Rating: Strong PG-13; one section is rated R and will be indicated as such. No sex; no slash.

Summary: How a rowdy young kid and a cyncial doctor transition from sitting next to each other on the shuttle to becoming fast friends. H/C abounds!

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or its characters, but borrowing them for my stories gives me great joy.

Format: This is somewhat of a prequel to my stories "Complications" and "Lessons." It takes place during the Academy years and is divided into a series of vignettes – one each year focusing on Kirk & McCoy along with an "On Call" segment, similar to the "Sickcall" segments of "Lessons."

Beta: A huge, enormous, gigantic thanks to goneashore. Her comments have made my life as a writer miserable and thus my story so much better. She's everything a beta should be . . . and more!

Prologue

"Kirk, what is your problem?"

Cadet Jim Kirk stood at rigid attention exactly one meter in front of the desk of Captain Christopher Pike, hands curled into fists at his sides, shoulders back, head high, eyes staring straight ahead. He kept his mouth closed; this was not a question to which Pike expected an answer.

It was all he could do to stand in place, not moving a muscle. His knuckles, bruised and sore, rebelled at being confined in such a tight grip. The cuts and scrapes that criss-crossed his face burned like hell. One eye was swollen, slightly blurring his vision. His stomach was still churning from the blows it had absorbed. His legs were shaky, knees threatening to buckle. His head was pounding in the brief moments when it didn't feel full of cotton.

He could only imagine how much worse he must look. He'd caught only a brief reflection of himself in the bathroom mirror – bloody nose, swelling around his eyes – the typical result of a bar fight. His uniform, torn and spattered with blood – both his and that of his opponents – provided no hint that he was an upstanding new Starfleet cadet.

This was the first time he'd been in Pike's office; hell, until the summons, he hadn't realized Pike even had an office at the Academy. It definitely wasn't the place a new cadet wanted to find himself, especially under these circumstances.

Pike slowly rounded his desk, approaching until he stood within centimeters of Jim's face. His uniform was immaculate, his demeanor stern. Unrelenting steely blue eyes bored into his. Jim forced himself to remain still under the withering gaze. It was like being called to the principal's office.

A part of him was angry, furious actually, at being hauled in front of Pike like a naughty child. He'd been prepared to be defiant, to tell Pike that he had a goddamn right to go to any bar any time he wanted and, if a bunch of goons decided to pick on him, it was his right – no, obligation – to defend himself. And if the pretend cops who showed up after the fact felt the need to interfere and got punched in the nose for their efforts, well, they got exactly what they deserved.

However, his bravado was quickly disappearing. The Pike who stood in front of him was not the slightly amused Starfleet recruiter who'd confronted him after the Iowa bar brawl only weeks ago. This Pike was definitely not amused. And, Jim was no longer some rowdy kid whom Pike could challenge and embarrass, but not much else. No, Jim was now a lowly cadet and Pike was now his senior officer – and a very pissed senior officer at that – who had the authority to invoke a host of punishments, not the least of which was expulsion. Playing the defiant card might not go so well.

"Kirk, you've been at Starfleet Academy for less than two weeks and you're already making a name for yourself. And it's not a good one." Anger radiated off of the older man who, while barely raising his voice, managed to put over twenty years of command experience into each and every word. Pike snatched a sheet of paper from his desk and waved it in front of Jim's nose. Jim was pretty sure it was a copy of the report filed by the Academy's military police.

"According to the MPs, not only were you out in town after curfew, which is a violation of Academy regulations, but while there you managed to get yourself into a fight with the locals. As if that weren't enough, when security was called, you got into a fight with them as well. Now, given that you're supposed to be in your room studying, explain to me how this happened."

Jim knew the answer to this one. He kept his eyes fixated on a point on the wall directly in front of him. "No excuse, sir."

Pike crumpled the paper in one hand and tossed it hard against the desk. "Don't give me that Academy indoc shit. I'm not your drill instructor, I'm the guy trying to give you a fucking chance to get your life in order and you're the guy doing everything you can as fast as you can to screw it up."

Pike backed off a few steps and softened his tone just a bit. "You know, I thought you actually cared, that you might jump at the chance to make something of your life other than as a punching bag for every thug and bouncer in Iowa. A lot of folks told me I was crazy for recruiting you, told me that you couldn't control yourself, couldn't put aside your juvenile delinquent tendencies long enough to become a productive member of Starfleet. It seems they were right."

This was the time to be contrite and, if truth be told, Jim did feel badly. Pike had taken a chance on him, had probably pulled more than a few strings to get him into the Academy, especially at the last minute. No, Jim hadn't asked for his help, but he'd been quick to accept it. And, as Pike had correctly said, he was already well on his way to screwing it up.

He wasn't sure he could explain what led him to jump the wall and start a fight at the bar. The thought of sitting in his room memorizing crap he'd probably never use again had seemed overwhelmingly oppressive. And he wanted – no, needed – a few drinks. So he'd done what he'd done all of his life, which was whatever felt good at the moment and not necessarily what was the right or smart thing to do. As so often happened, before he knew it, he was . . . well, in trouble.

Maybe he shouldn't have joined Starfleet, shouldn't have allowed Pike to convince him that this was somehow a better life. Three weeks in and he'd yet to see any real benefits. Sure, some of the stuff here was fun and he'd actually found himself better at it then he'd expected. But, for the most part, people constantly yelled at him, told him what to do and what to wear and where to go. And now this, dragged in front of Pike for a stupid bar fight.

Still, his options were limited. He could quit right now and go back to Iowa or he could at least try to show some contrition and convince Pike that he was taking this Starfleet thing seriously. He wasn't yet sure this was for him but he was damn sure he didn't want to run home having been kicked out of the Academy almost before he started. That would be hard to live down.

He forced himself to remain at attention. "Sir. I understand now that as a Starfleet cadet, I . . . shouldn't . . . shouldn't let myself . . ."

Pike gave him a look of disgust. "You told me that you were going to do the four-year Academy program in three years. I'll tell you something, Kirk, at the rate you're going, you're not going to last three more weeks."

Again Kirk remained silent, unmoving, eyes still focused straight ahead, blinking furiously to clear his vision, which still fuzzy from the blows to his face.

"Well," Pike finally said, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

What the hell was he supposed to say? "It won't happen again, sir." The words came out automatically, but even Jim wasn't sure he believed them. Maybe Pike had been wrong, maybe he was doomed to a life of bars and brawls and bad decisions.

The look of pity Pike gave him hurt worse than the anger, cut to his core. "You're damned right it won't," Pike said softly. "Because if it does, not only will you be headed back to Iowa before you can even spell the word, but I promise you that I'll personally pilot the transport that takes you there. Is that understood?"

It wasn't in his nature to back down and Pike undoubtedly appreciated that. It was also clear that Pike had hauled him in here not just to yell at him about the fight, but to make sure Jim realized that things were now different. The shit he'd gotten away with his entire life wouldn't fly anymore. If he wanted to take out his frustrations, from now on he'd be doing it on Starfleet's terms, not his. He either learned that in a hurry, or he'd be out of here in a hurry. Under those circumstances, it was probably best to say what Pike expected to hear and live to fight – oops – be a Starfleet cadet – another day.

He swallowed his pride. "Yes, sir, I understand."

Pike's eyes held his for a long moment, filled with a cross between resignation and hope. Finally, he turned away. "Then get the hell out of my office."