Authoress' Note: A special note to Peachly (because I have nothing else worth commenting on right now) – First off, thanks for your lovely review! I enjoyed reading it thoroughly. I'm so glad there's a fellow fan of TOS out there who appreciates my subtle attempts to get this story going in that direction. As for Spock angsty-ness, how did you guess I love writing that? ;) By the way, I admit, considering I am not a native of Iowa I had to do some research on the traditional types of food they enjoy. It was quite enlightening.
A Taste of Home
Jim Kirk ambles down the dirt road, dragging his luggage along behind him in the dust. Bones follows, mumbling something about aching feet and coughing on the dirt that Kirk kicks up. Jim looks back at his friend, shielding his eyes from the hot sun. A house looms several hundred yards ahead of them still, and cornfields stretch out around them in all directions.
"Sorry about the long walk, Bones. I knew I shoulda left my bike here when I left. With my luck someone would've nicked it anyway."
He shakes his head and lifts his bag up onto his shoulders. McCoy jogs a bit to catch up with the young captain. He shields his eyes from the setting sun in order to see the house appearing before them like a mirage in the distance. His stomach growls loudly, and he realises they haven't eaten since the morning.
"Is your mom much of a cook?" McCoy asks, the only thing now on his mind being food.
Kirk shrugs. "She knows how to make some of the foods that our food replicator can't handle. Ya know, good homemade foods like pork tenderloin and creamed corn. She makes schnitzel kind of good."
They trudge up to the gate of the house and stop, gazing down the long dirt drive to the small house with the screen door and front porch. McCoy feels at home at once despite the cornfields in the distance. Jim blocks McCoy from entering the gate by putting his hand on top of it.
"There's one thing you gotta know," he says evenly, "My stepdad, Frank, is a real bastard. I don't know if he's still around anymore. He and Mom weren't on great terms when I left, so yeah . . ."
McCoy nods, and Jim looks relieved. If there's anything the Doctor understand well it's the issues that come along with a broken household. He only hopes that his daughter isn't experiencing them herself. The young captain pushes open the front gate and leads the way up the drive. They're halfway there when someone practically flies out of the house, sending the screen door banging.
A small streak of blonde hair and blue fabric collides with Jim Kirk, almost knocking him to the ground. Winona Kirk catches her son around the middle and sobs into his chest for a few minutes, while he pats her back awkwardly. When she steps away, she presses a hand to her lips to suppress a giddy smile and looks her son up and down. He smiles easily under her gaze as tears stream down her cheeks.
"God, I thought you were dead!" she cries, hugging him again, "When I heard about that Romulan attacking all those Starfleet ships I knew you just had to be dead. It was the worst feeling a mother could every have. I was so afraid for you."
She steps back again, holding Jim's hand tightly in her own. Jim Kirk has never remembered her looking so beautiful. There are lines around her eyes and mouth that he doesn't remember being there before, but her sun-bleached blonde hair captured into a loose braid down her back and her soft brown eyes are still familiar to him. He notes to himself with a slight frown how thin she has become and how she hides it underneath a loose fitting sundress.
Kirk suddenly realises that McCoy is still standing behind him, looking at the ground and scuffing up the dirt awkwardly. His mother finally seems to take notice of him as well and raises both eyebrows at her son.
"Mom, this is Leonard McCoy. I call him Bones. He got me through Starfleet in one piece. Bones, this is my mom, Winona Kirk Emerson."
"It's just Winona Kirk now," his mother pipes up quietly.
McCoy shakes her hand. "A pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I may have got your son through Starfleet in one piece, but he got me through alive. I don't know where I'd be without him."
Winona Kirk beams under this praise, while Kirk looks up at the sky, embarrassed.
"Are you two hungry?" she asks then, ushering the two of them toward the door. "The replicator can make anything you like. I can also whip up some creamed corn. I know that's your favourite, Jim."
"You wouldn't happen to know how to make collard greens, would you?" McCoy asks, his stomach growling again at the mention of food. "I haven't had some good Southern cooking since my wife and I . . ."
He trails off as they step inside. Winona Kirk doesn't miss a beat though. She bustles off to the kitchen calling out, "I can make collard greens. They were never popular with Jim, but I can make 'em. George used to think they were divine."
Standing in the entryway, they can just make out the sounds of water splashing into a pot and the sound of a knife chopping against a cutting board. Jim looks around, confused. He hasn't seen the house look this way since before Frank moved in. It's spick and span down to the nooks and crannies. The smell of homemade food wafts toward them, a smell that Kirk hasn't encountered in some time.
"Mom, where's Frank?" Jim calls loudly so that his mother can hear.
She sticks her head out through kitchen door. "What's that?"
"Where's Frank?" Kirk asks again, quieter this time.
A shadow passes over his mother's face for an instant before dissipating in the air between them.
"He's gone, Jim. Left right after you did. I haven't heard from him in years," she says this without a care and shrugs her shoulders half-heartedly. Then she points with a kitchen knife down the corridor. "Jim, you can have your old room, and Leonard, you can have Sam's room."
"Please, call me Bones," McCoy says, as they hoist their luggage up again, "Your son does."
Winona smiles, "Of course."
The kitchen door shuts behind her, and the two men make their way down the corridor to the two small bedrooms beyond. They give each other time to unpack, each going to their separate rooms. Jim, however, doesn't unpack his luggage right away. Instead, he lies on his bed, staring up at the familiar ceiling and breathing in the smell of his mother's home cooking. He closes his eyes, realising that he has never appreciated such small and simple things like that before.
---
Meanwhile, far out in deep space, the Enterprise orbits the planet of Talos IV. Spock sits in the captain's chair as second in command, staring at the view screen before him. The surface of the planet is dark, harsh, and unchanging. He shifts in the chair uncomfortably, drawing his slanted eyebrows together in thought.
Admiral Pike has been missing for several hours and has not responded to the ship's persistent hailing frequencies. It is therefore a logical assumption that the Admiral is dead, wounded, or captured by a hostile enemy. It is his duty as the first officer to decide whether to send a landing party down to search for him or to leave him behind.
Spock's mind suddenly finds itself on the subject of James T. Kirk. He wonders exactly what the young captain would do if he ever found himself in such a situation. True, when he and Jim Kirk had been stranded on Caldos no one had come to their rescue, but then again, the crew of the Enterprise were under the impression that the people of Caldos were not a hostile people.
It was impossible to tell with the people of Talos IV. Not that they had seen any people yet. The sensors had detected humanoid life forms, but were unable to tell him anymore about this mysterious planet and its inhabitants. The only known records in the databanks were about a starship that had been forced to land on the planet years ago. There had been no known survivors. This fact troubled Spock the most.
James T. Kirk, he decides, would make up a new landing party and put his self in it. He would beam onto the planet's surface and use any means to find out what had happened to the missing Admiral. No one would get left behind on his ship. Spock vows to himself that he will do the same thing, no matter how illogical it may seem at times. He presses the comm button on his armchair, intending to speak to the transporter room.
"Please contact Nurse Christine Chapel, Dr. Boyce, Lieutenant Tyler, and Yeoman Colt, and have them meet me in the transporter room. We are going to attempt a rescue of Admiral Pike."