[fanfic] [star trek] the road to nothing.

[bromantic.livejournal.com]

Jim knew this cell by heart. Not because they put him in the same cell every time he broke something (or someone), they’re all the same save for the placement of the window, or the number of bars. Sometimes, there would be an uneven number of bars, did you know that but no one really listened to Jim. So he was content to babble loudly to himself and count down the hours until his mother bailed him out.

It was barely past the third hour when the cop approached his cell and electronically unlocked the cell.

“You are free to leave, James Tiberius Kirk.”

Jim rolled his eyes. Only cops used his full name. Still, he gave them a jaunty wave as he strode out like he owned the world. His mother was unusually quick tonight. Normally, she doesn’t get around to bailing him until late in the morning.

It wasn’t his mother waiting in the lobby though. Jim’s face tightened before lapsing into his devil-may-care grin.

“Georgie!” he belted, “You shouldn’t have.”

“Jimmy,” and it was that tone, that annoying you-did-it-wrong tone. George always used that tone of voice, “It’s time to go.”

“The night’s still young,” Jim retorted, “I want to play.”

“We’ll catch a transport,” George continued, ignoring him, knowing fully well how much it pissed Jim off, “Your bike’s been impounded.”

Jim’s eyes flashed. He liked his bike.

“Now, Jim,” George said. Jim straightened his shoulders and muttered a ‘fine’ and followed his brother out the door. The world stung.

Iowa was all flat lines and endless roads. Nothing leading into nothing. Why the fuck did anyone want to live in this shithole, Kirk will never know. All he knew was that Iowa was George Kirk’s place and that man was the law of god at home. Teach me how to be a Kirk. Jim snorted.

Who the fuck wanted to be a Kirk anyway?

“You saw the ticket,” George said suddenly, enough to make Jim pause.

“Don’t leave your shit out where everyone can see it then,” Jim shot back snidely.

“Jimmy…”

“Oh, right, congratulations and happy birthday,” Jim added like a dim afterthought, “Old enough to bail me out of jails now, right? Fun.”

“Jim, would you listen for one damn second?”

“What other fun legal things can you do now?” Jim quipped, “Gonna change your name to Sam finally?”

“My name is Sam.”

“Whatever you say, Georgie,” Jim winked.

“Jim.”

“Why one ticket?” Jim said suddenly, rounding on him, “Why was there one ticket George?”

George had the grace to wince, “I couldn’t take you—,”

“You mean, you wouldn’t.”

“Jim, I barely know what I’m doing, let alone—,”

“God, why the fuck does that matter?!” Jim pushed George back, “I get it, I get that you want to run away, but you want to run away from me too? What the hell did I ever do to you to deserve that?”

George steeled himself, Jim could see that he had made up his mind, no matter what he said. George wasn’t listening to him. George was leaving him. Figures. Figures.

“You’ll be fine, Jimmy. You always are.”

“The last time you said that, I drove a car off a cliff. So save it, Sam,” Jim turned his back on his brother, “I’m walking home. You do whatever the fuck you like.”

Jim kept walking, kept waiting for his brother to say something, say Jim, let’s go together, no more Frank, no more Iowa, just you and me, but nothing came and he had too much in him to beg. Maybe he was more of a Kirk than he thought. How ironic.

The road leads to nothing. Goddamn Iowa.