"Mommy, don't leave." The little boy clung to his mother's skirt with his small hands. He clustered the fabric in his small fists. She was leaving again after being home for a short while. He didn't want her to go.

"I'm sorry. I have to leave. The taxi will be leaving soon."

"Please don't go," he smothered his face in the polyester, tears streaming down his face. He needed her there with him.

"Sweetheart," she bent down to her knees, kneeling on the brown soil of Iowan farmland. She spoke in a low whisper, brushing her son's tears away with the pads of her thumbs. "I have to leave. I've been called on duty. How else am I going to get the money for your schooling?" she said.

"I don't have to go to school anymore. I can work on the farm. Sell the crops in town," the boy desperately bargained. "I'll do anything. Just stay."

"No, baby," she said regretfully. She then tapped one of his temples, "I need you to be smart. I want more for you than just farming."

The child continued to cry and clung to his mother's hand, not wanting to let her go for even a second. She then took in the image of her son's bright baby blue eyes and shoulder length blonde hair. She brushed the strands of hair that covered his face, feeling the texture on her fingertips. Her lips formed into a frown, "You are so much like your father."

Right before the boy's eyes, he saw how his mother's expression changed into one of sadness and regret as she remembered her lost love. "You have his eyes. You even have his spirit."

The honking of the taxi caught the women's attention. Quickly, she brought her lips to her son's forehead, placing a small kiss there, "I love you, Jimmy. Be good."

She then moved to pick up her bags, pulling her hand away from Jimmy's grasp. His small hand had almost hovered in midair as he lost the touch of the one person that showed him affection. Whenever she left, it hurt him more than she realized. Whenever she left, she always conveyed how he looked so much like his father. It was routine. Jimmy could see how her face faltered when she looked at him. He began to believe that was the reason why she left. After all, he was a living and breathing reminder of George Kirk. But, first and foremost, Jimmy was a living and breathing aide-mémoire to his father's death. From then on out, Jimmy always saw himself as a reminder of the tragic past, never thinking that he had the potential for something so much more in the future. Jimmy never thought that he could actually be something special.

It better work this time, Jim went on to throw another rock at the flat watery surface of the San Franscisco Bay. As of right now, Jim was killing time before he had to get back to his dorm. After his last class, Jim needed some time to himself. He needed time to collect his thoughts. Luckily, Jim found a secluded area by the school's auditorium that was situated by the Bay's shoreline. Surely, no one would bother him there. Rather than sand, the ground was covered in a large supply of rocks. The endless supply, gave Jim a simple activity to take part in as he pondered the day's events. As a little boy, he always wanted to skip stones across a large mass of water. To a young Jim, it always seemed like fun.

Ultimately, the setting was perfect for thinking as he saw the lights of the city reflected on the water creating a serene atmosphere. The San Franscisco skyline differentiated whole heartedly with the Iowan corn fields and dirt roads Jim was used to. To Jim, the dirt roads and fields of corn seemed to be endless whereas in San Franscisco there seemed to be something new around every corner. Jim loved the contrast in setting. But, despite the lively atmosphere, Jim wasn't sure if he actually belonged here.

As soon as Jim released the chosen stone from his grasp and towards the water, the rock broke through the surface. The stone failed to skip on the water's exterior and instead fell through, creating a rippling effect. Damn, Jim felt the ripples antagonize him as he failed once more to toss a rock on the water. The last thing Jim needed was to be taunted by an inanimate object. He had received enough judgement from animate objects or in other words real people for the day.

"Your father was an honorable man it's a shame that he passed."

Whether Jim liked it or not, DePree's comment had gotten to him. As far as Jim knew, George Kirk didn't pass away. To say that someone passed implies that someone's death was something expected. It was a demise that occurred after a fleeting of time. His father's death, as far as Jim knew, was something that happened. A random occurrence that wasn't longstanding. Hell, it wasn't like his mother was sitting by his father's bedside, holding his hand and crying herself to sleep as his father's health declined. It was as simple as that. That was all Kirk knew. If George Kirk had passed… maybe…just maybe…it would have given Jim enough time to meet his father. It would have allowed Jim to see what the famous George Kirk really looked like rather than what he looked like in a digitized image on a screen. Winona, Jim's mother, always said he had his father's eyes. Jim wanted to see if it was actually true.

