Sorry for taking so long. My hard drive crashed meaning new computer, then holidays, and then just plain old not sure how to write Jim. Hopefully I did well. You tell me.

"Aunt Joanna, can you come outside for a minute?"

A beautiful woman in her late thirties emerged from a small, standard issued, colony farmhouse. She had beautiful long, brown hair, tanned skin, and lively green eyes. Jim always loved his aunt's eyes. The way she looked at him. They held mischief as well as a quiet intelligence and, most of all, love. Though his mother loved him, she was always off planet. He was lucky if she was home a few weeks out of the year, and when she was home, he was too busy with school, friends, or just staying away from the house to avoid his uncle. That soft warmth that she held in her eyes when she looked at him filled him with a pride and joy that he never knew he was capable of. The best thing about his aunt though was her personality. It was just as radiating as she was.

When he had first met her, Jim came up with a brilliant idea. At this point in his life, Sam had left, and Jim had reacted by acting up, badly. His once top of the school grades plummeted, he stop being courteous, and essentially stop being the golden child Sam had accused him of. He thought it would bring Sam back home in the beginning. That he could prove to Sam that he still needed his big brother. And it got worse as time went on: fights every day, skipping school, and eventually shop lifting.

He was twelve, discovering girls, and hormones were coming into play and influencing his actions. His friends were low-lives and did not come up with the greatest of plans. He was aware of that even at his age. He even knew that hanging out with these kids would only hamper him later in life. After all, he was smart, a genius even, but he could not bring himself to care, not about the people he hurt or even for himself. Who would care if he smoked, or if he caused another kid to go to the hospital, or if he felt up a girl? His friends thought he was cool, and it made people stop thinking he was a chip off the old block. He hated hearing that the most, people comparing him to someone who he never met. It also gave him a chance to release all the pent up anger and hatred he stored up inside himself living in Frank's house, and it gave him an excuse for the bruises that he always had. So when he saw a beautiful woman walking down the sidewalk in the middle of Riverside at night, it was the perfect opportunity to get a few more laughs.

He strolled by in a too big, worn out, brown leather jacket acting cool, his friends watching a little ways away. When he was close enough, his hand shot out to lift up her skirt. It was a harmless prank. The woman would yelp and try to slap him or go off crying or whatever. Worst case scenario, she would call the cops, but he'd be long gone by then.

His fingertips barely brushed the fabric of the woman's miniskirt when he found himself staring up at the night sky a split second later. He hadn't even noticed he had been flipped onto his back until she leaned over him with a playful smile. "My, my, if it isn't my little nephew James Tiberius Kirk."

At the sound of laughing from his friends, Jim shot up, scrambling to get back onto his feet. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" He demanded. His chest puffed out and chin raised, glaring at this woman who had the nerve to actually make a fool out of him.

Her response was a smack to the back of his head. She did that often, he soon came to find out. Anytime he was disrespectful or did something stupid, she would smack the back of his head. Hard enough to sting just a bit, but never hard enough to do any damage. It was more annoying than anything.

He never did find out why she was in Riverside that night, nor did he care enough to put effort into finding out, but she did visit often afterwards. He didn't give her the time of day. She was his father's sister. He wanted nothing to do with his father. Not until Frank kicked him out of the house one night.

That was nothing new. He was used to getting kicked out of the house. Frank would have him locked out for a few days if he was really pissed. Normally, he'd just find some place to crash temporarily. The school basement or, if it was warm, a spot by the lake underneath the big oak tree in the park, were his usual stomping grounds. He never relied on his friends for a place to crash. He never wanted them to find out his life outside of school and their outings. He didn't trust them enough. This particular night however, he was sporting a high fever.

He wandered for a bit, trying to focus on finding a place to stay. His fever made his thinking lethargic, and he kept losing his train of thought. He collapsed in the park, vaguely wondering if he was going to die there, thinking it was fitting to die alone as he spent most of his life alone.

