Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of the characters.

Thank you so much for all the reviews I've been getting. I'm really glad that this story turned out well. I did borrow a quote from Shakespeare's All's Well That Ends Well, from Act II, Scene 1. If you know the story behind the quote, then kudos to you! If you didn't, just send me a message and I'll explain it. I don't own it.

Without further ado, here's the new chapter.

" I may throw up on you," the man growled out, looking half-wild and savage. Jim wasn't sure if he was seriously joking or jokingly serious.

He could smell the heavy alcohol and sweat on the doctor, along with a mixture of regret, anger and a fierce bitterness burning deep within him, vicious, biting and cold. He looked old enough to be Jim's older brother, maybe even older, and had none of the warmth and comfort that his father or Pike possessed. Jim briefly wondered about if he had any kids and exactly what kind of man he was, when a voice piped up.

" Don't mind Leonard. When he's hungover, he's as cranky as hell. But he's really not all that bad."

Surprised, Jim looked up to see another man, dressed nicely and cozy enough. He was smiling and Jim knew that if he added another twenty years to the man sitting next to him, he would look almost identical to the man standing before him. They even had the same eyes and the same curve of their noses.

" His wife divorced him," he patiently explained, just as the man himself rambled about it, his venomous spite hissing in Jim's ear. " He lost everything: his daughter, his house, his money. Everything. Not even alcohol can stitch him back together."

" You're telling me," Jim muttered, too quietly and quickly for anyone else to hear. Including his neighbour.

They arrived soon enough at the Starfleet Academy, with Leonard McCoy (as the older man introduced to Jim) throwing up on the floor and Jim having to drag him to the washroom, where they spent the rest of the trip there. A few days of exploring the campus and Jim felt right at home. He had just tossed the last of his clothes into the drawer, when McCoy's father appeared again.

" I need your help," he said without a beat.

Over the years, Jim learned a few things about ghosts and why they lingered on in this world. One: there was unfinished business to be dealt with and until that was settled, the ghosts aren't going anywhere. Two: their loved ones are the ones who aren't letting them go and once they did, the ghosts would leave in peace. Three: they are sent as guardian angels to whoever and they essentially remained in this plane as long as they wanted.

He guessed that McCoy's father was all three of them.

David McCoy worried for his son, who had a temper and had a tongue sharp enough to slice anyone's head off who tried to get close. He argued that Jim was the only one who got the closest to McCoy, without the latter realizing it. He wanted Jim to help him, help him rebuild his life and help him get rid of the grief and burden that weighed his son down.

Jim pointed out that Bones - as he had named absently while in the washroom - wasn't likely to accept him. Not to mention because of his condition, Jim couldn't afford to get too close to anyone without having them find out. He politely declined the matter and left it at that.

The next day, Jim slid next to McCoy during lunchtime, grinning like a Cheshire cat and more than friendly, much to McCoy's and the surrounding students' surprise.

The rest, as they say, was history.

O – o – O – o – O

There was something about Jim Kirk that made Uhura scowl and her skin pucker sourly.

No, it wasn't just his charm, the way people easily and effortlessly gravitated towards him, the way every girl's head would turn when he entered a room, the way every junior cadet admired and idolized him on the levels of an admiral. One smile and their hearts were won. Another word and they were forever his. Even Gailia, Uhura's roommate, was head over heels for him, sighing dreamily whenever he was within radius. It made Uhura roll her eyes in disgust.

She didn't see what Gailia and everyone else in the Academy saw in him. He was bold and rash, headstrong and impatient. He followed the rules and then broke them. He challenged to every teacher and professor he came across, only to respect them and listen to them. He argued and fought ruthlessly with his newly picked up friend and roommate McCoy and the next minute, they're laughing over a couple of drinks. It was mind-boggling and downright unsettling.

