The Icicle Melts Chapter 2
Author: My Amalgamut
Universe/Series: Star Trek {Reboot | STXI | AU}
Rating: PG-13 (sensitive subject matter and some language)
Word count: 3,179 (this chapter)
Genre: General | Drama
Tropes: Tarsus IV
Warnings: Sensitive subject matter including (but not limited to) child neglect, abuse, and genocide
Summary: Amanda Grayson is one volunteer of hundreds helping Starfleet clean up the mess Kodos left of Tarsus IV. While on the planet she encounters an impulsive, defiant, all around wreck of a kid by the name of Jim Kirk. Logic would tell anyone to step back and leave it. Amanda had been called a great many things in the years since Vulcan had been made her home... but logical certainly wasn't one of them.
Beta: LJ user fagur_fiskur, who is awesomeness squared.

The Icicle Melts

Chapter Two

A month had come and gone since that hissing, biting scrap of a boy had been dropped at Amanda's feet. Most of that time had been spent in a series of trial and error experiments between the camp of rescue volunteers and Jim. At least he'd stopped kicking their equipment around and running the nurses in haggard circles just because he could. It was about the most respect anyone but Amanda herself could expect from him.

It was no surprise, then, at any given time of the day for Jim to be seen practically attached to Amanda's hip, when he let himself be seen at all. Amanda generously allowed this proximity, going so far as to extend a proverbial wing for him to travel under, and in time he began to let his walls down and she began to learn. The first thing she'd learned about Jim was that she'd need to horde a veritable arsenal of anti-allergen hypos just to combat the trouble he got himself into. It had been a harrowing educational experience for all involved.

The second thing she'd managed to learn was on that very same day, when the risk of anaphylactic shock had passed and she was allowed to remove the oxygen mask from his face. He used his newly regained lung function to tell her his first secret (with words and before any imminent threat to his heath- something she wished he'd deigned to do earlier and save her a lot of grief). His name. James Tiberius Kirk.

She immediately made the connection, of course. Who within a hundred light years of Federation space hadn't heard of his father, the renowned hero George Kirk? Jim didn't like to talk about him. (He'd only let her bring it up once. "How can I talk about someone I never met?" he'd said, and that had been the end of it.) His father aside, Jim told her about his older brother Sam, at great length, and his mother Winona considerably less, almost as if he didn't know what he could say about her. His stepfather, Frank, was also someone he didn't like to talk about.

She learned that he grew up on a farm in Iowa and that as much as he hated the stars or more specifically Starfleet, and this was something he was determined to never change his mind on, he found the only thing a farm in the middle of nowhere was good for was star gazing. (Subsequent to that little revelation, Amanda learned that Jim knew the meaning of 'vicious irony' very well indeed.) Through further conversations she learned that despite his appalling affinity for cutting class, when he said he bothered to show up for school at all, he was remarkably bright academically. In particular, she discovered that he had a frightening intellect for warp theory and mechanics despite his protestations against ever putting it to use.

And the thing Amanda learned that she maybe prized above all else, was that once Jim had decided to open up and be himself that his presence became a virtual beacon, an all-consuming light that never failed to break through the dark of Tarsus no matter how grim it became; his charm and cunning never dimming, inspiring her to never let it. She felt honored by this burgeoning trust he'd placed in her, and in exchange she indulged his occasional curiosities about her own life.

However pleasant or even cathartic these exchanges were, though, Amanda still had many responsibilities around camp and there were frequently cases in which time for conversation was in short supply. At intervals, things would get so busy for the volunteers that Amanda would find herself with none to spare for Jim until the evening hours. When this happened and she and others' attentions were divided in so many different directions, Jim was typically left to do as he pleased.

He'd proven himself intelligent and capable enough (if a little hard to get along with for... everyone), and he was by far one of the more self-sustaining colonists still on planet, so as long as the camp hands understood that he was under Amanda's supervision they didn't bother him much. It wasn't commonly a problem because Jim didn't want to often leave the civilian barracks (which had been erected in the early days of the evacuation, when they'd needed to house several thousand people, but now stood mostly empty). On the occasion that he was around and about all by himself, he assisted as much as he was able to, tending the basic needs of more debilitated colonists to help lighten the nurses' loads.

He avoided the isolated tent at the far end of camp like the plague.

Finally, when the shifts would change for the night and Amanda was allowed a moment of reprieve, she generally sought out her unsaid charge to make sure he was doing well. Sometimes he didn't look it, and sometimes he told her how he'd "gotten in the way" of some officer or nurse or someone, and that he was sorry they'd had to yell at him and that he didn't mean to mess anything up. Sometimes, Amanda would have to excuse herself just after he'd finished these stories, to quickly take care of some trivial task she'd "forgotten" about. Coincidentally, while Amanda was away, the very person who'd been in Jim's tale would approach and offer him an apology, explain that they'd only had a bad day, and then leave just as quickly (usually looking on the verge of tears). Amanda always returned with a very cheerful smile.

