Hey everyone! I'm back again. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved, or followed. Your support definitely helps keep me going! Glad to hear that you guys liked it.

So here's the third theme.

3. Mock

For some time, he's supposed that, had Pike never found him in that dump of a bar, he eventually would have picked himself up and gotten into acting.

Over the years, the experiences he's gone through (and the resulting need to deceive everyone into thinking he's always strong) have thoroughly developed his performance skills.

He smiles wryly as he remembers back to when the constant mocking bothered him. Ah yes. It probably began with Susanna and Carly. Then came the bully in the lunchroom. After that, Frank had started with the abuse as well.

He supposes that, over time, he learned to give his uncle as little satisfaction as possible by pretending to be completely unaffected by his words. Sure, that meant he physically suffered more later, but it was worth it to know that, in his own tiny way, he'd gotten back at Frank.

By the time he was ten, he'd built up a mask of stone that took nearly all of the verbal hits for him. Because let's face it, grade school students had nothing on his uncle.

Unfortunately, those foundations were laid waste once Kodos thrust his comparative boulders of verbal assault at him. But again, he learned very quickly to outwardly appear to have blocked out all the insults. No matter how frickin' much they hurt on the inside.

Well, the governor did one good thing after all. He was the reason why James Tiberius Kirk, at the age of thirteen, had a mask of diamond quality in place. And it only strengthened with each passing year.

The only people who had gotten even a glimpse of what lay behind his mask were either dead or are around him for hours at a time every single day. So, including his senior Bridge crew in that number, that makes ten.

Then there are the people privileged enough to see him without his mask on. The first was Chris. Was, because his mentor and only true father in life has passed on to a better place. The next is Bones. Jim owes it to his best friend, after all, and being roommates for three straight years does tend to significantly strengthen relationships. Then suddenly, right at the end of the warp core incident, Spock and Scotty joined that exclusive group. That's four. Four people in the entire fricking universe have a faint inkling of who the man James Tiberius Kirk is behind all his mock drama and arrogance.

However, there is one trait of his that he specially makes sure is visible to everyone, that he ensures cuts through his mask.

Loyalty.

Because while he really doesn't care anymore what people say about him (after having dealt with it for nearly thirty years, it's become more a mild source of annoyance than anything else), when someone puts down his crew of his ship, oh man, there's gonna be heck to pay for.

Which explains why he's currently exchanging glares with this burly, smelly wreck of a man who has to lean against the bar counter to be able to sit up.

Ah, so that's what he was like right before Pike recruited him.

He takes a step forward and draws himself up to full height. When he speaks, his voice is much deeper, much darker than normal, and some of the Enterprise crew flinch not just at the uncompromising harshness of it, but also at the fact that it's coming from their Captain.

"You wanna say that again?" It's stated in a whisper, but it somehow carries across the entire bar. Because all other activity completely shuts down: the bartender freezes where he's been wiping down the filthy glasses with an even filthier rag; the raucous at the pool table quiets immediately; some of the visitors even drop their drinks in fright.

The drunk who instigated all of this, tongue flicking out the corner of his mouth, glances around in hope of finding support. Seeing that none is forthcoming, the snarl on his face morphs into an insolent smirk.

"Sure thing, Captain," he replies before downing the rest of his drink. Not even bothering to wipe away the foam at the corner of his mouth, he continues, though now using a ridiculously exaggerated Southern drawl, "McCoy. The name's McCoy, and you better deal with it, you sorry losers, 'cause I'm a piss-old bastard in a perpetual grumpy mood who cheated through all the medical exams and practiced with a forged degree so I'd get away with killing my fa-"

With a roar, Jim leaps forward and reaches the man in two bounds. The drunk only has time to widen his eyes and whisper an "Oh, sh-" before the bar stool is kicked out from under him and he's suddenly on the ground with something uncomfortably sharp pressed against his throat.

"You still wanna say that again?" Jim whispers, trailing the blade lightly across the drunk's neck.

The drunk goes to shake his neck, gulps as he stops himself, then chokes out a pathetic mewl.

"What was that?" Jim asks, a dangerous gleam in his steely blue eyes as he moves the dagger half a centimeter away from the drunk's throat.

"No, sir," the drunk whispers.

Jim smiles at the response, but it's a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He none-too-gently heaves the drunk up off the floor, studies the swaying man for another moment or two, then promptly judo flips (more like slams) him back onto the filthy bar floor.

"Jim-" Bones tries to stop him, but in the Captain's eyes, the drunk sealed his own fate by creatively adding on to his previous derogatory statement against his best friend.

Being Jim Kirk, he has the poor bastard completely trussed up within thirty seconds. He then tosses the drunk over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and heads out the door, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be back. Once I teach this man that no one insults my family."

He returns several hours later, whistling a tune jauntily, the familiar bounce back in his step. The drunk is nowhere to be seen.

"Dang it, Jim!" Bones snaps. "You didn't have to say or do anything." The Captain just beams at him, seeing through his best friend's mock anger.

"Oh come on, Bones," he replies lightly, "what kind of friend would I be if I just stood there and let him say those lies?"

The party continues then, and Jim simply waves off all the compliments and other demonstrations of newfound respect, but Bones and the senior Bridge crew know better.

After several years of working with him and getting to know him, they've learned how to read Jim Kirk a little better, just a bit deeper than before. When his eyes are dancing like they are now, he's truly happy. Truly happy to have defended his friend and to know that people approve of that defense.

And, perhaps purposely, perhaps unknowingly, he's let slip his mask again for the sake of his crew. While Bones is his best friend, there was something deeper behind the actions of their Captain. After all, he took that mockery far more seriously than they thought he would have.

But the crew know now, and they won't forget. The Captain will not approve of verbal abuse like that. Because somewhere in his past, verbal insults of the sort had drastic consequences, and he wants to shield his crew from them.

He is Captain James Tiberius Kirk, and though he almost always has a marvelous display of mock lightheartedness going on, his crew know better. He cares deeply for every single one of them and will do anything to prevent the horrors of his own past from happening to them.

And, perhaps most important of all, whenever someone derides them, whether justified or not, through thick and thin, for better or for worse, he will defend them with everything he's got.

Right, there's the third theme. This one was even harder to write than the second one for some reason. Sure hope that's not going to become a pattern, lol.

Let me know how I did!