Jim was bored. He was bored a lot. When he had lived in Iowa he would have gone for a walk, or a run, just losing himself, jumping fences from dusty field to dusty field until the light faded and the stars, in their infinite beauty, began to wink and glisten into existence in the night sky.

In the Pikes' house, just outside of San Francisco, there were no fields. He couldn't get lost and he was never on his own. It was never truly dark either, the light polluting the sky until only the moon's light made it through the haze.

The early Summer fog was thick and white, rolling through the city and dampening the noise. The hush was strangely satisfying, dulling the street clamour to a lull of indeterminate static. Above it all the sun was shining, but that just gave the streets strangely ethereal glow as Jim made his way to Bones' flat.

He pressed the buzzer once, then twice, then in a little rhythm that he knew would get on McCoy's nerves before a gruff voice crackled through the speaker.

"Hey, it's me, fancy letting me in?" he said into the intercom.

The intercom buzzed back shrilly again and the door opened. He took the stairs, because elevators take too long, and besides, you meet people on the stairs. The stairs are fun, or at least they were until he reached the thirtieth floor and even Jim's extraordinary stamina was flagging. He arrived at McCoy's flat flushed and just a shade too warm.

"Jesus, kid, did you walk up here?" the doctor said as he looked at the man in front of him.

Jim nodded, leaning on the doorframe for support. Bones snorted and beckoned him in.


"She's flawless you know?" the doctor mused over his mug of coffee. "I haven't managed to find a thing about her I don't like. She's a real woman, but she isn't defined by the fact that she's a woman, you know? She's only a year older than you, Jim, and she is already working for the Federation as a diplomatic translator and interpreter. It's why she was with the Vulcans last night. She speaks eighty three percent of all Federation languages, and that isn't even counting all of the dialects she knows either." He paused, frowning into his coffee. "She and that Spock are really close though, she says that they balance each other out or something. I kind of see what she means though, they're completely the opposite of each other. She is so warm and friendly and full of life while he is ... well, Vulcan ... but they have compatible minds, whatever that means." he frowned a little deeper before shaking it off and laughing, rubbing a hand down his face, "I feel like such a dolt when I talk to her, she is just another level of intelligent, you know? God, Jim, I've never met anyone like her."

Jim smirked and raised a brow. Bones felt himself flushing. "So, are you seeing her again?"

"I don't know, I gave her my number and she said she'd call me, so maybe?" he replied, bringing the mug closer as he said it, nursing the warmth of it between his hands.

Jim chuckled, "God, Bones, you're waiting on a call? What are you, a thirteen year old girl?"

The doctor scowled and swatted at him, "Shut up! I don't even know if I'm ready for this. And God knows that Joanna will think of it …"

Kirk smiled and clapped his friend on the back. "Bones, I'm sure Jo will just be glad you've found somebody who makes you happy!"

Bones said nothing, but smiled wryly into his coffee cup.

oOo

The grace period between school and college was the worst. It was filled with entrance exams and little else for most. Unfortunately for Jim, he wasn't in the majority. Summer meant on top of that there were social events, more balls and dinners, and more invites for the Pike family, Jim included. Stuffy function after stuffy function, filled with Starfleet delegates that Winona insisted that Jim needed to meet. He invited Bones to as many as he could afford to, but while the Vulcan's were on planet, Leonard's attention drifted to their human companion more often than it stayed fixed on keeping Jim company. Not that Jim minded, it was something special to see a smile, as guarded as it was, grace his friend's face on so regular a basis.

