Title: Along Comes a Stranger (7/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: AU. Jim’s life in Riverside is uncomplicated until two men, both equally mysterious and compelling, arrive in town, bringing with them the promise of change.
Previous Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Part Seven

Jim wakes with a start, heart pounding. Then he carefully peruses the calendar’s days on a far wall until he is convinced that today is Tuesday. In the shower he says repeatedly, “It’s only Tuesday.” His mother greets him in the kitchen and he asks her, undeniably antsy, “Is it Wednesday?”

Winona frowns at him. “It’s Tuesday.” Perhaps hearing something extra in his relieved “Oh, okay… Tuesday’s are great!” she asks, “What happens tomorrow, Jimmy?”

He could tell her nothing but she would know he was lying anyway and stare at him until he breaks down and tells her. Besides, this is her house and she should be aware that her house may be the scene of a possible explosion.

“Bones is coming over tomorrow,” Jim remarks somewhat carelessly (intended to be careless, that is) as he reaches for a plate in a kitchen cabinet.

Apparently Winona understands a lot better than Jim thinks she does. “Is that wise, Jim?”

He fumbles as he pulls out a fork from the silverware drawer. “Probably not but Bones seems ready to talk to Spock.”

“Oh.” She stands aside while he spears two pancakes and dumps them on his plate. “I might be at work. What time…? Uh-uh, Jimmy, hand me that!”

He gives her the maple syrup bottle, bemused, and watches as she delegates a pitiful amount for his pancakes.

His mother tells him, “You’re not a young boy anymore, dear. You need to watch your waistline.”

Jim panics for a split second and wonders if he might have overlooked love-handles in the mirror this morning.

“And too much sugar is terrible for your pancreas. Why, I was talking with Bob yesterday at the diner about diabetes and—”

Jim tugs at his plate, which Winona has in a vice grip, and whimpers just a little. “Mom, my pancakes…”

“Promise me you’ll take care not to end up with diabetes!”

Jim grins lopsidedly, “No can do, ma’am!”

“I try to be a good mother,” Winona complains with a mother’s aggravated sigh and releases his plate.

He kisses her cheek before taking his breakfast to the kitchen table. “You are a good mother.” Jim feels her eyes on him, watching him with affection, as he eats.

By the time he has put away five pancakes (sneakily hiding extra syrup between the layers), Jim is surprised that Spock is not downstairs as usual. When he mentions the oddity, Winona calls from the hallway, “Oh he left very early this morning.”

Jim shrugs into his jacket by the back door, wondering not for the first time exactly what it is Spock does to entertain himself in Riverside.

Jim stops by his apartment on his way to work and, stepping through the front door, almost sees it through a stranger’s eyes. Clothes discarded haphazardly across the floor; beer bottles lining the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room; an old brown sofa which Galia claimed is an eyesore—his place is a mess and an extremely unsightly one at that. Jim spends the next ten minutes tossing trash into a garbage bag (wincing when he finds a three week-old partially eaten hamburger) and successfully dumps all his clothes in one big pile to be sorted as follows: clean, not-clean-but-not-dirty, or rank. Satisfied, he locks the apartment door and whistles a tune as he heads to Jose’s.

Jim purposefully avoids McCoy all day.

There is plenty of work to be done at the garage, and he stops by a small roadside dairy bar for a quick hotdog and fries at lunchtime before returning to work. Jose seems pleased that Jim is not distracted and works alongside him. Jim’s back aches by sunset but he feels accomplished and not as tense as he had upon waking up that morning.

And, while tuning a car, he had given some thought to a few things. Jose, being the only other person around, had been party to Jim’s musings:

“Hey, Jose…”

“Don’t drop that bolt into the engine, chico.”

Jim obediently placed the bolt next to the other spare parts spread out on a towel. “Jose, tell me what you think.”

“I don’t think.”

“Smartass.”

“And you’re lazier than a fat dog. But who’s keeping track?” They made fun of each other regularly; it was their bonding ritual.

Jim’s crude gesture was his only reply.