There were those times he seemed almost omnipotent, figuring out things that he shouldn't or couldn't have known about. He could smooth over any problems directed at him, instinctively knowing whether his opposition was growing annoyed or upset, much to their surprise, even if their facial expressions or body language was as flat as a rock. And he was very fond of chatting to whoever it was on his headset. Whenever someone asked, he would shrug and claim it was his mother or a friend. But some of those "conversations" that he had were a little too strange and peculiar for anyone to have.

Even with her skills of communication and non-verbal communication, she couldn't solve the mystery that was Jim Kirk. If she asked him, he would merely give her ten more questions.

Sometimes, during classes, she glared at the back of his head, trying to figure out what was going on inside of it. And more than once, as if reading her thoughts, he would turn towards her, eyes twinkling mockingly at her, with a curl on his lips.

Almost in defiance, she returned his gaze, jerking her head in challenge.

She would find out his secret if it was the last thing she did.

O – o – O – o – O

Pike should have known that it must have been bad karma or some sort of curse George probably put on him, when he saw Jim and his friend McCoy entering into his office. " He knows," Jim told him promptly, dropping almost lazily into the chair with a grin.

Definitely George Kirk's curse.

" You told him?"

" He had his suspicions," he cheerfully answered. " And I confirmed it."

Pike turned half an inch towards McCoy, who rolled his eyes at Jim. He heard about the doctor, who excelled particularly in his medical classes, though not an all well rounder like Jim. He had heard how Jim managed to convince McCoy to share a room with him, despite all the paperwork Pike had went through in order to give Jim a room by himself.

" I had some friends following him around and they deemed him trustworthy enough," Jim continued, ignoring his friend's indignant splutters of being followed without his knowledge. " Dad and McCoy's dad saw that he didn't speak a word of it to anyone. Not even a hint or anything."

Distantly sensing the grey hairs on his head, Pike wondered if this was how Winona felt when he himself was told about Jim's secret. " I assume you trust him enough to tell him directly," he pointed out.

The corners of Jim's mouth twitched. " If I can trust him enough to re-break all the bones in my fingers and put them back together after last week's fight and not tell any of the teachers about it afterwards, I think I can trust him with this."

Pike resisted groaning and slapping a palm to his face. Of course Jim would tell him, a respected authority figure in the Academy, about his little after-school endeavors.

" You know what you're getting into?" he suddenly shot at McCoy.

" Unfortunately. Why else would I be here?" he retorted, equally as sharp.

So the rumours about the doctor's knife-like tongue were true. Pike was rather interested and pleased that there was someone other than Winona Kirk to cut through the nonsense that Jim gave them. " It won't be some walk in the park. Especially with Jim."

" No need to tell me that. I found it out the hard way." He shot a glare at Jim, who smiled innocently at him.

A bell chimed somewhere outside and Pike stood up. " We'll discuss this later," he said, dismissing them with a brisk stare. " Off to your classes then."

Jim saluted him, with an infuriating smirk on his face before gathering up his books and leaving. McCoy was at the edge of the door, when Pike's hand clasped tightly around his arm. " If you hurt him in any way, I'll end you." He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, barely moving his lips, with but a whisper and a threat in the air.

With a steady, unflinching stare, McCoy nodded once and hurried to catch up with Jim.

O – o – O – o – O

Jim could feel the shock, with a good dose of irritation, coming from Pike, as well as everyone else on the bridge, when Pike demanded how he got aboard the Enterprise. Spock's emotions shifted only a slight hint towards surprise before returning back to neutrality and emotionlessness.

Pushing his irritation aside at the brutal apathy of the Vulcan, Jim urged Pike to stop the warp, that a Romulan trap was waiting for them and that the rest of the ships were as good as dead. McCoy tugged at his sleeve, babbling about some illness. Spock calmly commanded that he be taken away from the bridge. Pike demanded to know what was going on and how he knew about this. The rest of the crew said nothing, watching with their breaths held in.

He was pressed on all sides against the wildly pulsing emotions. McCoy's insistence and hidden alarm. Pike's urgent inquiry, with concern for him lingering in the background. Spock's pronounced annoyance, sharp and logical. The bridge's hesitating confusion and curiosity.

