Pike used both his hands to push against the old fashioned doors that marked the bar entrance and braced himself as he was submerged into its chaotic environment. Strobe lights danced in and out of his vision and the erratic music used his body as a medium, vibrating through his skeleton and chest until he could almost feel it pumping irregularly from his heart. An odor of sweat and distilled spirits polluted the atmosphere, mixed with a pungent stench of powerful perfumes both human and alien alike. Pike felt as if his head were being stuffed down a genie's pants – the smell was that overpowering.

He wrinkled his nose and told himself to ignore its insistent whining. If he could face Klingons and Borgs in deep space then he could sure as hell survive the Riverside Bar long enough to grab the misbehaving cadets and haul ass. Lucky for him, the cadets were all relatively in one place. Unfortunately for them, they were in the middle of a bar fight.

Pike saw red – literally saw red; those uniforms couldn't be any more obvious – as he witnessed four cadets use a young man as a punching bag. It was embarrassing that these senseless men paraded the same arrow head insignia as Pike did but even more so humiliating that the civilian they were assaulting was doing a pretty good job at keeping all four of them at bay.

Pike watched through brief glimpses between moving bodies as the man dodged an errant fist and countered with a right hook of his own. Spinning, he ducked and delivered a blow to another cadet's gut leaving his rear unprotected in the process, which allowed a second cadet to grab him around his chest. Temporarily immobile, the civilian was helpless as a fist was hurled towards face but he managed to jerk his head sideways at the last minute so that the cadet punched his friend in the face instead.

Pike doubled his efforts to maneuver his way towards the fight as he heard the unmistakable sound of a bottle shattering against a human skull. He broke through the crowd in time to see the civilian strewn across a table, a cadet repeatedly slamming his fist into the man's face.

WWWWWPPPPP!

Pike's whistle pierced through the noise of the fight, as loud and dangerous as an old fashion gunshot. He allowed himself a moment of fondness; Jim had been the one to teach him how to whistle like that. Back when he was still J.T, his whistle had ceased a fight – more of an attack – and even though it had come from Pike, it still had the same authoritative effect.

He missed Jim, the boy had become like a son to him. But deep down Jim was J.T and if anything, that kid was independent. After the incident with Tyker, Jim had worried for Pike's safety and after a few years had finally called it quits. He'd insisted that Pike would always be in danger as long as he had enemies and would always be a burden as long as Pike's real home was on a starship.

The noise in the bar decreased in volume considerably and all eyes relocated to Pike as someone thoughtfully turned off the music. The four cadets who had been fighting faced the Starfleet Captain, guilt and shame written on their faces. The remaining cadets who hadn't been involved in the fight were scattered throughout the bar but immediately snapped to attention out of habit and hope that it would cause the Captain to feel more lenient. Pike met each and every one of them with a stern glare, holding his gaze longest on the four cadets.

'Outside, all of you,' he ordered.

Frozen with shock, none of them moved and Pike's brow deepened minutely at their delayed reaction. Alcohol he determined; depressants would be slowing down their brains. He knew that they would eventually realize what he had said regardless of the drugs in their system but it was late and he was in a foul mood so he decided to hurry them up.

'Now!' he barked and this time his severe tone was enough to startle them into movement.

The authority in his voice was enough to cause everyone to exit the bar at an impressive speed. Those in cadet-reds kept their eyes downcast in shame as they past their ranking officer.

The man on the table was the only person who had made no attempt to move but instead tilted his head backwards to gaze up at his rescuer. For a moment he wondered why the older man was standing on the ceiling but nonchalantly blamed it on the alcohol messing with his senses.

'You can whistle really loud,' he slurred, 'you know that?'

Something in the back of the civilian's mind tried to pinpoint the familiarity of this man's face and his loud whistle but he'd already gone through that feeling only ten minutes ago and it taken a fight for him to remember so he gave up.

Pike peered down at the young man as he struggled to roll himself off the table.

'Are you alright, son?' he asked.

The civilian nodded and waved his hand dismissively.

'A couple of beers and I'll be back on my feet,' he announced confidently as he staggered towards the closest stack of napkins.

Pike raised his eyebrow but nodded nonetheless. He glanced at the bartender who had been watching him since his entrance.

'Do you know who started the fight?' he asked.

The bartender nodded.

'Sorry to say sir, but it was a cadet who threw the first swing,' he said.

Pike nodded, his suspicions confirmed.

'I'll be right back – just need to have a quick word with the idiots outside,' he said.

The bartender nodded his consent and Pike tapped a Starfleet credit wafer over the payment sensor as he passed the bar counter.

'Compensation,' he explained briefly and the bartender inclined his head gratefully.

'What the hell were you thinking? You attacked a civilian!' Pike snapped at the line of shamefaced cadets, 'do you have any idea how your atrocious behavior reflects on Starfleet?

He let his furious gaze slide over each of the cadets and savored the flinch it elicited from each of them. He didn't care that only a third of them were responsible for the brawl – it was late and he was not in the mood for technicalities.

'Those who were involved in the fight, step forward,' he shot out and four male cadets reflexively obeyed the order given to them.

Pike regarded each of them with disgust.

'I hope you understand that your uniform is a privilege gentlemen,' he lectured the four cadets, 'when you wear that uniform you are representing Starfleet and we expect you to do as such!'

He glowered at the four cadets and waited until they wilted under his gaze before addressing all the cadets present.

