A/N: Three chapters written and posted in less than a week - I am loving this blizzard.
"Come on, Bones, please come," Jim pleaded.
Leonard bit the inside of his cheek upon hearing the desperation in Jim's voice. It was about noon, and he and Jim stood in the living room. Winona had told him of her idea, and they had decided on a little restaurant Winona used to take Jim and Sam to when they were little, hoping the shared memory would spark something in them. Sam and Jim had both agreed, but Leonard had waited until now to tell Jim he wasn't going. The revelation hadn't gone over well with Jim.
Leonard rested his hand on Jim's shoulder. "Not this time, kid."
Jim shrugged him off, edging back. "Why?" he asked, his quiet, plaintive voice breaking Leonard's heart. Jim Kirk was strong in every sense of the word when facing assassins, hunting parties, Romulans, illness, and every other thing he'd ever had to fight over his short lifetime – yet, when faced with his own brother, he turned into a scared child.
"Because this conversation needs neutral supervision, and the entire crew of the Enterprise knows I'm anything but neutral when you're hurting."
"But-"
"Jim, if I'm there, some unconscious part of him will feel threatened by my presence because, so far, our interactions have been nothing but antagonistic, and that'll just make everything worse. Both of you feel safe around both Aurelan and Winona, though, so he'll hopefully be calmer. I think."
Jim narrowed his eyes. "You think?"
Leonard shrugged. "I'm a doctor, not a psychologist."
"So you're not going."
Jim looked away as he said it, but not before Leonard caught the flash of betrayal in his eyes, even as his voice deadpanned.
Biting back a sigh, Leonard pulled Jim into a tight hug that he didn't reciprocate. "Come on, Jim. It's not the end of the world."
Jim just wriggled free, turning towards his mother. She hovered on the edge of the living room near the front door, waiting patiently for Jim to be ready to go. Sam and Aurelan had left a few minutes ago in their own car, after Aurelan had thoroughly lectured Leonard on how to take care of the kids, even though they would only be gone for a couple hours tops (but Leonard understood completely and had let her lecture).
"Let's go," he muttered.
"Sweetheart…" Winona started, glancing at Leonard.
He just shook his head. As badly as it hurt Leonard, he knew Jim's anger at him never lasted long. "Go talk to Sam."
Winona followed Jim out the door, leaving Leonard alone in the Kirk house.
Then the boys' voices drifted down from upstairs, where they were yelling at each other over videogames, and Jane toddled downstairs with an armful of stuffed animals and a plastic box. "Do you want to have a tea party?" she asked brightly.
Leonard grinned. "I'd love to."
And so, for a little while, he once again enjoyed being the caretaker of a little girl.
Until Winona came back, barely holding herself together as she gasped something about Jim being in pain.
-LLAP-
The car rolled to a stop outside of a little restaurant, just a few minutes outside of the city. It was essentially a big wooden cube, with the front wall dominated by large windows, which continued halfway down both sides of the building. Bold, bright white letters across the top of the building spelled the name Good Eats, centered above a bright red front door. A digital board on the door stated its hours, with a few glowing reviews scrolling along the bottom. Holographic ads filled the windows immediately next to the door.
"This place? Seriously?" Jim asked as he and Mom got out of the car. Even though he had only been a little kid when he'd last come here, he vividly remembered the disgusting food. His stomach churned at the memory. Or maybe that was the nausea. Either way, hopefully it had improved.
Mom smiled. "Your reactions were funny."
"Mine or Sam's?"
"Both."
Jim rolled his eyes, beginning to shrug off his coat.
"What are you doing?" Mom asked sharply. "Don't take that off."
"We're about to go inside," Jim protested. "It's not even that cold."
She pointedly adjusted her scarf, wrapped securely around her neck even though she was already bundled in a jacket and a thick fur coat. "We're not inside yet."
Grumbling, Jim zipped it up again and followed her inside. To the right of the doorway stood a salad bar and the hostess stand. To the left was the dining area, two walls lined by four-person booths with a circular one in the corner. Square faux wood tables were scattered throughout the middle of the room. Only a few tables were occupied. The floor was maroon carpet, the ceiling white wood. It was at one of the booths, near the back of the restaurant, that Sam and Aurelan already sat.
When he hesitated, Mom gently tugged him forward. Jim slid into the window seat, across from Aurelan and diagonal from Sam, and Mom sat beside Jim. After tearing off his coat, Jim reached for a menu, but Aurelan put her hand down it.
"You are eating chicken noodle soup and water," she told him firmly.
Jim glanced longingly at the pictures on the menu cover. "But-"
"Soup and water," Aurelan repeated. "And crackers."
"Fine," he acquiesced grudgingly.
"Good, because I already ordered for you," Aurelan informed him triumphantly.
Sam glanced at him, his gaze unreadable. Mom turned to him in concern. "If you're not feeling well…" she began, pressing a hand against his forehead.
Jim batted it away. "Would you people stop doing that?"
"You feel warm."
He fought to suppress his irritation. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, he doesn't need any more coddling."
Jim jerked his head up. "What do you mean, more?"
Sam scoffed. "The world - hell, the galaxy - is all over you for what you've done. You're Starfleet's fricking poster boy."