Jose snorted and asked, “What’s on your mind?”

“My apartment is a two-bedroom. Do you think Bones…?”

Jose stopped arranging his wrenches to stare at Jim. “You want the guy to move in with you. Eres loco! How long have you known him? Not a month!”

“Whoa, Jose, I already have a mother. I’m not talking about moving in together moving in,“ Jim said. “More like motel living is shitty and now that Bones has a job he can afford to pay half of my apartment rent.”

“Jim,” Jose began carefully, “maybe he would like his own place, si?”

Jim considered this possibility. “Nah. He’d mope too much if he was by himself. I’ll ask him about it.” That decided, Jim returned to work. Jose had simply shaken his head, knowing Jim Kirk’s tenacity and subsequently pitying McCoy.

Now that a full day’s work is done, Jim has the option of loitering downtown or finding dinner. Kirks generally fend for themselves, with breakfast (when he stays at the farmhouse) and Sunday lunches being the exception. The growl of Jim’s stomach makes him lean toward finding dinner. He points his bike in the direction of The Diner.

Tuesday nights are slow. The only regular customer inside the establishment is Scotty perched on a stool. Winona is not working tonight, nor Uhura.

How sad that Jim will have to play nice with tonight’s waitress. She is a gorgeous woman named Marlena Moreau; a waitress by day and a stripper by night. Riverside’s two rival clubs, the Trophy Club and Rick’s, are both popular. Marlena is a recent newcomer to the Trophy Club and Jim, upon hearing her assets lauded by Jose, had stopped by the Trophy Club to watch her performance. He enjoyed the show like every other man who appreciates the curves of the female body, but Marlena didn’t seem more interesting than a woman with incredible flexibility (and Jim has known his share of those kinds of girls). He wasn’t moved, not even by lust or loneliness, to approach her.

When she took up a part-time position at The Diner, Jim was tremendously glad he had not. Marlena is a lot less nice than she looks.

Of course, that does not stop Marlena from approaching him at the diner counter, her hips swinging and a wicked, red-lipsticked smile stretching her mouth.

“Can I get some of the stew?” he asks without making eye contact.

“Mr. Kirk, you can have whatever you want.” Marlena’s meaning is obvious as she flashes her chest at Jim while slowly sliding a menu his way. “Are you sure you don’t want to see if there’s something else that’ll… please you, hon?”

He slides the menu right back. “Just Sulu’s stew and a Coke, thanks.”

Marlena turns away, radiating disappointment and irritation.

Jim sighs at his crossed arms.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

The words are muttered so low that Jim almost doesn’t hear them. He turns his head and stares at Montgomery Scott.

“How’s it going, Scotty?”

The man hunches over his tall glass of coca cola. “Been better.”

“Anything I can do?” Jim asks gently.

Scotty shakes his head. “Me drink’s free. Don’t need nothin’ else.”

Jim disagrees but not out loud. “You know,” he begins, changing the subject, “when I was at Riverside High, I remember there being a picture of you in the display case.”

Scotty stirs, speaking with a new quality to his voice. “State science fair. I won.”

“Yup,” Jim beams. “What was your project? I heard it blew the other contestants straight outta the water!”

“Transparent aluminum,” Scotty says with pride. “It’d be stronger and lighter than plexiglass. Theoretically, of course…” The man is blushing beneath his three-day old beard. “Pop worked for Riley Construction. Got me idea, rememberin’ when he showed me around the warehouse when I was naught but a wee lad.”

“That’s brilliant, Scotty,” Jim says and means it. “The prize was scholarship money for college, right? Man, you could go to an Ivy League school!”

Suddenly the man slumps again. “Don’t matter no more. Ma got sick ‘n I couldn’t leave. My scholarship… it’s long gone.”

“How do you know that?”

Scotty shrugs. “Just do.”

Jim argues, “But you never used it!”

“I never will,” Scotty says and downs the rest of his soda before sliding off his stool, effectively ending their brief conversation.