She did have moments of guilt, and felt a little foolish if she thought too much on it, because she knew that since meeting Jim he had become special, and growing attached was one of the first things you were taught not to do on these missions. It didn't mean she was negligent of her other responsibilities by any means, she cared entirely too much about this mission and her role in it, but Jim's new place in her life was dear to a very important part of her nature. It was the same part that had bloomed the very moment she became a mother, and still continued to grow. Amanda couldn't exactly explain it, but knew in her heart that Jim needed her guidance and understanding more than anyone else.

Perhaps he reminded her, in some very small way, of her son, who she missed to the point of aching.

With such a close and ever strengthening connection between the two of them, it wasn't long until Amanda noticed some peculiarities in Jim's behavior and began to keep an even closer eye.

To her surprise, she discovered that after evening fell late and most volunteers had gone to bed, leaving only a sparse night shift to monitor the medical wards, Jim found some way to sneak off campus without the officers on guard ever noticing. That first discovery led to the second; that the camp attendants were sorely mistaken if they thought Jim spent his time in the barracks while they weren't watching. Warning bells rose in her mind with the exposure of these absences but Amanda found she was as equally curious as she was worried about his whereabouts. Since he was returning each day in one piece, she decided to remain the silent observer for the time being.

She pried first into his medical condition and was informed by the doctors that Jim had not been gaining back the weight he should have, even though his nutritional intake had been upped and all of his medical scans came back negative for intestinal worms or viral infections that could explain the anomaly. Simply put, it just didn't look like he was eating- at least not very much. There were no signs of bulimic disorder, and Amanda knew for herself that Jim never threw his food away. So what did he do with it?

The pieces finally started falling into place when time came closing in on six weeks from the day Jim had arrived. She'd heard gossip from the medical staff and officers alike (it was not eavesdropping, ladies did not eavesdrop) regarding the search parties. Of course, everyone already knew the reason behind Starfleet's military presence on Tarsus. The interesting part was that, according to the officers, there was solid evidence of even more civilians who'd escaped the slaughter, but not a single new survivor had been brought to camp in weeks. More interesting still, rumor had it that the evidence was of children scavenging and salvaging for survival in the barrenness that remained of the colony. Yet for all their efforts Starfleet still couldn't track them down, as if someone was actively hiding them.

The puzzle was completed one evening when Amanda was asked to cover mid-month inventory and the data on her PADD showed that food reserves were lower stocked than what should have been expected. As if someone had been sneaking out small portions on a routine bases.

"There are others you know about, others nearer to your age, aren't there?" she asked three days later, having toiled and re-toiled over a way to bring her suspicions up that wouldn't send Jim fleeing. Unexpectedly, her words didn't seem to surprise him. Instead he looked solemn, as if he'd known he would be found out, just not when.

It was still and very quiet after her question. Jim stared at the food she realized he likely had no intention of eating, worrying his lip between his teeth, before deciding on what to say. He hesitated over each word, choosing his defense as carefully as possible. "They're... afraid. I take care of 'em. I've been taking care of 'em since it started. I still... They're my kids, you know?"

Strangely, she supposed she did. That same feeling was what prompted most of her actions concerning him, as well as her next words. "Oh, Jim... but you're just a kid yourself."

He stiffened, possibly feeling a little patronized but knowing she didn't intend it that way. He took the sting to his pride on the chin and relaxed.

"Not really, no," he said. "Well, maybe, but these're even younger ones. Okay, a couple are older but... you know. I'd already been through a lot before all- all of this, so even the older ones just kinda trust me to do what's right for 'em."

"The problem is that you still don't trust us."

He bit his lip some more. "No... I trust you. But you're not Starfleet. I don't trust Starfleet."

Jim had possessed a bitter resentment for Starfleet long before Tarsus IV, and for reasons not all of which he'd told Amanda. He didn't like the soldiers stationed around camp, who wore their shiny 'Fleet emblems with pride, and he would frequently watch the medical wards as people inside wasted away in suffering, wondering aloud what had taken them so long to send help.

Amanda paused, mulling over the words she wanted to say, unsure if she wanted to make promises she might not be able to keep. It was resolved that she would just have to make sure she kept them. "What if I give you my word that the children will be alright?"

Jim shuffled himself around, something she noticed he did when he was feeling trapped or wanted a conversation to end. He rubbed at the back of his head in an aggravated gesture. It was evident this conversation unnerved him- that he didn't quite know what Amanda would do if he told her too much.

"The lists. You remember the thing about the lists?" he asked with a glance up at her. She nodded. "Yeah, well they remember the lists, too. How could any of 'em ever trust me again if I hand 'em all over to a bunch'a grownups who first thing they'll do is stab'm with needles and catalog'm?"

Amanda was quite used to bluntness in her life, but Jim's was a very unique brand at times. Jim huffed at the grimace that crossed her face. He looked away and quieted his voice down. "I'm not saying I'll never bring 'em here. I'm just trying to ease into it. They know I come here. I promised 'em all I'd make sure it was safe."

Amanda placed a hand on her head and rubbed faintly. She was trying to reason with a child who was not completely unreasonable but definitely stubborn as a mule. "But what about when someone else from camp finds them? Wouldn't they be more afraid if strangers just came in and took them?"

