DISCLAIMER:
I (SADLY) DO NOT OWN STAR TREK OR ANYTHING RELATED TO STAR TREK, I ONLY OWN PEYTON AND HER FATHER. (Possibly more in the future)
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“It’s all your fault! She wouldn’t have left me if it wasn’t for you!” My father yelled, his breath smelling strongly of cheap beer. He smacked me once, twice, three times across my face. He grabbed me by my shoulders and slammed me against the nearest wall, continuing to yell in my expressionless face.
After twelve years of continuous abuse from him, I developed a tolerance for this behavior. He’d come home from his late hours at work, then he’d hit the large stash of alcohol in our fridge, and he’ll beat me until he passes out. My mother left my father and me back when I was nine. I couldn’t exactly say things were better when she was still here, but she’d keep my father in line.
That’s one of the only things I admired about my mother. Her ability to stick up for herself and her stubbornness. She never really loved me. If she did, the woman would have taken me with her when she left us for another man. I hope she’s happier now- she used to never smile. It was only in old photographs from before she and my father married. Before me.
Before long, as always, my father fell unconscious on the floor. I glared at him, I wasn’t going to help him to bed this time. I turned toward the wall. Its flower wallpaper was peeling, and the beautiful flowers were faded. The clock mounted on it read 8 PM. It was still early- why not go out? I went upstairs and put make up on to cover up the newly forming bruises and grabbed my old hoodie, then headed out. Iowa was a boring place, nothing to do. Passing a random bar, I decided to get a drink. Like father like daughter, right?
Entering the bar, I realized I had made a big mistake. The place was filled with people and I got anxious just by looking at all the people. I’ll just have a few drinks to clear my mind, then I’ll head back home, I told myself. I took a seat next to a man around my age, maybe older. He had messy blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes. If I was like any other girl, I would be drooling and be all over him in a heartbeat. But seeing as I am me, I obviously didn’t have a chance. So why bother?
He turned and looked at me with a smirk. “I’m Jim,” he smiled. “Jim Kirk.”
“I’m Peyton,” I replied softly. The bartender looked at me expectantly. “I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri please.”
“And I’ll have another shot, too, please. Make both on me,” Jim told the man.
He simply nodded and left to get our drinks.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said shyly. “I could have paid for it myself.”
“I’m sure you could have, but I needed an excuse to talk to you.” He smiled a cheeky grin and I knew that he must have did this often.
I blushed slightly and turned back to the counter. The bartender placed our drinks in front of us and I simply stared at it, while Jim downed his in one gulp.
“It’s not going to drink itself, you know,” Jim laughed drunkenly.
“Heh, yeah…” I took a sip of my drink and bit my lip.
“So, Peyton. Do you come here often?”
“No. Not really. I just- I just needed to get out, you know?” I am so proud of myself. This is the longest I’ve ever held a conversation with somebody- especially someone as attractive as this Jim Kirk.
“Yeah,” he nodded, “I do know.” He leaned towards me and I stiffened. He reached towards my face and brushed my bangs away from my face. “Why do you hide your face? You have such nice eyes.”
I turned away, and drank more of my daiquiri nervously. What the hell was he doing?
He sighed, probably thinking that I was a lost cause. I felt myself internally sigh as well- I obviously was a lost cause. A dark skinned woman with a red dress walked up to the bar and took a seat. She quickly skimmed the menu and listed several drinks. A lot for just one person. Jim noticed it as well, and he commented on it.
“That’s a whole lot of drinks for one woman.”
The dark skinned woman eyed him and added, “And one shot of jack, straight up.”
“Make that two. Shots on me,” Jim told the bartender.
“Her shot’s on her,” she countered, “Thanks, but no thanks.” She smiled at Jim.
“At least you want to know my name before you completely reject me?” Jim asked.
“I’m fine without it,” she teased.
“You are fine, you know.” I felt like puking. “It’s Jim, Jim Kirk.”
She was still silent.
“If you don’t tell me your name, I’m gonna have to make one up,” he said.
She finally gave in. “It’s Uhura.”
“Uhura? No way! That’s the name I was gonna make up for ya!” I mentally face palmed. “Uhura what?”
“Just Uhura,” she smiled to herself.
“You don’t have last names on your world?”
“Uhura is my last name.”
Yeah… I was done with this flirting. I got up to leave and maneuvered my way through the crowd of dancing adults. I just about reached the door when I heard a punch being thrown. I cringed as I turned and saw that Jim was being badly beaten up by four much bigger men. I panicked as each punch impacted with bone, and the smashing of glass. Memories of my beatings flashed inside my head, causing me to tumble backwards. A pair of strong arms caught me and lifted me up.
“Are you okay?” an older man wearing a Starfleet uniform asked.
“Yes. Yes, thank you.” My eyes lingered at his badge. Starfleet. Damn.
The man nodded and made his way over to the fight. A loud whistle pierced my ears. It must have been him. The whole building silenced. He ordered everyone to leave, and so we did. I decided to wait outside for Jim, but as minutes turned to almost an hour, I was getting bored. I was about to leave, but the same man opened the door and rushed past me.
Seeing my chance, I got up from the ground and opened the door just as Jim started to walk out. I bumped into his tall figure, and almost fell backwards again before he caught me. “I’m-“
“It’s fine,” he sighed. “Peyton… right?”
“Yeah,” I squeaked in reply.
“What are you still doing here?” he asked lazily.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” I bit my lip and stared at the ground awkwardly.
Jim chuckled. “You’re cute, you know that?”
