Pike dug through his 'kitchen' in a vain quest for food… real food – he'd been living off meals from the food synthesizer on the starship for the past few months. Pike sighed; he'd done the grocery shopping about a week ago but had neglected to consider the diet of a teenage boy. All that counted as edible in this house were pieces of fruit and various alcoholic drinks. Well that settled it; there was no way he'd be responsible for Jim's possible addiction to alcohol – it'd just be fruit then.

'You done looking around?' Pike asked Jim as he spotted the teenager sitting on the couch.

He backed out from the kitchen and tossed the kid one of the two apples he held.

'Yeah,' Jim answered, snatching the ruby fruit from the air, 'you've got a big house – do you live by yourself?'

Pike nodded, grunting as he sat down heavily in a chair opposite the couch.

'Married to the job,' he declared, 'and I practically live on a starship anyway so this house is always empty.

Crunch!

Pike took a bite from his apple whilst Jim merely consumed his fruit with small bites. Pike frowned slightly; he'd have to do something about the boy's eating habits – it'd take Jim twice as long to put on weight if he ate that slow all the time. Pike chewed thoughtfully as he considered what he had just said.

'You have about four more years before you'll be a legal adult. if you want, you can come with me on the ship when I go off-planet… or I could stay on earth until you're eighteen – I should be able to get a job at the academy-'.

'Chris!'

Pike stopped his rambling and smiled apologetically at the grinning teenager.

'Sorry,' he said.

Jim smiled.

'It's ok,' he told Pike, 'don't stop your career because of me – it'd be the worst way to repay you for all you've done. I can get a job somewhere and live on the streets. Don't worry about me I'll be fine,' he assured.

Pike chewed his bottom lip in indecision.

'No, no,' he muttered, 'the streets aren't safe you can live here'.

Jim rolled his head.

'I'll be fine, Chris. Don't worry about me – you go on with your career with Starfleet'.

'What about your education?'

Jim scrunched up his face.

'Teachers hate me. They think that I'm being arrogant when I correct them even if they're wrong. There's nothing I can learn from them'.

Pike raised his eyebrow. Normally, he'd insist that Jim continue his schooling but he had a feeling that the kid wasn't exaggerating.

'No more education, then? Not even for a job?' he asked.

'What job needs you to learn stuff they don't teach in school?' asked Jim confusedly, 'or a textbook for that matter?'

'Starfleet Officers need to learn a great deal more at Starfleet academy that they don't teach you at school,' Pike said mildly.

Instantly, he regretted it. Jim executed a thorny glare towards Pike.

'I'll die before I join Starfleet,' he said flatly.

'Someone with your brain must crave for more,' Pike reasoned, 'Starfleet is composed of the best and brightest – even someone as smart as you would be constantly learning new things'.

Jim shook his head stubbornly. Pike sighed.

'Well… if you really don't want it then I guess it's not for you,' he said quietly.

'Yeah, I guess it isn't,' muttered Jim.

Pike could almost swear he heard a hint of sadness or regret in Jim's voice but his face betrayed no such emotion. Finished with his apple, Pike jumped up off his seat to dispose of the core.

'Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you – the Kelvin anniversary is in a couple of days,' he called over his shoulder, 'they'll be holding a small memorial service at the academy'.

Jim sighed.

'How could I forget?' he mumbled.

Pike frowned slightly.

'You don't like going?' he asked.

'It's not that I don't want to show my respect or anything… it's just that everyone always judges me from Dad's reputation not mine. I want to be my own man – achieve their respect from my own deeds, you know?' Jim asked.

Trust me, Kid – I know, thought Pike but you'll only really go as far as your old man if you put aside your personal vendetta against Starfleet and enlist. Pike could think of no one else more suited for the rank of Captain – even Admiral – in the future. He almost spoke his mind… almost, but what would be the point? Jim wouldn't listen to him and he'd probably give him the cold shoulder for even suggesting it. Pike pitied the kid – so much potential yet he'd never be able to express it completely.

'Yeah,' Pike answered quietly.

He resolved it to be the safest answer he could trust himself saying. He returned to his seat beside the lounge and reclined in its soft centre.

'I don't know about you though, but I'm going,' he said bluntly, 'you should come too – if only just to respect and remember your father. You might as well get some fresh air anyway; you've been cooped up in a hospital ward for the past few days'.

