True to the doctor's prognosis, Jim walked by himself the day they all land on Earth. Sam could only stare in awe at the way Jim seemed to commandeer all eyes as he left the shuttle, a small bag slung over his still-a-little-bit-bonny shoulder.
His brother was quickly turning from a skinny boy into a stunning young man.
Stonn kept staring at him avidly as they said their goodbyes and exchanged comm information. Jim wanted to stay in touch and would not take no for an answer. Stonn was more than eager to comply to his wishes.
Sam laughed.
He gave Stonn a pat on the head and had to cover his mouth when Jim wrapped his arms tightly around the young Vulcan and kissed his cheek, because while the boy's expression was impassive his whole face was a deep shade of green and then his hands tightened when Jim did the same to his adored Tom and little Kevin, who was so tearful and clingy and didn't seem to want to let go of his own personal hero.
T'Pill… T'Pirr… his own Vulcan stalker was not happy to receive a hug from Jim but only a pat on the head from Sam, and was quite vocal in her dissatisfaction.
"You two be good and take care, ok?" Sam said to the Vulcans. "Whenever you are in town again, be sure to come and visit." He knew the Vulcan children were all going home the very same day, the emotional trial they have all been put on had upset most of their parents and the possibility that any of them would set foot on Earth again was close to none (he can ask Jim to do the math later, Jim is happy around numbers and they give Sam a headache. They make a good team.)
Admiral Archer drove them around Headquarters and through the city in a haze of blurring colors and sounds. He didn't want them to face the press, he said. And was taking the long way.
Through the window Sam saw his school, he knew he would have to go back and finish his education someday. He wanted to be someone Jim would be proud of. Still Jim was and always would be his number one priority and his medical degree can wait until he felt safe enough to leave his brother alone and not panic at the thought he was going to disappear again.
It took them three months for Sam to even go out of the house without having to stop and turn around or face hyperventilation.
He guessed he was messed up as well.
The house Sam chose was in the outskirts of town, surrounded by vast countryside (that had cost more than one would think, but he was willing to pay for their privacy) and only an hour away from San Francisco. Three bedrooms in case either Jim or him had any visitors, a small kitchen and eating areas. The rest of the house was dedicated to a living room staked with their father's old books and PADDs.
Jim stared around him in awe, the house was nothing like the one they had lived on in Riverside (Sam had made sure of it), and it seemed solely dedicated to their own personal interests instead of being a functioning family unit.
"You like?" Sam grinned, running a nervous hand through his head. Jim nodded slowly, letting his fingers feel the hard wood of the furniture, the soft cushions, the bricks on the walls.
"It's a new beginning," he whispered, turning to stare at his older brother.
"That it is," Sam agreed, wrapping his arm around Jim's shoulders. "Come on, I'll show you your room. I didn't have it decorated, though, I thought you might like it that way."
From the doorway, Admiral Archer smiled.
Maybe things would be ok for those two from now on.
Six months later, Jonathan Archer cursed his own tongue the moment he parked in from of the new Kirk household and found the broken windows and fretting Sam on the garden.
"That bad?" he asked as he approached the young man.
Sam nodded miserably.
"That's the third therapist that runs away screaming," he muttered anxiously. "They don't take it lightly when Jim throws things at them."
"Quite understandable," Archer agreed, sitting on the grass. "What happened this time, Samuel?"
Sam sighed, sitting by the Admiral and started his tale.
It wasn't that Jim was naturally violent. He was actually quite a silent and tranquil boy on his own, but then some buffoon would come over, thinking they had his case figured out, stick their foot on their mouth and get their asses kicked by a twelve year old.
Sam had tried to intervene once or twice, but Jim would not have it. He would stare at his brother in betrayal and then lock himself in his room, usually to hide under the bed to sob where no one would be able to see him, only to come out a week later, due to Sam's daily begging.
"I even took him to the park once a week, like Dr. Amaly said," Sam grunted.
Jim at first had stared nervously around, staring at the laughing children curiously. Sam had always known his brother was a social butterfly, so he thought it would only be natural that Jim would decide to interact with smaller children and some his own age. It would heal him, Dr. Amaly said, to see so many happy faces.
Jim, however, had spent the first two hours staring from his seat on a bench, and then his attention had been caught by an old woman feeding the birds.
Sam followed his eyes in confusion.
The woman was plump, her blue floral dress clashed horribly with her neon yellow trainers and murky green socks, her hair was matted over her skull in dirty curls.
Jim only smiled fondly and told Sam he had never seen something so pretty.
"Pretty?" Sam had asked, raising an eyebrow.
"She enjoys life to the fullest," Jim said gently.