Somehow, and she never answered how no matter how many times he had asked, she found him. She picked him up and cared for him until he recovered even making excuses to Frank on where he was and what he was doing. Despite how rude he was to her in the past, she held no anger or annoyance toward him. She treated him as if he was her own, not taking any disrespect from him yet sitting through his fits of anger and hurtful words, letting it slide off her as if he had spoken to her about the weather. That's when he discovered how kind and patient she really was. She knew that he needed to get it off his chest, and she sat and listened, and when he had tired himself out, feeling like crap and filled with self hatred and loneliness, she lent him a shoulder and gave him words of encouragement.

Not long after the incident, he received an invitation to come with her to the colony she lived on. Frank was eager to get rid of him, and he was eager to get away, so he accepted. That was how he came to live with her.

In the first year of his stay on Tarsus, he quickly figured out that the crap he pulled in Riverside would not fly here. Actions had consequences. If he failed a test, he would sit in remedial classes. If he picked up a cigarette, he would be forced to play janitor at the school. It was consequences he wasn't used to. He was used to hurtful words and fists. It was to his surprise when he found that what he really took to heart was the look of hurt that was always present on his aunt's face when he really screwed up. He was used to looks of disappointment, but seeing his aunt apologize to others and get scrutinized for his mistakes and being told she was failing as a guardian, that was the worst. The longer he stayed under her care, the more he wanted her to be proud of him.

Six months after first moving in, she managed to pull out that hidden genius in him. She tricked him into taking a placement test by occasionally asking him questions, pretending it was work related. It took several months to get through the questions, but she managed to do what no one else had. In hindsight, he should have seen that coming, but he was happy she succeeded. She put him in more advanced classes, gave him engineering projects, and had him come to her work at the colony's laboratory. She was a famous biologist and highly respected. She constantly kept his mind from being idle.

She not only taught him of science but also of character. She taught him how to treat a woman, how to control his anger, and how to better choose his fights. Yeah he was far from being perfect even after two years on Tarsus IV. He still got into fights and had trouble controlling his anger, but he no longer flipped skirts, smoked, stole, or outright disrespected authority. He suspected that by the time he became an adult, he would actually be a decent human being.

Jim did not smile at her. Not this time. His brows were drawn together in worry as he showed her the dead birds that littered the ground by the crops.

She stood beside him, taking in the sight, cool and collected as always. "What type of birds are these Jim?"

Annoyance crossed the teen's face. Normally he didn't mind her little quizzes, but he wasn't in the mood at the moment. "Ravenburrow is what they have been dubbed. Native to the planet. They are scavengers eating both plants and remains of dead animals. They have unique immune systems that make them very resistant to disease. Studies on their immune systems are being conducted in hopes to find a way to improve humanoid ones."

"Very good, though I would have preferred the scientific name for an answer instead." Jim rolled his eyes. He answered it didn't he? He didn't even flinched when he felt the smack at the back of his head for the eye rolling. "What can you conclude from what you see?"

Jim hesitated but not because he did not know. It was the answer he was afraid of. "Judging by the fact that they are by the fields and are often annoying pests to the farmers, I'd say they were chowing down on the crops before they kicked the bucket. Since they rarely die from disease . . ." Jim stared at the premature crops. He approached, stopping just at the edge of the field. Small, barely visible white fuzzy particles on the leaves. "I'd say that the grain is highly toxic to humans if the Ravenburrow died so quickly."

Joanna nodded her agreement. Her features' darkening. "Yes, those are my thoughts exactly."

No no no no no no. It was impossible for it to show up here. There were several solar systems away from Tarsus IV. There was no way for it to show up on this planet.

The sight of the petrified forest froze the young captain in his tracks, his eyes wide with disbelief, and his palms were sweating while his hands shook. He could feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand and his heart race. He needed to breathe, but he couldn't force air into his lungs. Shit was he having another panic attack?

"Captain?" The word was said softly, barely above a whisper even, but it had Jim snapping his head to the side to look at his first officer, taking the slight crease in the Vulcan's brow and concern hidden in his eyes.

The fear that had rapidly taken hold of the captain slowly began to ease, just enough for him to reply with a slight smirk on his face. "I'm alright Spock. Just taken by surprise." It was surprising how calm and collected he sounded considering the clashing emotions inside him. If he hadn't known better, he might have believed himself.

