Title: Promise Me

Author: drpepperupper

Characters: Kirk/Reaper!McCoy, George Kirk, Sam Grimm, Winona Kirk, Christopher Pike

Fandom: Doom/Star Trek crossover

Rating: R

Warnings: Just swearing

Notes: This took a LONG time. I've been working out the idea, the video, the writing for about a week now. I really hope it is worth it because I put a lot into it. Yes, I made a video to go with this, which I will post here. I'm dabbling in Doom/Star Trek xi again, so bear with me here. ** I would like to note that I've changed the timeline of Doom. I've taken a HUGE leap and I'm sure some people will not agree with what I've done, but I've moved the events of Olduvai to 2233 to fit this story. I know I've taken huge artistic liberties with this and I AM sorry if it offends anyone. Really. Sorry. But it's the only way this will work for me. ** The video I made to go with this story can be found: .com/watch?v=umSenF0VHZw. I THINK there will be some kind of continuation, since my muses are on overdrive right now.

Within the first twenty-four hours of knowing him, John Grimm was sure there would never be a man as great as George Kirk.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing John noticed was that Sam wasn't in his arms. The second thing he noticed was that oh God, he was completely exhausted. The third thing he realized was that he wasn't even in the elevator he remembered getting into to escape the hell of Olduvai.

The last thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone. There was a man standing by the bed he was lying on, staring down at him as John breached the hazy fog of sleep to awareness. The man had a fresh, young face and looked at him with what was either awe, confusion, or repulsion. Or all three.

It was funny how those things sometimes went hand in hand.

John's brain was struggling to think, just like his limbs were struggling to move against the heavy weight of his own body. What the hell? Dark eyes blinked blearily up at the stranger's face, uncomprehending. "You–You gave me a sedative." Oh, God, what had they done to him? John's mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls, dry and hard to speak around. The man snorted and shook his head.

"More like twelve. You're a hard man to bring down."

"... Huh?" Oh, how very articulate, John, he thought to himself while he grimaced, slowly shaking his head to clear the imaginary cobwebs that stopped him from thinking clearly.

"Yeah, once we beamed you up, it took three medics and about twelve sedatives to bring you down. You have a great right hook, you know that?" Why yes, John was aware of that. He wasn't a goddamn Marine for nothin', after all.

"Hu–? Oh." That would explain the bruise on the stranger's cheek. "Uh... Oops?"

"Am I supposed to take that as an 'I'm sorry'?"

"Um..."

"Yeah, okay, apology accepted, Mr...?" Finally, the sedative's effect was beginning to wear off. John pushed himself up on his elbows and blinked a few times, sharpening and focusing his eyes.

"John Grimm, RRTS 6 Special OPs," he replied in the same monotonous voice that the computers did when recognizing a fingerprint or DNA of his. He looked expectantly at the stranger, but when no explanation came, he went on. "Wait, you beamed me up? Where's my sister?" Where was Sam? Oh, God, what if...? What if she had been in worse shape than he thought? "Where the hell am I? How did I get here?" His brain was beginning to pick up speed, his eyes darting around and assessing what he saw. It was going to take a lot of getting used to, this whole 'super strong, super fit, super intelligent' thing that the C-24 imposed upon him.

The stranger, however, looked completely at ease. "Mmhmm. We finally got a lock on your signal when you were on that elevator. We got your transmission for backup a little while ago." His face darkened slightly as he continued, "but I guess we were too late." John scoffed.

"Yeah, you can say again." He looked over the man in his blue shirt. John's eyes zeroed in on the little emblem on the shirt and then nodded slowly. "You're Starfleet," he said, frowning immediately. Starfleet and the Marines didn't get along. The Marines were convinced that the men and women that controlled the galaxies were snot-nosed, crybaby infants who couldn't handle a real situation. In turn, Starfleet hated Marines for their trigger-happy, kill-everything-in-sight, kick-ass-and-take-names behavior. Starfleet was all about peace and crisp uniforms. Marines were the complete opposite. They were at each other's throats constantly, which was the exact reason why John was frowning.

The stranger wasn't frowning back at him, however. He was actually smiling, the smug bastard. "And you're a Marine," he said as he nodded. John was quickly losing his patience.

"You still haven't explained everything to me. Like, for one thing, where my sister is." If John was one thing, he was protective. He had felt protective of the Kid because he really was just a kid and Sarge had shot him. He was not going to take chances with Sam.

"The woman you were carrying? The medics released her when she woke up. She's actually with my wife right now. She's pregnant and getting close to her due date, so your sister volunteered to keep an eye on her so that the doctors and nurses could focus on more pressing matters," he replied smoothly, but John heard the silent that means you. John sighed in relief and swung his legs over the biobed he was currently laying on. The man, however, stood up and grabbed his arm before John could go anywhere. "Not so fast, Superman." John snorted at the nickname.

"I'm sure you're the first of many who'll call me that," he jerked his arm out of the man's grasp, perversely delighted in the small hiss of pain he got for his trouble. The man, however, was quite adamant, and held on until John whirled around to snarl in his face. "Let. Go. Of. Me." Instead of looking afraid, his mouth quirked up a little and, much to John's aggravation, impossibly blue eyes twinkled with barely concealed humor until he turned serious.

