Warnings: Scary emotional stuff, m/m slash, don't like don't read.

Disclaimer: Roddenberry's characters. Then Abrams'. I'm just borrowing them and will put them back when I'm done.

A/N: Common fanon includes the following ideas. 1. Reboot Jim went to Tarsus as well. 2. 'Frank' is Jim's abusive stepfather. 3. Winona Kirk was a detached mother. Well, none of that is actually stated. There's nothing about Tarsus. The only support for the other two is Frank calling Jim when he steals the car, yelling at him and talking about his mother being off-planet. And the biggest one of all: Jim is a mess. He drinks, he sleeps around (or it looks like it, anyway) he enjoys getting into bar fights, he's a repeat offender. Why would he be this badly broken if none of these things were true? I decided, on a whim, to explore that possibility, and it turned itself into a five-and-one. It's largely based on my own mental state, despite the fact I don't act like Jim Kirk.

Winona and Frank

There is no good reason why James Kirk should be this broken. Winona and Frank know this. Winona couldn't drop out of Starfleet, since she was a single mom now, but she angled for the planetside assignments and got them four times out of five. A few years later, she remarried. Frank was a good man, and if he had a tendency to shout and swear when angry, well, nobody's perfect. He and Winona were there for Jim when he needed them and pushed him away when he needed that. They instilled in him unselfishness and courage, a tendency to stand up for what was right, and a love of learning. Frank could be gruff, but he'd never laid a hand on Jim, and if he shouted when Jim stole his car, wouldn't you?

Christopher Pike

There is no sensible reason by Jim Kirk should be this broken. Pike had known George, and he had never acted like this. George didn't get into fights unless he couldn't avoid them. He was careful with his drinking, and he was always a gentleman to the ladies. Pike knew he shouldn't compare Jim with George, after all, the boy had never known his father, and who could compare to George, but he couldn't help it. It clearly wasn't in the boy's genes to hit on girls, pick fights, and drink 'till he dropped. Pike didn't know Frank very well, but he was pretty sure Frank wasn't the role model for this sort of behavior. Sure, it had to be hard, living under George Kirk's shadow, but Winona had done her utmost to avoid it. Jim's actions in the bar were those of a desperate, broken man trying to hold on, or of a man who didn't care. And Jim cared. Pike was sure of it when Jim turned up at the shuttle. So what had broken him? It didn't make sense.

Gaila

There was no reason that Gaila could think of for Jim Kirk to be so broken. Generations of being bred as sex slaves had instilled a good sense of one's partner in Gaila's people. Jim had a passion in him that went beyond pure pleasure, which Gaila mistook at first for love. After she got over the embarrassment and indignation of realizing she was wrong, she reevaluated Jim Kirk and realized that it was desperation, a desperation so ingrained that it had to be the product of years of internal turmoil. But from what? And why her? It had nothing to do with sex itself, he had been too sure of himself for that. More like he was trying to distract himself.

Spock Prime

There is no logical reason why James Kirk should be as broken as he is. The Vulcan in Spock Prime protests at the metaphor, but the human in him insists it is the only word in Standard which accurately describes the condition. In his mind-meld with this new Jim, he was relieved and happy to realize that this Jim had never been to Tarsus IV. This Jim had never needed to become JT. Spock knew how much pain from those days his old friend still carried with him. Why, then, did this Jim feel about to break under his mental touch? This Jim was angrier, more passionate, more volatile, even slightly self-centered in a way more tangible than his Jim. Furthermore, this Jim was always, always afraid of losing control.

Spock

There was no logical reason why James Kirk should be broken. Spock disliked the word, but could think of no other. As he laid his hands upon the human's neck, rage tearing down the shields compromised by grief, he felt the layers of Kirk's mind. The outmost layer, which showed on his face, was the attempt to produce an unconcerned, jeering expression, underneath, Kirk's mind was positively shouting that he had to do it, Spock didn't understand, there was no other way, he was sorry, he knew it wasn't true.

Then how was he able to do it? How could he say such things? And then Spock saw it. Underneath it all, a tiny part of Kirk's mind unaffected by any emotion. This was the core from which he drew the heartless words. It nearly angered Spock still further—a human have true emotional control? But no, this was not control, this was dead space, and the emotions closer to the surface had no leash. The shock of it all was what drew Spock to the present enough to hear his father calling his name. Perhaps it was illogical to wonder, but what condition or experience could cause a damaged psyche like this?

Bones

There is no medical reason why Jim should be this broken, but Bones hasn't looked for one since he gave Jim his first physical. He doesn't need a psych eval, he knows Jim, and that's good enough. Bones isn't sure why, 'cause Jim might just be crazier than Jocelyn, but he trusts the kid, and tells him so the first time Jim breaks down in his arms.

"I hate this, Bones," Jim sobs as Bones rocks him. "I hate being capable of saying things like I did to Spock. And mom. Even the girls I slept with. Gaila, you know she's dead? Killed on the Farragut. I don't know what I'm capable of and it scares me so much."

Bones knows how tactile Jim is, and so he does the only thing he can think of that might get through to Jim. He kisses him. Jim's not one of those people with 21st century morals or boundaries, and Bones knows that if Jim wants to stay platonic, he can take comfort from the kiss and leave it at that. But, in one of those almost telepathic transferences that happen with kisses sometimes, he knows that Jim wants more from him, and that Jim knows he wants it, too. When Jim breaks the kiss for air, they stare into each others' eyes and it's going to be okay.

"Sometimes," says Bones gruffly, "you need to be capable of anything to be Captain. And the fact that you're worried about it proves you're still human. I trust you." Jim furrows his brow like he wants to complain. Bones cuts him off. "You got me, remember? I'm here to pull you back if you go too far. You can trust me, Jim."

"I know, and I do," says Jim. "But...are you sure…"

"I'm a doctor, Jim, not some naïve little girl. Would I love you if you were some kind of sociopath?" He didn't mean to say love. He meant to say stick around, or hang out with, or even trust. Freudian slip, he supposes, because he does love Jim, and has for a while.

"I love you, too," says Jim quietly.

"I know I'm not on the bridge every day," says Bones, suppressing the urge to squee or kiss Jim again (he did just say he wasn't a little girl), even though here's confirmation that Jim loves him, too. "But I bet the hobgoblin will look out for you, too."

"He hates me," says Jim. "After what I said…" Bones rolls his eyes.

"He's a touch telepath, you idiot. What do you think he picked up while he was strangling you?"

Jim looks shocked. Then he smiles a little. Then Bones gives up on acting like a grown man and kisses him again.

Fin