Chapter 6: All my Days Spent by the Telephone that Never Rang

It doesn't take much to clear Jim's work calendar; it's not like he has any real duties anyways. At best he's been a glorified paper pusher for the last six months and in the last two month since Leonard has been found, he's not even that. His social calendar is nonexistent so the only two considerations he needs to make via his time are his arranged meeting with Thai and his visits with Leonard. He has to hold his meeting with Thai because Jim can't stand the idea of waiting any longer to start making real progress with Leonard. His daily visits with Leonard can wait the four days until Joanna goes back home. The old Leonard would understand and the new Leonard won't know the difference even if Jim's rather sick at the idea of not being there.

What the hell do you even do with a little girl? Jim grew up with a brother and a series of parental units that subscribed to the free range child rearing method. The only guide he has is offhanded conversations and comments with Leonard. He's pretty sure Joanna's past the imaginary tea party stage but that leaves a whole wide universe of appropriate and inappropriate activities for him to screw up. Jim puts some serious consideration into checking the Federation database for another James T Kirk, because Leonard couldn't have possibly meant him as a suitable replacement. Jim's never even given the slightest hint that he can do this.

Jim's only watched Joanna once and that certainly wasn't planned. Jim clearly remembers the hesitancy in Leonard's eyes as he headed out the door to report for his emergency call in shift in medial that he couldn't find another cadet to take. Jim had to solemnly swear that if they had to leave the dorm room, he wouldn't take Joanna off campus and he wasn't allowed to bring over any girls to help him babysit. It was just Jim and Joanna for eight hours.

Being the fun 'Uncle', he loaded her up with pizza and ice cream and candy until she puked. An exhausted and dishevelled Leonard came home to a sick kid. Leonard wasn't mad, he just let out a long sigh saying, "Kids will do that," before heading over to his room to tend to his daughter, leaving Jim hovering in the living room all night waiting to see if there was anything he could do to rectify the situation. Jim never babysat again and to this day he still doesn't know if Leonard was talking about Joanna puking or Jim being irresponsible.

Jim takes a deep breath and presses the door chime to the hotel room. He's doing this for Leonard. The nanny smiles pleasantly as she answers the door, standing out of the way to allow Jim entrance. It's just the two of them there, Jocelyn already half way to where ever her career is taking her.

"Uncle Jim!" says Joanna with a level of excitement equivalent to the level of terror Jim feels as she bounces towards him. "Mama says I get to spend the weekend with you."

"Sure do," replies Jim, exchanging terror of enthusiasm in his voice. At least one of them is excited about this turn of events.

"Her bags are all packed, Sir," says the nanny, pointing to living room.

"Bags?" asks Jim, surprised to find a large assortment of luggage waiting. "It's four days," he sputters. It looks like she's packed to move in.

The nanny just smiles like it's a regular occurrence as Joanna starts to list off the contents and their importance. Jim packs fewer things when he's on the Enterprise.

"Are we ready?" asks Joanna like they're heading out on a grand adventure.

Jim wants to say no, he's not ready for any of this. Instead he puts his anxiety in trying to solve the problem of how he's going to manage dragging these bags across the city by himself.

The trip to the lobby is enough to convince him to call a car instead of navigating public transit. It would probably be a bad omen to reach home without everything intact and since he has four days to look forward to, better to start off right.

"Here we are," says Jim, opening the door to his place. Joanna oohs and awes as she walks in, checking out all the rooms and the view as Jim wrestles her bags into the living room. Jim's positive her home in Georgia is ten times larger, with grand stair cases and chandeliers that would make members of the historical society salivate. Apparently views of San Francisco from the hundredth floor of a Starfleet apartment complex is different enough to be exciting.

"Where am I going to sleep?" she asks after surveying the land.

Jim's place is very much a bachelor pad. He has one bedroom and since he's mostly away on his ship, he hasn't had any company here that he wasn't sharing a bed with. "Umm," he mumbles perplexed. He hadn't given the sleeping arrangements much thought. He didn't have much time to give any of this much thought. "You'll be staying in my room," he says, eyeing the couch. It's not that comfortable but it's better than Jocelyn finding away to use his lack of bedrooms against him in court somehow. "Just give me a sec to tidy it up. What something on TV," he adds.