In class, Jim felt he had managed to successfully project the image that DePree's comment hadn't bothered him at all. From his experience, he learned there was nothing that a little wink and a smile couldn't fix. But, deep down, Jim knew his practiced wink and smile couldn't remedy what troubled him within. Whenever someone mentioned his father, it managed to stir certain feelings inside of him. It was his weak spot. His very own Achilles' heel. But, of course, Jim would never admit it to anyone.

Whenever someone discussed George Kirk in front of Jim, Jim managed to brush the statements off like dirt off his shoulder. It didn't matter, Jim would tell himself. Why should I care so much about someone I never even met?

However, as Jim was no longer in Iowa, it was more difficult to keep himself composed. The mix of a new environment surrounded by people who had at least heard the name George Kirk made things more difficult for Jim. He couldn't play off the comments that people made about his father for four years straight. He had the potential to absolutely lose it and possibly get into a fight with one of his classmates as if he was back on the grade school playground.

Now, in San Franscisco, he was living in George Kirk's shadow more than ever. And, frankly, Jim didn't know much about the day his father died. All he knew was the fact that his father went down with his ship like a Captain was supposed to. But, George Kirk wasn't necessarily a Captain long enough to call the U.S.S. Kelvin his own. And, more importantly, George Kirk wasn't necessarily a Captain long enough to commit suicide and get himself killed in the meantime. And, of course, Jim knew that his father just so happened to die on his new born son's birthday. For the rest of his life, Jim would be haunted by his father's death like an albatross around his neck.

Throughout Jim's childhood, his mother, Winona, remained tight lipped about what happened on January 4, 2233. If Winona attempted to discuss the day, she would burst into tears. Jim didn't even bother to ask Frank, his step-father, what had happened to his father. Jim didn't ask Frank because Jim feared that instead of getting an explanation he would be getting a beating instead. Jim also couldn't ask his older brother Sam about what happened as his brother knew just as much about their father's death as Jim did in himself. There was simply no use in Jim asking questions about the past when his present seemed to be stagnate and unchangeable. Nothing could change what happened and Jim had thought he was fine with not knowing. But, now, Jim wasn't so sure anymore.

Jim prepped to throw another stone at the water in hopes that it would finally skip along the surface. Without delay, the stone was absorbed by the water leaving several ripples in its wake. Jim huffed and threw three rocks at the water not making any gesture to have the rocks skip. Expectantly, the rocks plopped through the water. Although the rocks fell through the water as expected, Jim felt unsatisfied from throwing the stones in such a way. His mind returned back to DePree's comment.

Essentially, Jim didn't like to talk about his father. And, he definitely didn't like it when other people mentioned George Kirk in conversation. In Jim's view, no one had the right to talk about his father. They didn't know George Kirk and they didn't know Jim. They were only making statements in complete ignorance. Sure, DePree may have meant well, but she put Jim on the spot in front of all of his other classmates. Now, they all definitely knew who Jim was as well as his lineage.

However, it was only until recently, Jim felt he had actually met someone who did have the right to talk about his father. And, that man was Captain Christopher Pike.

In the beginning, Jim wasn't sure what to make of the aging Starfleet Captain. After Jim had gotten himself in a good old fashion bar fight with several Starfleet cadets, Pike with a shockingly loud whistle called off the red hounds, putting an end to the brawl. When the fight came to a dramatic close, Jim expected the man to leave. Rather, the man stuck around. Pike sat at the same table with Jim, bought him a couple of drinks and made moves to converse. It was an encounter Jim didn't expect to gain anything from like two ships passing in the night.

Halfway through, the conversation seemed to be light and easy. It was light and easy right up to the point when Pike mentioned Jim's father. The conversation was a little harder to tolerate when George Kirk came into the discussion. For a while, Jim had done his best to appear apathetic the first time Pike mentioned George Kirk. But, then Pike mentioned George Kirk again causing Kirk to lose his resolve.

