Jim arrived at Shipyard Bar way before anyone else did. Not surprising really. He entered around six, well before most of the normal patrons felt the need to keep with their monotonous routine. They didn't normally start trickling in until about seven or eight, so as of when Jim entered there were only about six people, including the odd off-worlder, who had the elongated jaw that resembled some sort of primate. His name was beyond impossible to pronounce, so most of the patrons had made up names for him.

Jim didn't even bother. Jim didn't talk to him that much, so a made-up name was all but pointless. If he wanted his attention, a polite tap on the shoulder was just as effective. He was, however, sitting on the stool next to the one Jim liked to occupy, having gone far enough in his younger years as to actually write his name at the bottom of the seat. That had sparked an interesting debate and subsequent fight. Apparently it was rude to etch your name into something and then push the person sitting on it off. At eighteen, Jim really hadn't cared, and he was meaner than the jackass who hadn't moved, even if he was smaller.

Jim sidled up to his seat and looked around behind the seemingly empty bar counter for a bartender.

The door to the backroom opened then, and Jim snapped his head up to see Johnny, a young man just three years or so older than he was, carrying a case of beer, presumably to stock in the chiller. When his eyes landed on Jim, a small frown worried at his brows.

"Jim!" he exclaimed, coming up behind the bar and clunking the case on to the counter. He leaned down next the box, close to Jim, and his green eyes sparked with curiosity, looking for good gossip like any good Riverside resident did. "Where you been, man? I thought that ravine had taken claim of your soul!"

Jim smiled at the almost fond memories the ravine brought up. It had been a long time since he and whoever he could normally scrape together went out to crash sight of his father's antique car. It had lost its appeal around the time Jim turned sixteen, and he had moved on to find better places to party, namely in almost anyone's bedroom, and out of the immediate reach of the cops. As far as he knew, a lot of the 'rebel' kids still went down there though. Still partied around the desolate, skeletal remains of a man's pride long since gone. Still gave the cops something to do in their spare time.

"I haven't been out there in years, Johnny," he said with a chuckle a shake of his head. "No, I've been staying with Jo. Haven't had time to really come out and be sociable."

Johnny rolled his eyes, straightening up to begin stocking the chiller. "I don't know how you do it, Jimbo. I love my brats as much as the next man, but I'd go stir crazy if I stayed with them as much as you do with your girl."

He pulled a beer out, one that had already been chilled and passed it to Jim, who took it with a grateful nod. He didn't comment on how much time he spent with Jo, and he didn't comment on how little time Johnny spent with his three boys. He supposed still having an entire family went a long way in helping that. Johnny's wife, Livy, was a classical mom. Spent all her time at home watching their kids grow up while Johnny went out and had fun and refused responsibility for the 'brats,' as he called them.

Jim didn't have that, and if he did, he still didn't think he could be like Johnny. He was too crazy about Joanna. She was fun, and did cute things, and she reminded him so much of Bones that it just made this place seem lackluster.

Jim changed the subject smoothly. "You ready for the infestation of cadets swarming through this place?"

"Oh, ho ho!" Johnny laughed. "I've been ready for it since this time last year." A smile was eating at his handsome face as he went about busily stocking everything for the night ahead. "You know, the one night all those cadets are here, they spend enough credits to keep this place going for six months easy. Some just barely old enough to drink, some probably not old enough to drink, but what the hell do I care y'know? We were young too, once. We did the same things. As long as they're smart enough not to get caught…"

Jim tipped his bottle indulgently, not really caring to hear anything the other man had to say. He didn't care about this bar anymore. It had lost his appeal. He was only here thanks to Maggie Jay and her infinite wisdom that he needed to get out more, and this was the only place in all of Riverside he could actually go 'out' to. He didn't like eating by himself and he didn't want to go see any new thriller. As marginally okay as the company was turning out, he really didn't want it.

Johnny had been fun for a while. He was the cool older boy who didn't care if Jim went places with the older group his brother ran around with before he left. It had been nice to have someone who didn't care if the too smart, too mouthy eleven year old ran around with him, when most of Riverside told Jim point blank that they didn't want to see his face. He had made Jim feel welcome and it was nice, especially in a time ruled by Frank, Sam's anger, misplaced and not, and his mother, who just didn't fucking care.