"Look, we don't know what went on down there and the captain is gearing up to send some men down th–" John's eyes flew open in panic and suddenly he was the one gripping the man's arm, tight enough to startle but not to hurt.

"No! They can't go down there!" There could still be monsters. Maybe he hadn't killed them all... It was too much of a risk. "Tell him to stop! Tell him... They can't go down there! They cannot go down there." The man looked annoyed for the first time since John woke up.

"Who are you to give orders to us?" Fuck orders! The man didn't understand, he didn't know. They were going to send fresh-faced (most likely a bunch Redshirts, as the Marines liked to joke about the poor, unfortunate souls that always got knocked off) officers down there and they were going to get killed and then everything John had fought for would go to Hell again.

"Not orders! It's... They... Please, tell him not to. They're all going to die if he does." At the man's incredulous expression, John flailed his arms helplessly and tried to make him understand. "I'll tell you everything, I will, if you stop them. You'll understand. I promise you. Don't let them go down there. Don't."

There was no hesitation this time. The man grabbed his comm. and spoke into it quickly, advising the captain not to send down an away team until he had gotten necessary information from John. He stared at John then, assessing him quietly. "Well?"

"Well, we're going to need a private place and some drinks if you want me to do this."

"That wasn't part of the deal!"

"Is now, Mr...?" The man stuck his hand out, an odd little half grin growing on his face.

"You sure know how to drive a hard bargain, Mr. Grimm. I'm Lieutenant Commander George Kirk." John raised an eyebrow at the long title, but shook Kirk's hand. Only then did he realize, with belated shock, that he was completely clean and sporting a pair of doctor's scrubs. He looked different to himself, free of all the blood and grime. Kirk, noticing his late epiphany, just laughed.

"You were a mess, so we put you in the sonic shower and dressed you. Being a Marine and all, we guessed you wouldn't like being put in one of our uniforms... Yours is being cleaned now. You don't look as bad as you did before. The scrubs look better on you than your uniform did, at least." The quip at his Marine getup was not unnoticed, but John only spared him an eye roll, something he'd been practicing for when he saw Sam again over the last ten years.

"Well, it's only fair that they look good on me. I was practically my team's medic, after all." 'Was' was a word he'd never thought could cause pain, but when John thought about Goat, the Kid, Duke, Destroyer... Even Portman and Sarge... 'Was' left a bitter taste in his mouth that he was forced to swallow.

"Marines have medics? And here we 'crybaby space cowboys' thought you were indestructible!" The mock-shocked look on Kirk's face was humorous enough that John had to cough in his hand to muffle a laugh.

"I wouldn't know anything about that nickname." Kirk led him out of Medical Bay, striding with a purpose, radiating energy and confidence as he walked. John really hoped, for Kirk's wife's sake, that their aforementioned unborn child wasn't anything like the man walking in front of him.

"I hope you like orange juice."

"I–uh, what?"

"Well, you know, Winona being pregnant and all, we don't keep alcohol in our room these days."

"I–you... Damn." John had been hoping he'd be able to get completely hammered, talk about what had happened and then not remember it in the morning. Orange juice was just not going to do that. "Uh... Yeah. Orange juice is... Fine." The reluctance to say the words was painfully obvious and all John got for his trouble was a chuckle from the insufferable Kirk.

That was exactly how he ended up in the Kirk quarters, sitting on a couch, a tall glass of orange juice with ice and talking about what had happened. He went moment by moment, extremely thoroughly, telling Kirk everything from the moment they learned that leave was cancelled to the last thing he remembered. He was talking to a senior officer, giving him one hell of a briefing. He talked about C-24, however reluctantly. He explained why it had taken so much to bring him down, to get the sedatives to work. When he was through talking about the actual events, he talked about his team.

When he ended up breaking down when he mentioned the Kid and how he was so young and how Sarge had just killed him, just like that, Kirk didn't say anything. When he fell asleep on the couch he was sitting on, Kirk didn't wake him up. When Kirk ended up putting a blanket over John while he was sleeping, John woke for just a moment, long enough to think that's one weird sonuvabitch, but I like him.

As expected, over the next few days, John had to tell the captain what he had told Kirk the first night. He didn't let himself show any more weakness... He'd already done enough of that in front of Kirk. The next few hours after the interrogation found John and George in the Kirk quarters again, drinking more iced orange juice and just talking. They were in a comfortable lull in their conversation about how Starfleet transporters were becoming more and more stable by the month. Apparently, less and less body parts were being lost. "Although," George had said, laughing, "sometimes the damn thing decides that pants or shirts are no longer necessities and decide to leave them behind. I lost a shoe just last week when I beamed down to Risa."

They were plotting a course back home to Earth, and frankly, John didn't know what to expect. Since the secret of C-24 was out (and he was, of course, the last remaining survivor with the twenty-fourth chromosome) they would most likely want him. They would want him to be a test subject. A lab rat. The thought occurred to him quite suddenly and John felt his stomach clench and he stared dejectedly into his orange juice. George was watching him with a bemused expression, tilting his head to the side. "Need some more ice?"

"No, no. I'm good with the ice, thanks." I can't fucking believe we're having a conversation about iced orange juice. George Kirk, you are one odd sonuvabitch.

"Then what's bothering you?" He would have to ask this man's wife if he was always this goddamn nosey. John refused to make eye contact, instead glaring at his ice as if he could make it melt just by looking at it.

