Jim parked the hovercar and grabbed the duffel bag off the seat beside him, slinging it over his shoulder as he hip checked the door. He quickly pulled open the rear door and pulled out the groceries he'd picked up in town. The annual Olive Festival was going on in town and he hadn't wanted to miss out on fresh, home made meals. It had been a bit of a risk, after everything that had happened with- at the Winter Ball. Apparently his heat was still undetectable to Human senses and the short trip in had been fine.

The only problem now was the rain.

Jim rushed up the five stairs and onto the wrap around porch of his parents' cottage. Technically, it was a ranch but it had been more than a few years since anyone had used the land for farming purposes. He wasn't sure what to expect, the house was almost one hundred years old, built in a time which pulled aspects of a lot of different eras together.

He walked into an open living and dining area. The entire left wall was made of green coloured glass and faced a large thicket of trees which ran around three quarters of the building. Off to one side was the main bathroom, a laundry and a semi detached lounge room. A large silky oak staircase dominated the back wall, leading up to the upstairs portion of the house and, Jim supposed, the bedrooms.

Jim shrugged off his jacket, shaking water from his dirty blonde hair whilst slipping off his boots. He deposited the groceries in the kitchen area, plugged in the fridge and put everything away. There was a replicator on the counter, an even older model than the one in Iowa, but a quick check in the cupboards produced a number of pots and pans. The cook top was gas and worked perfectly when Jim fired it up. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

Finished in the kitchen, Jim made his way upstairs, one hand running along the smooth wooden banister while the other slid along the cream wall. Each imperfection caught Jim's sensitive fingers causing his to smile. He liked the place; a lot. It was very tranquil. He couldn't help but think it would be a great place for meditation. Or a family holiday. Maybe sometime in spring, when the vineyards were harvesting and there was the buzz of life, just over the hill. A place to rest and relax and enjoy each others company.

The landing finished in a big arched window, comprised of three different arches and a circular window above. Fancy fretwork in the centre of the higher window cast shadows over Jim's feet. The view, which encompassed several rolling hills and long rows of dormant, leafless vines who stood sentry in the rain.

Eventually, Jim pulled his eyes from the unexpectedly lonely sight and walked down the corridor. Four doors opened up and Jim decided to look into each of them.

The first room was sparsely furnished. An antique dresser and a wardrobe pushed up against one wall. A single bed was positioned under the window. There were bedsheets, folded, at the end of the bed with little spaceships on them. Jim placed his bag down in the hall and walked inside, throat tight. His fingers ran along the sheets, flannelette. He realised he'd never asked his mother just how much effort she and George had put into this house before he'd died. Jim had always just assumed they'd bought the place and... nothing. It was still an almost empty shell which cost a few hundred credits to maintain each year and whatever the land taxes were. Now, he was slightly dreading looking into the other rooms. Sam had told him about these sheets. They were special. They matched the pyjamas they'd both received every year for Christmas.

Jim backed out of the room and closed the door respectfully.

Should he keep moving forwards or try across the hall?

Flicking on a switch as he opened the door, Jim sighed in relief. It looked like he'd found his room for the stay. This had clearly been a guest bedroom. An oak vanity sat between two wide windows and there was a wardrobe on each side of the door. The double bed was framed by two matching bedside tables with an alarm clock perched on the left side. The light floorboards were obscured by a circular mat, slightly larger than the bed, which looked like it was hand woven. Or rather, it looked strikingly similar to the crotched scarf, if you could call a ten foot long rope of green, blue and purple wool a scarf. Which Jim did. It had been rather... nice. The colours looked good together. It was just a little too long and a tiny bit too thin for a six year old. And if, perhaps, Jim still happened to own a rather long, thin scarf, well that was his business.

His bag bounced as he threw it atop the mattress and turned to the door across the hall.

The treatment of this room was as reverent as the first. Jim walked slowly into his parent's bedroom, turning in a slow circle. On one side of the space, a study area was set up. Complete with a desk, bookshelf filled with old paperbacks and a filing cabinet. The queen sized bed was pushed up against the other wall, with about a metre and a half of free space to the wall. A wall with another door. Intrigued, Jim stepped through and searched blindly for the switch. It had gotten dark fast after his arrival. When he found it, he slid down the wall and sat, staring.

It was a babies room. Well, a really large walk in closet, turned into a babies room. With a navy ceiling dotted with stars and Federation planets. The cot under one window. A rocking chair beside the other. A change table sat beside a dresser and a hamper of toys. There were children's books in a short shelving unit by the chair. The buttery yellow walls were adorned with pictures. Family pictures. The month by month pregnancy photos, snapshots of George and Sam. His grandparents. Ghosts.

From his lowered vantage point, Jim spotted the book, forgotten at some point, underneath the chair. He crawled across the space and picked it up, leant back against the wall and flipped it open.