Joanna shrugs nonchalantly, flopping down on the couch with a put-upon sigh. "Computer, turn on TV."

Jim hears the news pop up, going over the latest developments of the outer colonies briefly before being hastily change to something sounding a bit more kid friendly. He grabs his work stuff and crams it into the top drawer of his dresser making sure to lock it securely. He doubts Joanna would have any interest in it or any inclination to touch it, but the last thing he needs is to be brought up on charges about classified items falling into the wrong hands because she accidently leaked something trying to play a game.

He tries to remember the prep work Leonard did to their dorm before Joanna came to visit. She's not that young anymore but Jim remembers the type of things he got into as a child and there aren't enough precautions in the universe. He thinks she a little more behaved than he ever was. He grabs some clothes for tomorrow and his toiletries before vacating. "It's all yours," he says, heading to the guest bathroom to deposit his stuff.

"What's for dinner?" she asks, starting to drag her assorted luggage into Jim's bedroom.

"Ummm… what do you want?" Right, kids need three meals a day and replicator option four and a bottle of vodka isn't going to work here.

Joanna mumbles and groans something that sounds like 'I don't know' as she sets about putting her belongings away.

It's not like Jim's never had food before, but it's like every suitable dinner option has been sucked from his brain. Normally this would be where Leonard scolds him for not eating and taking care of himself very well for the last year. The only thing floating around his head is pizza and ice cream and he knows how that turns out.

Jim makes a hasty call, shoulders sagging in relief when Sulu answers. "Captain Kirk," greets Sulu brightly, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" There's sounds of Ben and their daughter playing in the background.

"I need your help. Leonard's daughter's here, and I have to feed her, and what do kids even eat?" he asks utterly perplexed and feeling a little stupid.

Sulu laughs. Kirk is the last person he thought he'd be giving parenting advice to. "It depends on the day. I'll send you a bunch of Demora's favourite dinner replicator recipes. I'm sure one of them will be a hit."

"Thanks Sulu."

"How's it going otherwise?" asks Sulu, looking sympathetic.

Jim looks a little pained. "Ask me in four days?"

"It will be fine Captain. And as a helpful hint, there's a children's festival in the park on Saturday. It's a good way to kill an afternoon with family fun."

"Can we go?" pleads Joanna jumping up on the couch to kneel next to Jim. "Pleeeease?"

"I have to go, Sulu." Jim flips his communicator closed. "We'll see. I have some things to do Saturday, so I don't know if I'll have time to take you."

"Okay," says Joanna dejectedly, slumping down on the couch.

And doesn't Jim feel like a heel. The kid's asked for two things from Jim, her father and going to a festival and he's denying her both. "I'll do what I can." Those words feel especially hollow since the best Jim can do has been far from adequate this last year.

"That's what all adults say," she says, sullen and quiet. She tilts her head the same way Leonard does when he's burdened with monotonous tasks he loathes and goes back to silently watching a program on the life cycles of Platic Dragon butterflies.

Jim lies there, feeling like he didn't get any sleep at all. It's probably true; most of the night was devoted to tossing and turning both because the couch is not meant for sleeping and he refrained from using Johnny Walker to beat the voices in his head into submission. Today's going to go better, he tells himself, nothing but fun and distractions.

He slowly blinks his eyes open, a dark looming shadow before him. "Shit!" He scrambles back against the arm rest of the couch, trying to put some usable distance between himself and his attacker.

"Morning, Uncle Jim," says Joanna cheerily. "Mom says that's not a good word."

Jim lets out a long breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Realizing the threat is nonexistent, he slowly uncurls, putting his feet on the floor. "It's not. Don't use it," mutters Jim, cradling his aching head. A near heart attack and no sleep isn't the best morning combination. He's also highly suspect that it's the first time Joanna's heard the word and far worse given her father is Leonard. "I use lots of bad words. Try not to repeat them."

"Hummm," hums Joanna, pursing her lips together the same way her father does when he's analyzing something.