"A lab rat. That's all I'm going to be after this, you know that, Kirk? One goddamn lab rat."

"I dont..."

"I'm the only one with the extra chromosome, Kirk. I'm the only living one left. You think they're gonna just let me walk away?" A hard, resolved expression made its way onto George's expression and he shook his head firmly. A little leap of hope wriggled into John's heart, writhing under the thoughtful, serious expression on the man's face.

"No, you're not going to be a lab rat, John. Not if I have anything to say about it." John shook his head and sighed at George.

"Look, I appreciate it, but you don't have any standing over UAC."

George sighed hopelessly and ran a hand through his hair, deep in thought. John's head snapped up, dark eyes glinting brightly and looking a little flushed. He stood up abruptly, putting his glass of orange juice on the table between them.

"Wait... Just beam me somewhere far away on Earth. Promise me, Kirk. Promise me you'll give me and Sam a fighting chance, a head start. A head start. That's all I ask." When George hesitated, John went on. He was not ashamed to be caught begging, not this time. "Damn it, George, I'm a soldier, not a–a goddamn lab experiment!" George just nodded and smiled a little.

"Okay. Okay. I can do that." John felt a smile, a real smile begin to break like the sun over his face.

"You know, for a 'Fleet officer, you ain't so bad."

"Can it, you trigger-happy bastard."

"Sure thing, crybaby space cowboy."

As it would turn out, George Kirk wouldn't have to beam John Grimm to Earth. He would never be able to. Two days after George made his promise, John was startled into awareness when alarms started blaring and the ship started quivering beneath him. He was in Medical Bay with Sam and George's wife, Winona, who looked like she was about to give birth to her baby any minute. Judging by her pained moans, John was sure that the delivery wasn't going to be a pleasant one. It was made even more complicated when the U.S.S Kelvin suddenly came under attack. John was back in black, sporting his Marine uniform again and wondering very serious if the thing was cursed. Why is it, he wondered, that every time I wear this damn thing, something goes wrong?

He immediately made himself useful, gathering both Sam and Winona under his arms and holding them so that they wouldn't go flying. He was concerned about Winona, making sure she wouldn't fall and hurt the baby. He was holding onto Sam so that she wouldn't go wandering off like she had a habit of doing. "Oh, my god..." He heard Winona mutter as she clutched at her bulging stomach. "I think my water just broke." So it did. John was having a hard time keeping the horrified look off of his face as he called for the medics. "John, find George!" He didn't need to be told twice. He ran out of the Medical Bay, leaving Winona's screams of labor behind him.

All he could think was, Jesus H. Christ, why now?

He heard George's voice yelling over the blaring alarms, ordering everyone to evacuate as quickly as possible. John fought against the raging current of people pushing against him, hindering him in his fight to get onto the Bridge. Where was the captain and why the hell was George Kirk suddenly in control?

As soon as he burst onto the Bridge, John could figure out why. People were dying left and right, they were being fired on and there was one huge ass ship in front of them. George was in the captain's seat, barking out orders and doing a damn good job, in John's opinion. "George!" John shouted as he ran in, attracting the attention momentarily of the newly appointed Acting Captain.

"John! Where's–?"

"Winona's gone into labor. The medics are with her right now. Look, you gotta go! This ship isn't gonna make it," he spoke quickly as the rest of the remaining Bridge crew filed out. There was a look in George's eyes that John really didn't like. He recognized the desperation, the hopelessness and prayed to a God he never believed in that George wasn't thinking what John thought he was thinking.

"John, I need you to go now. Get Winona, get Sam, get on a shuttle and go." Shock settled in John and he just stared at George for a moment, his heart pounding at the realization of what he was saying. He spluttered and shook his head, eyes wide as he looked at him.

"No, George, don't! Your wife needs you! Hell, your kid is going to need you. Just get out of here. Just..."

"This is my responsibility! I need to do this. Find Winona. Help her, John," he growled, running forward and pressing buttons, steering the ship on a collision course. John's chest tightened and he tried to walk towards George, tried to pull him away. "No, John!"

"You can't do this to them! You can just leave them! They're gonna need you, you can't..."

"Go now, that's an order." There was no room for any kind of argument in George's voice. If moisture spilled over either man's eyes, neither of them noticed. "Now, John!" Reluctantly, so reluctantly, John began to turn and race out of the Bridge. George's voice stopped him. "Keep him safe." How the hell George Kirk knew his baby was going to be a boy, John would never know, but George just seemed to be the kind of person to know things. "Promise me you'll keep him safe."

"I will. I promise." Thank God for being super fast, he thought as he raced back to Medical Bay. Sam was still there, looking frazzled and terrified. "Sam, Sam! We've gotta go. Where'd they take Winona?" She looked surprised to see him.

"John? Where's George...?" The bleak look he gave her was enough to give Sam her answer and she put her hands to her face and drew in a shuddering breath. "They... They're going to the shuttle. They're waiting for George, John. Oh, my God..."

"C'mon!" He took off again, running slower than his super-human speed so that Sam could run along. Just ahead of them, medics in white careened around a corner, pushing a screaming woman in front of them. Winona. She... It was too much to comprehend. She was going to have a baby while her husband was killing himself. Jesus Christ, he thought sourly, when did the universe decide it hates us so much? The medics and Winona boarded the shuttle first, followed by the two Grimm siblings. Sam immediately went to Winona and the medics to help with the delivery while John quietly went to the pilot to deliver George's orders to leave.