Spock didn't look so convinced however. Jim should have expected that. Spock always seemed to see right through him, but he did not press much to Jim's relief. Instead, he studied the plant life before him with detached interest.

"Spock, we should go around." He couldn't stop the slight waver in his voice caused by his nerves when the commander took a step closer.

"In a moment, Captain. I would like to take a sample in case we have a chance to analyze the specimen in the future." Spock had reached up to scrape a small sample of the fuzzy white moss into a small test tube which was most likely retrieved from the small satchel he carried when on scientific missions that normally carried his tricorder and other scientific equipment.

"Don't!" Jims hand shot out to slap the Vulcan's hand away, voice filled with panic.

Spock pulled his hand away, but his eyebrows had disappeared under his bangs in surprise at the outburst. "Captain? Is something troubling you?"

"We need to find a river to wash our clothes," Jim tried to hide the panic. His façade was failing, and there was no way Spock had missed the desperation in his voice this time, but safety came first. Spock didn't know what he could have done by nearing that plant. He couldn't have known. Tarsus IV was classified. Only admirals and specific government officials could read about the disaster. The only thing that the public was informed of was the massacre that happened. The nitty gritty details were tightly under wraps, and those were the details that really mattered.

"Captain, if you have concluded that I was going to come into contact with the substance directly, that was not my intention."

"Just . . . trust me alright. Do not touch it, and do not go near it."

Spock opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue the matter. Something on Jim's face must have made him reconsider. The Vulcan nodded, responding, "As you wish, Captain. If my data is correct, there should be a creek away from the contaminated area 400 yards east."

The only answer Spock received was a curt nod. Jim turned on his foot heading east, being extremely careful of where he stepped and how far away the contamination was relative to their position.

Spock watched him with a critical eye. His normally brash captain had made a quick transformation before his eyes. In fact, it was so fast it seemed as if two sides of his captain were struggling for control. On the outside, Jim was trying to be normal, but his captain was failing. He had spotted the fear in his eyes, heard the trembling in his voice and his quickened pulse, and saw the stiffness of his movements. If he had to make a hypothesis, he would say that for 14.89 seconds, Jim had displayed the early symptoms of an anxiety attack when they had first come in contact with the diseased forest. Jim seemed to snap out of it when Spock had called out to him however, so the Vulcan was about to sum up the odd behavior under the complex human conduct he did not quite grasp. That was when Jim started showing inconsistencies.

Spock was well aware that Jim knew what they had stumbled upon. The initial reaction was enough to support that theory. That was also how Spock knew that it was very probable that it was a large variable of the current situation to cause such a reaction in Jim. It was more than surprise, it was fear. When the initial fear faded behind Jim's bravado and reassuring smirk, Spock was curious, but he also sensed the captain was not quite ready to talk about it. The quiet pleading in his eyes curved his curiosity and questions. Jim was trying to act normal, but the Vulcan had seen the way Jim's eyes darkened before his façade was in place. With what emotion, he could not tell, but it wasn't an emotion his friend had shown before.

What really drew the Vulcan's attention was what Jim did after they were on their way. The human's outburst had cleared any doubt that he was indeed hiding something, but the Vulcan was not going to question it, yet. Humans seemed fond of their secrets. Some kept more than others, and the captain seemed to have quite a few of them, but he wasn't going to pry until his captain had truly regained his calm, so he quietly observed Jim as the human led the way. Jim's footsteps were quiet even to his sensitive ears, and it wasn't a conscious effort either. His attention was too focused on his surroundings, keeping a specific distance away from the crumbling part of the forest. He never wandered any closer than 20 ft. For his brash and often reckless captain, it was very out of character.

As they continued on, Spock also noticed the increasing tension in the human's broad shoulders and the quiet murmurings to himself. He couldn't quite make out what the captain was saying, but it was concerning none the less. Jim tended to keep his thoughts to himself unless he was complaining about the admirals.

Jim caught sight of the creek first, picking up his pace but still as silent as he had been previously, simultaneously stripping off his clothes. Spock stared longer than he needed to before quietly copying his captain, taking in the way he washed his clothes. The shirt was carefully kept from the inside touching the outside and washed by rubbing it on the rocks as the water flowed over it. The ease his captain completed the task again insinuated that he had come into contact with whatever they had run across before.