Uhura really was something else. She was studying at the Academy, specialising in xenolinguistics and was on track for becoming a truly exceptional communications officer. She was already working for the Federation, and they had offered her a steady job as part of the Vulcan ambassador's entourage, but she wasn't entirely sure if she was willing to give up on the thrill of exploration quite yet. She was sure of herself though, fiercely independent, incredibly strong willed, and had most of the company enraptured, Jim included. However, she didn't seem susceptible to anyone's charms, least of all Jim's, who she seemed to think of more as a puppy than a suitor. Not that Jim would have ever tried, not with Bones looking at her the way he did, and not knowing that despite the fact that Uhura kept her cards close to her chest, remaining professional with everyone, she made a subtle exception for a certain grouchy doctor. Jim could see the way her eyes flickered over to them across tables, and the way she lingered just that little bit closer to Leonard than was strictly necessary when it was time for her and the Vulcans to take their leave. Jim also saw the way that the Vulcans regarded their interaction with reproachful eyes and pursed lips. If he hadn't already decided that their egoistic, condescending attitudes were enough to make him retch, this would have decided it.

Thankfully, Jim found himself with more than valid excuses to avoid awkward encounters with Vulcans and state dinners as the summer exams drew nearer. The Academy entrance exams were notoriously brutal, but Jim was determined to get in this year. Being in the Academy meant escaping from the bureaucracy and the limelight. He could be his own person without worrying about his parents, or the media. He was untying the apron strings that had been choking him since the day he'd been born.

Most planets only accepted a small number of candidates every year, but Earth was an exception. There were hundreds of applicants, dozens of which would get through to the Academy. There were galaxy wide standardised tests, each assessing different areas of the applicants' skills. From cultural encounters to IQ tests, they were extensive and unremitting. Most candidates spent their entire summers locked away, poring through textbooks, test papers and practice simulations. Jim, however, couldn't sit still for too long, there were too many other things to do, people to see, experiences to have. On days like this Jim liked to get out of the city, hiking up to Muir Woods. Under the ancient canopy of towering redwoods he found his problems shrinking, falling into insignificance standing next to trees that survived natural disasters, and wars, and a whole manner of other things. What were men and their problems next to rocks, and mountains, and great redwoods?

The paths were dusty underfoot and despite the shade of the canopy above, the air was musty and warm. Jim felt the sweat trickle down his back as he ambled through the woods, gluing his shirt to him. There was a light breeze that ruffled the ferns around his feet, but all it did was stick the fabric more firmly to his damp skin. He paused for a moment. Amongst the rustle of the trees and gentle sound of birdsong, Jim could hear a brook. He grinned to himself. This weather wasn't perhaps the best for hiking, but it was perfect for a swim. When he reached the footbridge he kicked off his shoes and tumbled down the bank. The water was cool and clear, and burbled as it ran past his thighs. He scooped a handful up and splashed his face. The relief was instant and incredible, a rush of cold over feverish skin and Jim wanted more. He lifted his arms and let himself fall backwards into the water, laughing. For a moment his ears were filled the sound of the rushing river, before he broke the surface again. The canopy above was green, the light filtering through the leaves in golden shafts. The Japanese had a word for it; kimorebi. The characters painting a picture, literally sun leaking between leaves. In that moment he couldn't think of a word he liked more.

"Kirk?"

Jim looked up, planting his feet on the riverbed and standing as he did. The water dripped down his face and his formerly white t-shirt clung to him, transparent and soaked. Above him stood Uhura, Spock and Stonn, dressed in hiking gear. Uhura raised a brow at Jim's dishevelled state, but Stonn's face remained all but placid, his lip curling a little before he turned away. Spock, on the other hand, wore an expression of strangled disgust, his dark eyes flitting over Jim's drenched body, but dropping to the floor the instance their eyes met.

"Hey! Fancy seeing you guys here." He paused and looked down at his sopping wet clothes. He laughed again and wrung the bottom of his shirt out a little. "I was warm, the water looked inviting. It's actually really nice, you sure you don't fancy joining me?"

Uhura bit back a laugh and shook her head. "I'll leave that to you. Don't you have exams to be preparing for?"

Jim shook the water from his arms and wiped a hand down his face, clambering back up onto the path, dripping the dirt dark as he did. "Yeah, but shutting myself away when the weather is like this would be a crime." He winked at Stonn, who soured at the gesture. "Actually, I was just on my way up the Sun Trail. It's my favourite view of the place. Everywhere you look is green, a nice change from dusty red, huh?"