In the end, Jim won and Pike alerted the ship on defence. A trace of resentment pricked the back of his neck, aimed at him from Spock, but he ignored it. He was tense and anxiously waiting to arrive on the scene. Because if his visions were accurate (which they always are), they would be arriving in a junkyard of scrap and dark horrors rising from the abyss.

Suddenly, just as they arrived on the scene, it hit him, assaulting him harder than anything he had ever known. With a strangled gasp, Jim fell to his knees, only dimly aware of McCoy squatting next to him, calling him, trying to steady him. Pike could barely afford to offer him a glance as he barked orders to evade the crushing debris.

Wailing screams and choking fear engulfed him, smouldering him so hard and fast that it hurt to even breath. It was the final voices of those dying and dead, calling out for help, hoping for one last miracle, only for none to come. Their despair and horror were the only remnants of their lives, so strong and lingering that it managed to affect Jim at this point.

He was only snapped out of his daze, his arm held onto by a worried McCoy, when a face of a Romulan appeared on screen, coolly demanding that Pike come abroad his ship.

O – o – O – o – O

It couldn't any worse being sandwiched between one man, whose emotions of impudence and impatience made Jim's head whirl, and the other man, who held not enough emotion for Jim to assess. Concealed were dread and worry for Pike and for the rest of the crew, but Hikaru Sulu buried them deep in his mind that even Jim had a bit of a hard time noticing them.

Jim fidgeted in his seat, suddenly feeling how tight and uncomfortable the suit he was in. He privately agreed with Spock that Pike giving himself to the Romulans was a stupid gamble to provide the three of them enough time to destroy whatever that thing was that blocked communications from Starfleet.

He hated waiting and he hated nothing more to sit here and wait as the closest (living) person he had to a father was off to his certain death. He should be charging and leaping into battle, with his blood boiling and adrenaline pumping in his veins, punching, kicking, shooting.

He had hoped for a vision, just anything, to confirm to him that Chris Pike was going to live by the end. But there was nothing and Jim felt that his hope was being cruelly crushed from him.

" Think we'll make out of this alive?" he impulsively asked his companion, who might or might not be as sane as him. Since Sulu did volunteer for this, after all.

Sulu inclined his head slightly. " I like to think that we are," he replied, calm and cool, which Jim admired about him. He was almost like a much nicer version of Spock. " Captain thinks we have a chance."

Jim snorted. " How high of a chance?"

" High enough for Pike to trust us to do this." Sulu's eyes twinkled. And in that brief moment, Jim could see the assurance and hope that he had placed in his captain and his crew and his ship.

Even as they plummeted down to their deaths, Sulu still had the unaffected composure, as if resigned to his doom, silently praying that at least he had stopped the drill and fulfilled Captain Pike's last command.

But Jim didn't. He was fighting and struggling, yelling into the communicator for someone to beam them up now. He knew it wasn't time for his death or Sulu's. There were no visions to confirm it or deny it. He just knew it.

In the last second, where Jim could smell the burning ash, dirt and fire from the ground, he and Sulu slammed down on the transporter pad, still holding each other like two frightened kids. They remained lying there, to catch their breaths, to move their stiff, awkward bodies, to realize that they were still alive.

" You call these chances high?" Jim choked out, spitting out a mouthful of dust.

Sulu laughed.

O - o - O - o - O

For the second time, Jim collapsed, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the devastating rush of emotion slamming into him, knocking him sideways and causing Sulu beside him to cry out in alarm. He laid on the ground, too stunned and shaken to move or say anything, even when McCoy rushed to his side and they took him to the medical bay. He rolled over once they reached there and retched, heaving and gulping and shaking worse than he could manage.

The planet Vulcan. Gone. Just like that. Its people and culture swallowed by the angry, surging mist, sucking everything up until nothing was left.