Jim calls to his retreating back, “Hey, Scotty, I’m sorry!” but Montgomery ignores him, tucks his hands into an old long-coat, and walks out of the diner.

“Shit,” mutters Kirk. He is frowning at the counter top when someone shoves a bowl of stew under his nose.

“Jim!” beams Pavel.

“Hey, Pavel,” Jim says, unwrapping a spoon from inside a paper napkin. “How are things with you?”

“Good, good,” says the kitchen boy with enthusiasm. Chekov glances, wide-eyed, at Marlena across the diner and leans in to whisper, “Hikaru told me to bring you the food. He doesn’t like that waitress.”

Jim chuckles. “If Sulu says she’s no good, then she isn’t.”

“Oh.”

Jim pats Scotty’s vacated stool. “Sit and keep me company while I eat.”

“But I am working…”

“Sulu will call you if he needs you,” persuades Kirk, and Jim watches the young man circle the end of the counter to sit down. Chekov looks healthier, happier.

Jim recalls Uhura’s story and drops his eyes back to his bowl. He savors the next few bites then asks, “How did you end up in Riverside, Pavel?”

Chekov, who had been folding Jim’s discarded napkin into an odd shape, stills his hands and glances at Kirk through his lashes. “I had no more bus fare.”

Or no more money, period?

“You were traveling alone? That can be pretty scary. I’ve done it myself,” he adds, hoping to draw more information from Pavel.

“Oh no,” Jim is told earnestly, “it vas not scary at all. I had traveled wery far already.”

Jim swallows his mouthful and turns to stare at Pavel. “You mean, like from the coast? Or out of the country?”

“From Russia.”

Holy crap. Jim returns to eating, only pausing to drain half his Coke. After a while, Pavel fills up the silence with talk of kitchen work and some gossip which he had picked up from Nyota (mostly things Jim already knows).

Finished eating, Jim slides his empty bowl away and says too casually, “I haven’t forgotten about the meal I owe you.”

Pavel shakes his head, saying, “No, no. You do not—“

Jim coughs. “How about Friday?” He hesitates only for a second before jumping completely into the fire. “The offer extends to your little sister, too.” Pavel goes white and Jim immediately recognizes that he shouldn’t have said anything. “Hey, it’s okay, Pavel.”

Pavel backs away from him, almost running into Marlena who snaps, “Watch it, brat!”

“Pavel!” Jim springs after him and catches Chekov’s arm before the young man can bolt into the kitchen. He whispers quietly, sincerely, “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just… This is a small town, Pavel. People are bound to notice what you don’t want them to.”

“Please don’t tell,” Pavel begins to beg.

“No, of course not. I won’t tell anybody,” Jim assures him. “I just thought she’s got to be bored, right, being cooped up all day? We can go to McDonald’s, let her do something normal.”

Pavel is so pale with fright that Jim wonders why there are no parents with the Chekov kids. Jim can’t think of anything pleasant that would prompt a nineteen year-old to tote his baby sister halfway across the world.

Jim lets him go, saying, “Just think about it, Pavel.” Then he adds, “Whatever it is, I’m on your side.”

Chekov looks at him for a moment longer before Sulu’s sharp “Pavel!” has the guy flying into the kitchen and out of Jim’s reach.

Only an hour in the diner, Kirk has already upset two people. He leaves enough money to cover the bill and tip, and exits the diner feeling unsettled and somewhat unhappy.

Maybe Jim should have pestered Bones today after all.

When Winona Kirk sets her mind to something, she won’t be budged.

Jim tries, anyway. “You can’t be serious! The last thing Bones will want is to sit through dinner conversation with Spock.”

“No, Jim,” says his mother as she unloads a bag of groceries. “I’ve already bought the pot roast. I think Mr. McCoy will enjoy pot roast. Though, Mr. Spock is a vegetarian… I saw this recipe for a rice and lentil dish in a Red magazine, so I cut it out. He’ll like it, I’m certain!”

Jim groans and bangs his head on the kitchen table.