"It would be incorrect to assume that Vulcan has no vegetation, however viewing this Terran wood from higher ground would not be disagreeable." Spock replied soberly.

"Well, if it isn't disagreeable, we'd better set off while we still have the light!" Jim said sardonically, tying the laces of his running shoes.

Uhura looked from Jim to the Vulcans and back, before shrugging. "If you want, I was just going to take them up to the Ocean trail, but the Sun trail is just as nice, if a little further to walk."

Jim grinned at her and gestured flamboyantly to the path ahead. Uhura rolled her eyes and walked away, followed swiftly by the two Vulcans.

The path took them upwards through the wood, up dirt steps, reinforced with wooden planks, stone steps, over little bridges and through shallow streams. As the trees thinned, the path began to narrow until it was no longer possible to walk two abreast. Soon they were out of the foliage and blinking into the afternoon sun. Around them were rolling, green hills, and over the tops of the trees, San Francisco and the glistening water surrounding it.

Jim took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill his lungs. "Beautiful, isn't it." he said.

Uhura hummed in agreement.

Spock looked out over the landscape. "That is a sentimental way of seeing a functioning ecosystem."

"Sentimental?" Jim replied.

"On the contrary," Stonn said. "Admiration for one's natural surroundings is not uncommon among many civilisations, as perception of beauty is often closely linked to fertility. If the surroundings are fertile then they are useful. So it is not illogical to find fertility attractive."

Spock paused for a moment, mulling Stonn's comments over in his mind. "That is logical."

Jim gaped at the two of them. "Do you guys have to apply logic to everything? Can't you just appreciate what's around you for what it is?"

"I believe that is exactly what I was doing. Admiring the surroundings as a functioning ecosystem, rather than simply aesthetically pleasing. I can see how the aesthetics may please a Human, as there is some nostalgia attached, and Humans are a notoriously nostalgic people. However a Vulcan is less likely to appreciate it, due to the lack of green on our own planet. Plant life if scarcer on Vulcan, and we find its existence pleasing not for the way it looks, but the purpose it serves in regulating atmosphere content, as well as providing sustenance and their medicinal properties." Spock said matter-of-factly.

Stonn nodded. "You appear to be prone to romanticising the mundane."

Jim frowned. "Yeah, well, Humans are like that. We see the beauty in the ordinary things. Can't something functional also be beautiful? Just like things that serve no particular purpose can be beautiful as well. Don't you guys have art?" The Vulcans remained silent, looking at him calculatingly. "The stuff I find beautiful isn't beautiful because it serves a purpose, it's beautiful simply because it exists. The colour of the sky after the fog clears, the smell of the air before it rains, waking up a little early and being able to appreciate the quiet hours before your day starts. They may not mean much to you, they may not be functional, but little things like that help to get Humans through the day."

A curious expression graced Uhura's face. "That was almost poetic. You surprise me, Kirk." Jim smiled gently as she continued. "I agree with you. The feeling of clean sheets, grass underneath bare feet, seeing the people you love smiling. It's the little things that make life worth living."

She closed her eyes briefly and took that moment to feel the sunlight on her skin and the wind in her hair before moving on. Stonn frowned a little before following suit.

Jim sighed and made to move after them when Spock began to speak. "I admit, I am envious."

"Sorry?"

Spock looked out over the landscape again thoughtfully. "To find pleasure in such commonplace things. I used to wonder why Humans felt the need to express emotions so freely, but I am beginning to see that you feel emotions so strongly and in such abundance that perhaps you have no other choice."

The Vulcan's face was as stoic as Jim expected, but there was something about his eyes. They were dark and deep, thoughtful and intelligent as every Vulcan's were, but there was just a hint of something else. A spark. Something that glittered briefly as their eyes met, but was gone just as quickly.


