Sam stood on the porch, still stunned by his wife's actions. While Aurelan was normally a calm, sensible woman, she was given to bursts of extreme passion, especially in situations involving anger, but never had she gotten physical. Sure, the slap had been light, and his cheek had stopped stinging in mere moments, but the fact remained that his gentle, warmhearted wife had slapped him. Without hesitation or regret. Over a man she barely knew.
Why?
Jim was just a kid who had won over the Federation with a famous last name, a pretty face and two lucky acts of heroism. Just following in his father's footsteps like any suck-up son, soaking in the attention he got as the son of a tragic hero. During the snippets of interviews Sam had stumbled upon during channel-surfing, he always plastered on a smile so impossibly fake he couldn't believe anyone fell for it. He shifted whenever Dad was mentioned, responding to those comments with a grief-stricken humbleness that disgusted Sam – always the poster boy, with perfect responses that triggered appropriate emotions in the common crowd: Pity for his loss, pride in his accomplishments, stuff like that. It drove Sam up the wall, watching them fall for what was clearly just a routine.
Jim was fake. He lived only for the attention being George Kirk's son brought him. He always had, whether he got it by being a whiny, intelligent little brat, or Starfleet's perfect captain.
Not to mention his actions after he'd been sent to Tarsus IV. How dare he blame the complete lack of communication on Sam and Mom?
The faint sound of laughter tore him from his thoughts. He heard Aurelan's musical tones, the boys' raucous crows, and Mom's hearty chuckles, joined by two unfamiliar laughs he assumed belonged to Jim and Doctor McCoy. For a brief moment, he wondered why his own brother's laugh wasn't the slightest bit familiar, then shoved the thought away. His family was having fun without him. He was missing the grins on his nine-year-old sons' ever-changing faces, missing quality moments with his wife, and while aging hopefully wouldn't be a problem for a few decades yet, he was missing precious moments with his mother, moments he'd lost with his father. Because of Jim.
"Now, get rid of your attitude and then come to dinner."
He would just ignore Jim. Tolerate his presence, if he had to. For his family. Taking a deep breath, he went inside, pausing in the living room as he began to make out the conversation.
"…and then this puffball with legs leaps at Bones, and he screams like a little girl. It's literally just like a tribble with legs, and he is freaking out about it-"
"It didn't have a face, Jim! You can't tell me that's natural."
"Tribbles don't have faces, and you love them."
"They don't have legs, either."
"So?"
Aurelan cut in. "Do you two always argue like this?"
"No, we do not."
"You should see him and Spock."
As enraged spluttering and more laughter erupted in the dining room, Sam stepped inside.
-LLAP-
Jim smirked at Bones, enjoying his red-faced spluttering. Until Henry spoke.
"Dad, Uncle Jimmy tells the best stories!"
Jim's good mood vanished. The boys and Aurelan were great; Mom was as tolerable as any protective parent. Even the memories this house brought were tolerable, so long as he wasn't alone with his thoughts. At least, that's what about two hours of experience had proved. But he didn't need any experience to know that Sam would ruin it all.
"I'm sure he does, Henry," Sam replied. His voice sounded neutral, so Jim risked a glance at his brother, knowing his nerves were showing in his expression.
Sam ignored him.
Jim dropped his gaze instantly, cursing the tiny ray of hope that had awoken within him. Of course Sam was going to ignore him – he'd been successfully doing it since Jim left for Tarsus IV. He wasn't a sunny little kid anymore, damn it, he was an adult who knew how vicious the universe was.
Didn't stop rejection from hurting. He'd heard Bones say it hurt just like a physical wound, as far as the brain's chemical reaction went. At least, he thought that was what Bones had said – he'd been shifting in and out of consciousness for a few days at that point in time.
He picked up his fork and began arbitrarily arranging his remaining peas, barely noticing Bones glare at Sam, and Aurelan gesturing for him to sit beside the boys. "Jim was just telling us stories of his away missions."
"The few that haven't turned into near-death situations, anyway," Bones commented.
Jim felt rather than saw his Mom's searching stare. "And just how many away missions have turned into near-death situations for Jim?"
Bones leaned away from her. "Jim, care to answer that? Jim?" he repeated when Jim didn't react.
He forced himself to shrug. "A lot."
Of course Sam couldn't resist that. "How? Being an idiot?" he snorted.
Bones shifted back towards Jim. "By being a selfless captain."
Sam's voice dripped with contempt. "Just like Dad, I assume?"
Fury sparked inside Jim, lifting his head to glare at Sam. "Don't."
"Don't what, tell the truth?" Sam shot back.
"Don't compare me to him."
"Why? It's what you always wanted."
"It was never-"
"Boys," Mom snapped, her gaze glittering with concern. "Not now."
Aurelan was ushering the twins out of the room, ignoring their protests. Jim grabbed his plate and started to follow them, stating "I'm done anyway."
"Always running," Sam sneered.
"I just don't want my brother to go."
Jim whirled around. "You ran away first! You running nearly got me killed!"
Sam stood, dwarfing Jim in both height and muscle. "You nearly got yourself killed by being an idiot. No one in their right mind drives a three-hundred-year-old car off a cliff."
Jim fought not to back away from Sam's intimidating bulk. "I was trying to please you, like any little brother would."
"Oh, come on, like I'll fall for that."
"You said I was too good, so I acted out."