"You- you think that's coddling?"
"You certainly soak up all the attention of all those fans and pretty reporters."
"Pretty re- I have a girlfriend, you idiot. A serious one."
"Oh really?"
"Yes, really."
"What's her name, then?"
Mom cut in. "Lieutenant Carol Marcus. She's the weapons expert on his ship."
"Marcus? As in Admiral Marcus?" Aurelan asked curiously.
"Yeah," Jim replied. A small smile danced across his face. "I didn't know that when we first met, though. She-"
"A dead admiral's daughter? Are you kidding me?"
Jim glared at his brother. He didn't like Marcus much, considering what he'd nearly done to Jim's crew and ship, but he was still Carol's father, so Jim refused to tolerate negative comments about him. "What about her father?" he growled.
"Starfleet's golden captain is dating a dead admiral's daughter. How much attention do you even want?"
"I love her."
"Yeah, right."
A waitress dropped off their drinks and took Mom's order, hurrying as she noticed the way Sam and Jim were glaring at each other.
"All right, then, for the sake of argument, let's say I am doing this for publicity – which I'm not. Why haven't we been in the news at all?"
Sam shrugged. "You like all the attention for yourself?"
Well, he's not wrong, Jim thought to himself. "You think that's why I do all those interviews? For attention?"
"Well, why else-"
"Because they made me. You think keeping my ship was easy? I got her after barely three years at the academy. I was barely 26 and I've got a record, even though they sealed it. You think they trusted their flagship to someone like that purely because of one successful, albeit epic, event? I had to work to keep her - plus, showing me off has boosted their precious enrollment rates. And then Khan happened, and they just saw a kid who had been in way over his head, not a captain who had overcome incredible odds. I had just d- nearly died saving Starfleet's collective butts, and they didn't want to let me keep my ship unless I kept doing all those stupid interviews. I was practically a dead man walking and still fighting for my ship."
"So you're not at all like Dad, then."
Confusion lanced through Jim. "I- What?"
"'Dead man walking and still fighting'? Seriously?"
Damn it, damn it, damn it. "I'm not trying to be him, that's just what I was."
"Like hell you're not trying to be him."
"I'm not-"
The waitress came back at that moment, carrying their tray of food. Jim shut up, happy to get a break from the argument. He contemplated his soup, drinking some water and taking deep breaths to try to calm his unsettled stomach.
"Oh, just eat the damn soup," Sam snapped.
Glaring at his brother, Jim finally braved a mouthful of soup.
Ok, that wasn't so b-
Never mind.
His stomach lurched. "Winona, move," Aurelan ordered after one glance at Jim's face. Mom scrambled, and almost before she was clear of the booth, Jim made a beeline for the small, brown-and-red bathroom. Barely remembering to lock the stall door behind him, he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and heaved.
Why did it have to be puking? Puking sucks.
He didn't know how long he knelt there, even after he had finished, because he didn't really feel like moving. Until the door to the bathroom creaked open.
"They sent me to make sure you're alive," Sam said gruffly.
With a sigh, Jim waved his hand in front of the sensor to flush the toilet and stepped out of the stall. "I'm alive," he confirmed stiffly. Brushing past his brother, he started washing his hands. Sam just stayed there, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Are you gonna leave?"
"They told me not to come out without you."
Jim glanced at the door, part of him wishing he could see through it. "This is some sort of strategy to get us to talk, isn't it?"
"Probably."
And they gave me control over when it ends.
Jim turned to face his brother, leaning back against the sink. "So, to sum up what happened out there, you think I'm a narcissistic, attention-seeking fraud?"
Sam nodded. "Basically, yeah."
"So I'm gonna be honest here: I probably am narcissistic and attention-seeking. I will be the first to admit I'm the most attractive genius out there, not to mention Starfleet's best captain. Under good circumstances, I love being the center of attention – for example, when I was officially promoted to captain, I loved having hundreds of people cheer and clap for me. But a fraud? No. I got where I am because of my own efforts. Sure, our father is what made Pike want to recruit me in the first place, but after that, everything was me. Dad didn't beat Nero, I did. Dad didn't beat Khan, I did. Dad didn't become Starfleet's youngest captain, I did. I don't live off of Dad's sacrifice, I live because of it. Because of it, I'm alive to be as narcissistic and attention-seeking as I want."
"You should be alive to honor his memory," Sam snapped.
Jim pushed off of the sink. "Like you? I went out and did something for the Kirk family name. What did you do? You stayed at your farm in the middle of nowhere to wallow in grief and anger."
"I don't wallow-"
"Oh yeah? Then why do you hate me? I'm willing to bet it's not because of me, it's because of Dad. That's what I call wallowing."
Sam's hand clenched into a fist. After fighting off an instinctive flinch, Jim just rolled his eyes. "Punch your sick little brother in a public bathroom. I'm sure that'll go over well with everyone. Now, I'm gonna go live my life and enjoy some well-earned time with my mom, sister-in-law, nephews, and niece, and you can't stop me."
Jim was turning to leave the bathroom when agony suddenly exploded in his abdomen, spreading to his back. He groaned and clutched blindly at the pain, his legs giving out beneath him.
As the world went black, the last sensation he knew was large hands easing his fall.