Leonard had some preliminary medical assessments to attend to in town and Jim knew how much he hated tests, so he insisted on going with him. He made the excuse that he had ordered some books and needed to pick them up himself. The good doctor wasn't stupid and saw right through it, but he was grateful of the kid's company.

It should have been strange, a guy in his late twenties hanging out with a teenager, but Jim was different. They had met in a bar when Jim was sixteen, armed with childish determination and a frankly terrible fake ID. Leonard's wife had just left him, taking his four year old daughter with him. He was newly qualified and hadn't even found his footing before Jocelyn had decided that nowhere on the planet was going to be far enough away and was filing for divorce. That wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the condition that he could only see Joanna when she deemed it was necessary, and that Earth was her territory, not his, so he would have to go. Since drinking was what had got him in trouble in the first place, Leonard had decided, downing his fourth bourbon of the night, why not just keep going. The kid had sat next to him, took one glance at him and asked for whatever he was having. Jim was loud and brash at times, but underneath the bravado he was sensitive, he never asked too much, or too little. There was an understanding between the two, both having lost people, both having to live with it, albeit in different ways. Jim was under constant scrutiny by other people, be it socially or academically, Leonard was under constant scrutiny too, by his ex-wife, by his daughter, by the various medical boards that were concerned for his mental health, but mostly by himself. He had never forgiven himself for the death of his father, he had died because Leonard had allowed it. He should have kept fighting, then maybe he would have been able to get the help he needed. He was dead because of Len, and that was something he would never allow himself to forget. He had told this to Jim one alcohol fueled night, not long after the kid's seventeenth birthday. Jim had stared thoughtfully at him for a good few minutes, before grinning and squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. He told him that his dad would have been proud to see the man he had become. When McCoy had scoffed at him, the grin slid from the boy's face and was replaced by a look so sincere that the doctor had realised in that moment that Jim wasn't a child any more. He told him that he had become a certified doctor, had an incredible daughter, survived the breakdown of a relationship, and the worst he had done was become surly and fond of bourbon, and in his opinion, there were far worse turn-outs than that.

He glanced over at Jim, struggling with the armful of books that he had apparently not been lying about. He had grown up a lot in last few years, physically he had grown taller, broader and irritatingly handsome. But underneath that he had become a better friend than Len could have ever wished for. He would be eternally grateful for how understanding the Pikes were of their friendship, although that may have had something to do with the fact that Leonard had been intent on looking after the kid ever since the first night he turned up on the Pikes' doorstep with their drunk sixteen year old son draped unceremoniously on one arm.

The thing about Jim was, he was always in Leonard's corner. He helped to break his cycle of self loathing, and when he was around, he made the future seem brighter. The future was always bright for Jim Kirk, because the future would be Jim Kirk's making, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"God, Bones, can't you smell it! Isn't it incredible!" Jim said, pressing his nose to the books and taking a deep breath in.

Leonard raised a brow. "All I can smell is black mould and about a dozen things that'll set off your allergies."

Jim nudged him with his shoulder. "Aww come on Bones, these things are a part of history! You have no idea how cool it is being able to read 21st century books and papers. They were so close, and they had all these ideas…"

"I still don't understand why you need to go through all that stuff, isn't half of it ancient? Surely you don't need it for the Academy test?"

"These aren't for the Academy, these are just a present to myself. Believe it or not, Bones, I actually li-" his sentence was cut short as he collided with a passer-by, knocking Jim's books and papers out of his hands and scattering them over the floor.

Jim looked at his books in horror. "Jesus! What the fuck were you doing?!"

The man looked up. He was taller than Jim, older too, with thick, dark hair that brushed his shoulders, curling slightly at the ends. He had severe, Vulcan eyebrows but sported a neatly cropped beard, it was as dark as his hair, and very unlike the customary clean-shaven Vulcan fashion.

"Oh great, another Vulcan." Jim muttered under his breath as he dropped to his knees to collect the fallen papers.

