Blood and gore warning ahead!


McCoy stared at the door Jim had just stormed out of with a muted sort of shock.

That was…well, he couldn't say it was unexpected. He wasn't naive or stupid enough to think that Jim would wake up happy as Larry, or that he'd spill his soul to a man he'd quite rightly pointed out that he'd known all of a month. So no, the act itself was not unexpected.

It was the brutality that was shocking. Jim had responded to the situation with the type of anger and violence that only came from an underlying fear. Given what McCoy was starting to learn about him, he could hardly hold that against the kid. But damn, did he know how to go right for the jugular?

McCoy knew he wasn't the reason Jim was angry, but it was hard not to take such personal words personally.

Yes, he was a coward, and a drunk and a hypocrite, but goddamnit he was only trying to help. Something told him that Jim wouldn't recognize good intentions if they thumped him on the nose.

But where exactly did that leave him? Did he follow when Jim made it so perfectly clear that he wanted to be alone? Did he risk Jim upping and leaving Starfleet? Could he even take that threat seriously? The kid was upset and quite possibly still drunk, hardly in the mind to be making those kind of choices.

Should he call Pike? Could he trust Pike? His instincts said he could, but did he risk it?

And goddamnit, what the hell did Jim mean when he said they walked past his father three times a day?

Was Jim's dad a professor? Was he an officer at the Academy?

If he was, maybe that was where McCoy should be heading to next. If Jim had family here then perhaps they could help him, or at least give McCoy something more to go on than a few hastily gathered facts.

He fetched his PADD and booted the Academy directory. He didn't have a first name for Jim's father, so just entered Kirk into the database search.

The results were instant and numerous. Jim's name didn't even feature in most of them.

George Kirk, however, did. McCoy opened up his basic personal file and scanned through the details.

Born 2199 in San Fransisco. Attended Starfleet Academy 2217-2220. Married to Winona Davis 2223.86. Son George Samuel born 2229.24. Took up his commission on the USS Kelvin, Science Division 2222.09. Promoted to First Officer 2232. Son James Tiberius born 2233.04. Killed in Action 2233.04. Posthumous Medals: Medal of Honor; Kelvin Cross, Distinguished Service Award.

McCoy frowned at the dates, then the name.

USS Kelvin

Oh Jesus Christ.

How unlucky could one family be?

Now the facts were in front of him, he couldn't believe how he'd missed it.

Actually, no. He knew exactly how he'd missed it. He knew about the Kelvin, of course he did. The media brought it up every time something even slightly unsettling happened up in the black. He'd even heard the name George Kirk before, but to him it had just been one of those tragic events that happened, touching no one he knew and not really impacting his world in any way. Unlike pretty much everyone else at the Academy, McCoy didn't have his Starfleet history tattooed on the back of his eyelids. He'd joined because he had nowhere else to go, not because he was living out some life long fantasy of going into space - far from it.

So sure, the eager, dedicated, fact spouting cadets would know exactly who George and Jim Kirk were and what it meant. To him Jim had just been Jim. Kirk wasn't that unusual a name and no one had been crass enough to explicitly bring the details up to Jim face to face, at least not to McCoy's knowledge.

Damn, damn, damn, damnit

His comm chimed and Jim's ID flashed on screen. McCoy snatched it up in a second and answered breathlessly. "Jim!"

"You need to come down to the quad." Jim's voice said tensely.

That was not what McCoy expected to hear and he answered in kind. "Huh?"

"The quad, Bones," Jim said, "bring your bag."

His bag was of course the medical kit he kept on hand and stocked, more out of habit than necessity. If he needed it, then Jim was probably hurt.

"I'm on my way." McCoy said, already out the door.


He'd raced across campus in the cold morning air, barely feeling the chill creeping through his thin t-shirt. He only had his sneakers on because the floor in his apartment was frigid as hell this time of year, but he was glad of it as he sprinted across the grass, to hell with the rules.

It was still early, even by Academy standards, and there was no-one in sight to block his view or crowd his path, and he spotted the reds of Jim's uniform across the quad almost instantly, even in the low light.

He was crouched down over a second person and the swell of relief that hit McCoy was quickly pushed aside in favor of professionalism as he reached them.

"What happened?" He demanded, meeting Jim's gaze steadily. Now wasn't the time to rehash their argument and Jim nodded tersely.