After fifteen, when the dust had settled after Tarsus IV and he had been released into the custody of himself, Johnny wasn't the same, no one was the same to him, and he wasn't the same to them. He had heard their whispers, talking about the wild child before his mother sent him away and the feral heathen they had gotten back. It was no big secret that he hadn't meshed well into their society after his return. By the time he started sleeping around and fighting anything that breathed on him wrong, he was labeled 'lost cause.' When he started racking up a record at the courthouse, he was the foul of all their eyes, and he liked it that way.

He had his small group of acquaintances, like Johnny and at the time Helen, but they didn't hang out with him because they liked him. Helen liked his reputation, and Johnny liked the people Jim attracted. But even they lost any interest they had in him by the time he was eighteen. Women and some guys liked what he could do to them, or what they could do to him, but otherwise he was just a good source for rumors and casting judgment.

That hadn't changed in the last five years. He was still Riverside's 'fuck up resident,' that 'Kirk boy who couldn't do anything right.' Even after he had come back from New Orleans, and had slowed down tremendously, for a full year they had whispered about how abnormal he was, or how Karma was apparently catching up with him. Being a pregnant male had done nothing for his reputation. If anything, it made it worse.

Riverside hated him, and though the residents were sometimes nice to him, and were courteous enough not to bring up his misgivings while he was sitting right in front of them, he knew he wasn't really welcome. Johnny liked that he was out because it would mean good gossip that he could take home to his wife. Anyone else he came in contact with, anyone who wasn't wearing red tonight, they only wanted to see how right they were about him, even if they weren't. They wanted to spin tales and spruce up their pitiful monotonous lives.

Still, if he wanted to be let back into the apartments tonight, he needed to at least pretend he cared.

At least the alcohol would make it easier.

He took three deep pulls of his beer, feeling a bit of the tension wear away.

Maybe Maggie Jay had been right. Maybe he was tense. He didn't like to think about it, but he had been going full tilt at too many things lately. Full time dad, full time job, full time genius, full time outcast. It was a lot of preoccupations to have.

He all but inhaled the rest of the beer and set the bottle on the counter with a content sigh. He stared at it for a few seconds, considered doing the smart thing and not getting ahead of himself. However, as he looked up at Johnny, caught his eye and the glimmer of something smug hanging in there, he all but threw away his inhibitions. Maggie Jay was watching Jo for the night. He didn't have to work tomorrow. He didn't want to be here in the first place.

He may as well not remember it.

"Johnny, get me some vodka," he demanded, sliding his empty bottle away from him.

He knew he probably shouldn't. Vodka and he did not mix well. He and anything alcoholic didn't really mix well. There was no such thing as a calm drunk, but he tended to blow it all out of proportion. If he thought he was invincible and smart while sober, he was the fucking offspring of Superman and Da Vinci when he was drunk. His mouth got looser, and he didn't mind telling everyone exactly what he thought of them, their dumb damn dogs, and the stupid town they had right here in bum-fucked Iowa.

He was going to get in so much trouble. He acknowledged that as he took the first shot, pulling a small face at the burn. As long as he didn't get thrown in jail, though, he didn't think it'd be that bad. He didn't care about being thrown out of the bar. He had been thrown out of more important places. Hell, if he was kicked out, maybe Maggie would leave him the hell alone.

The second shot went down smooth, and he felt a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Tonight was going to be so much fun. Too bad he had no intention of remembering it.

+ststst+

Johnny kept him from over doing it, the prick.

"Gotta pace yourself, Jimbo," he said as he put the vodka back under the table. "You at least gotta wait until all the others get here. They need to see you in all your infamous glory."

Jim had waved the bird at him lazily, now thoroughly relaxed. The alien next to his seat looked at him vaguely, following his hand gesture before he went back to his drink. He was clearly just as uninterested in Jim as the human was in him.

Jim bided his time by tearing the logo off his beer bottles and then the bottles that his silent companion racked up. Jim vaguely wondered if his species could get drunk, because this one looked fine and Jim had pulled the paper off at least eight bottles and those were just the ones the alien had had while Jim had been there.

Two hours later, everyone finally started trickling in, and Johnny started upping the shots he slid to Jim. By his sixth one for the night, he was hunched over the counter, one arm resting against it, while he looked around the bar. He wondered if he should go be social or let them come to him. He knew he was good-looking, there was no denying that. His build had returned nearly three weeks after Jo's birth. His eyes were some sort of magnet, and damn if his smile wasn't like some sort of beacon.

Now if only he could find it in him to smile at anyone.