The Vulcan gave him a pointed look before bending down to join him and picking up the books from where they had fallen.

"You're aware that we have better hearing than you." he said. His voice was rich and, if Jim hadn't known any better, he would have said that it was laced with humour. "So maybe keep your smartass comments to yourself?"

His jaw went slack and he felt the colour rise on his cheeks. He swore inwardly and took the books from the Vulcan. "It was your fault though. You should watch where you're going."

The man's eyebrow twitched, as though aching to arch in the way many Vulcans did. Instead he smiled. Kirk was taken aback. His smile was full and bright and completely genuine.

"It's true, my mind was elsewhere, but so, it would appear, was yours." He picked up the last book from off the floor and leafed through it absentmindedly, his eyes settling on a handwritten note on the first page. "Mister ... Kirk?"

Once again the curiosity in the Vulcan's voice caused Jim to stiffen. It didn't seem to matter who they were, the name Kirk was always an invitation to bring up his father.

"That name, if I am not mistaken, is of Anglo-Scandinavian roots. It means church, does it not?"

Jim frowned. The man in front of him had a wry smile and intelligent eyes, he didn't strike Jim as the type of person to ignorant of anything. Was he deliberately avoiding the conversation? If so, was that for Jim's benefit or his? He couldn't see how it could benefit the Vulcan, so that meant he was being … considerate? Jim felt oddly flustered at the thought. He found himself fumbling over his words. "Y...yeah … I guess…"

The Vulcan finally gave in to temptation and raised an amused brow. "You do not seem the church going type, Mister Kirk."

He had to laugh at that. "I'm really not. But looks can be deceiving."

"Indeed they can, however I do not believe that to be the case with you Mister Kirk." he replied, his dark eyes glinting with humour. "It is very strange for anybody these days to be carrying so many paper books. Particularly those that would survive having an identifying name scrawled onto their pages."

Jim wrestled the books back into a manageable armful and grinned. "I'm a strange guy, and like you said, what you see is what you get with me. I like books, so I own a few."

The Vulcan looked thoughtfully at the books for a second before his expression warmed, a satisfied smile settling on his face. "It's always pleasant to meet somebody who is so open about themselves. Nowadays it seems like everybody has something to hide."

"Not me. There's no use in hiding the dirty details. They're the best bits." Jim replied, adding a brazen wink. He could flirt with the best of them, and he wasn't going to let the opportunity to add Vulcans to that list get away from him.

Instead of being shocked or angered, the Vulcan's eyes flickered to Jim's mouth and back again almost imperceptibly. He smiled again, a subtle, flirtatious twist tugging at one corner. "I'm quite sure they are."

Jim's eyes widened. This was new. He shifted the armful of books again, stepping a little closer to the man. "Speaking of the dirty details, you know my name but I don't know yours."

"My name is Sybok."

"Sybok?" Jim repeated, a playful smile teasing his lips. "You are Vulcan then?"

Sybok nodded, returning the smile wryly. "Did you expect me not to be?"

Jim smirked, "You aren't like any Vulcan I've met before. So far they've all been stuffy, self-absorbed and so far up their own asses they're starting to see the light."

The Vulcan laughed. It was a surprising sound, deep, rich and burbling. Jim found himself colouring. Tall, dark and handsome, immune to Jim's usual tricks and with a laugh that made his insides turn to liquid. This was going to spell trouble.

"You are an intriguing man Mister Kirk, you seem to have little concern for the social formalities others place upon themselves."

A flush crept up Jim's neck. "Sorry, I know I can be a little crass."

"On the contrary, I find it refreshing. Far too often I find members of your species are far too cautious around Vulcans as though simply being Human would offend their Vulcan sensibilities. It is most pleasing to find a Human who thinks differently."

"Well then, it's great to find someone who understands. I can't stand stuffy, stuck-up dignitaries with their etiquette, and pomp and circumstance."

"Then we share more than a taste in books, Mister Kirk." he said, nodding to the book on the top of Jim's pile.

