Jim hated hospitals. He hated everything about them; from the acidic bleach-clean smell, to uncomfortable beds and glaring white-bright lights, down to the irritating know-it-all kind of people who worked in them. So when Jim awoke, groggy, confused and all of his senses bombarded by all the things he hated, he knew, he was in a hospital.

Through all of Jim's personal experiences, he had learned nothing good ever came about being in a hospital, especially if you were the one in the bed. He had been a wild child, and that trait carried on well into his adolescent and young adult years. A little bit of blood and pain never really slowed him down. So suffice to say he'd been acquainted with Riverside's Mercy Hospital, and spent cumulative weeks and maybe months worth of his life there. In all those times, Jim had yet to think of one incident where being in a hospital was a good thing. People often would say that childbirth was an occasion of celebration within a hospital, but then again, Jim wasn't born in a hospital, so his birth didn't count. The stuck-up doctors would preach that they were saving his sorry-ass life, and that he should be grateful for their efforts. They would tell him that he should be glad to be in a hospital, because being there saved his life. Jim still didn't think it count.

Jim first took a silent moment to check himself over. He flexed his arms, and his toes, checking to make sure he at least still had all him limbs. No immediate pains flared when rolled upwards and reclined on his elbows, propping himself up. He gave a passing thought to the somewhat strange looking room he was in. It wasn't like the old-fashioned water-stained rooms of Riverside Mercy Hospital, but Jim hadn't been in a hospital for at least over a month (almost a new record), so he figured that much-needed grant money finally came in, and they refurbished it or something. His head throbbed like something wicked, and he didn't really want to dwell on it too much at that moment.

Struggling to get up, still feeling dizzy from whatever effects landed him in a hospital in the first place, Jim's next order of business was to remove the tangles of wires that were strapped to his body. His fingers felt numb and useless, which made the task slightly more difficult and slower then normal. He was breathing deep and steady, trying to calm the rising panic that was swelling in his chest. Not knowing where he was and why he was there greatly unsettled Jim, and set all his nerves on edge.

He caught a quick glimpse of a nurse looking into his room, but he didn't really care, no matter how cute she was. He wasn't in a particularly good mood at the moment, which put flirting at the bottom of his priority list.

Suddenly an overly-excited doctor dashed into his room, looking at Jim with an expression he'd never seen on a doctor before. Relief.

"Jim! Oh thank god, you're awake." The doctor all but ran up to him, and approached Jim in an overly friendly matter that instantly made Jim suspicious. Jim knew all the doctors in Riverside, Iowa's hospital. There weren't that many, and Jim had spent enough time there to get acquainted with all of them pretty well. They all knew the do's and don'ts and such when dealing with one James T. Kirk. In fact, Jim was pretty sure they had a special long memo attached to his medical file, listing instructions on how to deal with him. Jim figured someone forgot to give the new-guy the memo.

Jim reeled back when the doctor reached for Jim's face, flashlight in one hand. That's it, Jim had enough.

"Don't touch me!" He barked, flinching away from the too-close doctor, struggling anew to free himself. The doctor apparently didn't like that idea.

"Jim, jesus stop moving! You had a severe reaction to the vaccinations, and nearly bled to death. You can't move yet, so just calm down." The doctor pushed Jim rather forcefully back onto the bed, harder then Jim would've suspected from a doctor his size. He was stronger then he looked. Or maybe Jim was just that weak?

"Where am I?" Jim wheezed, his chest constricting painfully, a panic attack settling over him. Why was he panicking? He didn't know. Some internal instinct was setting off alarms in his head, and Jim always trusted his instincts. All he knew was that he suddenly couldn't breathe, and he needed to leave the strange medical room, immediately. He needed out!

"Dammit Jim, calm down! You're still in Sick Bay. You're still feeling some of the effects of the reaction. You need to breath slowly." The doctor pressed his palm against Jim's chest, trying to get him to calm down and take slower breaths.

There it was again. The way the doctor spoke to him, spoke his name. Something felt off, wrong. It was as if he knew Jim, on more then a doctor-patient way. Jim didn't like it.

He licked his try lips, trying to breath more slowly through his nose, to calm himself down and think rationally. He scanned the room a second time, harder, but the more he looked, the more strange and foreign the room felt. A deep unsettling feeling hit him square in the chest. What if he wasn't in Riverside anymore? He remembered the doctor mentioning a Sick Bay. Hospitals weren't called that. Sick Bays were only on one thing, but Jim didn't continue with that thought. He didn't like the answer.

Jim looked at the doctor again, studying him intently. He felt as if he should know this man, but only the faintest feeling of recognition came to him. Like Déjà vu. He licked his lips again, his mouth suddenly feeling dry and cottony.

"Who are you?" Jim finally asks. The reaction he got was like throwing a stone through a large glass window. Unexpected and shattering.

The doctor looked stunned, almost in disbelief in what he heard. He recovers just as quickly, and actually glares at Jim. "That's not funny Jim. You can't joke around like that." The doctor scolds.

"Who's joking? I don't know who you are. So start explaining already." Jim glares back and renews his struggle to free himself from the hospital bed, succeeding this time. Despite the doctor's apparent objection to him moving about, Jim sits up fully on the bed, swinging his feet over the side. His head throbs a little now, but feels better then before.

The doctor stares at Jim again with a slight edge of panic in his expression. He turns his attention back to the medical equipment, but Jim could tell he wasn't really looking at them. Apparently Jim not knowing the doctor came to a shock to the man.