"I found him like this. I think he's been stabbed." His hands were pressed against a cadet's chest, blood almost the same color as his uniform staining his skin.

The cadet was drifting in and out of consciousness as McCoy flipped open his scanner and began diagnostics with the one hand, while feeling for his pulse with the other. "Do you know him?" He asked Jim.

"Daniel Finnegan." Jim said. "He's a second year."

"You call it in?"

"Medical is sending someone over but you were closer." Jim said, "I'm sorry I called you but I wasn't-"

"You did the right thing," McCoy assured him, sparing Jim a flash of a smile before turning all his attention on Finnegan. "Daniel, can you hear me?"

The cadet groaned at the sound of his name. There were indications of a head injury feeding back from McCoy's scanner, but that could have come from either an attack or from falling, either way it added to the confusion he was undoubtedly experiencing.

"Hey Danny boy," Jim called, his voice bright and cheerful and at complete odds with his expression, "wakey wakey."

Oddly enough, Jim being irritating worked better than McCoy's professional approach. Go figure.

"Kirk?" Finnegan's eyes rolled as he struggled to focus.

"One and only. You gonna talk to the nice doc before he starts poking you to get your attention?" Jim said, mindless of the way McCoy rolled his eyes.

Finnegan just gasped with pain, fear in his eyes.

"Jim, move over." McCoy said softly, nudging his hands away from where they were pressed against the wound. He saw Jim hesitate then do as he was told. "Talk to him, keep him awake of you can." McCoy instructed, one hand taking over the job Jim had been doing of keeping pressure on the wound, the other riffling through his bag for emergency field dressings. Paranoid his ass…

"Hey, hey," Jim snapped his fingers in front of Finnegan's face. "Stay with me you lazy son of a bitch."

"Hurts." Finnegan moaned.

"Yeah, I know it does." Jim said sympathetically. "It's a gut wound though, which is good. Kinda. Bones's will patch you up and you'll be back to making my life miserable in no time."

McCoy listened in on the conversation as he peeled away the fabric of Finnegan's uniform and inspected the wound. Long, flat, Jim was probably right. Looked like a stab wound.

Who the hell went around stabbing cadets right in the heart of the Academy?

"What were you doing out here, man?" Jim asked. "It's the asscrack of dawn."

"Extra-" Finnegan moaned, breaking off into a half muffled scream of pain as McCoy pressed down hard on the field dressing, sealing the wound off from contaminants and helping to stabilize the blood loss. It wasn't much, but it would buy him the precious extra time before the emergency team arrived.

"Easy," McCoy soothed, "this is going to help."

"It's kinda gross." Jim provided helpfully.

"Jim!" McCoy scolded. Jesus the poor bastard was bleeding to death and Jim was hardly helping.

"What? It is! Cool though. Hey, don't let them do a full regen and you'll have a badass scar. Girls love em. I had this totally cool one that went, like, right over my shoulder and half way down my chest but some asshole doctor zapped it. Didn't even ask me first." Jim said, not breaking eye contact with Finnegan once. The cadet blinked tears out of his eyes and clung to Jim's arm fearfully. "Hey, you'll be fine," Jim said, suddenly much more gentle.

"Kirk-"

"I promise. You'll be okay."

Jim was still gripping Finnegan's arm and McCoy trying to stabilize his blood pressure as the emergency team arrived. Jim didn't move while McCoy briefed them and only reluctantly budged when it came time to load Finnegan onto the transport.

"Jim, you need to let them work."

"You're gonna be fine, okay?" Jim swore.

"Jim." McCoy pulled him away gently and Finnegan was rushed away. There was no peace for them though. Campus security had been alerted when Jim had put in the call and were loudly demanding to take their statements.

Unlike the security at Starfleet Headquarters, the Academy security were a civilian force, and they weren't used to dealing with anything more than a few rowdy cadets. On the whole cadets were far better behaved than most kids their age. They had a hell of a lot riding on their good behavior.

"You okay, Kirk?" The officer in charge said, drawing them away from the scene.

"I'm good, Ricky, yeah." Jim nodded, somehow managing to make the blood on his hands and clothes look inconsequential. He looked calm, but troubled, and his eyes kept darting over to McCoy.

"You guys know each other?" McCoy frowned, looking at the officer then back to Jim.

"Does't everyone know Jimmy by now?" The man said dryly.

"Do I even want to know?" McCoy shook his head. Damn kid was like a homeless puppy.