He turned back to his beer, the chaser of champions and took another pull from it. Even with all the alcohol swimming through his system, he just wasn't quite feeling up to playing socialite. Johnny passed Jim another shot, and he knocked it back quickly, before staring off into space. It was getting dark outside, and glancing at the old style, neon clock on the wall, he could see it was nearing eight.

He had been tipsy way too long. It was time to get down to brass tacks. He called for three shots this time, downing them all quickly and almost too rapidly to notice the aftertaste. It hit him all at once, and suddenly the bar wasn't just an accessory. It was a very vital part of his standing ability. He took a deep breath and settled further onto his stool.

From the other side of the bar, Johnny laughed. "You may wanna take it easy, Jim. It's been a while since you drank this much."

Jim glared at him. "If I wanted a motherhen, I would call Maggie Jay."

The monkey-looking man gave him a glance before he finished his beer. Jim smiled genially at the alien man, who passed his empty bottle for him to fidget with. Johnny left him to mess with the wrapper, obviously having realized that it was pointless to argue with a drunken man, and more than that, a drunken Kirk. Jim was glad to see him go. His silent companion was so much more fun, especially with the cheap entertainment he kept giving Jim.

He was halfway through carefully removing the logo when he heard a woman's voice giving the most impressive order of drinks Jim had ever heard. Seriously, she must be drinking for an entire Starfleet class. He couldn't help but take interest immediately and sloshed himself over the counter.

"That's a lot of drinks for one woman," he said conversationally as he got a look at the most enticing looking woman he had seen in a very long time! Tall and limber, with the prettiest long black hair Jim had ever seen on any woman. She was stunning.

And she was not in the slightest bit interested in Jim.

She spared him a glance before turning to Johnny. "And a shot of Jack, straight up."

Jim couldn't help trying to charm her. He may be a little rusty but he didn't think he could lose the touch. And even if she wasn't interested, at least he actually talked to someone. No one could accuse him of not trying.

He offered to buy her shot, which was denied. They exchanged names, or more to the point, he gave her his name and coerced hers from her pretty lips. Uhura was a tough one, and he was enjoying the challenge. He liked that she didn't give into his charm. It gave her depth and a certain quality that he couldn't put his finger on. He liked that she gave him a reason to keep talking. From the looks of it, she didn't hate it too terribly either. He pushed himself, boldly and quickly, hoping that he didn't trip over himself, away from the counter and walked with the rest of his beer in a semi-reasonable manner to her side.

Uhura, from a place with no first names, put up with it at the very least, even quirking an interested brow when he stunned her with his brilliance. Or at least IQ higher than ninety. Her eyes focused on him for the first time in their short chat when he gave her the three important parts of xenolinguisitcs. Even though she gave him probably one of the worst blows to his ego since Helen had stumbled upon his pregnancy, she kind of looked to be enjoying herself in a sadistic sort of way and enjoying the way he took her insults.

It was kind of nice, despite his detestation of being called 'hick.' He would gladly take man-whore over that.

He felt like he was winding up again. He almost felt social and he was enjoying himself, with the help of the alcohol and the sassy Uhura. She was pretty and smart, and she laughed when he turned her insult into a joke, telling her that he didn't only sleep with farm animals. He was about to tell her that aside from his grandparents house he had never even seen farm animals, maybe strike up a normal conversation since she didn't seem interested in anything else, and really he was just a bit glad for that, even though Maggie Jay was right. He hadn't gotten laid in close to six months. He didn't feel the urge to at the moment, either. He would take her company quite happily.

Obviously, he was only meant to enjoy the company of pretty women in short burst though. Before he could even tell Uhura about himself or the fact that he honestly hated farm animals, a big, burly man with a balding head, slowly joined by even more big, burly men.

"This townie isn't bothering you, right?" the head honcho asked, seeming very concerned for Uhura, even though Jim was pretty sure she could take him down better than he and his hulks could. Jim hadn't been in a fight for a long time, but he bet the instincts never really went away.

Uhura, still laughing from Jim's reply to her insult, said, "Oh, beyond belief, but it's nothing I can't handle."

Jim wasn't positive, but he felt that that was a dismissal for the Brute Squad, and a strange offer for Jim to continue. He raised his brows at her, tilting his head in curiosity. "You could handle me?" he said cockily, alcohol working quickly to turn everything anyone said into sexual innuendo. "That's an invitation."