John sat down heavily in the corner, listening to Winona's labor and the calming voices of the medics as the shuttle sped away from the Kelvin. John never hated himself so much in his life. There was a man, a great man, sacrificing himself when he had so much to live for... It disgusted John because he would have so readily taken George's place. If George had let him, John would have crashed the goddamn ship. He had nothing much to live for, anyway, and he was going to live for a goddamn long time if no one ever shot at him again.

John buried his head in his hand and rubbed away any moisture that had spilled over. He heard the cry of a baby at the same time that George said his last words to his wife and new son. John looked on in morbid fascination as the baby was laid in Winona's outstretched arms. "Holy shit," was all he could say while he thought thank God I'm not a woman. Who the hell would want to go through that much pain only to get a baby and no husband to raise it with?

As they raced away from the huge ship, John leaned his head on Sam's shoulder, listening to Winona's wails and the sound of a new life beginning.

"Keep him safe. Promise me you'll keep him safe."

"I promise."

What the hell was I thinking? Taking on keeping James Tiberius Kirk safe was not a fucking walk in the park, damn it. John was keeping his promise to George, his last favor to a man he probably owed his life to. Because of him, John Grimm was not a lab rat as he had expected to be. He was walking free.

Well, sort of free, anyway. He had a kid to secretly spy on (sure, that didn't sound creepy at all) but said kid was hell on wheels.

Literally. Johnremembered the time he had once hoped that George Kirk's kid wouldn't be like his father, for Winona's sake. Well, as it so turned out, Winona was hardly there for little Jimmy Kirk. So, the one who got stuck with the kid as he rebelled was, of course, John, even though the kid didn't know it. It was a vain hope, as John found out later into Jim's life.

Apparently, the kid thought he had problems and the only way to solve those problems was to be a little shit. Oh, and he was good at it too, much better than John had ever been when he was Jim's age. His early teenage years were the worst years John had ever experienced. Upon arriving in Iowa, he joined the local police force, just to have a cover. He never thought it would actually come in handy for keeping an eye on Jim.

Boy, was he wrong. The first time he came in contact with Jim Kirk via the police department, he had gotten into a bad fight at school while John was passing by. He was the one to break it up. He hadn't known exactly who it was (he was still looking for the kid, after all, since he hadn't been able to get a hold of Winona to ask where her son was) until those bright, blue eyes stared defiantly up at him. John had felt his heart clench in his chest and his breath had stopped for a full minute. Those were unmistakably George Kirk's eyes, he had known just by looking at him.

You're pathetic, John. You knew the guy for two weeks, tops, and you're sure this kid is his by his eyes? John had scoffed at himself slightly. He hadn't noticed he'd paid so much attention to George Kirk's eyes, because he sure as hell didn't, because that would have been a womanly thing to do.

They had been a rather brilliant shade of blue, though; the same exact shade that the kid staring up at him had. "Whadd'ya want?" John glared sternly at the petulant boy until he had reluctantly added, "Officer." Sure, John prided himself on his hunches, but he had to make sure... John had to know if this was the boy he thought he was.

"What's your name, kid?" The kid looked miffed at being called a 'kid', but at another sharp glare directed at him from John, he had straightened his shoulders, a half grin taking the place of his frown and looking positively cocky. John didn't need confirmation after that. After all, the stance and the expression was one he had seen within the first five minutes of knowing George Kirk.

"My name is James Tiberius Kirk."

Oh, damn.

So, John was right in thinking that the kid was George's son. He motioned for the kid to sit down on a nearby bench outside of the principal's office. The first (most likely innocent) boy was in there first and John was sure that Jim was going to get one hell of a chew out. "Why're you fighting, Jim?" He knelt down on the floor and took the kid's face in his hands, gently probing with gloved hands at the cuts and the bruises that were already forming.

"Take your helmet off."

"Huh?"

"Kinda hard to talk to someone when they're wearing a full helmet. You're kinda freaky looking with that on, y'know." He had flinched a little as John poked a sore spot. "Ouch! Stop that!"

"It wouldn't hurt if you hadn't started a fight, kid. Now hold still."

"Take off your helmet."

"No."

"Why not?" Annoying, whining, needling kid. I'm never ever gonna forgive you for this one, George Kirk. You better watch your ass, because when I get up there, you are so dead.

"Uh, 'cause I don't want to. Stop squirming, damn it. Hold still."

"I'll hold still if you take off your helmet."

"OH, for the love of– Yeah. Okay. Fine." Annoyed, John reached up and tugged his helmet off and glared at the kid. "Happy now, princess?" Curious blue eyes had burned into wary dark ones, sparkling with a look John could recognize.

"You're not as bad as the other cops 'round here."

"I–uh, what?"

"You don't have doughnut all over your face, for one thing."


"I... Don't like doughnuts much..."


"Oh, me neither! It gets all over your hands..."


"Okay, great, kid. Now just hold still."


"What's your name?" John had just barely suppressed a groan. What had he gotten himself into?


"Uh... John. M'name is John."

"Oh, man. That's disappointing."


"How the hell is my name disappointing?"

"I thought it would be cooler. Like... Darius, or something like that. You look kinda like a Darius."


"My name is John," he growled, developing a pounding in his head that was quickly heading towards migraine zone.


