Pike flipped through digital copies of the small mountain of reports on his PADD. He settled on the most recent one and diverted both his hands to holding the sandwich he had yet to eat. Luckily for the sandwich but unfortunately for his stomach, it seemed he would be yet to finish his meal as a scruffy blonde haired boy walked over and plopped himself in the seat opposite to Pike.

'Afternoon,' J.T greeted, leaning back in the seat so that it wobbled precariously on its hind legs, 'You never stayed around long enough to hear my answer the other day'.

Pike looked up from the sandwich and report.

'Well, it seems you've come to me to deliver it,' he observed.

J.T nodded, pulling out a dried strip of beef and absent-mindedly began to chew the leathery thing. Pike raised an eyebrow.

'How long has that been in your pocket?' he asked.

J.T shrugged.

'I don't know, a few days maybe,' he replied carelessly.

Pike rolled his eyes and let the matter go; it was expected that the survivors were all hoarders, especially when it came to food but most of the doctors had said that it was something they would grow out of as time passed.

'So, was I right?' he inquired.

J.T grinned mischievously but his eye's revealed that he was still assessing Pike, figuring out what he thought of him. His trust had grown tremendously after his allergic reaction however, and he was less callous to Pike and the doctor who had saved him.

'That depends, you gonna snitch on me?'

Pike shook his head very seriously.

'No'.

J.T stared at Pike, long and hard. His eyes bored into Pike's as his jaw worked to break down the tough consistency of the beef.

'Ok,' he said suddenly, 'yeah. I meant what I said though – don't tell anyone; There's no way I'm going back to my stepfather'.

Pike nodded. He couldn't blame J.T, he knew what Frank was like and he didn't approve. Funny, how he was still calling him J.T when he knew his real name. Better get use to it I suppose thought Pike, it's not like I can start calling him Jim in public – that would defeat the whole purpose of identity concealment.

'J.T! Look what I got!'

The pair swiveled their heads around as a small boy tottered towards them, running as fast as his little legs would allow. A tiny fist suffocated a stolen communicator, J.T sighed.

'Kev, I told you remember? It's awesome that you can get that without being caught but only when we were living in the cave. When we're with grown-ups, it's not a very good thing to do,' he gently chastised the child.

The small brown-haired boy looked up at J.T with wide eyes.

'But I thought it was good if we got stuff from bad people?'

'It is Kev, but the grown-ups with colorful shirts are good guys, remember?'

The child's mouth turned upside down and he downcast his eyes, the stolen communicator hanging limply by his side.

'Oh yeah, I'm sorry J.T. What do I do now?'

J.T smiled and knelt down next to the boy.

'It's not your fault, Kev. Everyone is trying their best to break old habits – even me. All you have to do is put the communicator back where you found it or give it to the person you took it from and say you're sorry'.

Two brown eye's rose to meet the piercing blue ones.

'Are you trying to break old habits too, J.T?'

Kev asked the question with so much astonishment in his voice that Pike had to hide a small smile. The children really saw J.T as their role model, they turned to him for advise and readily followed his instructions. The kid would make a good Captain one day, mused Pike. Just like his father.

'Of course, you see this?' J.T pulled out the half-mangled strip of beef, 'I've hoarded it; I didn't eat it when the nurse gave it to me but I put it in my pocket instead of leaving it for someone else. We all make mistakes Kev, don't worry about it'.

The small child grinned, his smile lighting up his face.

'Ok, I'll give it back,' he said.

J.T ruffled his hair.

'Thanks, Kev'.

Little Kevin turned his head towards Pike and held out the communicator towards the Captain.

'Sorry,' he said innocently.

Pike and J.T both hesitated neither had expected the stolen communicator to be Pike's. J.T stood and reclaimed his chair; he gave Kevin the thumbs up, which made the small boy smile even brighter. Pike tentatively accepted his communicator back.

'Thank you, Kevin,' he said to the beaming boy.

As soon as he returned the stolen item, little Kevin scurried as far away from Pike as his skinny legs would take him. Pike chuckled as he leaned into his chair, holding his communicator aloft as he scrutinized the small piece of technology.

'I had no idea it was missing,' he murmured, 'you taught him well'.

J.T shrugged.

'Sorry about your communicator,' he said, 'I showed them all how to steal when I found them otherwise we would've starved to death'.

Pike attached his communicator back to his belt, a wave of sadness and sympathy passed over him as he was reminded of the hardship J.T had been forced through.

'So, Starfleet's leaving in a few more days; we've swept the planet and everyone who originally resided on the planet has been accounted for,' Pike began, 'we'll be heading back for earth and relocating the survivors to their relatives or foster homes'.

J.T sat in silence for a while, pondering on his future.

'Do I get to see my kids again?' he asked.

'Well, you can ask for their contact details but I'm not allowed to disclose their information to anyone for safety and privacy purposes'.

Another pause.

'Will I have to go to a foster home?'

Pike had been dreading this moment, he sighed.

'If you don't want to go back to your stepfather then it's the only alternative, I'm sorry,' he finally admitted, 'but, given your current health condition most of the survivors – yourself included – will have to reside at a hospital until the doctors decide to release you'.

J.T nodded slowly.

'Ok,' he said.

Pike felt his heart breaking, he knew the foster system was no place for a teenager as traumatized as J.T; it would only damage him even more. He wondered what it would be like to be responsible for another human being. He could make that thought a reality – the opportunity was sitting less than a meter away.

He almost dared to think…