Jim balked, "You've read Haven's Theoretical Descriptions of Entanglement Estimation ?"

"Indeed" Sybok replied. "I may not act like most Vulcans, but I still have that thirst to acquire knowledge that is so common in my species. Quantum Physics is a particular favourite of mine."

Frowning sceptically Kirk fished out the second of the large books in his pile. "How about Trapnell's essays on Quantum Phenomena in Condensed Phase Systems ?"

The Vulcan smiled smugly. "That one as well. I particularly liked the chapter on reduced density matrix propagation."

Jim grinned. That was his favourite chapter.

The Vulcan glanced at his wristwatch and sighed dramatically. "I'm afraid I'm running a little late. I do hope that I'll be seeing you soon, Mister Kirk." He said as he turned away.

"Jim." Kirk called after him. "Call me Jim!"

Sybok smiled again, his eyes skimming the length of the Human unsubtly, and nodded once in acknowledgement.

"Oh God, Bones." Jim muttered as the Vulcan walked away, "I think I have a type"

McCoy frowned. "What the hell are you talking about, kid?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter."


The day of the Hyperspace Physics exam, Jim slept in. His alarm shrilled at him at 7am, but he hit snooze and rolled over. It started up its incessant beeping again at at 7:30 and again at 8, but once again, Jim fumbled around for it, slamming it onto the table until it shut up, dozing off again in the warm morning light. His PADD chimed once. Then twice. Then again another four times before Jim groggily swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded over to answer the messages. They were all from Bones.

0804 Bones: You had better be up kid.

0807 Bones: Answer my damn messages so that I know you're not going to miss this exam.

0812 Bones: Jim, your exam is at 9, if you're still asleep I swear to god.

0815 Bones: Answer your bloody messages!

0817 Bones: God damn it Jim!

0820 Bones: Fine, it's your life, don't say I didn't try!

Jim threw the PADD onto his bed, cursing. He gathered up the clothes he had strewn across his bedroom floor and pulled them on. He hopped back over to his PADD, one leg in his trousers, the other flailing helplessly as he tried, and failed, to multi task. It was 8:38, he had twenty minutes to get to the Academy in San Francisco traffic.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

He yanked on a pair of boots and ran outside, swinging a leg over his bike and praying that she'd start first time. Today was not his day. The bike whined as he kicked it into ignition. He tried again. She whined back again.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! " he pleaded, putting all his weight into the next kick. With a jolt the bike whirred into life, lifting up off the ground. The dust he kicked up billowed behind him in hazy, translucent clouds as he sped out of the driveway and onto the road. The traffic was as heavy as he'd expected as he weaved his way through it, speeding past irritated commuters, glaring over their steering wheels as he cut across. He took a left, then another. He stopped at a set of traffic lights.

8:42

He felt his hands begin to sweat as he gripped the handlebars of his bike, itching to tear away as soon as the lights changed.

8:44

Red. Still red. Green! He sped up as he turned the corner. Right, then left, then right again. Stopping, starting, dancing through the cars, thrumming as they sat in lines, growling impatiently. He gathered momentum as he sped downhill, passing under footbridges and past high rises, glistening in the late morning light. The traffic in front of him began to slow, so he took a left. He was met with more traffic, so he took a right, down a small side street that cut across to Presidio Avenue.

8:52

He could see the Academy campus ahead of him, the green of the park and the trees lining the road, reaching up to shade the buildings below. He was going to make it.

8:54

The traffic was stagnating again. He had to be there! He had to get in this year. There was no way he could get through another year of being George Kirk's son. Of being a Tarsus survivor. Of being just another dignitary brat. He was so close. The road ahead cleared as he entered the shade of the canopy. He could practically taste the freedom as he felt the bike falter, slipping from underneath him. There was a screech of metal against asphalt and everything went black.

oOo

"Mister Kirk." Came a voice from above him. "Mister Kirk, if you are conscious, please respond."