"John what?"


"John 'you-don't-need-to-know', brat," he had instantly retorted, setting to work cleaning the cuts and putting ointment on them, smiling to himself each time the kid winced and tried to pull away. "Hold. Still."


"If you don't tell me your name, I'll have to find out myself. I can do that, you know. I'm smart." Oh, I'll just bet you are, kiddo, John had thought grimly. 


"Yeah, you do that." John had stepped away just as a big man came barreling down the hallway, bellowing Jim's name and looking like a bat outta hell. Ah. Must be Frank. John could only watch quietly as the boy was dragged by his skinny arm into the principal's office. Blue eyes had flashed to John, looking at him, almost pleading with him before turning steely and resolved. The door had shut with a resounding slam behind him.

Holy shit.


Keeping Jim safe was going to be a suicide mission. The kid was uncommonly bright, a boy genius, really. He just... Didn't put his brilliant mind to good use. As far as John could tell, he used his brain to get into trouble with the teachers, his Uncle Frank and he was sure as hell that he'd be trouble for cops later on in life.

John didn't know how long he could afford to stay in Iowa, looking over Jim. People knew him, had known him for a while, and often commented on how young he looked. He had been in Iowa since Winona settled there with her brother, though he never made himself known to her. Well, at least, he didn't show up at her doorstep. She had been furious with him when he told her about George's orders. Apparently, she thought he could have changed George's mind. John couldn't help but be angry at the accusation. He had tried, damn it! He would have gladly taken George's place. But George Kirk was a man who, once he got his mind set on something, no one could change his course of action. Winona had not understood.

So, in order to avoid getting a restraining order filed against him, he had joined the local police force and waited. He was comfortable with his job. Something about carrying around a gun and being in a black suit appealed to him, apparently. I will forever be the one in uniform, John thought to himself as he mounted his hovering vehicle of a motorcycle and began making his rounds.

He just passed the Kirk residence when he heard tires squealing and music blaring behind him. John didn't even need to look to see who it was.

Goddamn kid, what the hell is he doing now? John wasn't even sure if he wanted to know, but it was his duty both as a police officer and because of his promise to George, so he turned and began racing in the direction of the speeding car. He could hear Jim screaming along with the song and it was really atrocious. The kid was completely tone deaf and it grated on John's heightened senses. He caught up to the kid, his frown deepening when he saw the expression on Jim's face; something in between pleasure and pain, blazing happiness and drowning in sadness. He didn't understand...

"Protect him." He could almost hear George's voice in his ear, urging him along.

Your kid is a real pain in the ass, Kirk. Thanks a whole fucking lot. John ordered Jim to pull over, even though he knew it wasn't going to be that goddamn easy. The kid turned sharply and John jolted. He knew where the kid was heading. Oh, Jesus, please no! Quickly, frantically, John turned to follow Jim at breakneck speed, trying desperately to get close to the kid, to shout out, to do something to stop what John knew he was about to do. "Jim, NO!" Jesus, God, Holy Spirit, whatever is out there, don't let him do it, not now... The kid couldn't even hear his shout and John was so close to throwing himself off of the cliff as well.

It wouldn't be worth it. He'd probably fucking live, of course. Stupid super healing and all.

So, it wasn't totally pathetic of him to breathe a loud sigh of relief when Jim jumped out of the car at the last second, still almost careening off of the cliff but managing to hold on due to pure iron will. You little shit, John thought as he jumped off of his bike and stepped towards the blond-haired demon from hell. Seriously. Thanks a whole fucking lot, George-Fucking-Idiot-Suicidal-Man Kirk. Really could use you here right about now. John wasn't so great with kids. He took off his helmet and stared right down at Jim

"The hell are you doing, kid?"

"John?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me, Jim. What the hell was that?" Jim Kirk was a little more familiar with him than the other cops around. John made a point to help Jim out, even if it was mostly behind the scenes. He'd seen the kid a few times since Jim had met him, but he was still a more familiar face to the kid. John had to absently wonder if that was going to be a problem in the future. The kid didn't answer, much to John's irritation. "Damn it, Jim, talk to me here! You just drove a fu– a car off of a cliff, you reckless k–"

"Freeze! Don't move!" John snapped his head around, looking directly behind him. There was a man holding a gun, looking as scared as he did determined. Oh. So that was why the kid hadn't said anything. John turned away from Jim and towards the attacker.

"Sir, put down your weapon," said John in his calm 'I'm-a-cop-so-you'd-better-fucking-listen' voice, though that did nothing but rile the man up.

"I said freeze!"

"John..." Jim's voice wasn't his normal, loud tone. He sounded small and scared, standing on the edge of the cliff, staring at a madman with a gun. You damn Kirks. Why the hell does the bad stuff happen when I'm with you? "John, be careful!"

"Shut up, kid. Let me do my job." John left no room for argument and instead turned to the man with a gun. "Sir, I can help you. What is the matter?"

"Don't move!"

"John..."

"Jim, stay calm. It's okay. You're gonna be fine, kid." At least... He hoped Jim would come out of this alright. The man holding the gun looked entirely too unstable and shaken. Some men didn't have a reason for attacking at all, just some crazy notion in their heads. This seemed to be the case. "Sir, tell me what's wrong."