"Hey!" the man said, "You better mind your manners."

"Oh, relax, cupcake, it was a joke." Jim soothed, because it was. He meant the lovely Ms. Uhura no harm, and though he was kind of impressed by the man's do-gooder ways, he wanted the balding man and his posse to go away. He was having fun, and they were spoiling it by playing Protector Cadets.

He turned back to Uhura, intent on apologizing if she had been in any way offended by him. He was a big boy and he could smooth things over if he had the right incentive, and feeling this okay with someone other than his daughter or Maggie Jay was definitely the right incentive. He could take a hint and get the men to leave him alone.

When he was grabbed roughly be the shoulder, though, his intent was obviously shot to hell. He stumbled around to face 'Cupcake' and his cakettes, his tension coming back all at once. He didn't like being manhandled. It reminded him of Frank and Tarsus and a little bit of hospitals and all three were not the best memories for him.

And then he was insulted. He called Jim 'farmboy,' which was even worse than 'hick,' and implied that he was too stupid to count how many men were more than willing to kick his ass. It shouldn't have surprised him. It wasn't like he had a stereotypical 'I'm a genius, hear me roar' look going for him, but was that really the first thing everyone thought about him? Today alone he had been called stupid seven times, and two of them by complete strangers.

He was irritated, to say the least. He forced a smirk, telling Cupcake, "Well, get some more guys and then it'll be an even fight." And then just because the alcohol was working wonders, he tapped the guy's cheeks rudely and demeaningly.

Both he and Uhura, who had been watching with slowly hardening eyes, turned back towards the bar, but before he could turn all the way around he saw the familiar tensing Cupcake displayed. The slight step back to gain better footing, pulling his arm back and tightening in his face were all very familiar signs to Jim. He had seen more of those movements in his life than he had seen smiles directed towards him.

Jim turned towards him. Why, he wasn't sure, because he knew that doing so would only land him a face full of fist, but his higher brain functions were obviously a little more impaired than he had originally assumed. Instead of ducking, he turned around so that his cheek could meet the full force of Cupcake's swing, sending Jim careening into the bar again.

That pain, too, was familiar, and felt his heart rate pick up instantly in a way it hadn't in years. He had stopped fighting the day he found out about Jo. He didn't have to worry about that now, though. Maggie Jay had a kit at home. She could fix him up quickly. Jo wouldn't have to see what he looked like after a fight.

From beside him, he heard Uhura tell the men, "Guys, stop it!" in an authoritative voice. He hated himself for what he was going to do to her. She was trying to be an adult, a real cadet and future Starfleet officer. She would be good at it, he vaguely thought. But he was going to have to destroy her efforts here. Egging them on was almost too much to resist.

Because he really wanted this fight now, probably more than he wanted anything else. He pushed himself off the counter and faced his attacker again, feeling a fond burning in his chest and an angry glare pulling at his features.

+ststst+

The loud whistling that had stopped the fight was probably for the better, but Jim couldn't help feel a little angry that it had happened as the adrenaline spike fizzled and sputtered out. He hadn't necessarily liked getting his face punched in, but he felt that he probably could have made a comeback and kept a pretty good position for at least a few more minutes.

That probably would have led to police, though, and he really didn't want to go to jail again. He had done well at avoiding his overnight visits for the past four years.

The pain was beginning to sneak more solidly into his consciousness. Instead of being a dull throb, it was now working its way back up to constant roar of discontent. He had taken a seat at one of the tables, tissue in each nostril to stop the bleeding of his most likely broken nose. He had a beer in his hand from Johnny, who had looked like he was going to burst with excitement.

"You did good, man!" he had said with what was supposed to be a friendly shoulder-shake, but came off to Jim as a little obnoxious. He had just been slammed down on a table and Johnny was shaking him like a ragdoll. He hadn't liked that, despite the fact he probably deserved a little more pain for his stupidity earlier.

He sipped at the beer lazily, no longer feeling drunk or buzzed. Everyone in the bar had cleared out as Pike had instructed, so he was the only one in the sitting area. He wondered if the fight had caused a decline in the sales Johnny had predicted, but couldn't bring himself to care. Johnny had wanted Jim in all of his infamous glory, and he had gotten it. Vaguely he realized that Captain Pike was talking to Johnny about the mess that had been caused by the fight. Jim couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but he was sure he heard his name a few times, and maybe the mention of his father's.