The rest of the crew was stupefied and their shock pounded doubly into Jim, not as painful as the fading pleads of the thousands of Vulcans trapped on their crumbling monstrosity that was once known as home. Two major losses in less than a day was more than enough to devastate the crew, who barely held it together. Which made it all the more painful for Jim, such powerful emotions pounding hard like drums against his skull. Grief washed over him then, something of a relief, as he flopped uselessly back on the bed, wiping the clammy sweat off his face.

He heard Spock's oddly affected voice addressing the crew. It was strange to feel such despair coming from the Vulcan. But the man had lost his home, his mother, his culture and that alone would be enough to destroy anyone.

Jim staggered to his feet, just as one of the nurses said no, you're unfit to be going anywhere.

But underneath her motherly concern was the heavy guilt and submerged under that was bitter question why Vulcan had to be destroyed, why the rest of the fleet were torn to pieces, why her boyfriend in said fleet had to die in a cold, merciless slaughter.

He knew what she wanted. He understood what she desperately demanded for, even if she and every other single officer on this ship didn't realize it.

He knew it because it was something that he wanted too.

O - o - O - o - O

He was rather taken back by the delight, recognition and pleasant surprise all mingling from the old Vulcan, who had just saved his life from the monster whose emotions simply cried out for food, food, food, food. He spoke slowly and excitedly all at once, eyes never leaving Jim, as if he was hungrily trying to capture every detail on his face.

Then came the mind meld and Jim's eyes were opened to images and memories that weren't his. The emotions (stunned, confused, hope, patience) that he briefly skimmed through earlier doubled and left him reeling backwards. He could feel the future Spock's emotions brushing against his mind, gentle and warm, careful not to push beyond his boundaries. But the connection of two minds was more than Jim could bear.

Never had he experienced something like this. He was bound closer to the old Vulcan much more than he would have liked, through mind, through spirit. He could also feel Spock shifting gently in his own memories, his thoughts, realizing that he had these unexplainable abilities, a power that lurked inside of him, burning and bright, pulsating, beating, thriving. He knew that Spock connected to every ghostly visitor he had ever met, saw every vision he had ever seen, felt every emotion he had ever felt.

And in turn, he was flooded with Spock's own memories, seeing what could have been the future, things that should have happened but didn't. It ached terribly in his chest that his father could have been alive, that he could have joined Starfleet under different circumstances, that he could have never had his cursed powers.

The truth about Nero and the Narada and the why to Vulcan's destruction became apparent. The misunderstandings, the Red Matter, the unfortunate circumstances, Romulan planet gone, the need for revenge, imprisonment on Delta Vega, the horror, the anguish, the sorrow. It all made sense now.

With a sudden lurch, Jim was pulled out of the meld and stumbled back, gasping. His legs wobbled and he grabbed the nearest thing for stability. Spock gripped his arm for support, apologizing for his impatience and boldness to initiate the mind meld.

During the mind meld, he felt the crushing loneliness that plagued the Vulcan, who was separated from his friends by a barrier known as death that he could not hope to vanquish. For years, he had wandered, as a solitary figure, praised and idolized, but isolated. Even at the merest chance of meeting with his friends, even ones in an alternative world, this Spock would do everything to reach out to them, in hopes to feel as he once did in their presence, in their company, in their friendship.

And how could Jim deny him that?

O - o - O - o - O

Montgomery Scott had seen some pretty crazy things during his lifetime.

Seeing a person from the future could do that to a man. And this so-called Spock was testimony to that. Though the other man Jim identified himself as from the present and not the future. He sounded rather bored and amused by the whole situation. Which merely added to the confusion.

The second was being trapped inside a water main and being pulled along the current, drowning, thinking oh god, this is it, I'm dying, inside the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on.

Then, before he knew it, he was falling, down thankfully on solid ground. Dripping and spluttering, he almost kissed it in reverence for saving his behind. Jim skidded towards him from the control panel, asking if he was all right.