Jim groaned, cracking an eye open. He winced at the light, and the pain that came with it. His head was throbbing, a burning sensation searing behind his eyes with every pulse. He groaned again and attempted to sit up. A firm hand on his chest stopped him.

"Mister Kirk, you were involved in a traffic collision. You do not appear to be seriously injured, but it would be safer if you remained still until a medical official is present to confirm it."

Jim slumped back down. He tried to speak but the words were like treacle in his mouth. "Shit … what with? What di' I colli' … collide with?"

There was a pause. "A tree."

If he hadn't been in so much pain he would have laughed. A tree. Today really wasn't his day. He opened his eyes again. The sky was pastel blue between the trees, smudged with passing clouds, shifting and fading in the wind, and there was a figure kneeling down next to him. He blinked a few times to clear his vision. They had dark hair and sharp features, furrowed with concern, or was that irritation… Jim didn't know, but he did know that he didn't have time to be lying around on the pavement.

"Mm've got 'n exam." The words slurred out as he tried to sit up again. The hand on his chest returned, but Jim wasn't going to give up so easily a second time. The hand held steady.

"Ge'rof, 've got 'n important exam." Jim shoved the arm from his chest and sat forward. The world began to swim again as he felt someone grip his shoulder, then everything faded to black again.


He woke groggily, light streaming onto his face, bright and warm. Screwing up his eyes he blocked out as much of the light as possible, periodically opening his eyelids just a sliver, just enough to get used to the glare. He opened them a fraction more, then a little more again, letting his eyes adjust bit by bit. Everything was a little blurry, but the more he blinked the clearer things became. He was in a bed. Not a hospital bed, and definitely not his own bed. It was queen sized, adorned with cotton sheets, spotlessly white and soft to the touch. The room was large, filled with warm colours and expensive furnishings. In the corner was what appeared to be some sort of shrine. Next to him was a bedside table, a glass of water and a folded piece of paper with his name scrawled across it. He reached over taking the glass of water first, sipping it tentatively before swallowing it in gulps. He hadn't realised how thirsty he had been. He replaced the glass and picked up the letter.

Mr. Kirk,

After the incident involving your motorcycle outside the Academy, you were taken to the Vulcan Embassy, as it contained the nearest medical facilities in the vicinity of the accident. However, it would appear that you suffered nothing more than a minor concussion, a sprained wrist, and grazing on the left-hand side of your body. The doctor prescribed bed rest, and since your guardians could not be contacted, you were taken to my quarters.

I regret that due to your distress I was forced to incapacitate you, however it should not leave lasting effects any worse than that of the collision you were involved in first.

I took the liberty of informing the Academy of the incident, and rescheduling your exam for the following Monday.

Yours sincerely,

S'chn T'gai Spock

Jim turned the paper over in his hands, reading it through again before putting it back on the table. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood up. He swayed a little, wincing at the pain down his side. They had repaired the skin, but it was fresh and raw and itched like hell. It dawned on him that he was in nothing but his underwear. The thought of the Vulcans seeing him naked was enough to make him cringe. There were fresh clothes folded in a pile on a chair opposite the shrine. They looked like the clothes he had left the house in, but clean with no visible damage from the accident. His eyes were drawn to the statue standing in the shrine. Jim ran his fingers over it, the curves of dark, polished wood carved into some sort of winged bear and set with a large, glowing stone. He had always thought that religions were illogical, even by Human standards, but there had to be some reason that a Vulcan would have a shrine in their room.

