Jim walked through the rows of chairs, one row at a time. His legs moved mechanically, his mind in a completely different universe. Jim resolved that inner conflicts were the most complicated of arguments. If only he were Vulcan, then his realistic, logical thoughts wouldn't have to fight with his personal thoughts.

'J.T?'

Instantly, he lost his train of thought. His head jerked up and he felt a flash of panic at hearing the name he had left behind in that hospital ward. Or was it Tarsus IV? It was hard to tell when he had really decided that he would drop his identity from that planet along with the memories that came with it – a verbal confirmation in the front seat of a car was only a public announcement after all.

He relaxed when he spotted a familiar looking woman.

'Hi, Mrs. Greyson,' he said.

The middle-aged mother smiled warmly in response. Her career was teaching youth so it wasn't a surprise that she had a compassionate nature. In a way, she reminded him of the mother he never had. Winona had always found Jim unbearable to look at as he reminded her too much of her dead husband; she may not have voiced her thoughts, but Jim knew it was true.

'I must say, I'm surprised to see you at the academy,' Amanda said pleasantly.

Jim grunted in agreement. He knew she meant the memorial and hadn't suggested that he was attending the academy; she was one of the few people he didn't have to explain his hatred of Starfleet to. After teaching numerous teenager survivors from the massacre Amanda Greyson didn't have to be reminded of their extremely opinionated view on Starfleet.

'I'm staying with a Starfleet officer and his best friend died on the Kelvin so I came with him,' he explained, 'the deceased may have died on a Starship but he's has taught me that not all Officers are incompetent'.

Amanda nodded.

'George Kirk is a man of individual integrity,' she agreed, 'his actions are his own'.

Jim gave her a genuine smile. Her assurance was enough to set him at peace for a few minutes. He wondered at her difference from a normal, human response and then remembered her relations.

'Where is Spock?' he asked.

Amanda smiled but Jim detected a hint of sadness in her expression.

'He had to return to Vulcan upon his father's wishes for his education,' she said, 'I'll be returning there myself once Starfleet is in no need of anymore teachers for the hospitals'.

'You must miss him,' Jim replied quietly.

'I do,' Amanda admitted, 'his logic is something that I miss sorely on Earth and the presence of a son is not something to be taken for granted'.

Jim grinned.

'Yeah, I know how you feel,' he told her.

Amanda smiled with the comfort that came from those who could relate to personal pain – it was common news in the ward of Jim's kids. After all, it was hard to ignore his daily, raging demands to see them again.

'Jim'.

Jim looked up in surprise at his name. Mentally, he berated himself; he had honed his senses on Tarsus IV so that he'd never be taken by surprise by an approaching soldier. He flinched on reflex when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and Pike saw the movement. Hastily, he dropped his hand and smiled a greeting at the woman Jim had been conversing with.

'Hello,' he told her.

'Lieutenant,' she replied; the two adults were acquainted from Pike's numerous visits to the hospital.

Pike turned towards Jim.

'The service it about to begin,' he told him, 'we better go sit down before it starts'.

Jim nodded and smiled in farewell to Amanda.

'Goodbye… Jim,' Amanda said as she turned and headed towards a seat, her eyebrow quirking up in an unspoken question

Being the person she was however, she didn't see it logical to ask about another name Jim obviously didn't want known. And for that, he was grateful.

'Come on, kiddo,' Pike called as he walked towards the middle row.

On their way towards their seats, Pike briefly greeted every second person he saw – namely colleges in Starfleet – and introduced them to Jim. Thankfully, deprived of his last name, none of them made the connection between Jim and James T. Kirk.

Finally, Pike found two seats he was happy with and sat down. Jim felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as the seats quickly filled around him and he was surrounded by humans and aliens alike. It reminded him all too much of the day that the colonists of Tarsus IV had converged in the town hall right before they were slaughtered. Hastily, he stamped down the rising feeling of panic and composed his features to betray no hint of his true emotions.