" Good thing you're in engineering," he muttered, shaking wet hair from his hair.

Jim shot him a confused look. " I'm not in engineering," he frowned.

If Scotty could strangle him, he would have, if he wasn't so damn tired. " You mean to tell me that you went to the controls and pressed every button there?!"

" I knew what to press," Jim irritably defended himself.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. No one but those in engineering were able to discern from the right buttons from the wrong ones and even that took a few years to get it right. For goodness sake, even the safety latch was hard to find, especially if you didn't know where to look. Not even a genius such as Jim Kirk could figure them out so quickly and while the life of someone was in mortal danger. " How?" he demanded.

At that, Jim ducked his head slightly. Scotty knew a lie when it was coming and he guessed that the gears in Jim's head were clicking and whirring to come up with an answer real fast to cover up.

There was something about Jim that he couldn't quite put his finger on. How he seemed to know Scotty only minutes after meeting him. How he accepted the whole future thing from Spock and his transwrap theories in less than a heartbeat. How he knew exactly how to save him from the water main.

That there was something lurking beneath those bright, blue eyes, a secret, a story to be told. He was willing to bet his whole hidden stash of Scotch on it.

" Whatever it was, I don't want to know," he interrupted, just as Jim opened his mouth. " I've got enough of crazy in one day."

O - o - O - o - O

The punch from Spock came faster than Jim had anticipated. But he knew what to expect. The future Spock had already armed him with the knowledge of the future, coupled together with his own visions that warned him the several bruises that were to come.

Jim didn't even try to fight back. He allowed the punches to hit where they might strike, only raising his arms to protect from any serious injuries. Someone was shouting in the background and there were screams too, panicky and frightened. He ignored them and was thankfully that no one tried to step in or else they would be thoughtlessly pummelled too by Spock.

But the mindless rage within Spock did not burn out, as he had hoped. It continued to erupt, explode and flare in such vicious intent and destruction that Jim could not shield himself entirely from the danger. In less than a minute, he found himself sprawled across the controls, clawing at the tightening grip around his neck, choking all air off.

He did not escape. He did not struggle. He knew what was to be done. He met Spock's frenzied black orbs with his calm blue ones. Funny how only hours ago, their positions were switched.

Then, as if snapping out of daze, Spock released him, stepping back, blinking once in horror and self-disgust. It was so strong that it made Jim flinch and wondered in amazement how no one else on the bridge was able to sense it. It almost made him feel guilty for goading Spock into this.

Amanda Greyson kneeled beside him, uttering a flow of apologies for what her son had did to him, while Uhura and a few others shot the exact opposite towards him, lethal and venomous. He stood up, ignoring their glares and McCoy's agitated snarls that they no longer had a captain. He answered McCoy's declaration silently, with only a raised eyebrow at the doctor and the rest of the bridge, settling himself in the captain's chair.

It was his first time sitting here. He was not in some sort of examination, not in some sort of simulation of Starfleet to train him. Gone were the fun and games and the lightness of the Kobayashi Maru testing that occurred earlier. There was a heavy magnitude resting on his shoulders, one that the lives of his crew were now in his authority and that he alone now faced the decision whether to stand and fight or bow down and run.

There, he remembered something that his father once told him when they sat underneath the night stars one night.

" When you sit in that chair, Jimmy, the world changes. It's in your hands now."

O - o - O - o - O

" It appears that you have been keeping valuable information from me," Spock brusquely said.

Jim did his best to occupy himself with the suddenly very interesting blank screen, all the while feeling Spock's needle-like stare piercing the back of his head. Suspicion pinned on him, trying to get past his defences.

He wondered what information Spock was referring to: the fact that he knew about future Spock and this ship or the fact that he knew things he shouldn't have but he did.

Even as he interrupted by asking Spock if he could fly this thing and hurried off to go rescue Pike, Jim knew that Spock was onto him and his excuses could only last for so long before the Vulcan figured it out.

