Chapter 18

Jim couldn't imagine why he ever thought that road trips were fun. Being stuck in a small, cramped vehicle for hours at a time was pretty much torture. No, that wasn't entirely true. Jim had been tortured before, and this was far worse.

After waking up at four in the morning, Spock and Jim had quickly packed up their few belongings and taken off. And after driving for eight straight hours (not obeying the speed limit, mind you), they were still only about halfway there. Jim was getting so tired of the drive that he was about ready to give up, abandon the car and find a shuttle back to San Francisco.

"I'm hungry," he finally announced. The two of them had been driving in near silence, mostly because being awake before the sun had automatically put Jim in a foul mood.

"I suggest we stop for food in the next town," Spock said, who had been staring out the window for almost the entire duration of the car ride. Jim was pretty sure that Spock just didn't want him to know that he was taking a nap.

The sneaky bastard.

"That, Mr. Spock, is a damn good idea," Jim said. "How far is the next town from here?"

Spock looked down at his datapadd and paused, probably calculating the distance so to give a precise answer. "Thirty-four minutes and sixteen seconds if we continue at this speed."

Which sound like encouragement to speed up.

As it was, it only took them twenty-five minutes to reach the next town, which was so small that Jim wasn't even sure it had a name. He pulled into the parking for a small café and quickly got out of the car. Never in his entire life had he been so grateful to just be able to walk around. Okay, that wasn't entirely true. There was that one time during the Academy when he'd been so sick that Bones had forbidden him from even thinking about getting out of bed for a week. But that hadn't been self-inflicted, so it was different.

"I hope they have potato salad," Jim mumbled as they waited to be seated. "Good potato salad, not the fake stuff."

Spock raised his eyebrow, which Jim decided was the equivalent of a laugh. "I am sure the food will be more than adequate."

"But I don't want just adequate, I want super, fantastically delicious!"

Spock just stared at him for a moment, but before he could respond, the waitress came up and told them to follow her to their seats.

"You know," Jim muttered as he opened his menu, "we eat a lot."

Spock looked up at him from his own menu, his eyebrow raised again. "Eating is necessary for all humanoids. It ensures survival. Therefore, eating regularly is logical."

Jim rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant," he said as he decided on potato salad (although he would have to make sure that the quality was up to par before ordering it by asking the waitress) and a sandwich. Spock just continued looking at him with his raised eyebrow. "You know if you keep doing that, it's gonna get stuck that way," he teased, and laughed when the eyebrow was simply raised higher.

"Illogical," Spock responded, turning his gaze back to his menu. "It is a biological impossibility."

But Jim just laughed and shook his head. "Not impossible," he argued in good humor. "Implausible, sure, but not impossible."

"A clause to your no-win scenario guide?" Spock inquired, a sparkle in his eyes that gave away that he was teasing Jim.

"Why not?" he laughed. There conversation was cut off as the waitress came up to take their order.

"How is your potato salad?" Jim asked, looking at the flustered waitress intently.

"It's good?" she responded slowly, sounding uncertain as to why he was asking. Jim didn't think that it sound overly encouraging, but decided that harassing the poor girl over potato salad was really unnecessary. Spock placed his order and the girl scurried away, as if afraid that she would be assaulted with useless questions again. Jim chuckled as he watched her leave.

"You have an unusual fixation with potato salad," Spock observed. Jim turned back to face him and was momentarily struck with how fantastic he looked with the light from the sun shining in on him, around him. He had to fight back the urge to reach out his hand and run it gently over the pointed tip of his ear, to caress his cheek, to lean forward and press his lips to Spock's soft lips...

No, no, no, that was totally inappropriate! He needed to focus on something else before he did something he would regret. What were they talking about? Oh, yeah, potato salad!

"My mom used to make really fantastic potato salad when I was a kid," Jim explained, looking at the silverware in front of him instead of at Spock. If he wasn't capable of controlling his inappropriate thoughts, then he would just have to refrain from giving his mind the opportunity to wander. "It was perfect, the way potato salad should be." He chuckled slightly, a sound that was tinged with bitterness and resentment. "I guess I just have high standards when it comes to some things."

