Chapter Text
Kids adore Jim. It’s just one of those facts of life. Jim says it’s because of his magnetic personality. Bones says it’s because he communicates on their level.
Take Demora: she loves her Uncle Jim. Messages to Sulu always include some piece of news for Jim or, more often than not, her wishes that he gets well soon after whatever latest scrape they’ve been in. While she has eyes only for her daddy when they first meet up on shore leave or on furlough, come back a couple hours later and she’s just as likely to be perched on Jim’s lap.
When Christopher Pike arrived for an unofficial inspection tour with an awestruck nephew in tow, it was Jim who got the kid to relax and open up until Thomas was chattering away with the captain so quickly it was unclear how they were taking the time to breathe.
But not Joanna McCoy
She opened the front door, took one look at James T Kirk, and hated his guts with all the passion an eleven year old can muster. It was three weeks before they were to take the Enterprise out and Jim was a constant feature of the 24 hour news cycles: the savior of Earth, the Kelvin baby all grown up and avenged his father’s death, the to-be captain of the flagship.
Five hours later, sequestered in the guest bedroom of Leonard’s mother’s house, Jim accepted a bottle of beer with a despondent, “She hates me, Bones.”
Rolling his eyes, Leonard took a sip of his own and retorted, “She does not.”
Reflecting on the disaster of a lunch, Jim argued, “She didn’t speak to me once. Or look at me once we were inside.”
“Probably just a little shy.”
Jim had recognized that look in her eyes: it was not shyness.
Kicking his legs out in front of the antique desk chair he was perched on, Leonard conceded, “Maybe I should have introduced you on the comm before. Lord knows I’ve told her enough about you.”
Not wanting to stir up trouble when Bones was obviously still flushed with satisfaction from getting the spend the whole afternoon with his baby girl, Jim took another sip of his beer and kept his mouth shut.
**********
A year later and they were back on Earth again, feeling suddenly older and wrung out. Pike had been given a funeral with pomp and circumstance and full honors and then had his ashes quietly scattered in Mojave with just a handful of friends and family. Jim had been there, just barely, a little too pale and battling a lingering weakness in his limbs, but there nonetheless. Bones had helped; standing unobtrusively at his side and keeping him upright when his knees started to falter.
Two grueling weeks of physical therapy and near constant meetings with the brass followed, until Leonard finally put his foot down and put them both on three months of leave. Rumor had it fixing up the Enterprise could take close to a year. So far as Leonard was concerned, Starfleet could do without them for a while. Jim came home to find the older man packing, efficiently shoving clothes into a shoulder bag.
Straightening, Leonard brushed his hair back from his forehead, managing a brittle smile at Jim hovering in the doorway. “I want to go home, Jim. For a while.”
Oh. Home meant Georgia. Jim had visited a few times, even stayed for a week one Christmas.
“Don’t be an idiot.” Catching what was written all over the younger man’s face, Leonard added, “I want you to come too.”
Jim probably should have asked more questions, but his relief was such that he simply agreed and pulled out his own bag.
**********
It turned out that Leonard had rented a townhouse: large and airy, two bedrooms and an office, halfway between his grandmother’s farm and Joanna’s school, but not strictly close to either. Leonard had also leased a flitter, and as he piloted it away from the shuttleport a vintage motorcycle with a for sale sign propped up in a driveway caught their eyes.
Leonard watched Jim’s head turn to follow the bike and in a spectacular concession, given previous rants about two-wheeled death traps, made a u-turn with a mild, “Guess you could use a project.”
Jim couldn’t quite believe it, but wasn’t about to complain. Reaching over, he gave Leonard’s knee a gentle squeeze of thanks as they slowed to a halt next to the bike.
Things had been odd between them, since Khan. A fragile peace as they tiptoed around Pike’s death and Jim’s resurrection. Forty-eight hours in Georgia and Jim was on his back on the smooth concrete of the driveway, shaded by the door of the garage, tinkering with the motorcycle he was determined to rebuild fully. He didn’t hear the hiss of the door or footsteps over the thumping bass of his music: he did feel a gentle kick to his calf and looked up to find Leonard holding two sweating glasses of sweet tea and looking down with a curious expression on his face.