“Stop that,” says Winona primly without turning from her task. “The last thing Mr. McCoy will want is to treat you for a head injury on his first day at the clinic.”

“Mooom…”

“Jimmmmy,” she retorts. “We will all have dinner together like civilized people. Then Mr. McCoy and Mr. Spock can discuss their business. Please tell your friend to arrive at 7 o’clock.”

He leaves the farmhouse in a sulk, knowing that if he doesn’t do her bidding, he will pay for it later. The drive to the clinic is not long enough. Though once Jim pockets his motorcycle keys, steps into Riverside Medical, and immediately spies Bones arguing with someone, he feels more cheerful.

Hanging in the background, he waits for a moment to see if Bones will spot him. When McCoy does look his way, it’s with a roll of his eyes and a sharp “Unless you need medical attention, get out of here, Jim!”

Jim grins and rocks back on his heels, clearly content where he is.

Then Dr. McCoy fixes his annoyed look back to the man dangling a coat in his left hand. Belatedly, Jim realizes the man is Mr. Wesley.

Technically Mayor Wesley but Jim knew the man before he was running the town, and Bob doesn’t insist on the formality—not from Winona or her son.

Shit, how can Bones be yelling at the Mayor of Riverside already? This might be the shortest career of McCoy’s yet. Jim has no intention of allowing Bones to kill a good opportunity.

He intercedes, butting aside McCoy as he steps in the middle of the argument, with a cheerful “Bob!”

Robert Wesley doesn’t look angry, thank God. “How are you, Jim?”

“Good. Mom, too.” He tries to pretend he isn’t on anyone’s side. “Today is Doctor McCoy’s first day.”

Behind him, Bones mutters, “Oh, for God’s sake, Jim.”

There is an amused glint in Bob’s eyes. “So I heard. I’m just here for a check-up—for my diabetes and all.”

“Mom said something about that.”

“It’s not his diabetes that he ought to be worrying about,” Leonard inputs, and Jim can tell the man is about to renew his efforts to get fired.

“Easy, Bones. Bob has always been a healthy guy.”

“Who’s the licensed doctor here, kid? When a doctor advises a man, that man would be a fool not to listen!”

“Dr. McCoy, I appreciate your concern. I’ll come back when Mark can see me and then, if he thinks…”

“An EKG is not risky. However not knowing, after what I heard going on in your chest, is absolutely fatal,” explains McCoy. “I’m sure we can get you an appointment—Chapel!” bellows the doctor. “Chapel, where’s that blasted phone listing for the hospital that you showed me?”

“The timing is inconvenient, Doctor. I promise you, when the election is over…”

Leonard McCoy makes the sound of a tea kettle about to boil over. “Imagine the inconvenience while you’re in the middle of kissing some housewife’s baby and go into cardiac arrest. You know what would be even more inconvenient for your re-election? Death!”

The stare-down between the doctor and the mayor has Jim sweating. Chapel interrupts with a booklet in hand.

“Here you are, Dr. McCoy,” she says, shooting a look at Jim that says get out of the line of fire, stupid.

McCoy takes the booklet and flips through it. Robert Wesley uses that moment to back away, donning his coat. Bones yells after the mayor, who scurries out the clinic door, “I know where you live!”

Then he purses his lips, nonplussed, and says to Jim, “I have no idea where he lives.”

“Biggest house in the county,” Jim supplies. “Is Mr. Wesley really that bad off?”

“I can’t discuss that, Jim, but I will say if he was smart, he would listen to me.”

“I’m sure,” soothes Kirk, meanwhile thinking he ought to mention to his mother that Bones is worried about Bob’s heart. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?” replies McCoy, still looking grumpy.

“Mom’s making dinner for us.”

McCoy’s face changes, softening, and he says, “She doesn’t have to do that.”

“Oh but she wants to, believe me. I tried to talk her out of it.”

Leonard scratches his cheek, wanting to know, “What’s she making?”

“Pot roast.”

“I haven’t had a good pot roast in a long time.” Then Leonard tugs at his bottom lip. “Does she know Spock doesn’t eat meat?”