I avoided his comment. “So what did the man tell you?” I asked.
“Pike?” He wrapped an arm around my small 5’4 figure. “It was nothing. So where do you live?”
“Wha-what?”
“It’s getting late, and a young woman as yourself shouldn’t have to walk home all alone, so I’ll take you. Where do you live?”
“It’s not too far from here, I can walk, thanks.”
“Nonsense.” He tugged my arm gently and led me to a charcoal colored motorbike. “Come on,” he said as he hopped on. “You can show me the way.”
“Only if you tell me what he told you,” I smirked.
“And here I thought you didn’t know how to play,” he smirked back. “Alright, I’ll tell you. But you have to get on first.”
I raised my eyebrow at him. “Are you even capable of driving this right now?” I asked. He still seemed a little drunk.
“Of course!” he confidently said.
I sighed. What did I have to lose? I sat behind him, putting my arms around his torso. I was about to ask him about Pike once more, but the bike started to speed down the road. “Jim!” I yelled.
“Yeah?” I could hear him smirk.
“Turn right ahead,” I grumbled.
He turned on the next right. “Don’t worry, Peyton,” he said. “I’m a man of my word. Pike dared me to attend the Academy and do better than my father.”
“Who is your father? Take the second right.”
“My father was George Kirk,” Jim said. He told me the story about how his father was only captain of the USS Kelvin for twelve minutes and saved 800 lives- including him and his mother. He had died that day, though. I felt like comforting Jim, but I knew that he didn’t want that right now.
“I’m the first house on the left,” I told him.
The motorbike came to a halt. “So this is where you live?” Jim asked. He eyed my old two story house.
“Yeah, it’s sort of nicer on this inside, don’t worry,” I told him. “Thanks for-“ I was going to thank him for driving me home, but there was yelling from inside the house. The kitchen light from where I left my father suddenly turned on and my old man flung the door open.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he yelled. “I wake up passed out the goddamn floor! You were supposed to fucking put me in my bed you worthless piece of shit!”
My eyes widened in horror and turned to Jim. “You should go,” I said.
“No!” he looked at me disbelievingly. He got up from the motorbike and stomped towards my father. “Who the hell do you think you are yelling at her like that?” he exclaimed.
“Who the hell are you?” my father asked.
“Jim Kirk,” he spat.
“Well Jim Kirk, I suggest you get off my property or never come back or I’ll call the cops!”
“So you’re her father then? What kind of father yells at their daughter and calls her a piece of shit?”
“It’s none of your business of how I treat my child! Now leave!”
“Alright,” Jim calmly stated. “I’ll go. But I’m taking Peyton with me.” He grabbed my arm and led me back to the motorbike. “Come on, Peyton, you don’t need that ass clown. Let’s go.”
We drove off once again, heading south. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“My house,” he replied angrily, “I can’t believe that you have to live with that guy.” His voice softened, “No one should have to go through that.” He turned and looked at me, “Are you okay?”
I hadn’t noticed until now that tears that were streaming down my face. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” I wiped off my tears and held onto him tighter. “Thank you, Jim.”
He pulled up to a small house. “You’re welcome,” he smiled. Wrapping an arm around me, “So, this is my mom’s house, but don’t worry, she and the step-dad are on some random planet for a vacation yadda-yadda…” He flicked on a light switch and showed me his room. “You can sleep here for the night, I’ll take the couch. Unless you wouldn’t mind sleeping in the same bed as me?” he smiled playfully.
“Um…” I paused, not knowing how to reply. I inwardly groaned, I wasn’t used to this sort of thing. I have always been more of a loner throughout my life.
“I was just kidding, Pey,” he said.
“Pey?”
“Yes, it’s my new nickname for you. Do you like it?”
I nodded, “Yeah. I do.”
“Good,” he grinned. He went to the black dresser in the corner and took out two sets of clothes. “You can put these on for tonight,” he said handing me a plain white shirt and an old pair of shorts. “I’m going to go wash off all this… Blood and stuff.” He grabbed the other set of clothes and walked to the bathroom down the hall.
I shut the door and shimmied off my jeans and put on the shorts he gave me. I took off my long-sleeved shirt and put on the larger shirt. I laughed at the shirt’s bagginess. A knock came from the door.
“Are you decent?” asked Kirk from the other side.
“Yeah,” I laughed.
The door opened and he stuffed his clothes in the hamper in his closet. “You should laugh more, you know. It suits you.” He turned back around and looked at me, but his eyes drifted to my left arm. “What is that?” he asked.
Confused, I raised my arm. I didn’t even know that there was a bruise there. It must have been from my dad before I left.
“When’d you get that bruise?” he asked. He snatched my arm and studied it. He lifted the sleeve and saw a mark the shape of a handprint on my shoulder. “Was it from your father?” he asked softly.
I nodded carefully, not allowing tears to fall.
Jim enveloped me in a hug, “You’ll never have to see his sorry face again, alright? I’ll make sure of it, okay? I’ll protect you.”
“But you’re enrolling into Starfleet,” I cried. “How are you supposed to watch out for me when you’re at the Academy?”
“Good point,” Jim smiled. “I guess you’ll just have to enroll with me.”
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I know, I know! I'm a terrible person. I should really stop writing new fan fictions, and try to at least finish one my previous ones. UGH BUT I COULDN'T HELP IT AFTER STARTING WATCHING TOS AND STID I THINK I'VE BECOME TOO EMOTIONALLY ATTACHED TO STAR TREK.
Anyways, thanks for reading, and don't forget to vote and comment! :D
~Rosie