It's so eerily familiar considering Jocelyn denies Leonard access to Joanna at every turn. How does someone inherit a facial expression? Jim wonders what kind of mannerisms he mirrors of his own father and if he'll ever know which ones. George Kirk died when he was born; when Jim looks in the mirror, all he sees is himself. Is it a blessing or a curse to see something of someone else there? Jim raises his hand helplessly. "What were you doing?" Because the creep factor of having someone watch him while he sleeps is a little more than he was prepared for today.

"Waiting for you to get up," says Joanna, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "What are we going to do today? Can we finally go see Daddy?" She quickly climbs onto the couch next to Jim.

Thank you, Jocelyn for not explaining that little gem. Is it too much to ask that she tell Joanna it's not going to happen this visit? Now that that particular bomb is still in play, Jim has to re-plan his game plan. "Computer, what time is it?"

"It is zero six hundred hours."

Dear god, why? "What are you even doing up right now?" Jim wasn't planning on having to get the day started for another couple of hours; now he has even more time to fill. Joanna's all dressed and ready to attack the day and Jim's still trying to summon the energy to attempt wrangling himself some coffee.

Joanna shrugs, wrapping Jim's blanket around herself. "I wasn't tired anymore. It happens when you go to bed at eight. And I wanted to be ready."

Clearly eight o'clock was too early a bedtime. Jim licks his lips. He doesn't know how to even have this conversation with her. "Jo," he says softly. She looks up at him with big green eyes full of hope and the words die in his throat. Straight and honest, like ripping off a bandage, he reminds himself. "You're not going to… waste time having breakfast here. I wanted to show you all the sights of San Francisco and we'll start by having breakfast at a bistro I found during my first year at the academy," he says, diverting hard from the truth. 'See your dad' just wouldn't vocalize.

"Okay."

She seems content with the answer but like her father, Jim imagines she's keeping score of all the things he doesn't say or avoids saying. "I'm just going to grab a shower and then we'll go."

Jim climbs into the sonic shower and lets his head bang against the wall. Obviously the only thing the last eight month have taught him is to be a coward.

Sightseeing is evidently, exhausting. Jim's just about to call Joanna to dinner when he realizes she's fallen asleep on the couch. It's only six pm but Jim doesn't have the heart to wake her. He also hasn't gotten the nerve to break her heart all over again. Telling her Leonard was missing was one of the hardest things he's ever had to do.

Carefully he scoops the girl up and carries her to the bedroom. He takes off her shoes and socks before tucking her in and making sure the stuffed pla'tah Leonard bought at an off world flee market during shore leave one time, is safely under her arm.

He seizes this opportunity free of prying ears to contact the hospital and get an update. Under Thai's recommendation, Jim sent a list of approaches the staff and therapists should try so that all parties are using the same methods. It's being implemented with varying results and effort from the staff. If anything, Leonard's just as defiant as ever but the nurse assures him, it's simply growing pains and progress takes more than two days. Jim can't help but feel that maybe some of that turmoil is because Jim's disrupted Leonard's routine by not being there.

The next challenge Jim's facing is what to do with Joanna tomorrow when he attends his session with Thai. Learning the life of an Orion slave isn't for anyone, certainly not a child, so it's not like he can take her with him. He goes through his rolodex of friends and finds there are very few he trusts with Joanna.

Uhura and Spock have gone for the weekend. Jim assumes some long overdue romantic trip away from all the tragedy and loss. Pike's probably the best pseudo parent Jim can think of, but the mental image of Joanna turning Pike's office at Headquarters into a stuffed animal menagerie during important meetings is enough to make him reconsider. Asking a superior officer to babysit just feels over the line somehow.

He trusts Scotty with his life but asking him to mind an eight year old girl seems a bit of a stretch. He'd likely lose her in the bowls of the ship somewhere. Sulu has family plans and given the limited quality time the helmsman gets to spend with his daughter, Jim doesn't want to infringe.

Christine's working extra shifts, mostly so she can check in on Leonard while Jim's otherwise engaged. To ask her to tend to his daughter too, seems a little excessive. Gaila's still in town and while she's an adventure and a half, Jim questions the wisdom of giving her quality time to corrupt Joanna. She has even less of a filter than Jim does and the last thing he needs on his conscience is turning Leonard's prim and proper little girl into a hellish wild child like he or Gaila. There's really only one choice.