“Yeah. He gets some kind of rice specialty or something.” Jim shrugs.

McCoy hmphs. “I suppose for pot roast I can be nice to Spock for the course of one meal.”

“Either that or ignore him.”

Leonard gives Jim a strange look. “It’s hard to ignore Spock when he’s in the same room.”

Jim thinks about that for a short minute then agrees. Spock does, quite undeniably, have presence.

“It’s a quarter until five. Why’d you wait so late to tell me about dinner? Afraid I’d back out?”

“No,” Jim says sincerely. “Mom sprung it on me too. She’s like that.”

“Really now,” says McCoy, no doubt completely oblivious to the strange similarities between Jim and Winona Kirk—people of ‘springing’ surprises.

Or not, Jim decides as Leonard mutters about Jim’s inherited behavior.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Dinner isn’t until 7, Bones.”

“And lucky for you,” quips McCoy, “I don’t take two hours to get dressed. In fact…” The man looks down at his clothes. “I guess I don’t have much to change into. Pity. I’d put on my coattails for your mama. She’s a pretty lady.”

Jim has a bright idea and grins. Leonard automatically frowns and takes two steps back.

“I know exactly where we’re going.” Gesturing at the waiting area, he says to McCoy, “I’ll be here while you pack up.”

“Pack up,” grumbles the doctor, wandering back down the hallway. “Like we’re going on vacation. Idiot.”

Jim flirts with Chapel while Bones is gone. Dr. Piper walks into the clinic, strangely unconcerned at having left McCoy to handle the clinic’s business for the day. Jim and Mark greet one another in passing. Once Chapel has changed her clothes and gathered her purse, Jim walks her out to her car like a gentleman and returns to the waiting room to find Leonard and Mark finishing up a conversation.

He catches the word “arrhythmia” in conjunction with Bob’s name and it makes his blood run cold. Would Mr. Wesley’s really ignore Bones’ advice? What would happen to this town if it lost the best mayor it has had in a long time? Not to mention that the Wesley estate includes ownership of The Diner and at least part-ownership in several other small franchises in Riverside.

“Jim.” McCoy calling his name prompts Jim to put aside his worries.

“You ready, Bones?”

Leonard grimaces. “I could just catch the bus…”

“The bus doesn’t run out into the countryside.”

Resigned to another wild ride on Jim’s bike, Leonard lets Jim lead them outside.

Jim, of course, in keeping with his bright idea drives them to Appletree Apartments and parks outside Building D. Leonard follows him up a set of stairs, uncertain but game.

Once in his apartment, Jim is doubly glad that he had had the foresight to do some cleaning yesterday.

“Good Lord!” exclaims Jim’s companion.

“It’s not that bad,” he argues.

McCoy nudges the pile of laundry in the middle of the foyer. “This ain’t the cleanest place I’ve ever been, Jim. My mama would have a conniption fit if she stepped foot in here.”

Kirk tosses his keys onto the kitchen counter. “This is my place.”

“I thought you lived with your mother.”

Jim shoots him a look. “Bones, I’m twenty-five.”

“That means nothing.”

“It means I can fend for myself.”

“Which doesn’t mean you are independent.”

“Why are we arguing about this?”

“Beats me. It’s better than asking when was the last time you dusted.”

“Are you serious?”

McCoy laughs. “No.” After clearing a spot on Jim’s couch, Leonard sits down, crosses his legs and asks, “Are we here to kill time?”

“In one respective, yes,” answers Jim. “Mostly I wanted you to see my place.” Jim shifts, slightly nervous.

McCoy picks up on his mood. “Spit it out.”

“What?”

“Spit out whatever genius idea you’ve come up with this time.”

“Really, Bones, you know how to flatter a guy.”

“It’s a talent,” McCoy tells him without a single hint of humor.

Jim sighs. “I want you to live here.”

The silence is deafening.