Spock was quietly calculating how to broach the subject when Jim was the first to speak. "I know you have a lot of questions for me." Jim's voice was quiet and detached, comparable to when Jim talked to anyone about his death in the warp core.

The unpleasant memory tugged at his buried emotions and forced him to focus on his task and keep his eyes off the man before him. "Only two specific questions, Captain. One of which is how to create a properly working subspace communication device using only stone knives and bearskins."

Jim chuckled at Spock's attempt at humor. He must have looked like shit if Spock was cracking jokes. "You know, I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu that you said something like that before."

Spock raised an eyebrow clearly stating that was highly improbable.

Jim's amusement died down and his eyes traveled down to his hands, still clutching his shirt and under the cool water. The water was a beautiful crystal green, comparable to Earth's crystal blue waters in the Caribbean. It reminded him how beautiful this planet used to before the scorched earth and dying flora. "I know I need to tell you what I know, but I'm not ready. Still trying to get my head wrapped around the situation and weed out the important details." Jim met his first officer's eyes with a forced smile that made Jim look paler than he was. His eyes were beseeching. "Just give me a few hours. I'll tell you then. Just . . . don't pry until then, and trust me when I tell you to do something."

"Jim." He paused for a moment to take in the captain's reaction to his name. Spock had said his name softly and calmly, yet Jim braced himself. His chest puffed out just slightly in rebellion, waiting for Spock to try to change his mind. "You are my captain and my friend. I will await for when you are more comfortable on the topic. I will not pry, but if I feel that the crew is at risk or the information becomes too pertinent to our survival─"

"I won't hesitate to tell you." Tension drained from the human's shoulders. "Should we wait for our clothes to dry or continue on?"

"As the others will be awaiting our return by nightfall, we should continue on if we are to keep to the schedule."

There was a small voice inside Jim's head that was whispering things, things that he had tried to forget for a long time, but Jim shoved them back. This was not Tarsus. Things were different here. Old habits may not apply here. Jim put his pants on but kept his shirt off so it could dry as they walked. Spock did the same, though he kept his black undershirt on as well.

The rules Jim gave him were simple. Do not wonder closer than twenty feet to anything that looked infected with the white fuzzy moss, and if any symptoms of sickness appear, tell him immediately. Just that little amount of information gave Spock a few hypotheses on they were dealing with.

The apprehension that surrounded Jim was significantly less than before though it hadn't dissipated completely. Jim couldn't help but smile a bit to himself mentally. Spock's easy acceptance of Jim's secrecy was a blessing. It gave him time to collect himself and decide exactly what he was going to say about his past. It was true that he trusted his crew, but he couldn't trust them to look at him the same if they knew who he really was, deep down inside.

Feeling the intense brown eyes of his first officer on his back, he forced himself to keep his cool. Out of everyone, he couldn't let Spock know his secret. Instinctively, he clenched his fists. Spock must never know.

As they neared the settlement, the smell of rotting corpses hit their noses. Jim used his shirt to cover his nose, but Spock did no such thing. Could Vulcan's turn off their sense of smell? Jim decided yes because the smell was enough to make him nauseous yet Spock seemed unaffected. Still, the captain had to steady his nerves at the sight of the village. Corpses littered the street, partially eaten or decayed. The settlement itself, contained one story houses that were standard models used in most Terran colonies, and a few two level buildings set aside for scientific research, were deserted.

"What do you think Spock? Hear anyone nearby?" Jim kept his voice low and surprisingly steady, considering the scene before him.

"I do not hear anyone. I do not believe we will find a colonist who will assist in clarifying the situati0on."

The human nodded in agreement. "But we need supplies. We can scavenge for some while we're here."

"Stealing Captain?" A laugh escaped him before Jim could help it. Spock had sounded so affronted at the thought.

"I prefer to think of it as salvaging. Besides, I have a feeling there won't be much left once we get there." While the first half of the statement was cheerful with a slight twinkle in Jim's eyes, the second half was said with under his breath, not meant for anyone else to hear. "We'll keep low and out of sight just in case."