"I... I..." The man was shaking, lowering his gun. John breathed a slow sigh of relief and backed a bit towards Jim, who looked almost scared out of his wits. John guessed he'd never been faced with such a real threat before, though John's own heart was pounding because of the almost suicide jump that Jim had almost taken over the cliff, not the man. John could take him down, no problem. The only thing stopping him was Jim. He didn't want the kid to think that he was a... Freak. You are a freak, you genetically mutated sonuvabitch. Don't you forget that.

"Leave us alone!"

"Jim, shut it." John moved slowly towards the man, who had his eyes now locked on Jim. Some people in Iowa were just nuts.

"Go aw–" There was a split second and everything went to hell. The man twitched just a little bit, but it was enough to send alarm bells ringing in John's mind.

"Protect him!" Since when did his conscience start sounding like George Kirk? Oh yeah, since John had gone crazy, too. Maybe he was always crazy.

Damn it, George! I'm a Marine, not a guardian angel! However, he felt his heart speed up and he watched almost helplessly as the man pulled the trigger, aiming it at Jim, the defenseless child. Almost helplessly. In a matter of seconds, John threw himself in front of the bullet, heart pounding and a resounding, "No!" on his lips. He watched the man's face crumple into fear and shock and he heard Jim scream his name. He may have been the equivalent of Superman, but that didn't mean that a bullet in his chest didn't hurt like a bitch.

Because it did.

The man turned and ran away, sprinting off towards John's bike and stealing it before John even hit the ground. Jim was at his side within seconds, pale as a sheet and looking at the blood pouring from his wound. "Jim... Jim," John gasped, putting his hand over his wound and breathing shallowly. Jim peered at his face, trembling and looking like he might pass out. "Jim, go find help."

Jim could only nod and take off running. John waited until Jim's voice faded away with his body to get up and brush himself off. Thank God for C-24, he thought absently as he scrambled, looking for a place to hide. It wasn't long until he found a conveniently placed boulder that he could huddle behind until all the mayhem settled. He could hear Jim's voice, yelling over a few adults' voices, telling them what happened. He heard Jim stop talking abruptly as he reached the place where John had been minutes before.

"He... He was here. The blood is here... Where... Where did he go?"

"Son, you were awfully close to the edge... Maybe he just... Fell." There was almost an hour of calling John's name and searching until the noise faded away. Slowly, still sore from the bullet (which he had managed to pull out, thank goodness), John stood, only to throw himself back to the ground when he caught sight of Jim on his knees, staring down the cliff.

He was making no noises as the sunlight failed and slipped away into the unknown, he just sat there, knees getting dusty and grimy as he stared down where the car and, supposedly, John Grimm was. John watched him quietly, as always, and had to fight not to go over and reveal himself to Jim when the boy's shoulders started shaking. He could hear the quiet crying in the dark and whether it was over the car or John being dead, he would never be able to find out. His heart felt like it was splitting into a million pieces at the sight of James T. Kirk showing John and the silent cliff his sad, broken self.

I protected him, just like you said, George. I kept my promise.

After a while, Jim rubbed his hands furiously over his eyes, stood and began to walk away. He only stopped to stoop over and collect something front the ground. When he stood back up with the object in his hands, John had to strain his eyes to see it. It was his helmet. His goddamn helmet. The one Jim hated to see on John. Oh, Jim. I'm so sorry.

Jim walked away with the last remaining piece of John Grimm in his hands. John Grimm walked away with the last remaining piece of innocence in Jim Kirk's childhood.

There was never a bitterer taste in either of their mouths.

After his 'death', John Grimm moved away. With a town as small as Riverside, Iowa, there was no way in hell that people wouldn't recognize him. So, he went to the only other person he could think of.

He hadn't seen Sam in a long time... She was getting older and he wasn't. It was... Hard to process for John, for some reason and he wasn't happy with it. However, when he asked Sam if he could move down to Georgia for a bit, she was ecstatic. She never missed an opportunity to see her brother, something John always had to smile at. He was down there for a week before they breached the subject of Jim.

"How's he doing, John?" The heaved sigh he gave in return made her chuckle nervously.

"He's... A handful, I'll just say that, Sam. That kid is going to be so much trouble when he gets older, I swear." She chuckled and patted his arm, then frowned.

"Why aren't you with him now, then?" After a long, tense moment, John told her about the accident with the man, the gun, and Jim. He clapped her hands over her mouth and shook her head slowly. "What are you going to do?" John shrugged, chewing thoughtfully on a carrot stick, leaning against her bright kitchen counters.

"I don't know... I'll go up and check on the kid every once and a while. You know, so he won't see me... I'll find something to do in the meantime. I don't know. Not anything related to holding a gun, though. I'm sick of that, now. Bullets and I are too familiar with each other," he chuckled a little, patting his chest with a shake of his head. "I dunno what I can do, though." Sam mimicked his position, leaning against the counter with a carrot stick in her own hand. They stayed in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Sam shouted out. John started, immediately leaping to the defense.

"Medical school! John, you could be a doctor!" John studied his sister silently, after making sure the room was safe from potential threats, and raised a brow. "Well, I mean, you were your team's medic... You liked it, didn't you?" John nodded absently, staring at her earnest, bright face. "Yeah? Then why don't you give it a shot? It'd give you something to do while you watched over Jim... Plus, you'd be putting yourself to good use. You can never have too many brilliant doctors. You've got enough time to become one of those, John!"