Sam thought it was progress, that Jim could find beauty in such… strange ways. His past experiences had made him appreciate the smallest pleasures of life and now he recognized beauty in them. Like a little girl petting her dog, to an athlete drinking a refreshing gulp of cool water after a thorough work out, or an old lady giggling like a child when the birds perched on her hands to get to the seeds she held.
Their routine visits to the park continued steadily for almost a week before Sam realized that while Jim seemed to enjoy watching the pedestrians, he never made contact with them.
"He subtracts himself from the equation," he told Dr. Amaly during a session. "Told me he didn't want to stain the picture."
Dr. Amaly had nodded then, an understanding look on her young face.
"I would believe that it's survivor's guilt, Dr. Kirk," she said. "Your brother feels guilty to enjoy the same little pleasures he observes, having lived while so many died. It is a common anomaly for those in his situation."
"How do I stop it! I want my brother to laugh and play again! Not smile like an old man and nod! Jimmy has to start living again."
"Introduce him to small doses of pleasure, an ice cream cone, a swim on the pool, things he would enjoy while around lots of people."
Sam frowned.
Dr. Amaly had to have read Jim's file and the fact he had spent days at an end hiding in a sewer, surrounded by still water that had wrecked his health and, of course, Jim's special relationship with food. He was always the last to start eating and only when he could see there was enough food on the table to satiate both him and Sam.
He never ate more than a few spoonfuls before pausing and staring until Sam had eaten twice that amount himself. Anorexia, Mrs. Leighton had told him over the comm. Tom was going through it as well. So closely linked to the thought that others deserved to eat in their stead that both boys were starving themselves in the face of people they cared about.
"I don't know what to do," Sam told Dr. Amaly. The woman was thoughtful for a moment, her eyes glinting behind her glasses.
"Maybe if you invited young Mr. Leighton to visit?" she said. "I could supervise the two of them. Having other present and serving a meal would help them face their shortcomings, even understand that food is simply not going to run out."
Sam raised an eyebrow, thinking that it was a little bit too easy, but agreeing nonetheless. Dr. Amaly was a professional with a P.H.D. and he was still a student. She ought to know best.
He had issued an invitation that very same night.
Jim had been ecstatic. Jumping on Sam's bed for hours in glee before launching himself to his brother's arms happily.
"I love you, Sammy!" he had said. Sam had smiled.
"And then I came home today to fix the house for supper, Tom was supposed to arrive in a few hours and I found the windows broken and Jim shrieking like he was possessed.
"Did Dr. Amaly tell you what was wrong?" Archer asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"She didn't have to," Sam growled, handing his mentor a PADD. Archer's eyes widened.
'A real hero: A Comparative study of two of the youngest Tarsus IV survivors James T. Kirk and Thomas M. Leighton. – By Dr. Beatrice J. Amaly.'
"That bitch," the Admiral sighed, deleting the half-written essay and then breaking the PADD against the floor. "Don't worry, Samuel, if James' or Thomas' names ever appear on the press that woman will rot in jail. She did sign a non-disclosure agreement, after all."
Sam nodded.
"Thanks, Admiral," he sighed. "I just don't understand. Jim is an adorable kid, he's fragile and sweet and in need of protection. Why can't anyone see that, help me protect my little brother."
Admiral Archer shook his head with a small smile.
"Samuel, you will see your brother as a delicate baby even by the time he is married and with children of his own," he commented idly. "It reminds me of another remarkable young man that once…"
Sam blinked as the old man grew quiet, a pensive look on his aged face.
"Admiral?" he prompted.
"I cannot believe I did not think of that before," Archer muttered to himself.
"Thought of what?" Sam asked impatiently. "Are you ok? What is it?"
The man turned to Sam with a small private smile and a malicious glint to his eyes that should have put the young man on alert but instead just settle uncomfortable dread at the pitch of his stomach.
"Samuel, do you trust me?" he asked slowly.
Sam nodded.
"You've been great so far, Admiral," he said hesitantly. "I mean, of course I can trust you with Jim's safety but…"
"Not a word, Samuel!" Archer interrupted. "Let me give you two a hand, I think I've got an idea."
Without another word Archer stood from his seat, waved goodbye to Sam, still on the floor, and to Jim who had woken up and was slowly crawling his way into his brother's lap. Sam stared in shock as the old man sped away, that disturbingly benign grin on his face.
"I guess… we can only wait," Sam told Jim, wrapping his arms tighter around his baby brother. "Want us to go and eat something?"
Jim looked at Sam, blue eyes red-rimmed and tired.
He shook his head and snuggled into his brother's shoulder.
Sam sighed.
"I don't want another babysitter," Jim said softly onto Sam's shirt, his skinny hands tight on his shirt. "I can do this on my own."