A man dressed in a formal Starfleet Uniform stood up from one of the chairs on the stage and walked towards the lectern. He cleared his throat before moving his mouth closer to the microphone.

'We are gathered today to remember the tragedy that occurred 14 years ago and the lives lost on that day,' he began, his voice reverberating around the area.

The people surrounding Jim murmured sympathetically and the surviving crew of the Kelvin bowed their heads as they remembered their fallen friends. In contrast, Pike kept his eyes glued to the front although they softened slightly.

'We also remember the act of one man who gave his own life to save the lives of those who were spared that day'.

The speaker paused and swept his eyes across the silent crowd before resuming his speech.

'George Kirk was one of the finest officers that Starfleet trained and although he was only Captain for twelve minutes, he saved more lives than was conceivable in the duration of a Starfleet career. He is a shining example of Starfleet's officers and we acknowledge his courage even in the face of death'.

Jim fought back a wave of rage.

Starfleet's officer.

Was that all his dad was? An expendable officer?

After all the lives he had saved and the self sacrifice he had committed how could Starfleet still have the gall to talk about his father as if they owned him? The speaker had even composed his words in such a way to hint that George Kirk's actions were a result of Starfleet's training.

Shining example my ass, thought Jim my dad isn't just another officer, he isn't someone you use in your advertisements or an example to con more innocent bystanders into enlistment.

Well screw it all, thought Jim; he wasn't going to sit here and listen while they stuck his family name and Starfleet together. George Kirk's and Starfleet were not the same – his father had acted on his own decisions and as an individual made the ultimate self-sacrifice out of compassion for the lives on that Starship.

Disgusted, Jim stood up from his seat and instantly regretted it. With everyone within forty metres on their backsides he stood out like a tree amongst a field of grass. But there was no going back on his decision, he pushed down his embarrassment and made his way through the crevice between knees and chair backs at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Christopher Pike looked up sharply as the teenager beside him stood up but he caught sight of Jim's face and remained silent. It wouldn't do to have Pike follow Jim – it could even cause him more embarrassment – so Pike stayed where he was and resolved to check on the boy after the service if he failed to return.

Faces flipped up as Jim walked up the aisle but quickly looked away as they noticed the hostile expression on his face. He ignored them and kept his eyes straight ahead, refusing to meet their curious expressions. For some however, the dangerous gleam in his eyes caused them to grow in interest instead of shying away.

One such individual was Carol Marcus.

Leaning over to her father, she nudged him with her elbow.

'Hey, dad? I'll be back in a bit, just want to check on Jim,' she muttered.

'What? That kid with Pike?' he whispered.

She nodded.

'Yeah, he stormed out just then,' she reminded him.

He huffed but nodded.

'Ok, fine – but don't take too long,' he told her.

'Thanks,' she murmured and got up from her seat although she remained in a hunched position, wary of the attention Jim had received when he'd stood up.

Maneuvering through the row, she reached an aisle and straightened her back. Ahead, she could sight Jim's retreating figure and purposefully strode after him.

Jim continued his stiff gaited walk until he had reached the wall of a building not too far from the last row of chairs. Without breaking his pace he turned left and walked beside the wall, breathing deeply to control his anger at the speaker's ignorance.

Another wall appeared to his left so that he was now walking in a concrete tunnel. He walked a few metres into the outdoor corridor and then stopped. Sure that the second wall was now hiding him from the view of the memorial attendants; he pivoted and viciously kicked the wall, swearing quietly as a lance of pain shot up his foot.

'J.T?'

Jim panicked and he quickly whipped his head around the vicinity; he had been so sure that it was empty when he'd let his guard down.

Dammit.

It seemed he would never be able to express himself freely in public. Turning, he braced himself for the worst and composed his face.

A teenager a few years older than him stood at the end of the concrete hallway a few metres away from him.