Jim sets his alarm for five am, just to be safe and prepares for another restless night. He's responsible for Joanna for four days and it's a crippling monumental task. How does he mange it for the rest of his life?

It's like implementing battle strategies. Jim maneuvers around the apartment, making breakfast and getting ready all before the sleeping angel in the next room begins to stir. He's contemplating waking her up as eight am rolls around when a god awful sounds starts radiating from the bedroom.

"What the hell's going on?" yells Jim to be heard over the noise as he enters the bedroom.

Joanna lowers her violin letting the bow rest at her side. "Ma says I have to practice every other day. And that's another bad word."

Jim frowns and mentally chastises himself. "I didn't know you played the violin." Jim has some recollection of Leonard mentioning piano lessons and something with horses and maybe a flute but nothing about a violin.

"I just started," she answers, raising the instrument to her chin.

That much Jim surmised by the noise it was making. The bow scrapes across the first string with an ear shattering scream that sets his nerves on edge. "How about breakfast and then practicing?" Give him some time to replicate a pair of earplugs.

Joanna chews on her lip as she mulls it over. "Alright." She careful places the instrument back in its case beside another case that looks suspiciously like another instrument and heads out to the kitchen.

"How many instruments do you play?" he asks wrapping his hands lovingly around his morning coffee.

"Five," she yawns, resting her elbow on the table and pillowing her head.

He fills her glass with fresh orange juice. Jim feels like he's earned points here. He's presented a well balanced breakfast, Dr McCoy would be proud of. "That's a lot of extracurricular."

"I play five instruments. My extracurriculars also include show jumping, volleyball, debate, French club and etiquette class. Ma says it will look good on my university applications.

"You're eight," counters Jim. His hobbies at eight included playing with parts in his dad's workshop, stealing apples out of the McKinnel's orchard and hustling other kids for their lunch credits at school.

"Tell that to Ma. I'm supposed to be well rounded, but I don't think that's all necessary for medical school." Joanna's nose wrinkles as she looks over the gargantuan spread. "Is it alright if I just have a bowl of cereal? I do have a lot of homework."

"Yeah," says Jim slightly dejected that his breakfast's been passed over. Homework- probably something he should have asked about or at the very least set aside time for. Is that something he's supposed to help with or let her figure out on her own? Jim never had penchant or inclination to do homework and there certainly wasn't anyone making sure it was getting done beyond a few stern lectures after parent teacher conferences. "You want to be a doctor?"

"I don't want to be a lawyer like Ma, but I know she wants me to be one. Daddy always seems to like his job, except when it makes him sad," she replies like they're the only two options in the universe.

The door chimes, putting a halt to the conversation, though Jim makes a mental bookmark to come back to it at some point. Joanna turns in her chair to watch as Jim goes to answer it.

"Jo, I want to introduce you to my friend Pavel," says Jim, leading Chekov back to the kitchen table. It's only when his painfully young Ensign is standing next to an actual child does he realize just how young Chekov is and how very much this feels like hiring a babysitter for the evening. He trusts his crew to run a starship, to perform with grace under extreme pressure, and yet he has a sense of unease about entrusting them with an eight year old girl.

"It's nice to meet you, Pavel," greets Joanna, extending her hand out.

"The pleasure is mine," replies Chekov taking her much smaller hand in his and giving it a gentle shake.

"I have a meeting I have to attend, but Pavel here," says Jim, clapping him on the shoulder, "is going to take you to that children's festival in the park Sulu mentioned. I hear there's going to be arts and crafts, performances, music and dancing. Should be fun." Honestly Jim has no clue if Joanna's even into any of that, but he's out of ideas and activities to distract her with forty-eight hours still on the clock.

"Yes, we'll have a good time," agrees Chekov hopefully. The last thing he wants to do is mess today up; the Captain will never trust him with another task again.

"I don't know," hums Joanna, as she mulls the idea over.

"You'd rather stay here to do homework and practice your violin?" asks Jim.