After a long moment, the doctor gave a heavy ragged sigh, then pulled up a stool that was nearby, dragging it in front of where Jim sat on the bed. He sat down on it and pulled out his PADD, and a tricorder from what Jim could tell. The doctor seemed to compose himself, for the look he gave Jim was nothing but professional.

"Jim, I need to ask you a series of questions. I want you to answer them with as much honesty as you can." Jim notices he says this in such a way as if he knows Jim is the type to lie. Jim doesn't give him a response, but just rolls his eyes. He knew this part, the questions. Doctors would ask him a series of stupid and obvious questions whenever he got a concussion or any kind of head injury. He felt like stupid child answering them, but he'd long stopped giving sarcastic remarks because the smart-ass doctors would take them seriously and then just keep him there even longer. The doctor seemed to expect this response, because he takes it as a 'yes' and starts.

The doctor reads them off from his PADD, one by one, occasionally looking at the tricorder which is hovering near Jim.

"Please give me your full name" "James Tiberius Kirk."

"When is your birthday?" "March 22, 2233"

"Where were you born?" "Space, in the middle of no where."

"What is the last thing you remember?" "Riding my hover bike to work, over by the docks."

The doctor pauses at this answer, giving Jim a long, almost pained look. "Jim." He starts, trying to find the right words. "What year is it, now?"

Jim rolls his eyes again. "2256" Duh.

The doctor looks horrified. "Oh god." He mumbles to himself. "Tell me everything. Everything you remember. Where do you work? Where do you live? How old are you?" The doctor presses more urgently. At the panicked look in the doctors's eyes, the sick feeling of dread and panic starts pooling in Jim's stomach again.

"Look, dude. I answered your stupid questions. Now it's your turn to answer mine. Like where the hell am I? Or better yet, why I'm here in the first place, playing twenty-questions." Jim stands now, unable to sit still any longer. Interrogations made him restless, and the way the doctor was looking at him, like he was suppose to know something, Jim felt down right sick.

"I can't tell you." The doctor beings, looking desperate. "There are protocols in this situation. Procedures to follow and - HEY! Dammit Jim! Get back here!"

The second Jim heard the words 'I can't tell you', he bolted. If no one was going to tell him, then he'd just have to find out for himself. Protocols and procedures be damned. He dashed from the room, and blindly ran through the narrow corridors, looking for anything. A window, a doorway, an exit. He could here the doctor calling to him from behind, but he didn't care. He just ran.

The halls were littered with people, all in uniforms, Jim recognized. He himself, he just noticed, was dressed all in black, with dark pants and a black tank top. It slightly unnerved Jim that he realized it was not what he was wearing the last he remembered, but what he was dressed in hardly toped the charts of surprises he'd been having since he'd woken up.

Dashing through the winding hallways and corridors, going purely by instinct and gut feeling, Jim tried to not to look at the people he passed. Because they were all looking at him. Not with annoyance, or confused looks that an outsider such as himself should be getting, considering he was trespassing. No, every one looked at him with recognition. Some with respect, a head nod or a salute. Others waved or shook their heads in amusement. Others just plain ignored him, as if it was a common occurrence. Jim couldn't bring himself to stop and ask someone for directions.

This place felt like a surreal trip. He dashed through twisting corridors, some massive in scale, others tiny and cramped. But no matter where he ran, he couldn't find a single exit. Each door lead to a series of more corridors with more doors. Jim was starting to feel like a rat in a labyrinth, endless circling around.

A doorway labeled 'Observatory' caught his attention. Finally! A window or something for Jim to get his bearings. The door hissing open, Jim slipped inside.

The room was empty, and eerily quiet from the earlier noises of the corridors. A massive plane of glass took up an entire wall, from floor to ceiling. Jim slowly walked up to the clear thick material, and pressed his hands against the cold surface. He stood there, looking out the window, into a vast empty space. Of nothing.

Space. He was in fucking space! Jim curled his hands into fists and banged them against the glass. A space ship. Somehow he'd managed to land himself on a space ship, in the middle of god damn nowhere.

The door behind him hissed open, and he slowly turned his head to see the doctor standing there, watching him with uncertainty. Jim turned his head back, gazing into the vast nothingness, hopelessly looking for something. Anything.

"Where am I?" He asked again, his voice oddly calm for his inter turmoil.

The doctor didn't answer at first, but after a lengthy pause, he spoke. "The U.S.S. Enterprise of Starfleet."

The Enterprise, huh? Jim thought he was pretty up-to-date with all of Starfleet's ships, but then again, he'd never heard of the Enterprise. It had to be a Starfleet ship too, just his luck. Jim hated Starfleet.

"Why am I here?" Jim asked, turning his head again to glare at the doctor. He wasn't going to take any half-assed answers this time.

The doctor senses Jim's anger, and replies without hesitation this time.

"Because this ship is your home, and you are her captain. Sir."

Oh snap, an update. A little faster then I expected, but writing Jim's inner thoughts turned out to be fairly easy and fun. That and the TON of reviews I got fed my inspiration like gasoline to a fire.

Still a little iffy with this, but I like this chapter a lot more then the first.

I'll mention this now, because someone in a review asked about pairings.

THERE WILL BE NO PAIRINGS. This is mainly a Kirk-centric fic, with strong roles from Spock and McCoy, and other interactions with the rest of the crew. It is strictly a friendship fic between all the crew. Sorry for those who are disappointed, but I hope to keep it interesting enough for you to continue reading.

Please continue reviewing!!!! I love reviews more then +alerts or +favs. I NEED FEEDBACK.

Next chapter: Spock is informed of Jim's condition, and Jim tries to deal with being on ship he can't remember ever being on.