“It’s not like this—always,” Jim tries to assure the man. “I just haven’t been here in a while.” Since you came to town, actually. No need to say that. “Now that you have a job…”

“No, Jim.” McCoy’s voice is quiet, too quiet. Leonard’s relaxed posture has transformed into a tense coil.

Jim continues on doggedly. “You can’t stay at the Star forever. It’s not safe. You need a better place, and I can offer that.”

That stirs Leonard. “I can find a place on my own, Jim.”

“I know you can but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

“I don’t really want a… roommate.”

The way Bones pauses makes Jim think he had originally intended to say something else. Jim finds it difficult to swallow all of a sudden.

Perhaps Leonard takes pity on James Kirk. “You’ve helped me more than I can say, Jim. Hell, with the food and the clothes and the job—”

And the companionship? Why doesn’t Bones say that?

“—I’m surprised you don’t just hand me your life and say ‘live it.’”

“It’s not like that,” Jim says.

“Sure it is. What I can’t figure out about you—my true concern—is your motive. What is it you want from me in return—and why do you think you’re going to get it?”

Jim’s fingers form into a fist, just for a moment, before he remembers that he doesn’t want to hit Bones. But, shit, those words hurt. “You just don’t understand,” he says tightly. “I’m not a good guy only when I want something. I—I’m a decent person, you jackass. I help you because you won’t help yourself—because you’re an idiot who won’t help himself and it burns me to see that.”

He does not move; in particular, he does not pace like he normally does when angry. Nor does McCoy do anything other than stare at him.

“Just so we have an understanding, Bones, what you think about me is fine. But if you accuse my mother tonight of cooking you and Spock a dinner for reasons other than kindness… we’re done. You can take your self-pity and your ungrateful butt straight back to Georgia.”

And somehow that was what Leonard needed to hear. The next thing Jim knows Bones is off the couch and in his face, saying roughly, “You had me at ‘jackass’” and kisses the daylights out of Jim.

He almost jerks back in surprise but soon relaxes enough to enjoy the kiss. Breaking apart at last, Jim lets out a laugh of surprise. “Okay, usually when I call someone on their shit, I get punched. I have to say, Bones, I like your method better.”

Leonard retreats, face deliciously flushed and eyes dark. Jim likes watching McCoy compose himself.

Then Bones grabs two dishes off the nearest surface and heads to the kitchen. He calls out to Jim, “We have an hour and a half. Get to work.”

“Huh?”

“Cleaning, Jim.”

Jim looks around the apartment, uncomprehending. “I already cleaned.”

McCoy smirks at him from behind the counter. “And apparently you suck at it. I don’t, so I’ll coach you.”

Jim’s daydreams of making out are completely dashed when McCoy points out several places for Jim to start “reducing squalor.”

They make his apartment livable in under eighty minutes, just in time for McCoy to oversee Jim washing his hands properly (“I’m not a baby, Bones”) and for Jim to rummage through his closet and entice McCoy into a dress shirt for dinner.

The evening meal goes well. Winona is inquisitive without being overly nosy; Jim has three helpings of mashed potatoes (he loves his mother’s mashed potatoes simply for the reason that she makes them); and Spock compliments Ms. Kirk on her cooking skills while Leonard promises to share some of his grandmother’s recipes. An hour of the night is for enjoying company and good food; it is a quiet, unanimous agreement that no potentially unpleasant topics—past or present—will be discussed at the dinner table.

Jim is sad to see it end. He had actually managed to hold a conversation with Spock (not about McCoy, as that was strictly against the rules) for more than three minutes.

Now Jim and Spock are relinquished—that is, ordered by Winona—to the living room to await McCoy. Lucky Leonard is asked to help with the cleanup in the kitchen, which the man readily accepts, scurrying away, Jim suspects, to postpone the confrontation with Spock.

Jim and Spock sit the same couch in awkward silence while listening to voices drift in from the kitchen. McCoy’s voice is low, like a rumble, and Jim hears his mother’s peel of laughter every once and a while. Leonard and Winona seem to like each other a great deal; this makes Jim pleased, partly jealous, and nervous.