Sam stared threading his fingers over Jim's head.
"Baby, you are losing weight instead of gaining it. You can't eat, you can't sleep," he said. "I don't even remember how your laughter sounded like. I'm worried."
Jim's eyes went downcast, his expression guilty. Sam kissed his forehead gently.
"I know you can survive, Jim, you've proven that enough. But I don't want you to survive, I want you to live. I want you to stand up on your own and just enjoy the second chance you have, got it? I don't want you to turn up like mom did."
The words stung his tongue and, by the way Jim tensed in his arms, they stung his baby brother.
"… I don't wanna be like mom," he said softly, his hands trembling. Sam took those thin hands on his own larger ones and rested his head on top of Jimmy's. "I don't wanna be sad all the time."
"Let us help you then, Jim," Sam whispered bitterly. "Please let me help before it's too late." Jim nodded, sighing into his brother's skin.
Silence fell between them, tense and hurtful and so terribly heavy.
"A babysitter it is then," Jim muttered finally. "Do you think the Admiral will get us someone good?" Sam smiled.
"He'll need to, you are no easy kid to handle," he said fondly, his cheek nestled in Jim's golden locks. "He'll need Mary Fucking Poppins if he wants her to stay."
"Mary Poppins," Jim mussed. "Sounds like fun."
A week later and much to Jim's and Sam's astonishment a lone figure dressed in a long, black dress and holding a bag came to their doorsteps. Sam opened the door for her, wide eyed.
"Dr. Samuel Kirk?" the woman asked, her face stern. Sam nodded dumbly, unable to believe the Admiral could dare to do THIS!
"I am Doctor Kirk," he said slowly, the woman nodded.
"Then I believe I have arrived to the correct settlement. My name is T'Pol, and I have come as a request from Admiral Archer himself. I hope my presence and assistance with your younger brother's situation will be acceptable, Doctor Kirk," the woman said, her eyes were so cold, like colored glass and her face showed signs of age that would put her right around the same age as the old Admiral himself.
"Um, sure," Sam said. "Do come in."
The woman nodded, entering their house and setting her bag over a table. Jim was, as usual, curled up on the couch, reading a book. His bright blue eyes peered quickly to the new woman on the room before going back to his book, then doing a double take and raising again to regard the new arrival.
"Um, Jim, this is Mrs. T'Pol," Sam said awkwardly. "Mrs. T'Pol, this is my younger brother James Kirk, he is…"
"I am familiar with the situation at hand, Doctor Kirk, do not trouble yourself unnecessarily," T'Pol said, nodding her head. "Good day, James, I am T'Pol and I will be assisting you until you can assist yourself. Is that acceptable?"
Jim stared in silence, shocked beyond relief. Sam held his breath. What had the Admiral been thinking when he decided to send them a Vulcan, A VULCAN! Their sharp tongues and cold demeanor was the least Jim needed at the moment. Jim needed affection, and warmth and all the things his mother had neglected to give him and Frank and Tarsus had droven away with their torture and cruelty.
Jim needed a Betasoid, an Orion, someone who could cuddle with him when Sam was not around and that would hold Jim's hand when he…
When Jim…
Sam's eyes widened when his little brother let out a small choked noise from his lips. T'Pol raised an eyebrow, her posture one of non-amusement but Sam felt tears flood his eyes when the sound repeated once, then twice.
Jim's skin was flushing, his eyes were growing brighter.
The sound came up again.
Sam felt relief eat him alive.
Jim was laughing.
"S-sammy," Jim giggled. "We should call Admiral Archer, we wanted Mary Poppins and he sent us Nanny McPhee!"
Sam smiled himself, shaking his head.
"Nanny McPhee, really?" he said fondly, wrapping an arm around his little baby's shaking frame.
"I am not familiar with neither Mrs. Poppins nor Mrs. McPhee," T'Pol said, unamused. "I do not see any resemblance I might have with either human female and as I have already stated, my name is T'Pol and I am most definitely not your nanny, James."
Jim giggled again, taking T'Pol's hand in his own and dragging her to his room to show her who Nanny McPhee and Mary Poppins were and why they were so happy to welcome her in their house.
Sam smiled.
Somehow, despite his earlier reservations, he felt that things would be ok from now on. If anything wrong happened, now he was sure a logical Vulcan woman could watch over Jim while he was at school and maybe, just maybe, Jim's special affinity with Vulcans would serve him well. T'Pol had never complained over the rough handing his little brother hand given him.
He shook his head.
Jim would rise once more and he would be bright and great like a supernova. Sam could believe it now. The Kirk siblings would be great now that the first steps of recovery were being taken.
He just had to be patient.
To be Continued