'Week One: To my darling child,-' Jim pushed the pause button, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was gonna be fun. Not.

'Your mum and I aren't sure if your a little girl or boy yet, we're keeping all your options open, but I just wanted to say -write, whatever- I love you. We love you. Sam loves you too, he's just, not so sure at the moment. he'll warm up, I promise. Love, dad.'

'Sweetie, it's your mum here, I'm so excited to meet you. Almost as much as your dad. Hehehe. I think your dad's already planning out your wedding, fair warning. He's... so very happy. Love, mum.'

Jim closed the book, stopping the program, and wiped the tears from his face. He couldn't quite believe anyone would record 29 weeks of gushy, love filled, touching messages for a baby, for himself. He flipped the book open, three quarters in.

'Week Eight: Hey little one, it's me again. Another month and we'll be able to see you. Well, see the baby bump on your mother but still! I never thought I'd be one of those mushy fathers, I'm in Starfleet you know. Of course you do. You probably won't listen to this until we play it at your 21st to embarrass you. Or something like that. I just wanted to tell you a bit of a surprise. Well, it's currently a surprise. Sure won't be when your around. I've been promoted to First Officer on the USS Kelvin. It's a pretty big step. Honestly, I'm not all that sure I'll be all that good with so many responsibilities but you've always got to try your hardest at everything you do. You can't move forward if you never try. I love you.'

Jim let the tears slide down his cheeks. He'd opened it only a little over a week early. He skipped forward again.

'Week Twenty: Uh, hi little baby. I'm Sam. I pwomise- promise to be nice and protect you always. Mama said you'd be here soon and that's good. We can share toys!'

'Hey there kiddo, your getting nice and big now days. We're heading off to space soon. You, me and mum. Sam's staying with grandpa Tiberius for a little bit but when we get to Starbase 16, he'll be joining back up with us. What do you think about that? Space is a pretty cool place to be born, you're making your old man jealous. Love you.'

'Week Twenty Eight: Can you stop wiggling for at least two seconds? All day, all night, you're driving me insane with all your acrobatics. You're lucky you're worth it. Anyway, I can't wait to meet you. Your dad too. I know he doesn't get to record a message every week anymore, I think he's a little disappointed, but he's very busy with the crew and missions. He's doing, he's doing really great. Everyone loves George Kirk and you. We're getting questions and gifts and well wishes everywhere. I think they're eager to have some kids on board. Get those school facilities up and running and have something cute to awe over. I love you.'

'Week Twenty Nine: Hey there kiddo, I, ah, saw the ultrasound. I'm thinking of calling you James. After your grandpa. Little Jimmy Kirk. It has a ring to it, I think. I haven't told your mum yet. I have to get back to my shift now but, I just wanted to tell you that I love you. And seeing you this morning. I. I'm already so proud of you. And whether you're an alpha, beta or omega, you'll always have a dad who'll support you. Those titles, they don't matter. You're my little baby and I love you. Your mum loves you. Sam and grandpa and grandma love you. I just know you're gonna do great things. I have to go but, I'll see you soon buddy.'

The recording finished and Jim knew there would be no new messages. He'd been eleven weeks early. That, his father had recorded that final message only days, hours, before saving the Kelvin crew. His mother must have come back here after. She might have sat in that chair, baby Jim tucked in her arms, as she played through those snippets of their life. She left the book, the house and never looked back. The pain unbearable. They'd sounded so young. So incredibly happy. So in love; with life, each other.

It was like the wound had been ripped raw and sitting alone in the nursery which never housed a baby, Jim just couldn't take it. He needed, he needed Spock. It was only a firm bit to his lip and the reminder of dinner, which stopped Jim from going back into the spare room and retrieving his comm. No good would come of seeing Spock now. Jim's pain would only call to his alpha nature.

Instead of running to his friend, Jim stood. He was okay. He could handle this alone. Maybe after his heat, he could let Spock smooth the last sharp edges of hurt. Decided, he made his way downstairs, synced his padd with the house's computer system, turned on his 'happy' playlist, grabbed out the fry pan and turned on the heat. He would cook, wash up and go to bed. Tomorrow he'd be in and out of consciousness but the next day he should be able to look after himself. The first day was always the worst.


Two days later, Jim woke in the guest bedroom. Before going to bed, he'd set the house's computer system to lock him in with medical override, aka Bones' 'fleet code, or his own to open the doors. Now he felt better. Or, hot, wet and eager for a hard body pressing against, inside of him. But this level of arousal, of need, was manageable. He could think enough to get out a padd and read up on the Kobayashi Maru or cook himself something to eat. Not that he was all that hungry. It was more of a thirst. Maybe warm tea. Like Spock had. If Spock liked it, it had to be good.

