother, and he wanted to apologize, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He had opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"And Jim," Sam said, turning his head slightly. "It'll be so much better without having to worry about you. Mom has been so worried about you, and it's a shame. At least she won't be wasting her time anymore." There was pause as if Sam was trying to recollect his thoughts. "You never considered yourself a part of our family, and you don't deserve the Kirk name." With that, he started to walk off.

All the regret that Jim had felt earlier had turned to anger, again. "Well, fuck you! Fuck you all." He didn't need them. He didn't anyone. He was just fine on his own. He watched Sam pull out of the drive, before he walked into the house. He didn't need anyone.

*O*O*

The next day, anger was still rushing through his veins, and all he wanted to do was get the hell out of there. If all he did was make his 'family's' life terrible, he wasn't going to sit around. As he made his way to his bedroom to pack, his phone rung, but he didn't answer. He decided that he would let the answering machine pick it up. There was no real reason to pick it up, was there? He already decided that he was leaving Iowa; he didn't know where, but that didn't matter. He just needed to get the hell out of there.

Sunn's voice echoed through the house. "Kirk, pick up this phone, or else you are fired!" Jim snorted. He no longer needed to work at that dump anymore. Sunn was silent as he waited for him to answer, but after a few minutes of nothingness, he spoke, "Answer the phone. Fine, Kirk. You made me. You're fired." Sunn hung up. Jim's laughter filled the house. There was nothing holding him back anymore. There was nothing keeping him. He was finally a free person, with nothing to worry about.

It didn't take long for Jim to load up the bike, considering one, it was a bike, and two, he didn't have much stuff to pack. He brought enough clothes to last him a few weeks and a few bottles of alcohol. The only non-clothes or alcohol was a little golden statue of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and his metals. He didn't have any photos, considering he burned them. He didn't have anything, well besides the house, but he would probably sell it down the road. He wouldn't need it anymore.

He jumped on his bike just as a car pulled into the driveway. He hoped it wasn't his mother, because he knew it wouldn't end well, if it was. He left out a sigh of relieve when Jess walked out of the car. She ran to him as soon as she saw him. "I heard you were fired, and I wanted to make sure you were okay." Her eyes widened when she saw that his bike was packed.

"I'm fine," he muttered.

"Where are you going?"

He didn't want nor feel like telling her the truth, so he decided to lie. "I need a break, so I have decided to take a trip." It wasn't a complete lie.

"Okay," she muttered, but it didn't sound like she was sure.

"I'll be back," he smiled, but he had no idea why. Jess was always nice and supportive; it had saddened him to leave her. She was one of the few people who didn't bug him for a story, and he would always be grateful for that. He leaned down to her and kissed her on the cheek. "Tell everyone I said good-bye." He didn't give her time to respond as he turned over the key and took down the driveway with no idea of where he was going or whether he would ever be coming back.

Thanks for reading. I hope you like it!