Spock nodded, but seemed to be thinking about something and was slightly distracted. Jim looked at him and was about to ask what he was thinking about (because how often did he see Spock lost in thought?) when the waitress brought their food. Jim smiled at the waitress, who still seemed skittish around him.

The potato salad ended up being okay. Not super amazing, but it definitely wasn't inedible. Still, he was a little disappointed. One day, he would find the perfect potato salad and all would be right with the world. Until then, mediocre was kind of alright.

The two men ate quickly, knowing that they were on a strict travel schedule. After paying the bill, and leaving the waitress a nice tip for being a little bit difficult, they headed back to the car. Jim jumped up and down a couple of times before sliding into the driver's seat. He knew it would be a long time before he would be able to stretch his limbs out again. Spock, similarly, seemed to be preparing his body for hours trapped in a car.

And then they were on the road again.

"It seems like you and your mother used to be on friendly terms," Spock said after they had been driving for fifteen minutes. Jim looked over at him sharply, not expecting their pleasant silence to be broken with questions that Jim really would rather ignore. But if there was anyone that he trusted as much as Bones, it was definitely Spock. And some part of Jim thought that meant that he deserved to know.

"We were," Jim said, "when I was little, anyway." He paused, not really knowing where to begin. It was a long story with complicated tangents.

Twelve year old Jim woke up to find the house empty, an eerie silence pervading the corners of the house. He got up and shivered as the cool air touched his skin. Grabbing a sweatshirt, he slipped it on over his head before making his way to the kitchen.

He knew that no one would be home. It'd been a few months since Sam had left and his mom was going on an away mission for Starfleet. Again. Frank was probably dropping her off. He smiled at the thought of not having to put up with the step-dad for a few hours and began to rummage around the kitchen to find something to eat. It was then that he found the note.

"Hey, Jim. Sorry, I don't think I'm coming home this time. You should let Frank know."

And she hadn't come home. Not for another seven years. She'd left him alone with Frank without a word to either of them. And if Frank had been bad before, he became exceptionally cruel. Until he left, too, anyway. He wasn't about to stick around and take care of someone else's brat kid.

"She left one day," he said softly, staring intently at the road, not daring to even glance at Spock. "She left me alone with him until he got a clue and realized she wasn't coming back."

"But she did?" Spock asked softly. Jim could feel his gaze burning into the side of his face, but he still couldn't bring himself to look at him. He didn't know if he could handle the pity that he would undoubtedly see shining out of his eyes.

"Eventually," he answered. "To be fair," he amended after a moment, "she did her best to support me, even if she wasn't there. She did make sure that I was still alive and everything and she sent money once a month."

He finally looked over at Spock, preparing himself for Spock's reaction. What he hadn't expected was the anger that burned through his eyes. And that anger, on his behalf, made his heart melt into a seemingly useless pool of goo. It really wasn't fair that Spock could reduce him to useless goo without even trying.

Another seven hours later, they finally reached Riverside, Iowa. Jim drove through the town slowly, taking in the sight of familiar stores and even some familiar faces. As he took it all in, he smiled grimly at his memories. Bill's General Store and the first time he had shoplifted. He'd been fifteen. The bar off of Fifth Street was where he'd gotten into his first brawl. The park by the school was where he'd gotten his first kiss.

He smiled, but did his best to ignore the feeling of nostalgia. It felt more like coming home than it had any right to, and Jim discovered that he might have been more homesick than he could have even imagined. He sighed at the revelation and picked up his speed so he could get out of town faster. Spock gave him a sharp look, but said nothing. Jim was grateful for that. They were both tired and Jim wasn't sure of how tight a grasp he had on his temper and he wasn't in the mood for more questions.

"We're almost there," he said softly, taking in the fields of corn that were lightly illuminated by the full moon. As he drove, he looked up at the sky and was in awe of the bright stars that lit up the sky. It would always amaze him at how big the sky seemed in Iowa. Sure, it was the same sky in San Francisco, but it didn't seem quite so expansive with tall buildings littering the skyline.