"Look…so your dad dies you can settle for a less than ordinary life or do you feel like you were meant for something better? Something special?"

A small silence hovered between them enabling Jim to think about the words Pike spoke. He had a chance to respond, but chose not to. Easily giving himself the opportunity to shoot Pike down.

"Enlist in Starfleet." Pike said, surprising Jim in the process.

"'Enlist'?" Pike's suggestion invoked a laugh from Jim. Maybe he had lost too much blood, but Jim couldn't believe what he was hearing. Pike was proposing the most ridiculous thing Jim had heard that day and possibly his entire life. "'Enlist in Starfleet'?" Pike had to be joking. If Jim had a drink in hand he would have ejected the remnants of liquid from his mouth, letting it erupt all over the table and floor. "You guys must be way down your recruiting quota for the month," Jim replied, inhaling the remaining blood that dripped from his nose.

Jim decided early on that he would never become a part of Starfleet. Every time Jim saw propaganda posters for the organization, he scoffed and walked away. He always thought that the promises of exploration in deep space were a bit overrated. Plus, Starfleet managed to cause Jim enough pain in his life. Pain that was both emotional and physical. Speaking of physical pain, Jim's face was aching all over, if getting punched in the face by a Starfleet recruit was the Federations' new recruitment strategy, it certainly wasn't a good form of persuasion.

"If you're half the man your father was…" Pike mentioned George Kirk again, causing Jim to abandon any sarcastic comments he brooded over. His father was his weak spot. Jim licked his lips to ease the throbbing sensation. The taste of metal was strong on his tongue.

Pike continued to speak, "Starfleet could use you. You can be an officer in four years. You can have your own ship in eight."

From Jim's point of view, the man seemed bent on convincing Jim the value of Starfleet. Jim kept his mouth shut, closing his eyes for a second, hoping that when he opened them he'd be somewhere else. Talking to a Starfleet recruiter was not at all how Jim thought his night would go. The whole point to coming to this bar in the first place was to get drunk and hook up with...if not a beautiful woman…a decent looking one at the very least. If Jim hadn't gotten interrupted by that apelike cadet, he knew he would have gotten somewhere with that cadet named 'Uhura'. And, by 'somewhere', Jim hoped that it would be a motel room where he would finally know her full name and be granted a lesson in Xenolinguistics. Now, after taking several punches to the face, Jim was tired. He wanted to rest. He didn't want to think about his dead father. He didn't want to think about anything. Nonetheless, when he opened his eyes he was still in the same bar with the same old man sitting in front of him. But, it seemed like he didn't have a choice in the matter as the man named 'Captain Pike' continued to speak.

"You understand what the Federation is, don't you? It's important." Pike said in a tone that could be misconstrued as condescending rather than encouraging.

Now, Jim felt as if Pike was talking down to him. Of course, he knew what the Federation was. He saw the recruitment posters and heard the calls to enlist over the radio. He wasn't an idiot. And, because he wasn't an idiot that was why he didn't want to enlist. The Federation might as well have been what killed his father, tearing Jim's family and future apart.

"It's a peace keeping and humanitarian armada-"

"Are we done?" Jim said, cutting Pike off, and glaring at the old man through droopy eyelids. Jim didn't care about Starfleet. Jim didn't care about the Federation. And, he sure as Hell didn't care about his dead father. As far as Jim was concerned he didn't have a father. Jim's 'step-father' Frank sure as Hell was no father to Jim. Jim only cared about himself. That was the only person he could depend on. No one else.

"I'm done." Pike relented, seeing that Kirk's patience was growing thin. The man made moves to leave.

Good, Jim thought before consuming another glass of alcohol. He needed the substance to drown out whatever Pike had said.

Kirk was destined for greatness, Pike could feel it. But, if Kirk didn't want to listen there wasn't much he could do. What was the saying that his daughter used more often than not? "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink." Pike couldn't think of a metaphor that was more perfect for this situation. However, as popular as the saying was, Pike wanted Kirk to enlist. In evidently, Kirk's repeat offenses made him look like an undesirable candidate. Be that as it may, his high aptitude scores outweighed any concern Pike may have had about the kid's intelligence. Felicity would give him an earful as soon as she found out what Pike had been doing tonight. But, hopefully, she would already be asleep by the time he got back to the hotel. Pike had his fingers crossed.