Spock fell in line behind Kirk, following him along the outskirts of the colony. Kirk trusted his first officer to keep an ear out for anyone nearby, so he stayed in the shadows of the buildings and kept his focus on trying to keep his growing unease under control. The entire scene was like someone pressed replay in his memories. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. Spock was right behind him; he had to keep it together. "Spo─" his voice cracked, forcing him to clear it as quietly as he could. "Spock, let's start with the medical facility first then hit the houses one by one heading outward to the edge," he kept his voice low and just loud enough for Vulcan ears to pick up. He felt the silent confirmation from his first officer. He didn't move immediately, and he knew the hesitation would pique Spock's interest. He had to move. He forced that step forward, shoving all his emotions and thoughts to the back of his mind.

Jim stepped over a body, hidden partially by an overturned hover bike. He felt bile rise up in the back of his throat. He had caught a glimpse of the body and had regretted it instantly. A part of him was relieved that the man's face was obscured by the bike. It would either prove or disprove what he was trying not to admit to himself.

Spock however did stop to take a good look at the body. He stared at Jim's back. When the human made no attempts to stop, Spock followed, sparing another glance at the corpse. He promised not to ask, but it was becoming increasingly challenging as time continued.

They entered the medical facility through the back door. They thought they would have had to pry open the door, using the phaser to melt the lock. It turned out that it was unneeded. The door was unable to close due to a single pen, jammed into hinge, keeping the door open just enough so it wouldn't lock. From far away however, the door looked closed. A quick escape and entrance if everyone assumed it was locked.

Jim halted, his entire body on alert. He spared a glance at Spock, but the Vulcan didn't hint that anything was amiss. Still, he was only determined to rely on Spock's superior senses so much. There were always ways to get around them if someone knew what they were doing. Jim was one of those people. There were likely to be others.

Jim pulled the door open, so there was a small crack. Thankfully, the hinge didn't squeak to give them away. He listened carefully, reassuring himself that there was no one waiting nearby. His hand with the phaser went first, then the rest of his body. The power was turned off making it difficult to see with the lack of windows in this part of the building. He entered, feeling along the wall to find his way, progressing slowly.

From the little natural light that entered through the few windows and a large variety of cracks in the wall, Jim deduced they were in a corridor leading to the emergency care center. The walls themselves were intact though little could be said about the rest of the facility. Everything was trashed. Papers were scattered throughout the halls, some stained with blood, phaser burns scorched the floor and walls, furniture was overturned, and desks, file cabinets and bags were ransacked.

"Have an idea where the pharmacy would be?" Jim asked Spock. He carefully picked up a large sturdy bag from one of the corpses, carefully removing the death grip the woman had on it. "Rigor mortis. She died recently."

"Judging by the progression of the rigor mortis, I would estimate her death to be approximately 12 hours ago," Spock kneeled beside the woman, lifting her head to access the damage. "Cause of death is severe trauma to the back of the head."

"I agree. We should hurry to get what we need and get out of town." Jim took a quick look in the ugly brown bag, and noted with relief that there were already supplies. Unfortunately, it didn't look like she reached the pharmacy. "Let's hurry."

Jim moved to shoulder the bag, but Spock took it from him first. "Our destination should be up ahead to the right. I advise caution. The killer may still be nearby."

Since Spock made no comment about taking the bag, Jim decided to leave it alone. His shoulder and neck were very tender from the crash yesterday, and the journey to the settlement had made both stiff and uncomfortable.

Spock took the lead that time. Jim kept his gaze straight forward trying not to look at anything else. He was getting nauseous again. He needed to get out of this town, but again it had to wait. Sure they found a bag full of provisions, but the medicine could prove very invaluable in worst case scenarios. If they could find a tricorder for Bones, they could truly treat Ensign Pennington and any future problems they might run into until the Enterprise picked them up. They already missed their first check in. If they missed one more, the Enterprise was supposed to investigate. With the defensive shields still active, more shuttles will be forced to land. Would those shuttles get wiped out too?

"Jim, we have arrived."