"Hey, I'm friendly, that's all. Besides, these guys know everything that goes on around here." Jim said, a small smile touching his lips. "They have all the best gossip."

"Well we don't know what happened here, so how about you give us your version of events?" Ricky said more seriously.

"Can we go inside?" Jim asked, "Bones did his hero thing but he forgot to bring a jacket."

McCoy hadn't even felt the cold until Jim reminded him, then he shivered on cue. He also couldn't help but frown at the kid. Given how ruthlessly he'd tried to shove McCoy out of his life less than an hour ago the concern was oddly touching.

"Of course." Ricky nodded. "You need medical attention?"

"He's a doctor." Jim said, thumbing at McCoy. "Kinda want to wash my hands though."

Ricky and two of his junior officers led them towards the security building and allowed them to clean up. He had someone bring them fresh coffee. "I've called Captain Pike, he'll be here shortly. We can wait until he's here if you like."

Jim nodded and sipped gratefully at the coffee. No doubt his hangover was giving him hell.

"You okay?" McCoy asked quietly as they sat on hard chairs in the hall, waiting for Pike's arrival.

"Yeah." Jim said, his eyes darting before he sighed and looked back at McCoy. "Look, about what I said. I'm…"

"A grade A asshole?" McCoy supplied helpfully as Jim's words drifted off.

"Something like that." Jim nodded. "I shouldn't have said those things."

"Damn right." McCoy said, without anger. "I'm sensing that's a theme with you."

"Trying to apologize here." Jim scowled.

"And you suck at it." McCoy snorted. "Simple words: I'm sorry. Try them. You had no problem apologizing to the math."

"You were apologizing." Jim said automatically. "I would never-"

"Jim." McCoy cut him off before he could start.

The silence that fell was awkward and heavy, reminding McCoy just how new their friendship was.

Jim tapped his fingers on the curve of the mug in his hands. "Look…I…I don't talk about it. Ever. That's not going to change. But you were right, and I know you were only trying to help. I'm not used to that."

"People trying to help you?" McCoy asked gently.

Jim shook his head. "People being decent. This would be a lot easier if you were an asshole."

"I can work on that." McCoy offered.

Jim laughed quietly. "Yeah, okay."

The silence lapsed again, a little lighter this time, and McCoy settled back to wait for Pike, his mind buzzing with questions.

"I'm sorry." Jim said suddenly. "And thank you. For looking out for me."

McCoy smiled gently. "Any time, kid."

"Kirk. McCoy." Captain Pike was impeccably presented, despite it being so early. Jim and McCoy stood, falling to attention. This was a little different from McCoy fishing a drunken Jim from Pike's office. This was not personal, this was official. "At ease." Pike said, then glanced at Ricky, "You have a room, Officer Strayton?"

"Yes sir." Ricky nodded, leading them into a small meeting room and setting up the recording equipment.

"In your own time, gentlemen." Pike nodded. There was no indication that he had more than a passing association with either of them and the tired, resigned man McCoy had briefly seen the night before was nowhere in sight. If Pike was anything like McCoy, he'd not slept well at all, but you'd never know by looking at him.

Jim began, knowing far more than McCoy did. "I was heading back to the barracks, sir. I'd spent the night at Cadet McCoy's dorm and needed a change of clothes before morning PT." Jim started out speaking calmly and assuredly, then his expression became more hesitant, "I know I broke curfew-" He said tentatively, glancing up at Pike in a way the recording would no doubt pick up on.

Sneaky little bastard, McCoy thought, almost admiringly. Jim wasn't outright lying about why he'd spent the night at McCoy's, but he was doing a damn good job of absolving Pike of any responsibility.

Pike shook his head, seeing through Jim instantly. "That's not my concern right now cadet. Just stick to this morning."

"Yes sir." Jim said, some of the tension in his shoulders leaving as he nodded. "I found Cadet Finnegan in the quad. He was lying on his back and it was obvious he was injured, but I didn't know how badly until I got closer."

"Did you see anyone else?"

"No sir." Jim shook his head. "PT's not until oh-six hundred and I think it's pretty rare for many people to be up and around much before then, not in that part of the campus I suspect." He glanced over at Ricky, who nodded in agreement, then carried on. "As soon as I saw that Finnegan was injured I called the emergency number, but I knew they'd take at least ten minutes to arrive, so I called Cadet McCoy."