"Riverside shipyard. Shuttle for new recruit's leaves tomorrow at 0800," Pike said, standing.

Kirk raised his glass to serve as a wave of goodbye, acting as if he was happy to see Pike go.

Pike pursed his lips together at the sight of Kirk's indignant attitude. It appeared as if Pike needed more than just altruism to convince Kirk to enlist. Pike needed to stroke Kirk's self-interest. If there was anything Kirk's bar brawl told Pike it was the fact that Kirk liked a challenge. But, what could that challenge be? Pike wondered. He then remembered pivotal information from his dissertation. Why didn't he mention it before?

"You know your father was Captain of a starship for 12 minutes," Pike began, watching Kirk's expression. "He saved eight hundred lives including your mother's. And, yours."

Jim blinked, looking into blank space. He didn't know. Jim didn't know his father accomplished so much in so little time. He didn't know his father sacrificed himself out of nobility. No one had ever told Jim the absolute significance of his father's death. His mother kept it hidden from him and so did his step-father. How could Jim have possibly thought so little about his father? Jim felt so ashamed. If his father could see him now, what would he think of the son he sacrificed his life for? George Kirk was a hero and his son was the town drunk.

Pike was smiling in the inside, seeing that he caused something to spur within Kirk. His concluding method of persuasion was working and now he knew exactly what to do for the final push. "I dare you to do better," Pike said effortlessly before leaving the bar, enabling Jim the choice to take up the challenge he had just wagered.

Jim didn't have to take up Pike's challenge. But, he did so anyway. And, now, he found himself in a secluded area outside of Starfleet throwing rocks at the water of the San Francisco Bay. Jim promised himself that the stone he had in his hand would be the last rock he threw. For his final throw, Jim made sure to pick up a stone that was smooth and flat. A stone the color of honey had caught his eye and fortunately it was the perfect size and shape. The stone had a good chance of succeeding.

As Jim put himself into position for his final throw, Jim thought about the other reason apart from Pike's dare that motivated him to enlist. That other reason was the fact that Jim wanted to discover more about his father. He wanted to get all the information he could to compensate for all the information his mother and Frank disdained to tell him as a little boy. But, most importantly, Jim wanted to find out how and why his father died. He wanted to know the circumstances of his death. If Jim found out, he could finally get closure and be…if not better…just as good of a man as his father.

Despite Jim's motivations to discover more about George Kirk, he wasn't sure where to look first. He wanted the information fast and he wanted information that was relevant. He needed someone trustworthy enough to help him find the information and he needed someone who was kind enough to not pass judgement.

Suddenly, Jim remembered a particular brunette with honey colored eyes. Although, she wasn't exactly a history major she most definitely knew her way around archival materials. Her book on Greek mythology said it all. Also, in Astronomy, she seemed like the only person that wasn't judging Jim. Her eyes didn't stay on him too long like the rest of the class. And, when he first introduced himself to her, she didn't seem surprised at all about who he was. She treated him somewhat normally despite the fact he was dressed in nothing but a towel. But, when he was dressed, she asked about the bruises on his face from his bar fight in Iowa. She was a kind person, Jim could tell.

As he was distracted by his memory of the brunette, he forgot entirely about the stone he had thrown to the water. In perfect motion, the honey colored stone skipped across the surface three times wrinkling the water's exterior. But, Jim didn't care about skipping rocks anymore. He cared about finding the cute little brunette who was over prepared for Astronomy class. He needed to find her. He needed to find Felicity.

A/N

Dear Readers,

I just want to say thanks for taking the time to read, follow, and favorite this story. Receiving notifications that people actually enjoy what I write really makes me happy and encourages me to write more. So, thank you very much!

Again, feel free to leave a review or message me for constructive criticism/feedback.

Sincerely,

Angela