“Hey, Bones.”
That strange expression on Leonard’s face slowly turned into a familiar grin that had been missing for weeks. Jim realized his ratty old shirt had rucked up, exposing the flex of his abs and the line of the well-worn jeans low on his hips.
Leonard’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and fuck yeah they were back to normal.
The ice slowly melted into the forgotten sweet tea.
Also, unfortunately, back to normal was their usual pattern with Joanna: she monopolized Leonard, ignored Jim, and seemed to hate him just as much as she had the year before. After a dinner with the middle schooler that had felt more to Jim like a sit-in than a family meal, the captain had adopted a new strategy: laying low.
Salvation came in the form of an unexpected construction project at the end of their first week: Eleanor McCoy had commed to say that an unexpected windstorm had taken three panes of sheeting off the roof of the old stables. Jim had spent a summer in high school making serious bank, for a seventeen year old, with a local roofing company. By the end of the summer he’d been tanned brown from the waist up, muscles that had nearly wasted away on Tarsus strong and lean, with enough money saved to move out at eighteen and never look back.
Working outdoors with his hands. Jim would never have imagined he’d be doing that again: it was everything he’d told himself he was leaving behind when he joined the academy, but damned if there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be. They’d have breakfast together at the townhouse, then Leonard would drive to Emory where they’d grabbed him to lead a neurology seminar for the university and act as a specialized trauma consult at the teaching hospital. Jim would take the long route on his bike, enjoying the country roads that wound the way to the McCoy farm. Eleanor’s side of the family turned out to be the source of Leonard’s dry wit, and when the sun climbed high into the sky she’d haul Jim inside for a homemade lunch, just the two of them. A full afternoon on the roof, well fed, enjoying the view across the rolling farmland, the fresh air and sunshine. Damn it felt good.
The thing with McCoys: they could read Kirks like an open book. Two weeks into the project Eleanor ushered a slightly sunburnt Jim onto the veranda where she’d set a table in front of the swing seat with glasses of ice water and a plate of roast beef sandwiches on homemade bread.
It was easily enough to get his guard down, and the moment she sensed weakness Eleanor smiled winningly and asked, “How are things with Leonard and Jo?”
“Bones and Jo are great. She hates me,” Jim confessed, trying not to sound petulant.
To his surprise, instead of offering platitudes, Eleanor laughed until her eyes crinkled at the edges and she gasped, “Lord, does she ever!” Jim gaped, because that was the opposite of the encouragement couched in denial he’d received from Leonard. Wiping at the corners of her eyes, she sobered enough to place a hand on Jim’s knee and warmly assured, “Don’t worry, son. It’s plain to see, but it’s nothing to do with you really. She’ll come around to see that someday, but in the meantime I won’t deny you refuge over here. Specially not when you’re so handy.” Another gentle squeeze to his knee and she continued, “David’s death hit us all hard, Jo included, and the divorce so soon after only made it worse. She misses her daddy, and you’re the most visible part of a life that she doesn’t think includes her.”
Jim took another sip of his water and filed that away.
The stalemate continued for the next month, even when Jocelyn started letting Joanna stay over at the townhouse Friday nights after school. If Jim had thought the previous dinners were awkward, those were even worse. It didn’t help that Leonard didn’t seem to have a clue how to navigate it: afraid to discipline too hard, and for what, and enjoying having her around after so long and not wanting to jeopardize that. Jim finished the roof and started on a new fence.
On the Friday with five weeks left in their leave a lunchtime cloudburst made Jim pack up work at the farm early. It was just a passing shower, by mid-afternoon the ground was dry and Jim rolled the bike into the middle of the driveway so he could shine the chrome just for something to do.
If the chirp of his comm caught him by surprise it was nothing compared to Leonard’s harried voice, “We’ve got a complex trauma case inbound and they need me. I need you to pick up Jo at school. I don’t know if I’ll make it home for dinner. There’s a lasagna in the fridge. We usually grab an ice cream on the way home on Fridays.” The channel snapped closed before Jim could reply.