"You're in the Medical Track, McCoy?" Pike clarified.

"Yes sir," McCoy said, swallowing around the dryness in his throat. "But I've had my M.D for years. I keep an emergency bag on hand out of habit."

"Good thing that you did." Pike nodded, still no trace of emotion on his face. "Can either of you think why Cadet Finnegan could be out so early in the morning? Or who might want to hurt him?"

Jim's expression remained open and honest. "Why he was out so early? I'm not sure sir, but as for who'd want to hurt him…Finnegan is a bully. I can think of a dozen or more people who'd like to kick his ass."

"Yourself included?" Pike asked.

"I'm probably somewhere near the top, yes." Jim said, seemingly unconcerned that he was implicating himself. "He spends most of his time with Mitchell and Andrews. They like to put the shakedown on the first years. It's mostly harmless hazing stuff, but sometimes it can get rough."

"Speaking from experience?" Pike asked, staring at Jim intently.

"It's only been physical the once." Jim shrugged. "Finnegan smacked me in the chest with an ion mallet in the rec center the other week."

"He did what?" McCoy demanded, speaking up in outrage. "You never told me!"

"It wasn't important." Jim said, shrugging again.

"Im..important? Those things can do real damage, Jim."

"Well it didn't." Jim said impatiently.

"Enough." Pike said cooly, cutting them off before McCoy could reach over and give Jim and solid shaking. "You never reported it." Pike said, actually sounding angry.

"He's just a bully." Jim said, "I've more important things to be doing than worrying about some asshole taking a dislike to me."

"I know what you're thinking," McCoy blurted out, worried now that suspicion would turn on Jim, despite his blasé attitude to what could quite easily be considered motive, "but Jim couldn't have been the one to attack Finnegan. His body temperature was seriously decreased: he'd been lying there for some time, and Jim had only been gone a few minutes before he called me. Besides, there was no weapon, right?"

"Relax, McCoy, I'm not accusing Cadet Kirk of anything." Pike said calmly.

McCoy met Jim's wide eyed look with a scowl of annoyance. "Good." He said mulishly.

"Is there anything else you remember?" Pike asked.

"No sir." They both said.

Pike nodded. "That should be all for now. Get changed, go to class, don't answer any questions you might be asked. I'll be in touch if we need anything else. You boys did good."

"Thank you sir." McCoy said, "How's he doing?"

"He's in surgery, but I'm told the prognosis is positive."

"That's good." Jim nodded.

They all stood and were dismissed. Jim hesitated, clearly wanting to speak to Pike, but the Captain shook his head. "I'll see you for your appointment later, Kirk."

"Yes sir." Jim swallowed nervously. Pike turned his back on them both to talk quietly with Ricky, so McCoy tugged Jim out into the hall.

"What the hell was that about?" He demanded.

"What?" Jim asked, looking surprised.

"You. Practically putting your hand up and confessing."

Jim scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Bones, Finnegan and I hating each other is a well known aspect of campus gossip. Better it came from me than someone else."

"And how exactly did you manage to piss him off? And why didn't you tell me he assaulted you?" McCoy growled, shivering as they stepped out into the cold.

"I didn't tell you because it was no big deal." Jim said. "As for why he hates me…" he hesitated, then sighed. "Our parents served together."

"On the Kelvin." McCoy finished. When Jim looked at him questioningly he shrugged sheepishly. "After you left, I looked it up. I'm real sorry, Jim."

"Don't be." Jim said, "It was kinda nice you not knowing." He purposely misunderstood what it was McCoy was saying, but McCoy couldn't really blame him. His emotions were probably raw enough as it was. "Anyway, like I said. Finnegan's a bully. I just give him more reason than most to be antagonistic."

"It was a nice thing you did for him then, the things you said." McCoy tucked his palms under his arms to preserve heat.

"I didn't know how bad it was." Jim admitted. "And no one deserves to die thinking they are alone." He cast his gaze back towards the quad and the bronze statue McCoy had never realized held so much emotional value to him. What must that be like? To be the son of a man everyone idolized, but to never have even met him. "I better head back to the dorm. See you on the fields?"

Despite it all, McCoy couldn't stop a smile touching his lips. "You're not bailing on me, then?"

Jim shook his head, his mouth smiling but his eyes serious and troubled. "You kidding? This place suddenly just got far more interesting."