That was exactly how Doctor Leonard McCoy came into being.

True to her word, John found that he enjoyed his classes, enjoyed learning about the human (or not so human, depending on the class and the day) body. It took years to become good and took even more time to become great. Truth be told, John wished he could have kept his name because he never referred to himself as Leonard McCoy, but Sam had insisted on a persona ("Just like Superman, John." "If someone calls me Superman one more time... At least make up a new superhero name for me, Sam. It's the least you can do, since you injected me with the damn C-24." "How about..." "Okay, you know what? Drop the superhero names." "Oh, come on, John! I'll even make your costume for you!" "Damn it, Sam! I'm gonna be a doctor, not a goddamn superhero!" "Could'a fooled me.") to protect himself.

He occasionally made the trip up to Riverside, Iowa to check up on Jim, who had been getting himself into more and more trouble. John couldn't understand it, he didn't know why Jim was doing it to himself. In the time that he'd known the kid, John had come to see that he was a genius. Why wasn't he using it to his advantage? Why wasn't he wowing the world with his intelligence? John mentally berated himself on not being there for Jim, not being there to push him into doing something with his life.

However, as it turned out, John was there for one opportunity; one opportunity that would change both of their lives forever.

The bar was packed, mostly with red uniformed cadets getting ready to go to Starfleet Academy the next day. It was loud, flashy and just what John needed to wind down. He was only up in Iowa for a few days and he hadn't found Jim yet. He was kind of worried, since it usually didn't take him long to locate the kid. Gotta put one of those trackers in him so I don't lose him. Damn kid is making this so much harder on my old bones.

"Hey, farm boy! Maybe you can't count. There are four of us and one of you!"


"Get some more guys and then it'll be an even fight."

Apparently, the kid was still struggling with the 'no fighting' concept. John felt his smile descend into a frown at warp speed and watched with disappointment as his work with Jim came crashing down at the same time Jim's face made contact with the floor. He sighed deeply and watched with a shake of his head as the huge cadet really laid into him. It only stopped when the one and only Captain Christopher Pike (good God, was that really Pike? He was so much older than when John had met him, aboard the Kelvin) broke the fight up. He ordered everyone out, but John stayed stubbornly stayed in his seat and waited for Pike to meet his eyes. 


He just tipped his glass of iced orange juice towards Pike in a half-assed salute when the captain's eyes widened at him. As Jim recovered himself, Pike walked over to John slowly, as if he thought John was just a hallucination and would disappear at any moment. "John Grimm?" John just shook his head slightly.


"It's Doctor Leonard McCoy now, Sir." If possible, Pike's eyes widened even more.


"God... I never made the connection that... He was you."


"Mmm, heard of me, have you?"


"You could say that. Starfleet is practically pining for you, you know that?"


"Huh... I haven't gotten a request to join yet." He made his voice completely casual and shrugged. He snuck a glance to the barely sitting up Jim Kirk and shook his head.


"Consider this a request, then. Making good on your promise, McCoy?" The last name sounded odd on Pike's lips and both men grimaced. 


"I fucking hate that name, you know."


"Then why'd you–?"


"Sam's idea."


"Ah."

"But yes. I'm here for him. Stupid, idiot kid. I got shot for him and this is the thanks I get?"

Pike shook his head slowly, disappointment shining in his eyes as well.

"I know. I'm going to try..."


"Yeah, well, good luck."


"... Good to see you again, John. You look... Good." Both men laughed and John downed his orange juice.


"Yeah, well, I'm glad you think so. I'll be stuck like this for a long time."

Pike certainly took his time in talking to Jim and it was obvious the kid wasn't interested when Christopher left. He stayed silent for a while after the captain left and then only broke the silence to shout, "Can I get another one?"

The bartender was hesitating, that much obvious, so John grinned at him.

"Two orange juices, please. I'll get it to him." When the orange juice was set own in front of him, Jim began to protest until John straddled the chair that Pike had recently vacated. "You're an idiot, kid." Jim stared at him like he was an idiot.


"Who th' hell are you? You look... Familiar." Honestly, John was a bit surprised that Jim didn't recognize him. All that alcohol must have killed more than a few brain cells.


"No one important. Just thought you'd like to know that you're turning down an offer that a lot of people would kill to get." Jim just laughed, shook his head and pushed away the offending orange juice that had been placed in front of him.


"Not me, man. I'm fine the way I am."

"What, getting your face broken every night? C'mon, kid, you can do better than that." His heart was hurting, the smile was slowly draining away from his face. Jim had to listen, he had to. 


"Guide him."


This is for you, George. You'd better appreciate it.


"I said, I'm fine."

"You're not fine and you know it." John was completely serious and Jim was sobering a bit, too.


"If you're so eager for me to go, why don't you fly off to Starfleet?"

"Actually, I just got a request to join, just like you and I'm going to be the smart one and take it." Jim laughed again and shook his head. John just stared at him and sighed heavily.

"Kid, you can be so much more if you put your mind to it. Anyone can. That Captain Pike obviously thinks you've got what it takes, so what's stopping you?"


"Honestly? Too much work." That... Was disappointing. Jim was going to ignore Starfleet because he felt like it was too much work? John sighed and ran a hand through his hair, staring bleakly at the young man in front of him.