Unfortunately, Spock’s presence is not as calming as Leonard had once claimed it could be; if anything, it makes Jim tenser.

Without warning, Spock starts talking. “Your mother is providing Leonard with extra time in which to renew his courage.”

This is said so matter-of-factly that Jim turns to stare at the lawyer. “Yeah?”

“Indeed.” Spock’s tone says he approves heartily of Winona Kirk’s intentions.

“Aren’t you the least bit anxious?”

Spock looks directly at him, allowing Jim to see that he is, in fact, not anxious or remotely worried at all.

Jim marvels. “Do you expect things to go your way, then?”

“To which things do you refer, Mr. Kirk?”

“Convincing Bones to go back to Georgia, for one. I don’t know.” But he does: Getting Bones to love you back.

Spock knows it, too. “I wish to determine what is right for Leonard.”

This guy ought to be a politician, Jim thinks. “What if… making Leonard happy won’t make you happy?”

Spock returns his gaze straight-ahead, no longer looking at Jim. “Leonard was happy in Mississippi,” Spock tells Jim.

Jim has a burst of insight: seeing not just the straight line of Spock’s back but how unrelentingly straight it is; hearing more in those words than Spock willingly inflects.

“It must have been hard for you,” Jim says softly. “Letting him go—not holding him back though you wanted to.”

“Emotions are subjective. Fleeting,” clarifies Spock. “I pursued my law degree and I was successful.”

Spock does not say that he was happy. Yet all those years and you still thought of Leonard McCoy—and felt regret, Jim says silently. Aloud, “Love is not fleeting.”

“Perhaps not,” agrees the lawyer.

And there it is, the big white elephant in the room. Jim sees it so clearly now. Spock loves Leonard, and Spock thinks Jim may be falling in love with Leonard.

Even while consciously trying to lead a proper, uncomplicated life, Jim winds up neck deep in trouble.

As if reading his thoughts, Spock turns the conversation in an entirely different direction—one which shocks Jim: “You have a reputation of recklessness and irresponsible behavior, Mr. Kirk; yet I have found no evidence to support these allegations other than an arrest record consisting mainly of misdemeanors, the last of which was committed six years ago.”

Jim can only manage an “Excuse me?”

Spock ignores his astonishment. “From the individuals I have spoken with in Riverside and at the University of Iowa—“

Jim gapes. Spock went to his college? His college?

“—most of them recall your antics with humor and admiration,” Spock’s tone indicates he does not know why chugging half a keg of beer is anything other than stupidly dangerous. “In particular there was a professor of philosophy who remembered you as… ‘an amusing sensationalist of existentialism’ and admitted his surprise that you left the university.”

Jim remembers that professor; he had taken one of the man’s classes out of curiosity and enjoyed it—despite that his attendance was erratic. Only once-a-week philosophical debates over coffee and bagels (courtesy of errant student Kirk) with the professor had earned him a passing grade.

Spock continues, “Your entrance exam scores were remarkably exceptional. I do not understand why you returned to Riverside before the completion of your degree.” He says all of this without looking at Jim.

“That’s… wow. What do you want me to say? Thanks for snooping in my life?”

“I wish for you to answer one question, Jim: Why did you return to Riverside?”

Jim squirms, uncomfortable with Spock’s persistence but also uncomfortable at the memories Spock is dredging to the surface.

He runs a hand over his face. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Spock,” he hedges.

Spock does look at him now. “If Leonard is to remain in Riverside, you do,” Spock tells him simply.

Backed into a corner, Jim drops his hands to his kneecaps and squeezes. “Fine. First semester of my third year, I got a girl pregnant.”

When Spock says nothing, just stares at him with that intense gaze, Jim adds, “At least, I thought I did. She said I did. It freaked me out—and it’s not that I wouldn’t have owned up to my responsibility to Carol and our baby, because I would have—I couldn’t not have—but it made me realize that… the way I lived was no good.” He tightens his jaw and looks Spock directly in the eyes. “No kid should have a father who gets so wasted he can’t remember where he was the night before—or who he was with. No kid should have a father who is as much of a kid as his child. I had to do better. When Carol came clean that I wasn’t the father, I had my second chance, and I took it.”