'Report back to your supervisor immediately and don't be surprised if you're declined entry to the academy after your little stunt.'

He directed the last part to the four men who were still standing apart from their fellow cadets. Pike watched them disperse before turning on his heel and striding towards the bar. He was confident that they would all follow his instructions – they may have acted like idiots tonight but Starfleet didn't recruit idiots and certainly not those who couldn't obey orders.

Pike sighed wearily as he trudged back into the bar. He'd have to contact the cadets' supervisor and write up an official report for the incident. But right now he had to confirm that the civilian involved in the fight wasn't too badly injured and hear his side of the story to include in the report.

He found the man slouched over a table, napkins shoved up his broken nose in a futile attempt to slow the flow of blood. Before, his face had been covered in blood but now it was relatively clean save for the places where his skin had split under a well-placed fist. He had most likely cleaned it in the bathroom for his blonde hair was tinged brown where it was still damp and the front of his collar was wet as well. The young man had one elbow propped up on the tabletop and the other in waving in the air as he held the length of his nose between the heels of his hands. Pike watched as the man jerked his palms sideways and grunted in satisfaction when it produced a loud crunch.

Pike dragged a stray chair over to the man's table and sat down. The man didn't seem to notice; instead, he cautiously felt the structure of his nose for any abnormalities before pulling out his impromptu nose plugs, which were weighed down with so much blood they'd been on the verge of falling out themselves anyway. Only then, did he finally look up and acknowledge the Starfleet Captain.

Pike's eyes narrowed as he took in the face. No longer obscured by blood, the man's features were clearer and strangely familiar.

'What's your name son?' he asked.

The young man raised his eyebrow.

'Has it really been that long?' he asked and then shrugged, 'but then again, it took me a while to realize who you are.'

'And who would that be?' Pike asked, curious and confused at the same time.

'A liberator, a friend… a father.'

Pike frowned slightly as he considered the man's words. He had plenty of friends and his involvement with Starfleet may have liberated others in some way… but a father? Then it hit him – how could he have ever forgotten those eyes?

'Jim,' he said quietly.

Jim replied with a mock salute.

'Aye, Captain.'

'What're you doing out here?'

'What? You mean in Iowa or in this bar?'

'Both… I guess.'

Jim sighed.

'This is where I grew up – there's nothing else out there for me. Besides, I found them.'

It took Pike a moment to realize what he meant.

'Your kids?' he asked incredulously.

Jim became very quiet and looked down at his hands. He absentmindedly began rubbing the back of his knuckles, which had been split as he'd attacked the cadets.

'I got the list, but I only read one.'

He finally looked up and this time he drilled straight into Pike's eyes.

'Her name was Abby Creta. She died years ago and I didn't even know.'

Pike kept silent. He knew from experience that if he prompted Jim for more information he'd clam up. Jim looked down at his hands again.

'I spent so many years trying to find them and when I do the first one on the list is dead. I don't even know if I want to read the others… it hurts too much. And even if she was still alive, I wouldn't know what to say to her,' he finished sadly.

'You'd tell her whatever you thought was right,' Pike told, 'because those kids would've followed you to the ends of the earth if you'd asked them to.'

'Yeah, much good that'd do them,' Jim mumbled.

He stood up from his seat and Pike followed suit, forcing Jim to listen to him before he left.

'Looking for those kids were your life's ambition. What're you planning to do now?' he questioned.

Jim shrugged belatedly.

'Same thing I've been doing so far – not get blown up like my father.'

His hatred for Starfleet had never completely died down. If anything it had been fueled with the knowledge of Abby's death. Pike regarded Jim sympathetically – the kid would never reach his full potential if he lived a mediocre life. Hell, with Jim's skills he found it hard to believe the kid hadn't already gone mad with boredom.

'Enlist in Starfleet,' Pike said.

Jim scoffed.

'Enlist in–Don't you remember the kid I used to be? What I used to say about Starfleet?'

Pike ignored his questions. Jim hadn't barreled his way out of the bar just yet – there must have been something in the back of his mind stopping him or else he wouldn't still be here.

'You're not a kid anymore,' Pike reminded him, 'you have the potential to be so much more – do you really want to work backend jobs for the rest of your life? Or do you want to do something worthwhile?

'Starfleet won't accept a fourteen year old murderer. It'll ruin their perfect reputation,' Jim said sarcastically.

'You're not fourteen anymore,' Pike replied.

Jim spoke as if was lost in the past. To him, everything he was is what he is now, thought Pike. Arguing with him would be futile, he still had his father's stubbornness so Pike decided to leave him with statements, not questions – give him something to think about, not answer back to. Act as if Jim had already accepted his proposal – because he had, even if he didn't know it yet.

'We're at Riverside shipyard inspecting construction of a new vessel. Shuttle for new recruits leaves tomorrow 0600.'

Pike paused and locked eyes with his best friend's son one last time.

'Your father was the captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's and yours. I dare you to do better.'

Pivoting sharply, Pike strode out the door and didn't look back. Let him think on that, he thought as he left.

Jim watched as the two front doors swung shut behind Captain Pike's retreating back. His last words echoing in Jim's mind, I dare you to do better. The Captain was right Jim decided, there was nothing left for him in Iowa. And he'd be damned if he ever lost a dare with the man who'd saved him twice – once on Tarsus and once fifteen minutes ago from a bar fight.