When Pike came to sit by him, he wasn't even shocked. The older man relaxed in the seat opposite Jim, like they were old friends, or at the very least had known each other past the six seconds of Pike asking if he was okay, and Jim stupidly telling him that he whistled really loud. Behind them, Johnny started up the bar's tidybot, guiding it gently towards the messes left on the linoleum floor.

Jim picked up his beer again.

"You know I couldn't believe it when the bartender told me who you are," Pike said, finally breaking the silence.

For a moment, Jim considered turning around to glare at Johnny. He could only imagine what the man had said. His gossip was worse than any woman's in this entire town, and he had a habit of sharing it with anyone who would spare an ear. He liked telling stories about Jim, or the way Jim used to be. Jim refrained though, instead asking the captain exactly who he thought he was.

He didn't appreciate being told that he was his father's son. He wasn't anyone's son. His father was dead, and his mother had never been home. He hadn't gotten on with his step-father. He was practically an orphan. Or, more likely, a by-product of the lightning storm that had led to George Kirk's death. Jim was no one's child, except his own.

He finished his beer in two gulps, feeling the need for that buzz again. He called out for another beer, just as soon as his was emptied, before he listened half-heartedly to Pike tell him about how he had been on the Kelvin when her last mission occurred. How had admired George Kirk and the fact he didn't believe in no-win scenarios and it was a nice sentiment. It really was. But Pike wasn't saying that he had known his father.

He had only served on the Kelvin for his dissertation. They had been on the same ship, and for all Pike knew, George Kirk had been the biggest ass in the known galaxy. For all Pike knew, George Kirk could have had no other choice but to stay, maybe he had broken his leg when the vessel was hit. All Pike knew was that George Kirk was dead, and his demise had coincided with getting everyone off the ship. It would leave a big impression on those who were there, but they didn't have to grow up without him the way Jim and his brother had to.

George Kirk wasn't that great, not to Jim, and not to Sam, because he wasn't there, and maybe if he had been some things would have been different. It was awful to grow up without a father, but with a shadow of a mother, who may have loved them, but did nothing to show it, and a step-father who could never find anything to connect with them over so he made them work until the sun set and smacked them around a little when the whiskey pushed him overboard.

George Kirk may not have believed in no-win scenarios. He met one anyway, and Jim felt obliged to point that out, just as he always had before he took another drink of his beer, which Johnny had restocked him with.

Pike didn't even bat an eyelash at his cruel statement. He told Jim that he was there, and that could be defined as winning or something in similar terms. Jim didn't buy it. He was there, and he had Jo, and that was remarkable and wonderful and any word that even correlated with those two. The fact of the matter was though, he was stuck there for an indeterminable amount of time, and by proxy, he'd doomed his daughter to this purgatory, as well. He didn't define that as really being something to be proud of, and he couldn't find it in himself to feel proud of his father for winning something that probably shouldn't have been won.

Pike continued, his words droning and buzzing in Jim's head, who just wanted to finish his beer, see Maggie Jay, and then take his little girl home so that he could wrestle her into bed and try to catch some shut-eye himself. He didn't care for Pike's speech, or what the man was trying to get him to see, or what Starfleet had lost, or whatever. He hadn't even wanted to leave the apartment in the first place. His face was throbbing from the fight, which even though he enjoyed, in the light of waxing sobriety hadn't been his smartest move.

He wanted out of there, the bar, Riverside, Iowa, and he wanted out of there fast. Pike couldn't help him, though. He had to help himself, and even if it killed him he would help himself. He would get Jo out and they would go somewhere far away. Somewhere where the Kirk name didn't have legends or curses attached to them. They could start all over again, but for now Jim wanted to go back to the apartment, and dream of this on his own.

"Why are you talking to me, man?" he asked, shaking his head despairingly, a small depreciating smile working on his lips.

"Because I looked up your file while you were drooling on the floor," Pike answered firmly.

And that was just an awful image, because Jim was sure he actually had drooled on the floor. He was also pretty positive he had grabbed Uhura's breasts in an attempt to keep upright after one of the Cupcake squadron had hit him, and worse, he thought he may have smiled at her afterwards. It was a good thing all the cadets were clearing out tomorrow. He had enough people here to hate him; five more might just be the straws that broke his back.

He cast his eyes downward, refraining from thinking of his less admirable moments.

Pike took that as a sign to continue on with his tirade. "You're aptitude levels are off the chart, so what is it?"