The announcement regained Jim's attention. Breaking into the room was a piece of cake. He had a lot of practice at breaking in and out of places since joining Starfleet. Jim took a moment to appreciate the irony.

He managed to override the lock, but it took Spock's strength to pry open the automatic door. It was a promising sign that the pharmacy might not have been ransacked like the rest of the place.

Jim's heart sank seeing the trashed room. The likelihood that there were any medical supplies that could be useful to them were slim.

Both men separated to search through the remaining hypos and packages that were left. Jim was on his last row of shelves when he found several bottles of painkillers and penicillin stashed between the last shelf and the floor. "Spock, I found somethi-" A sharp pain pierced the back of his head. He fell forward, gripping the steel shelves. His vision blacked for only a second, but he managed to move instinctively to avoid another blow to his head. The weapon instead made contact with his recovering shoulder. Jim fell that time, grunting in pain. Even as his assailant approached him again, he couldn't help but worry about where Spock was? Was he taken by surprise too?

The person shrouded in a dark green cloak, raised the pipe above his head about to strike. He was disoriented and having trouble getting back onto his feet.

Just when Jim thought he was going to be put down for good, a pale hand wrapped around the attacker's wrist and gracefully flipped the person onto their back. A surprisingly feminine grunt escaped the unknown person. The pipe dropped to the ground with a loud clang, and Spock stood over her with the same neutral expression though his eyes looked angry. "I suggest you stay where you are if you do not wish for more physical harm to you. Any attempts of escape will only prove futile from this point on." Spock's voice was completely devoid of emotion. Anytime Spock locked his emotions away behind a wall, presenting a true Vulcan front, Kirk knew he was pissed.

"Spock, are you okay?" Jim managed to sit up, gripping the side of his head. He felt a sticky wetness between his fingers, but it did not seem that he had sustained major damage besides a bit of tenderness, some broken skin, and a large lump that was forming there. He was lucky. It seemed she was aiming for unconsciousness and not the kill not there was a large gap between the two when it came to hitting people with blunt objects.

"I am quite well Captain. I was lured away by the sight of a promising find. I was then attacked by my own assailant." Spock looked over to his right where a small boy rested in a sitting position unconscious.

"What did you do to him you bastard!" the cloaked figure yelled, pulling a knife from the sleeve. The hood fell as the human scurried onto her feet, only to have Spock grab and twist her arm behind her back in a very uncomfortable position, threatening to break it if she moved, and had her face down on the floor while simultaneously disarming her.

"You have got to teach me how you do that," Kirk muttered, standing up himself. Spock made it look so easy and effortless.

"I could try to teach you Captain, but the V'asumi was designed for Vulcan speed and strength." Spock replied. The hard edges eased from the Vulcan's face, yet his full attention was still on their captive.

"Why do I feel that is another slight against human's Spock?" Kirk teased. Finally regaining his sense of balance, he cautiously picked up the knife the woman had dropped.

"If you wish to learn, I can attempt to teach it to you; however I do believe it will be more prudent to take care of the current situation first."

Kirk nodded, sobering up. He grimaced at the woman's appearance. Not because she was disfigured or appalling in some way. No, she was quite beautiful. It was the ghosts of his past that clung to the woman and the child. The woman's cold hard eyes, the child's mature yet haunted expression, their malnutritioned forms, the scars and injuries they carried, it was all familiar to him. And when they stared at him, he felt like he was caught in the headlights with a hundred angry and accusing eyes staring at him.

Jim violently turned his back to them. "Let's take this someplace with a bit more light. Then we'll talk."

They let the woman go to the boy. He looked to be around 10 years of age. The woman held him in her arms protectively with hatred radiating off her aimed at them.

Why did you watch? Why did you let her die?

Jim shook his head violently. There was nothing he could do back then, he reminded himself. Even as Spock made them stand and held them at phaser point, Jim could still feel her intense gaze as if she saw right through him, like she knew.

"Captain, are you ready?"

Jim muttered a yeah, following Spock as he led their attackers out.

Seriously, I had major problems trying to figure out how to write Jim, I consulted people. Most work I ever did trying to write a story. Tell me how I did.