"Amanda..." he said, voice drawn to a whisper, and he so rarely used her name that she shut her mouth and listened. "I learned to hide these kids... really good. Kodos' guys they- they had guns. Some even had dogs... they fed their stupid dogs before they- can you believe that? And if they caught you..." He looked vaguely green, eyes wet, and he swayed a bit in his chair like he couldn't decide if he needed to cry or vomit. Or both. "You saw the bodies, Amanda. You know which ones I'm talkin' about." Jim looked at the table as if he could stare a hole straight through it, tugging mindlessly at the long sleeves of his shirt. "There's desperate n'... hungry. An' there's... there's... not human anymore. That's what they wanted to do to us. We'd of been those bodies if I let 'em find us."

Amanda swallowed thickly, throat dry. Jim shined so golden so much of the time that it was too easy for her to forget how he'd had to live for the months before she'd known him.

Yes, she'd seen the bodies.

It hardly sat well with her conscience knowing an entire group of children were lost and alone in the aftermath of Tarsus IV, hungry and in need of professional medical attention, but Amanda could see there was no forcing this argument her way. Nothing that wouldn't erupt in catastrophe, at any rate. She'd have to put her faith in Jim and trust that he'd come to make the right decision. And she did trust Jim to do what he thought was right, but he was still such a child whether he wanted to think so or not, easily led astray despite his intentions. Amanda just hoped she was making the right decision, too.

"I understand," she yielded. Losing this battle, however, did not mean losing the war. She would still do her job.

"Wait here," she said, rising gracefully from her chair and disappearing.

Jim was alone and confused for ten or so minutes before Amanda came back with one of the canvas medical satchels the camp kept supplied in abundance. She walked up to him and pulled back the cover. Jim peered curiously into the bag, which she'd stuffed with food and some basic first aid necessities.

"I'll help from a distance for now, but bring them in soon, Jim," she spoke seriously. It wasn't usual that she had to be stern with him, but then she was long out of practice with reprimanding children anyway. She hoped the severity of her request translated. "We won't manage to get away with this for long."

He blinked down at the offering, stunned into speechlessness. At least for as long as he ever achieved that state. "You'll help me?"

Her brow furrowed, the question catching her off guard. Did he not trust her as much as she'd let herself think? "Of course I'll help you, Jim. Did you think I wouldn't?"

"Maybe?" he said honestly.

Amanda pursed her lips. She strung up the satchel tight and set in his lap, taking his hands and folding them over the bag. She kept her hold as she spoke. "Jim, you don't have to be afraid to come to me for help, because I will always give it, I promise." Amanda took measure of the following words before speaking them, needing Jim to understand and believe them. "I care very much about this rescue, and I care about the people we've saved, but Jim, look at me now," she said and raised her palm to gently tilt his chin up. "You come first."

She remembered saying something like that to her own son on occasion, and she meant the words as much now as she did then. It wasn't that she was trying to take the place of whoever Jim's mother may be, really she wasn't, but she couldn't turn her actions around and make them something they weren't. Disregarding every rule in the book, Amanda was convinced that without a second thought she would put Jim before every single man, woman, and alien on Tarsus.

Just as any mother would.

She almost didn't hear his choked whisper of "Why?" Amanda could only assume that Jim couldn't comprehend why a virtual stranger would care so much. She smiled enigmatically and moved the hand from his chin to ruffle his hair.

"Well, that's one of the nice things about being a child. You don't really need to understand why, only take for granted that it is." She hadn't realized that she'd sat back down until she needed to stand again. Doing so, she brushed herself off- more to give her hands something to do than because she was actually dirty- and said in a much lighter mood as she pushed his untouched plate forward, "Now, I expect you to eat that. I'm going to be very busy this afternoon and I probably won't see you again until bedtime. Yes, you still have a bedtime, don't argue with me." He stifled the forming scowl. She asked, softer, gesturing to the parcel in his hands. "You'll be careful?"

A smile, at long last, broke through his expression and that light she adored so much was back in his eyes. He said nothing, but the spork full of food he popped into his curling mouth was answer enough. Amanda nodded and took her leave.

Only when she stepped out into the mildly warm daylight did her mouth straighten in a thoughtful frown. She would have to start thinking of ways to cover for his disappearances, because sooner or later someone would catch on. When that happened, Starfleet would step in, Jim would be subject to interrogation without any concern for his own mental state, and the children would be tracked down and brought in by force. That military mantra, the needs of the many, would victimize Jim as badly as Kodos ever had. He would lose the childrens' trust and his role as their protector, the only thing she knew that had kept him from drowning in the horror of Tarsus.

Amanda needed to keep his secret and work on getting the children to camp by her own power. The alternative would hurt Jim more than she was even able to fathom, and at this point the thought of hurting that child was like severing her own arm.

To Be Continued...

This is a non-profiting, fan-based work of fiction. Star Trek and all subsequent properties are (c) Gene Roddenberry and Paramount Pictures.