"My daughter," Jim growled quietly at him, having had enough of this bullshit. "Didn't you read about her in my file too? I know she's in there. Doctors went haywire about her birth."

Pike stared at him, unmoved, and not for the first time in Jim's life…he felt a little unmoved as well. He was using Joanna as an excuse to stay in a place he hated more than it hated him. His comfort zone had been broken when he came back from New Orleans, physically aching at the loss of Bones, and finding out that he was carrying their daughter, despite the fact that he was male and thusly shouldn't have the parts to carry anything. It had terrified him, and he had been hiding behind his daughter as an excuse not to break that comfort zone any further.

It was shit, and now that it was in focus, he felt a renewed determination in his chest to get away. He didn't care what it took, but he would do anything to get Joanna and himself out of this hellhole.

"Enlist in Starfleet."

Except that.

+ststst+

Pike left shortly after that, leaving him with the time the shuttles took off for San Francisco and a dare that he could not only outdo his father, which he thought he already was just by living and having Jo, thanks, but do something more for himself, for Joanna. Jim wasn't going to take the offer. He knew that much already. Starfleet had no place for parents. He had seen what it had done to his mother. He didn't want that kind of relationship with Jo.

He wanted to be there with her, and watch her grow up. He wanted to be there when she cried, and when she smiled. He wanted to help her with her homework and threaten her first boyfriend. Starfleet could offer him an escape from Iowa, but it probably couldn't keep his little girl with him, and he was more desperate for that than he was for the air he breathed.

About an hour after his final beer, he said goodbye to Johnny and took himself home, driving probably more carefully than he had driven in a long time. He might not have felt the alcohol, but he knew it was there, lurking until he was unawares. It never caught up with him though. He made it to the apartment complex, just as if it was any other night, and he parked beside Maggie Jay's beat up hovercar.

He practically flew up the stairs, ignoring his aching muscles, desperate to grab Jo and hit the sheets for a deserved night's rest. For once he hoped that Bones would leave him alone for the night, so that maybe he could get more than five hours sleep, but he knew it wouldn't happen and he felt a little petty for wishing such a thing. He stepped up to Maggie Jay's door and almost punched in the code to enter, before he thought about how he looked.

If he just entered now, Jo would see him bloodied and bruised, and he didn't want that. He didn't even want the questions she would ask him about who had hurt him. He couldn't stand the sight of sympathy on anyone, let alone his innocent, little Jo-bear. Even though he knew that she probably wouldn't have cognitive memories of these years, he had no doubt that the impression would stay with her in some form. He wanted to keep that as far away as possible.

So he stepped away from Maggie Jay's apartment and entered his, stripping out of his bloodied shirt and replacing it with a new one. He washed his face in the bathroom, noting as he looked up into the mirror that it didn't do much good, but now at least there wasn't dried blood smeared across his face. He still looked…well, he looked like he had had his face beat on, but Jo probably wouldn't freak out as much about that as she would if she saw blood on him.

Sighing, he dried his face and headed back over to Maggie Jay's.

Punching in the access code, he listened to the grinding door as it slid open. There was something wrong in the door's system, and it caused the gears to grind when the door moved. Maggie had told the landlady, but she was pretty much useless, so Maggie had to get used to it. For once, he was glad it made so much noise. He stepped into the large living and dining area, and managed to rouse his friend's attention, while Jo continued to stare avidly at the holoscreen.

The nurse stood from her seat on the couch, coming towards him in that same hurried way she had displayed when she was visiting him at his work. She looked tired. Jim almost felt bad that he would be making her patch him up, but a small, bitter voice inside him thought that it was fair. She had made him go out after all. The larger part felt disappointed in himself. She had stayed up all day, watching Jo and offering him the chance to go out and have a bit of fun, and he was going to keep her up even longer, when she should be sleeping, so that she could fix him.

As she got closer, her features worked their way to horror. She saw his bruised face and her mouth dropped open. "You look like you were attacked by an angry gorilla!" she said in stage voice, conveying her disbelief, while refraining from gathering Jo's attention.

"Four, actually," he answered without humor.

She came within a foot of him, her eyes following her hands as they moved up to poke and prod his marred skin. She sighed, and stepped away from him, gesturing to her worn kitchen furniture. "Sit at the table. I'll get some hyposprays ready."