'Cause Spock was good. More than good. He was brilliant and funny and warm. So warm. And tall. Plus, he smelt really good. And he was super strong, way stronger than anyone Jim had ever met. And he liked Jim. He thought Jim was weird, but good. Or, illogical in a cute way. That's how Vulcans gave complements, right?

Jim was, thankfully, interrupted by his comm.

He walked over, hoping it was Spock somehow whilst knowing that he wouldn't call.

"Mum?" Winona Kirk's laugh came through the tiny speaker, slightly tinny but still brighter than he'd heard in a while.

"Hey there Jimmy, where are you? You sound a little..." Ah, his voice was probably a little slurred. It was a small price to pay when 96% of his brain was consumed with need.

"Ah, I've taken a little, solo, holiday. In, in California." He closed his eyes against the rush of feeling.

"California? Why would you- oh. Did you find, did you find anything?" Jim wished he could see her face, read the emotions from her eyes. She clearly got why he was here. And she'd probably figured out about Starfleet a while ago. His file would have beeped across her desk.

"Yeah, actually, I found a book. I listened to it. The messages." Her breathing sounded strained across the line and he just knew she was crying.

"Good. I'd been meaning to tell your friend, the doctor, to come and pick it up for your birthday. He wanted you to have it for your birthday." Was this what it was like to lose your mate? To be grief stricken year in, year out, for a man who died over 20 years ago.

"I'm sorry Jimmy. I'm so sorry. We should have talked about him sooner. You, you remind me so much of him and it makes me proud and frightened and I'm sorry. I could have, I should have been better."

"Mum! You're great. There is no better. There's you and what you're capable of and I wouldn't have wanted anyone else." This was turning out to be the most emotional week of Jim's life.


Three days of jerking off, reading up on the academy's famous 'unbeatable' test and more jerking off later, Jim was on his way back to San Francisco. He stopped in to Sonoma City on the way back to grab a bottle of wine for each of his friends, a late 'Winter Holidays' present. They should just call it Christmas. No one did religion anymore. There was no one to offend, except non-Humans and they knew the holidays were for Christmas anyway. It was kind of more offensive, trying to seem like they weren't favouring a Human festivity when they clearly were. Maybe Winter Solstice? Yule? Yule was good. Old, slips well off the tongue...

Jim drove back down the coast, singing along to the Andorian jazz playing over the radio and letting the wind whip away the last of his woes.

By the time he'd made it back, it was just after lunch and the ever hyper Jim had plenty of energy for his favourite obsession. He jogged across campus, grabbed Pavel and Hikaru by the backs of their shirts and dragged them to the library.

"Gentlemen, I hath returned. Time to combine our powers and come up with an evil plan. Mwahahaha." Jim kinda, not so secretly, liked freaking out the younger kids. Even if Hikaru wasn't that much younger than him. Pavel raised his hand.

"You know I've told you to stop doing that. We're all equals here."

"Spock told me to ring him if you were acting particularly unhinged when you got back." Pavel looked up at him with wide innocent eyes while Hikaru gripped his knees and laughed.

"Well, Jim is telling you to tell Spock to stop telling you to tell me what he tells you to do. Take action Pav, don't just talk about it."

"You guys are so freaking weird."

"Language!"

"Sorry mum."

Jim glared. Hikaru smirked. Pavel looked between them. This was pretty much how every serious conversation between the three begun. There had to be a certain formula, a ratio of humour and tactics, for their study sessions to work. Technically, those two didn't need to be there. They didn't have to sit the Kobayashi Maru. They only helped Kirk with his strategising because he had freaky powers of charm and persuasion. And Spock made them.

Something about Jim being illogical and blah blah blah. Jim'd zoned out after a while, choosing to focus on the timbre of Spock's voice, the slight lit to his accent. It was a worthy distraction.

Anyway, regardless of their reasons for helping him, they were here. And for the last month they'd been reading up on every report of every student to ever take the simulation. Pike had laughed, Spock had raised an eyebrow but Pavel had just smiled. It melted something in Jim's knees a little. Made him believe that someone else believed in him. It helped that the kid was way too cute for his own good.

And Hikaru mostly went along with it. He was a pilot. He did a lot of simulations himself. He knew what it was like to want everything to be perfect.

And the Kobayashi Maru was a little like that. But, the more Jim read, the more he wanted to win because no one ever had. He wanted to prove you could. That there was nothing you couldn't do if you gave 100%. Like his dad told him. There's no such thing as a no win scenario. He wouldn't, couldn't let his crew, innocent lives, down. Those people, fake or not, were going to survive. Jim would see to it.


Ok guys, in case you haven't noticed, we have our senior crew. Yay! Main characters. Did anyone notice that I was introducing one each chapter? Yes? No? Doesn't matter. I love you anyway.

My dearest guest: is this a better chapter? I tried to address all your points. Thank you for such helpful feedback. It means a lot to me. :D