It was 2:46… school was out at 3:15.
Leonard had taken their rental flitter to the hospital that morning.
Oh shit. He was going to get skinned alive for this, but Leonard hadn’t exactly left him much choice. One quickly purchased adolescent helmet en route and Jim’s motorcycle rolled up near the school entrance at 3:12. Aware of the stares of the parents hovering around, he pulled on a pair of sunglasses and tried to look nonchalant as he waited in jeans and a leather jacket amidst the crowd of business casual and athleisure wear.
Fortunately the bell rang before too many of the parents tried to covertly take his picture with their comms. Jim could see the exact moment Joanna recognized him: the excited smile stiffening into something more fixed even as her friends burst into excited chatter and began to pull out their own comms.
The fact that it was a public setting more than anything was probably what made her put a polite smile on her face and address him directly for the first time in recent memory, “Mr. Kirk. My dad couldn’t make it?”
Yeah, he’d be disappointed too, so Jim smiled with diplomatic warmth and explained, “He was so sorry: a complex trauma came in and they needed him to stay. He’ll be back later tonight, but asked me to pick you up.” Something glinted in her eyes, quickly suppressed, when he brought the new helmet out from behind his back and proffered it between them. “Want to grab some ice cream?”
For four seconds he was afraid she was going to refuse, but then she pointed into the distance and offered, “There’s a place on Cochrane Boulevard.”
It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no. It was an offer to tolerate him in the presence of ice cream. He locked her backpack under the seat and settled himself before helping her up behind him. Apologetically, because who wants to be told to touch their father’s boyfriend, he added, “You’re going to have to hang on.”
When her hands came up to grip at his sides, Jim turned on the bike and tried to ignore the line of middle schoolers with their comms out as he gently started them rolling and then pulled into traffic.
It didn’t look like a jeans and t-shirt kind of place, but the gold leaf in the window promised ice cream so Jim parked the bike and helped Joanna hop off the back.
As they entered the front door it gave the elegant tinkle of an old-fashioned bell and a young man in a suit looked up from the host’s station. “Can I help you?”
Joanna hung back slightly, so Jim tried a winning smile, “We’d like a table for two.”
A glance up and down and the beginning of the reply wasn’t encouraging, “Without a reservation I’m afraid...” the young man trailed off in a manner that would have been comical as Jim took off his sunglasses and quickly corrected, “that would normally be a problem, but I’m sure, Captain Kirk, we can find you a table.”
Jim beamed and Joanna took an involuntary step forward of undisguised interest. As they were led through the decidedly posh looking tea room Jim had a suspicion he’d been played, but honestly couldn’t care less. The beginning of a smile on Jo’s face as the waiter helped her with her chair and then unfurled a crisp white napkin on her lap had Jim working to hide his own grin.
The menu had gilt edges and was printed on real paper. It was also utterly devoid of prices.
Joanna ordered herself a honeycomb sundae and lemonade and Jim ordered a coffee and a peach cobbler.
Once the waiter retreated, Jim fiddled with a too shiny silver teaspoon and asked, “How was school?” The unspoken, ugh in her expression was plain and Jim couldn’t help but chuckle self-deprecatingly and offer, “I’m sorry. I’m pretty terrible at this.”
That seemed to get her attention. Raising an eyebrow that was a miniature of her father’s, she asserted, “I thought you were supposed to be captain perfect.”
Jim snorted in surprise, “Jeez, I wish! My life would be so much easier if I was Captain Perfect, can you imagine?” He gave the spoon a twirl, “The admirals would get off my back about insulting alien diplomats and your dad wouldn’t have to lecture me all the time and I sure as hell would know better than to ask you dumb questions you probably don’t even think I’m interested in. The thing is, Jo, I do want to know you. Your dad loves you so much and tells me all about you and I just have no idea how to do this because no one ever did it with me.”