“Why return to Riverside?” asks Spock.

Jim shrugs. “This is where I began, Spock. If I couldn’t come back here and start my new life, get people who have always known me to see that I was starting over, doing better—to change their view of me, then I wouldn’t have stuck it through.” He tries to smile but the pull of his mouth is feeble, wobbly. “I think I won, don’t you?”

“I think you are… intriguing,” says Spock.

His laughter is short but not unkind. “Thank you. You are not what I expected either, Mr. Spock.”

Maybe Jim imagines it but the corner of Spock’s mouth twitches in a not-smile. “Then it is my hope, Mr. Kirk, that we continue to surprise one another.”

“Who’s surprising whom?” asks McCoy as he enters the living room.

“Everybody, Bones,” remarks Kirk. “It’s always a circus on the farm.”

Leonard replies dryly, “I don’t think you realize how apt that description is, Jim.” Then McCoy clears his throat and takes a peeking glance at Spock. “I suppose you want to go first.”

Spock lifts an eyebrow. “If you do not covet the honor, Leonard.”

Jim would love to witness a contest for the driest humor—he isn’t sure who would win, Bones or Spock. Since mentioning that idea would likely get him kicked out of the living room, Jim raises a hand and waves it like a know-it-all child in a classroom.

Leonard crosses his arms and says, “Jim.”

“How about I mediate?”

“I thought that’s why I asked you to come.”

“Bones,” Jim responds with a roll of his eyes, “you didn’t ask me to do anything. You volunteered me. Now I’m volunteering to be a referee, you know, before fists fly.”

“Spock wouldn’t hit me,” Leonard says indignantly, jumping to Spock’s defense surprisingly quickly.

“Violence will solve none of our issues,” states the lawyer.

Jim leans back into the couch. “Agreed, but someone is going to get upset or pissed off or defensive. Hey, it might be me. Regardless, my mother will have all our hides if we don’t resolve this conversation to her standards—and, trust me, her standards are much higher than most people’s.”

“I like your momma,” Leonard points out.

“So do I,” replies Kirk. “But I would rather not get tossed out into the field tomorrow morning for manual labor.”

Leonard stares at him.

Jim adds, “You make her mad, she’ll pick you up in her truck tomorrow, too, before the birds start singing and you’ll be working right alongside me. Same goes for Spock.”

“Damn,” drawls the Southerner. “She sounds like my granny. Never did see a male of any age she didn’t think was too old for a whippin’ with a switch if he pushed her just right.”

Jim nods. “So. Can we agree to talk this through—or take our punishments like men?”

“But since we belong to the day, let us be self-controlled, putting on faith and love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a helmet,” McCoy quotes.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Jim glances at Spock and receives a nod from the silent lawyer. He makes a gesture for Leonard to pull up a chair. Once McCoy is seated and facing Jim and Spock, Jim announces, “Spock, you have the floor.”

Spock says quite calmly to Leonard, “I am aware that you believe you cannot be a part of Joanna’s life. After much consideration of the matter, I propose a plan of action.”

Leonard interrupts, “We were booted out of family court, Spock! I don’t think there’s a law on Earth that—”

“Leonard, you should not assume the action will be lawful.”

Jim sucks in a breath, barely registering Bones’ noise of surprise.

Okay… Okay, okay, okay. This conversation is not at all what he expects.

It’s not emotionally devastating; it’s criminal.

And if I said there’s no more story? :D I’d probably have to go into Witness Protection.

Next Part

Related Posts:

• Along Comes a Stranger (28/28) – from July 10, 2011
• Along Comes a Stranger (27/28) – from July 9, 2011
• Along Comes a Stranger (26/28) – from July 5, 2011
• Chapter of Doom – from July 4, 2011
• Along Comes a Stranger (25/28) – from June 30, 2011

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