O - o - O - o - O

Chehov could feel the cold sweat tainting his hair and he hurriedly blinked to get them out of his eyes.

Seventeen years old and he was about to die.

The ship shuddered and trembled, making his teeth rattle. Red lights flashed out warnings and the cool computer voice chimed out that pressure was increasing. The thundering cracks across the ship's walls and screen were monstrous, grim reminders of their coming doom.

Jim was collectedly telling Scotty to release the warp cores. Scotty frantically replied back that they didn't even know if they would work.

He glanced at the rest of the bridge, who stared back at Jim with hanging jaws and an emotion gleaming in their eyes that Chehov recognized but was afraid to believe in.

Sitting in the captain's chair, Jim looked almost like a king in a throne, confident and regal, as he calmly gave out his orders. And a few minutes later, they escaped from the blackhole and on their home with Jim grinning with pride like he knew it would happen.

Captain Jim Kirk was certainly something written out of legends and tales of old. He barely batted an eyelash as everyone swarmed over to him, clapping him on the back, shaking his hand, all to hold the magnitude of Jim, to force themselves to believe that this hero stepped out of the pages of a mythical story was real.

Still, there was something itched at the back of Chehov's mind, even as he reached out to shake Jim's hand gratefully. The image of the serene and motionless captain seemed too surreal and unbelievable and it remained in his mind, for no man could or should have remained as still and motionless as Jim did. Even unmovable Spock released a breath and steady Sulu eased his slightly trembling hand from the steering handles.

It made him wonder exactly how much of a human Jim Kirk really was.

O - o - O - o - O

" McCoy tells me that you saved my life," Pike stated abruptly over the game of chess he managed to drag Jim into, while he was bored and tired of being stuck in a bed. " In ways more than one."

Jim was far more concentrated on moving his bishop to capture Pike's knight. " That's what he told me too," he replied absent-mindedly.

" It happened again, didn't it?" He cornered Jim's lone rook to a side.

Clucking his tongue before sitting back to survey the game, Jim prodded a pawn forward. " Apparently."

" Let me guess. Telepathy?" Pike quipped. Jim laughed. " Mind reading?" he prompted, inciting another laugh. " Because if you're reading my mind right now and cheating ..."

" Afraid not," he grinned, moving his queen directly towards Pike's king. " I'm beating you fair and square."

Pike confronted Jim's queen with his own. " Then what?"

" I have seen a medicine/That's able to breathe life into a stone/Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary/With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch/Is powerful to araise King Pipin," Jim quoted, smiling wryly, as he sent out his knight into battle.

Eyes wide, Pike stared at Jim, game forgotten. " You're saying that you can heal - ?"

Jim's knight stood before the king, smiting it to ruin and its downfall.

" Checkmate."

O - o - O - o - O

A few days after the Enterprise's return back to Earth, Winona Kirk stirred her coffee absently, glancing up from the newspaper article she was reading. " Quite an adventure you had," she dryly commented.

Still sporting a few bandages but still impossibly glowing, Jim lightly nibbled on the lettuce of his sandwich. Even wearing sunglasses to conceal his identity (Starfleet and McCoy had advised it to avoid any media mongrels), Winona could see the sapphire incandenscence behind the shades. " It was," he murmured.

" Was it like what you thought it was?" Her tone was light, carefree.

" Yes. And no." Jim fiddled with his sandwich. " I'm not at that point. Not right now, at least. Maybe in a few years, give or take." He quirked an eyebrow in her direction. " I'm not a captain anyways," he chuckled.

" Yet," his mother added.

His eyes sparkled. George had that look too whenever he was amused. " Are you seeing the future now?" he teased.

" A mother always knows."

" Which is why I'm terrified to death."

Sensing the challenge, Winona jerked her head upright in a true Kirk fashion. " Really, James, cheating?" she suddenly scolded, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

" Really, Mother, a captain?" Jim shot right back, grinning.

They then burst into laughter, mother and son.