Spock nodded and continued to stare out the window, soaking in images of Jim's childhood home. There wasn't really much to see, but Jim felt something like warm joy settle into the pit of his stomach at Spock's interest.

"You see that quarry over there?" Jim asked suddenly, pointing off to the left. Spock turned to look in the direction that Jim was pointing and raised his eyebrow.

"Indeed."

"I drove a car off the edge when I was eleven." If he was asked, Jim wouldn't be able to say why he had decided to tell Spock this story. It wasn't really important, and it hadn't even been a defining moment in young Jim's life. It didn't take long for Jim to regret opening up though when he noticed confusion and pity flash through Spock's eyes.

"That is most illogical," he said, turning to look back out his own window. "What was the reason behind such destructive behavior?"

Jim glanced at him, and then turned back to road, weighing his options. He finally responded, "I thought it'd be fun."

Spock threw a sharp look at him, but Jim ignored it. They were at his mother's house anyway. They didn't have time for this conversation. He pulled into the driveway and parked the car. Both men sat, staring out the front window in silence, waiting for some unknown signal.

"I guess we should go in," Jim said after a moment of indecision, wanting nothing more than to turn the car around and leave, go somewhere, anywhere, that wasn't right here, right now. He cringed at how uncertain he sounded, so he opened his door with as much authority as he could manage.

And found himself falling to the ground.

"Jim?" Spock asked as he strode around the car to make sure that the young captain was alright. Instead of responding, Jim burst into a raucous laugh, that was more hysteria than humor. Spock paused, as if unsure of what to do when your very intelligent captain and friend suddenly seemed to be delirious.

"I'm alright, Spock," Jim finally said, trying to get his laughter under control. He shook his head and attempted to regain some kind of internal balance. Apparently sitting for long hours while driving didn't agree with him. He began to push himself up and Spock quickly grabbed for his elbow, an attempt at steadying him. Jim felt the warmth of Spock's hand wrap around his arm and he leaned into it, appreciating this brief moment of contact before Spock would let go and maintain their personal space policy, as per usual.

Jim sighed and straightened his shirt and brushed off his pants. Glancing up at the front door, he felt the strong urge to just get back in the car and drive away, to never come back. There was nothing here for him. No chance at reconciliation, no chance for forgiveness, not even the opportunity to start over. And Jim found that he wanted none of these things. And the sooner he let whoever was inside know that, he could leave and resume the existence that he had created from himself out of nothing but a dare.

"Come on," he said, sounding weary even to himself. He led the way up the steps to the front door and knocked. He almost smiled at how old-fashioned his mother was, but he pushed back whatever amusement he might be able to derive from his memories.

The door opened just a crack a moment later, revealing a woman in her mid fifties with blonde hair and a tired face. She looked at him uncertainly for a moment before she pulled the door open completely, a smile that didn't reach her eyes crossing her face. It only lasted a moment, though, and Jim found that he was grateful that she wasn't really trying to make things better.

"Jim," she breathed, devouring him with her eyes, taking in the changes since he had left for the Academy. Looking for the man that she saw on all the news stations after the Nero incident. "I thought I'd heard something out there."

"Hi, Mom," he said, almost choking on the words. They stood there awkwardly for a moment, neither of them sure of how to proceed. Beside him, Spock shifted slightly, reminding Jim of his presence. "This is my first officer, and friend, Spock."

His mother's eyes darted to the man who stood next to him with the same penetrating stare. Had Spock been a full human, he would have undoubtedly been shifting uncomfortably. Instead, he just stiffened even more and stood straighter than should have been possible.

"Well, come on in," she said, stepping aside to let them in. As they moved to walk past her, she asked, "Have you already eaten dinner?"

"No," Jim responded, looking around, mildly surprised at how little had changed since he'd left all those years ago. "We didn't really have time."

She nodded and then walked off the kitchen, probably with the intent of finding them something to eat. Jim watched her walk away, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. He turned to say something to Spock to find him standing inside the doorway, looking around the room curiously.