Once he was dressed he made his way downstairs. The house was large and light, and as he padded down the stairs he saw that there were cubby holes, cut into the walls, filled with more statues, smaller but equally as intricate as the one in the shrine in his room. He wandered through the entrance hall, a vast empty space, polished and as spotless as the rest of the house. It was almost as though no one lived here at all. The front door was tall and white, and Jim wondered absent-mindedly if he could leave without anyone noticing, but he shook the thoughts from his head and continued through the house. If this guy had taken him in, the least he could do was say thanks. There were several doors, each as white as the front door, if not as tall. Jim's curiosity was getting the best of him as he approached the one nearest to him. He knocked gently before attempting to open the door. It stayed firmly shut. He shrugged and moved to the next one. This one, like the first, stayed closed, despite Jim's best efforts. The next one, however, opened with a clean swish to reveal a bright room, filled from floor to ceiling with books, paper and electronic. Jim smiled as he ran his hands over the spines. Among the Vulcan texts there appeared to be Earth classics; Poe, Dickens, Atwood, Hugo, Murakami, Woolf, Kafka.

He traced the embossed letters of a collection of Shakespeare. "Huh, I never had him pegged as a bookworm."

"The collection, while impressive, does not belong to me."

Jim started, spinning around to see Spock standing in the doorway.

"Shit, sorry! I didn't mean to intrude, or whatever. I was just curious. I kind of love books."

"It is of no consequence. The house, like the books, is not mine. I merely stay here while on Earth. You are welcome to explore the house if you wish, however most of the rooms are unoccupied, as this house is intended to cater for larger groups of people." The Vulcan replied.

"Right." Jim said, shifting uncomfortably. "Have you read any of them?"

"I have not. Though not out of disinterest, only lack of time."

Jim picked up a copy of Norwegian Wood and passed it over in his hand. "I'm more into non-fiction if I'm honest, but you've got some good stuff here. Murakami is a little depressing, but great if you want to ponder the meaning of life. Poe is dark and a bit cringey at times, but in a good way. Atwood is kind of weird, but it's interesting to see her view of the world. Not that inaccurate as it happens."

Spock glanced up at the bookshelves. "I shall bear that in mind."

"Anyway … thanks for … well, everything. I'm feeling much better, so I might just go home now. My Mum'll be tearing her hair out."

Spock's eyebrow twitched. "I contacted your guardians at 0800 hours this morning. They are aware of your situation. And even if they were not, I doubt that your mother would engage in such an action. It would likely be unnecessarily painful. You should still be in bed. The doctor-"

Jim held up a hand. "The doctors don't always know what's best for me. Honestly, I'll be fine. And the hair pulling was just an expression."

The Vulcan paused, but nodded slowly. "I see."

There was a silence that stretched out between them, the Vulcan appearing to look everywhere but at Jim.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," Jim began. "Because I'm really not, but why were you there? When I got into the accident, I mean."

Spock turned towards the nearest bookshelf selecting a book and thumbing through it distractedly. "I was on my way into the city when I saw your collision. I was not aware that it was you until I left my own vehicle."

Yeah, otherwise you probably wouldn't have stopped at all. said a little voice in Jim's head.

"Well, thanks anyway. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't turned up. I'd probably be bleeding out on the road with no chance of ever getting into Starfleet." He laughed self-consciously.

The Vulcan looked up from the book. "You would still have been eligible to reapply for next year."

"Yeah, but I need to get in this year, I couldn't stand spending another year stuck where I am."

"You are unhappy in your current position?" Spock said, raising a quizzical brow.

Jim laughed again, bitterly this time. "You wouldn't understand."

The Vulcan pursed his lips, replacing the book on the shelf.

"Perhaps not." The reply was soft, almost as though he were talking to himself rather than Jim. An uncomfortable silence fell once again.

"So, I think I'll be going. Thanks for everything. Again."

Spock nodded. "If you wish. I shall call you a car."

"I don't need a car, I can just walk, it really isn't that far." Jim said, heading out of the room.

The Vulcan's brow furrowed fractionally. "I would prefer it if you did not. The doctors specified that you should not be out of bed for the next fourty eight hours, let alone walking five miles in the afternoon sun."

Jim almost protested, but the twinge in his side was enough to convince him.

The car arrived fifteen minutes later, and Jim was glad of it. As soon as he stepped out of the house it was like he could breathe again. There was something stifling about the place, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He didn't look back.