Jim sighed but nodded nonetheless. Pike smiled in response. Jim left the room to dispose of the remains of his apple core. When he returned, he neglected the couch and instead headed straight for the door.

'Thanks for the food, I'm gonna go see if I can find a job,' he told Pike's expectant expression.

'Do you need a lift?' Pike asked.

'Na, I'm good,' Jim's voice drifted from the front of the house, 'I'll see you in a couple of hours'.

And then, he was gone.

For a fleeting moment, Pike had an absurd parental urge to follow the teenager and ensure that he didn't run into any trouble but he squashed that idea. Jim would surely think he was an over-protective guardian and probably a potential stalker. Pike sighed and hoped that the teenager would keep himself safe.

Groaning softly, he cursed his aging bones as he reached over to a side table he'd placed his PADD on earlier. Turning it on, he began flipping through the rest of the reports. Hopefully, it would be enough to distract his mind from Jim's wellbeing.

Jim's boots crunched over the gravel pathway, his eyes casually scanning the storefront signs he passed until they rested upon a dilapidated door. Its yellow paint was peeling and the building itself failed to advertise it's business but Jim knew a hardware store when he saw one. Better still, it was the kind of store drifters like him went to since it was secluded from the gaudy public areas that Starfleet and manicured citizens hung around.

Perfect.

Jim's mouth quirked upwards in anticipation. He walked boldly towards the door and rapped his knuckles across its surface. There wasn't a handle on it's flat surface so it was safe to assume that he was being scanned – deciding whether to deem him worthy for entrance.

Click!

The door slid open and Jim smiled once more. He walked through the doorway and into a dimly lit room that was narrow enough to be a hallway. A warped type of alien music blared relatively loudly around the cramped room and it looked as it someone had crammed every piece of junk known to the universe into this confined space. The musty air reeked of oil, citrus solvent and burning insulation.

'So who's the new guy in the house?'

An unnaturally happy voice reverberated around the walls towards Jim's ears and an oddly thin Denobulan dressed in earth clothing stepped out from behind a stack of what appeared to be breathing, furry computer cases. Jim lost his train of thought for a moment as the alien's unusual weight brought back memories of similarly shaped bodies from Tarsus IV but he quickly stamped the memory away.

'Uh… hey. I was wondering whether I could talk to the guy who owns this place – would you know where he is?' he replied over the music.

The Denobulan grinned.

'That'd be me – name's Torr. Now what can I do for you, human?'

'Nice to meet you, I'm Jim… and I was wondering if you needed an extra pair of hands?'

The Denobulan looked at him blankly for a few seconds before his face cleared with understanding.

'Ah! A job you mean, yes?' he asked.

Jim nodded.

'Well, this isn't exactly a retail store. But if you want, I can pay you for every piece of equipment that needs fixing – that is, if you can do it?' Torr suggested

Jim blinked at how easy it was but quickly grinned. He wasn't expecting much and so long as he wasn't doing anything related to Starfleet he was happy. This job would be a good start.

'Yeah, no problem – I just need to read the manual and I'll be find. Thanks Torr,' he said.

'No problem, no problem!' the alien exclaimed happily, 'come on – I'll show you what you need'.

Torr waved him towards a hallway that led to a closet sized room.

'This is workshop number three,' Torr announced, 'you can any of the tools in here'.

Jim nodded in appreciation as he checked out the brightly lit workbench inside.

'So, If you could give me your details then I'll contact you whenever something's broke,' Torr said.

Jim inclined his head apologetically.

'Sorry, I'm living with a friend at the moment and I don't have access to a communicator yet. Tell you what – just stick… I dunno… a sheet of paper on your front door – I'll see it and come straight in'.

'Sweet idea,' Torr agreed.

Jim grinned and stuck out his hand.

'Human gesture for thanks,' he explained to Torr and the alien gladly shook his outstretched hand.

'I'll see you later, Torr,' he said.

The alien nodded in acknowledgement and Jim walked out of the shop. Once outside he breathed in the fresh air, glad with his new boss. Torr was the kind of alien who was friendly enough to know your first name and go with it. He was the first person since Jim had returned to earth that didn't delve into Jim's past and didn't appear to care either.

It felt great to be incognito; Jim just wondered how long it would last.