He did as he was told, while Maggie Jay went into her room to grab her medical kit. He watched his daughter, who still sat unaware that he had even entered. Her bright blue eyes watched the screen, her face near blank, but still concentrating on the characters. Every once in a while, she would jerk, as she had the tendency to lean towards the holoscreen when she was in the living room.

Slowly, he began to doubt his decision to decline Starfleet. He may hope to escape Riverside, but there was no doubt that without help, he would never make enough money at the mechanic shop to get them out. If he took Pike's offer, he could get them out, and he may not be there all the time for her, but at least then she wouldn't have to deal with the disgrace of being his daughter.

He felt conflicted, and when Maggie Jay came back with three hyposprays and a dermal regenerator, he unloaded it all onto her. She pressed all three hypos into his neck, each one accompanied with a small hiss or pitiful 'ow' from him. But after that, as she ran the dermal regenerator over his face and his ribs, he told her about his night, and the lovely Uhura, and the herd of Cupcakes, but mostly about Pike.

Pike, who had offered him freedom.

Pike, who had offered him a way out of Riverside.

Maggie Jay's eyes grew bigger and bigger and her hand slowed in running the regenerator over him. He wasn't sure what to think of her response. She never said a word, but he could tell that she wanted to, desperately. The regenerator slowly settled by her side, and she breathed heavily through her nose.

Finally, Jim told her, "He wanted me to enlist in Starfleet."

"What did you say?" she asked with bated interest. Her green eyes were practically glued to his, and he had the feeling if answered the wrong way then he would be getting a whooping.

He gave a half-hearted shrug, feeling his shoulder protest with the action. "I didn't say anything. I gave some barb about being low on recruiting quota."

"What?" she demanded. "Why?"

He was unsure of what to respond to that. He would think it would be rather obvious. She knew about his life. She knew about his mother, and how she was never around, how she still wasn't around even with her grandchild waiting without knowing to meet her. She knew how he felt about Starfleet. As the silence stretched on, though, she looked absolutely livid.

"You need to get out of here, Jim!" she proclaimed haughtily, like it was something he didn't know, or hadn't been trying to do so since Jo was born.

He glared at her angrily. "I can't just pack all my shit up and move. I don't even know what I would do in San Francisco! I don't have a place to live in, or have someone who can watch Jo! I don't have the money."

He didn't, either. He had a few hundred credits stacked up in a savings account, but it wasn't enough to move all their belongings to California, and it wouldn't be enough to make some sort of down payment on any place to live. He knew Starfleet offered room and board, but did they offer parent packages? Did they offer babysitters, good ones, and family suites? He didn't know about any of that. He would need a job too, which would take even more time away from Jo.

He couldn't go to Starfleet. Not in this fashion.

"Leave your belongings to me. We can go half and half on it," she said, excitedly, if still a bit upset that he hadn't agreed instantly, grabbing onto his hand and holding it tightly. "I know you've got a bit of credits stashed away. I'll call Marc, and the landlord. I'll send you're things, but you need to leave. This place has nothing for you, and this Pike person is offering you an escape. So…escape!"

"Maggie…"

"Jim, I know that it's hard for you to just go with your impulsivity anymore. I do, and I understand your reasoning behind it. I'm so proud that you think of Jo so much," she said, clasping both of his hands in hers. "But you need to find that impulsive person inside you again. You need to let yourself breathe. Starfleet is the perfect opportunity to get out of Riverside. To start over again…for you and Jo!"

She smiled like she had never smiled before, radiant, genial and excited!

"Go pack a bag for you and Jo, and get on that shuttle tomorrow morning. I'll drive you there. And I'll have your things to you by the end of the upcoming week. Just do it! Just go!"

She stared at him pleadingly, her green eyes begging more than her words ever could for him to take this path in life. He wanted to argue with her, but she had said almost exactly what he had wanted to hear. She told him everything his heart had been yelling for him to see. She was telling him to leave, and that was what he wanted. He wanted to run away from Iowa. He had to get away from Iowa!

He wanted to get out of Riverside, and Starfleet was his ticket.

He nodded slowly, feeling his heart race and the adrenaline spiking again, just like it had with the fight. He hadn't run in a long time, but it was time to start again.

+ststst+

End Note: I would like to point out that 'demeaningly' is not a word according to (pun) Word, but it is my opinion that if you add an 'ly' or 'ness,' anything can be an adverb. :) Also, the next chapter has the beautiful and wonderful Mr. McCoy!

(keep dancing)

InnocentGuilt