"Feel free to make yourself at home," Jim said, waving his hand around careless as he toed out of his boots and left them by the door. Spock looked at him before taking his suggestion to heart and began to wander around the room, occasionally stopping to get a better look at something or to gently run his long, slender fingers over the surface of some keepsake.

"I was thinking grilled cheese and tomato soup," his mom said, coming back from the kitchen. Jim looked at her and nodded his agreement. Now that they were inside and in better light, he could get a better look at her. Her face was drawn with lines, proof of her age. And her eyes held a tiredness that hadn't been there when he was a child. Or maybe he simply hadn't noticed before.

She gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen, and after making sure that Spock was with him, he walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table where she had set three plates. When they were all seated, she brought the food to the table, gesturing that they should all help themselves.

"So you're the captain of the Enterprise," she said as a conversation starter. Jim looked up, surprised at her bluntness.

"Yeah," he replied, carefully avoiding her gaze. "Youngest in Starfleet history."

He didn't know what made him say it. Maybe part of him was hoping she'd be proud of him. Or maybe he just liked to brag. Either way, he immediately regretted it.

"So I've heard," she said, her eyes boring into his skull. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jim looked up at that, a hardness settling in his eyes. "Tell you what?" he asked slowly, a suspicious tone appearing in his voice.

She shrugged and flailed a bit, almost helplessly. "I don't know," she confessed. "About your graduation, or your appointment, or how you saved the planet. It's not that hard to send out a call once in a while, Jim."

Jim could feel years of fury building up, boiling hot under his skin, out of control. He took a deep breath to try to gain control over it. "That's rich coming from you, Mom," he snapped, snarling over 'mom'. "Not once have you ever tried to talk to me, not since I was twelve." He paused and took a deep, steadying breath to calm his inner demons. "You have no right to a call, no right to know what I'm doing."

She looked at him, looked like she wanted to argue. But she couldn't, and Jim knew that she couldn't. And God, Jim didn't want to have this conversation the first night back and probably could have gone his entire life without dredging through the nightmares in his memory.

"I'm your mother," she said, glancing away, picking at her sandwich, but there was a hint of anger behind her words. "I have every right to know how you're doing."

Jim let out a laugh, somewhere between a snarl and a sob. "Mother? Is that what you think you are?" he let out another painful laugh. "You're a shit excuse for a mother and this was always a pathetic excuse for a family."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she hissed, this time looking up at him with a fire in her eyes that Jim knew how to handle. Anger he could take. God knows he had enough to match it without even trying.

"You left!" Jim shouted, tired of holding back years of pent up rage for his mother, Sam, Frank...everything. "You just left, no goodbye, no 'I'm sorry'. Nothing. You just left."

His mom stared at him, the fire extinguished with tears that were filling her eyes, tears that only made Jim angrier. No, she didn't get to cry. She didn't get to feel bad. After everything that she had put him through, she had no right to those tears, no right to ask his forgiveness.

"I had to, Jim," she whispered, the tears no streaking down her face. "You don't understand, I couldn't stay. And you were so headstrong, so..."

"So, what?" Jim demanded as she trailed off.

She looked at him intently, and it was that look again. The look that said she wasn't seeing him, Jim Kirk, but rather the ghost of his dead father. The shadow of a man that Jim could only know of through stories that others told him.

"Oh," he whispered, "I get it."

Silence fell between the two of them, both exhausted from the length of the day and the stress of their reunion.

"I'm tired," Jim finally muttered, standing up from the table. Spock stood with him, keeping his eyes carefully averted.

"We'll talk in the morning," Mrs. Kirk whispered, choking on her own tears.

Jim said nothing as he turned to head up the stairs, not caring if Spock followed him. Not caring about much of anything at all.

A.N.
So not much Spock/Jim interactions in this chapter, but I think the next will be glorious. Sorry about the delay. School's a bitch and living is time consuming. Thanks for reading though! As always, I appreciate comments, feedback, etc. Thanks for sticking with me guys.