In the resulting silence between them the waiter set their desserts on the table. Feeling acutely like he’d definitely blown it, Jim picked up his fork and started to dig into his dessert only for a soft drawl to filter across the table, “What’dya mean?”
Swallowing, Jim looked up to find Jo’s green eyes watching him closely with real interest. Twelve, he reminded himself, she’s twelve, “Well, you know my dad died when I was born?” She nodded, because of course everyone knew that. “Well my mom was gone a lot when I was little. I guess she found it hard to be back on Earth after he died, because as soon as I was old enough she headed back into space and left my brother Sam and me with our grandma and Uncle Frank.” Jim licked his lips and carefully continued, “Uncle Frank wasn’t very nice to us. He had problems, with drinking and other things, and could get pretty mean. When I was about your age I was sent to a colony planet. It was great at first: I was living with my aunt and uncle on my dad’s side, for the first time living with the Kirks, but there was a natural disaster and a lot of people died.”
“Your aunt and uncle?”
“They didn’t make it.” Jim took a sip of water, then continued, “So I came back to Earth, but it wasn’t any better here. I left home when I turned eighteen and wasn’t doing much after that.”
“You didn’t go to Starfleet?”
The thought of going to the academy at eighteen was so preposterous Jim couldn’t help but snort, “There’s no way they’d have taken me then. I was a certified juvenile delinquent, Jo. I was older— twenty-two— when I ran into Captain Pike in a bar at the Riverside Shipyards and he convinced me to join up.”
“How’d he do that?”
The thought of Pike could still make tears prickle his eyes and Jim was embarrassed to find that afternoon was no exception. “He dared me.”
“He dared you?” Her tone of voice was almost impressed, whether with Jim or Pike wasn’t clear.
“Yeah. Dared me to make something of myself. To live up to what my dad sacrificed himself for.” Gaze slipping down to his cobbler with a slowly melting scoop of vanilla ice cream, Jim admitted, “Captain— Admiral Pike kind of mentored me at the academy. I guess you could say he was more of a father figure than anyone ever was.” She was watching him with open interest now, so Jim dared put a proposal on the table: “I’ll tell you what: if I ask you a question you can ask me a question.”
She took a large bite of her sundae and appeared to consider it for a moment, one last rebellion, before acquiescing, “Okay.”
Victory. He considered for a moment, unsure how much to push his luck, settling for, “What’s your favorite food?”
“Ice cream.” She took a deliberate bite, licking the spoon before she asked, “How’d you meet my dad?”
“On the shuttle to the academy. He threatened to throw up on me.” She laughed and it was the most emotion she’d ever willingly displayed in his presence. “Least favorite subject at school?”
“Earth languages. Everyone speaks Standard anyway and we don’t learn enough of any language to be useful.” She contemplated him for a moment before asking, “Is your brother in Starfleet too?”
And damn if she didn’t accidentally cut closer than Jim had expected possible. He’d set the terms; he wasn’t about to back down now. “No. He ran away from home when I was eleven and they sent him away. I didn’t see him for a long time.” He let her digest that for a moment, then asked, “What’s your favorite thing to do on a weekend?”
Without hesitation, she replied, “Riding. At Great-gramma McCoy’s.” She contemplated him for a moment in a manner that was so reminiscent of her father it made something twist in Jim’s stomach. “Did you really die?”
The news cycles had been unrelenting; Jim should have known she’d have seen the coverage. Softly, he admitted, “Yes.”
“Did it hurt?”
It was two questions, but he wasn’t about to call her on it. Remembering the loss of her grandfather, he carefully said, “Yes, but it doesn’t always. I’d do it again, though, to save my crew. They’re my family now.” She seemed to be contemplating that as the final remains of her sundae melted into a puddle. “Want to head home?”
She blinked, taking in her finished dessert, then meeting Jim’s yes with a genuine smile. “Yes.”
Jim paid quickly, the damage about what he’d expected given the general ambiance of the place.
“Mr. Jim,” her smaller hand slipped into his own as they walked back towards the bike, “thanks.”
“Anytime, Jo.”