"Well if those are the only options, I'll get my coat," says Joanna, jumping off her chair and running to the bedroom.

"To the park and then back here before dark," instructs Jim. "Grab some lunch at the park but try to find something with a vegetable in it. I have some dinner options that Sulu gave me programmed into the replicator and I'll program your door access into my place. I don't think I'll be too late but bed time is definitely nine pm."

Chekov stands at attention. "Yes, Captain."

"And I don't care if you have to cause an intergalactic incident, you do not let her out of your sight. Do you hear me?"

"Understood."

"You're not coming at all, Uncle Jim?" There's a hesitancy in Joanna's voice as she takes a step back towards the bedroom.

"No, but I'll be home tonight." Jim reaches into his pocket and pulls out a communicator. He gets down on one knee and presses it into her hands, placing his hands around hers. "This belongs to your father. Take it so you can call me anytime you need me. My communicator is programmed in there and Chekov is a whiz with electronics if you need help. You're going to have fun."

Joanna turns the communicator over in her hand a few times before placing it securely in her pocket. "Alright." She walks over and takes Chekov by the hand, leading him to the door. "We don't want to be late, Mr Chekov, all the good craft pieces might be gone and then where will we be."

Chekov looks back helplessly at Jim as he's dragged out the door.

Jim stops quickly at the lounge in the hotel across the street before heading home just to get something to settle his nerves. The last thing Joanna needs to see is Jim falling apart. Especially when he's been dodging her questions with acrobatic skill so far; any questionable behaviour is going to blow the lid wide open on that can of worms. One quick drink won't hurt. It leads to two more because numbing his nerves has to be better than walking back into his apartment irritable and bitchy. And the couch is terribly uncomfortable; a few drinks will just ensure he finally gets some sleep.

Jim stumbles in the door some time after ten. He doesn't know what he thought it was going to be like getting hands on experience from Thai, but that wasn't it. The whole thing was far too real in a way that's left Jim raw and exposed. What's worse is at the end of the session, Jim gets to pick up and leave, back to his life like none of it matters. Leonard never got to leave, he never got to go home. The last year was a never ending nightmare that even Jim's self-flagellating ass can't replicate. But by god, he's certainly going to try.

Jim scheduled another session next week.

Chekov's ready and waiting for Jim to return with all the activities Joanna participated in today. "And I read her a bed time story," he declares proudly. "It's an old Russian tale about a wicked step mother, a prince and a fairy godmother that gives a girl glass slippers. But I could not get her to go to sleep."

"You mean Cinderella? Perhaps the evil step mother hit too close to home." Jim's not sure how he feels about potentially being on the hook for future bedtime stories.

"Da. I also sang a lullaby, but it did not work. I did not succeed today," he reports.

Jim would have paid real honest money to see that performance. "It's fine, Chekov," assures Jim, because he can't take that kicked puppy dog look from two kids tonight. "You did an excellent job. I've got it from here."

Jim stands there long after Chekov's slipped out the door. He's not exactly any more qualified for this than his young ensign. Lullabies and fairytales aren't exactly his forte. The best he can do is look for monsters under the bed, but he hasn't done such a good job of protecting McCoy's from monsters so far.

"Hey," he says softly, entering the bedroom. "Chekov says you can't sleep."

Joanna shakes her head with big tear filled eyes and pulls the blankets tighter around herself leaving a spot for Jim to sit.

Jim perches on the edge of the mattress. "You want to talk about it?"

"What's cognitive impairment?" The simple question explodes out of the little girl.

Jim goes cold. The universe is too cruel to be coincidental. "Why would you ask that?" It's probably too much to hope to dodge this phaser blast. He doubts Chekov would have said anything and Joanna wouldn't still be asking about Leonard if Jocelyn had told her more than Leonard's sick.

"It's what's wrong with Daddy, isn't it? Is that why I can't see him? It's what's making him act funny. Is it contagious or something?"

All the questions make Jim's head spin. He's busy trying to formulate appropriate answers when it dawns on him exactly what Joanna is saying. "How do you know he's acting different?" asks Jim still trying to put the pieces together. "And where did you hear the term cognitive impairment?"

Joanna bites her lips, looking everywhere but at Jim.