"No parent is going to be proud of a delinquent son, kid. Make something out of your life." He stood up and Jim saluted him with his untouched orange juice glass.

"Don't be an idiot."

"Yeah, nice talking to you too, asshole." 

With a heavy heart and heavy step, John left Jim Kirk behind.


"Guide him. Promise me you'll guide him."

I'm sorry, George. I tried. I really, really tried. 


The moment John stepped on that shuttle to find Jim Kirk sitting next to him was one of the brightest moments in his life. The kid groaned, however, when he realized who he was sitting next to. "You again?"

"You actually remember me?"

"Yeah, you're the douche that gave me orange juice instead of beer." John chuckled a little, reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask of his best bourbon. He drank from it and passed it to Jim, trying his best not to break into one crazy fucking grin right then and there. Jim tipped his flask at him in a salute.

"Jim Kirk." John drank the sight of Jim in as he took a gulp of the alcohol, noting every feature that belonged to George and the others that belonged to Winona and the traits that were just Jim. Namely the bruises on his face and the blood spatter on his shirt. He nodded at Jim.

"McCoy. Leonard McCoy."

"Stay with him. Promise me you won't let him out of your sight."

Jesus, George. I'm gonna be a student too, you know. I can't always look out for him.

"Promise me. Promise me."

Okay, jeez. I promise. And of course, John didn't let Jim out of his sight. Once off of the shuttle, he grabbed a hold of the kid and proceeded to drag him to his dorm while informing him impatiently and gruffly that he was a doctor, damn it, and that Jim needed to be fixed up. While John's fingers probed Jim's face, he could see the childish innocence that he'd once been captivated by. Of course, that came with the squirming and protesting.

"Hold still!" Just like the old days. And, for some reason, Jim didn't really seem to mind. In fact, in the first day of knowing him, Jim gave John a whole new name, one that he actually liked just as much as he liked his name to be John Grimm. Bones. It was an echo of his old nickname, Reaper, but it was... Better. Mainly because Jim had named him that, and because it was short for Sawbones, a doctor.

Throughout the three years in the Academy, it was Jim and Bones, Bones and Jim. John was busy keeping his promise to George. He busied himself at the hospital, in classes, patching up Jim's broken pieces and fixing everything up again. I am a goddamned superhero. Where's Sam with her costume and name ideas when you need her? He kept Jim safe, he protected him, he stayed with him through thick and thin. John didn't even realize when he stopped doing it for George and when he started doing it because he wanted to, but it wasn't something he let himself dwell on too much.

It might have been the day Jim unpacked in his dorm and had called Bones over to help. He had all of two boxes full of clothes and PADDS and it was normal until John pulled out an old, dusty helmet and felt his throat constrict. "Some idiot of a cop saved me when I was little. Jumped in front of a crazy guy with a gun. I kept that because... Well, he kind of helped me a lot. I can't even remember his face now... That's the last thing he had. I just can't believe he took a bullet for me. That takes some fucking guts." When Bones pulled Jim into a hug, Jim didn't question him.

"I'm glad he did, Jim. I'm glad he did."

Jim's only response was to chuckle and hold John tighter to him. "Yeah, I'm glad you did, too."

It went like that for three years. They had their good days and their bad days, especially the day of Jim's hearing after he cheated on the Kobayashi Maru test. John couldn't take more than eighteen steps away from Jim before he turned right back around and smuggled him onto the shuttle heading for the Enterprise. He was there with Jim, jabbing hypos in to the kid's neck to counterpoint some awful allergic reaction (only Jim, he thought with a scowl, only Jim). He was there, taking the blame while Jim, Christopher Pike and Spock had a rousing little shouting match.

He was there when Spock kicked him out of the ship and he ripped into that damn green-blooded hobgoblin like a hormonal girlfriend for booting Jim out to God knows where. He was there when Jim and Spock made their plan to go on an idiotic suicide mission (if John pulled Jim out of the room for just a second to hold him close and demand that Jim come back in one piece, no one mentioned it) and he was there to catch Jim and Captain Pike when they both stumbled off of the transporter pad. "Jim!" The name of his best friend left John's lungs in a whoosh of air, somewhere between a curse and a prayer; between an admission of love and a slap to the face.

He was there for the ceremony where Jim finally got named Captain of the Enterprise, but he wasn't the only one there.

Jim turned to the cadets in the room after shaking Pike's hand, smiling just a little with his blue eyes shining.

"Keep him safe."

"I promise."

John clapped slowly, nodding at Jim with his own eyes brimming over with tears of joy and pride. That was his best friend up there.

"Guide him."

"I promise."

The sun was shining bright on all of them, glimmering most of all on Jim who looked like he was either about to faint or shout his joy to the high heavens. Bones really hoped it would be the latter.

"Stay with him."

"I promise."

When they all began to mill around after the ceremony, John had an armful of Jim before he could really react. "You did it!" John exclaimed and Jim's laugh was breathless and overjoyed in his ear. If Bones picked him up and swung him around, no one complained.

"We did it! I'm going to be captain and you're going to be my CMO, Bones. No backing out now, old man!"

"I know," John replied with a smile. Jim pressed his forehead to John's.

"Good."

"I'll follow you anywhere."

"I know."

"Good."

"Love him, because I couldn't."

Their eyes were as warm as the summer and the sun smiled down on the two of them, warming them with the gentle kiss of a father's love.

"I can do that."