Sam hesitated for a moment, searching for a comeback. "Well, that was stupid."
Jim's fury died as rapidly as it had come, replaced by the familiar heartbreak of miserably failing at being Sam's little brother. He found himself backing up a step, turning his head away from Sam. "I never meant to run," he whispered.
"Like hell you didn't," Sam growled, following Jim. Instinctively, Jim flinched away.
"Hey!" Bones snapped, suddenly standing between the brothers. "Back off, now."
Sam crossed his arms. "What, Jim can't defend himself?"
"Sam!" Mom hissed. "Show your brother some respect."
"Why? He hasn't earned it."
"You're the one unworthy of respect!"
This isn't going anywhere but downhill.
Without another word, Jim spun around and retreated to the guest room.
-LLAP-
Jim moved quickly, vanishing upstairs almost before Leonard could blink. He cursed silently, glaring up at Sam with a wrath fueled by the need to protect the kid from anything and everything – even, apparently, his own flesh-and-blood brother.
"Damn it, he was relaxing," Leonard snapped.
"So?" Sam snorted.
Because his past – including you – has him so freaking traumatized that he sees threats and hidden messages every moment his nightmares and memories finally stop plaguing him. Because he knows the agony of rejection and wants to avoid it. Because he doesn't open up to people so he doesn't get hurt again. Because he spends every moment waiting for his past to finally catch up to him and catch his crew in the middle. Because a million reasons no nearly-thirty-one-year-old should know anything about.
Leonard said none of that. He simply shoved past Sam, leaving him to Winona's wrath, and headed to the guest room. He found Jim huddled on the bed, pressed into the corner, holding his PADD in one hand while he silently contemplated the window.
"Wondering where to hide?"
Jim sighed. "Wondering if Scotty would help me sneak away."
"That's not gonna work, kid. You leave now, you lose Sam forever," Leonard pointed out gently.
"I don't care," Jim mumbled.
"Yes, you do, whether you realize it or not, which I think you do."
Jim dropped his head between his knees. "I know," he breathed, so quiet Leonard could barely make out the words. "I wish I didn't."
Leonard knew that was coming - he'd have to be blind not to notice Jim's behavior. While he was normally unmovable when faced with conflict, he instantly backed away from Sam. He had an incredible poker face when it really counted, but in front of Sam, every emotion showed. He was normally tense, but around Sam, it seemed like he was waiting for physical retaliation.
Leonard knew the stories of Jim's childhood. He'd heard Jim's descriptions, his screams as he woke from nightmares, his fever-induced mumblings. They painted an ugly picture, one that sparked a rage in him every time he thought of it. But being where it had happened, seeing Jim act like he was the defenseless little boy again, standing by as Jim wrestled with every demon he had ever had, his expression all the while that of a little kid desperate for hope but expecting terror and heartbreak…
It killed him. Every single second of it. It tore him up inside, and he could only put on a strong front for Jim's sake. He wanted to cry the tears Jim wouldn't, but he held it in. He wanted to beat the crap out of Sam, but he refrained. It was the downside of being the protective older brother – he felt everything Jim did, wanted to protect him from all of it, but he simply couldn't, because as much as it hurt him, that pain was how Jim grew as a person. No pain, no gain, as the old saying went.
He was being confronted with some of the very things that had started his psychological downward spiral, and all he could do was push Jim into it and brace him as he fell, headed straight for rock bottom.
"Is this what it was like when you were a kid?" Leonard asked quietly.
"You'll have to be more specific," Jim said drily.
He searched for a way to phrase the sentiment. "The way you… back away from Sam, like you're just waiting for him to hit you for speaking out."
His heart sank as Jim nodded reluctantly. "Sam never hit me, but he never defended me, either. If Frank got into one of his rages, he just went anywhere but here. And he says I always run," Jim tacked on bitterly.
"Well, he was probably just protecting himself," Leonard defended feebly. Yes, they had only been kids, but it was a big brother's duty to care for his younger siblings.
Jim snorted. "No, Frank never would have touched him. Mom always bought the stories we told her about my injuries, but if her precious Sammy had so much as one questionable bruise, Frank would've been gone in an instant."
"You're her precious Jimmy now," Leonard pointed out.
Jim's eyebrow rose. "Never say that again."
"Agreed."
Jim reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a little cube, looking at it with an unfocused gaze.
"What's that?" Leonard asked.
His thumb drifted over the switch, and pictures flickered to life – muddy twins, Jane napping on Aurelan's lap, Peter grinning from beside a trophy... "The reason I didn't call Scotty."
Longing shimmered in Jim's eyes, both old and new. Leonard couldn't help a flicker of a smile, realizing the new longing was for Aurelan and the kids. He pretended to be tough, but the soft part of him he always tried to hide had already fallen for the four of them.
"Go back downstairs," Leonard suggested. "You were happy with Aurelan and the boys."
Jim shook his head. "They just saw… that. I don't feel so hot, anyway."
Leonard instantly reached down to fish his tricorder out of his medkit. Jim rolled his eyes. "Not that bad, Bones. I probably just need a nap."
Reluctantly, Leonard put the tricorder away. "Fine. But if you start to feel even the tiniest bit worse-"
Jim cut him off, meeting his gaze with forced sincerity. "I'm fine, Bones."
Yeah, I've heard that one before. Normally right before you nearly die.