"Joanna," he says sternly.

Joanna lifts her hand from under the blanket presenting the communicator. "Daddy's communicator has access to all his personal information including the links to his personnel files which I was able to access on my PADD with his serial number. Nobody will tell me what's happening so I looked at the medial files and there was a vid," she confesses sheepishly.

"You hacked into your father's medical files?" says Jim in disbelief. "You're eight. How did you get encrypted files without his clearance code."

"I know my own birthday," she replies defensively.

Of course Leonard would use his daughter's birthday for his personal security code for non ship related purposes. Jim wants to be mad; there are so many things Joanna shouldn't have done but he essentially gave her the keys to the kingdom. And really, it's what he would have done. "Joanna, you can't read classified files even if you can figure out people's passwords and codes. If it was information you were supposed to have we would have given it to you." God does he sound like Captain Pike right now.

"But you're not telling me anything," she says.

She's right. Jim's been dancing around the topic for months and for all Jocelyn seems like the devil, she hasn't really said anything to Joanna either. It's probably unfair to keep her in the dark but the cold light of day brings a reality far worse than knowing what the adults know. Or does it? Jim spent months not knowing and it wasn't a better place than he is in now. He begins to wonder just who he's been protecting here.

"Is he dying? Or does he just not want to see me?" she asks in a small broken voice that shatters Jim's heart into a million pieces.

"Wh- why would you ask that?" utters Jim, trying to get his brain to work out just how to explain things. In all their attempts to shield Joanna, they let her conjure up an even worse case scenario.

"When Grand-daddy was dying they wouldn't tell me anything. And if Daddy's not that sick he would see me. I've been waiting to hear from him for forever and he's always talked to me before when he wasn't feeling well. So he must not want to see me."

Jim wraps his arms around Joanna and pulls her close. "No, Jo. He's not dying and the decision to not see isn't his, it's mine. I'm the one that won't let you see him," he says, face pressed against the top of her head.

"Why would you do that?" she mumbles into his shirt.

Jim takes a deep breath. "It's complicated. Your Dad, he's not the way you remember him," says Jim, replaying the observation vid in Leonard's medical files in his head. "The doctors don't believe he'll ever be the way we remember him again and I guess, I just want to protect you from that." He can feel her release a shuddering breath against his chest.

The one person in the whole universe qualified for this kind of a conversation is the one person who it's about. Jim watched Leonard break the hard news about a patient's death to their family once. It was at the end of a seventy-four hour shift during an outbreak the Enterprise had been sent to bring aid to. Leonard had lost eight patients that day. Jim sat there in the corner trying to be helpful by opening crates and sorting vials and watched as Leonard broke the news. Jim was amazed how calm and empathetic Leonard was and how he managed to make something so horrible feel a little less devastating.

The thing Jim envies most right now, is how easy Leonard had made that look.

Joanna pulls back to look Jim in the eye with her own tear laden eyes that are the exact same green as Leonard's. "So he won't be my Daddy anymore?"

"He'll always be your Daddy, Jo. Nothing in the universe will ever change that. It will just be different. Cognitive impairment is just their fancy way of saying that the people that took your dad damaged his brain. Right now the medical team made up of all the people who respect and love your dad are working hard to re-teach him things like feeding himself, getting dressed on his own, even how to talk."

"Like Daddy did with me when I was little?"

"Exactly. I didn't think it would be good for you to see him yet because he's still really confused and doesn't recognize his friends or where he is. There's a good chance he won't remember you right away."

"I still want to see him," she whispers.

"You sleep on it and if in the morning you still want to, we can go down to medical," says Jim, stroking her hair. It's probably not a good idea but it's the first things that's felt slightly right in a really long time.

Jim tucks Joanna back in and heads for the door.

"Uncle Jim!" calls Joanna. Jim turns. "Can you tell me the story of how you and Daddy met? I think I might be able to fall asleep if you tell me a story."

"Alright," he agrees, settling next to her in the bed. She falls asleep halfway through Jim and Leonard's encounter on the shuttle. Jim falls asleep himself just as he gets to their first full day at the academy. They both sleep through until morning curled up together.