Title: Sleepwalking

Author: MockingbirdQ

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Death, depression, breastfeeding

Summary: Winona's life after her husband's death and Jim's birth.

Author's notes: I know there is some debate as to whether Jim even has a brother in the reboot (or if James actually is Sam due to a change in birthdates, which would be really messed up. see /?p=1141). However, George Samuel Jr. does appear in the novelization of the film, so I'm going by that. Dates alone would place James T. Kirk as being born about 2 months prematurely, and maybe the lightening storms explain the fact that his eyes are blue instead of brown ;)

The first few months after returning to Earth were dim in Winona's mind. It had been beyond comprehension to go from a medical shuttle to the comfortable apartment she and George kept waiting on Earth. The first day she returned she had spent hours being interviewed by Starfleet command, being the last person who had spoken to her husband when he lived. Between the hormones coursing through her body and her own grief, she couldn't even remember what she told them, only that they frequently had to pause questioning while she cried.

Meanwhile James was in the natal care unit of Starfleet Medical. She had been injected with hyposprays of many different genetically modifying drugs that matured his lungs and prepared him for her early birth, but he still was under medical care his first four weeks of life. She sometimes stayed at the hospital in a shared room, holding this small baby surrounded by monitors, and desperately tried to force her milk supply to come in. As it was, she had to supplement with replicated breast milk at times, something she had never done with her first son.

Two weeks to the day of George's death and James' birth, there was a memorial ceremony awarding her husband a medal of honor due to his saving of so many lives, and commemorating those he had not been able to save. Her parents and George Jr. stood beside her as she accepted the awards mechanically.

The next few months were a blur. James was released to her care, her parents brought her George Jr. as well and life continued on in some fashion. If she rarely slept and didn't speak much to either of her sons, no one seemed to notice. At night, she heard her dead husband's voice in her dreams and wished she had died with him. The fact that James would have died with her and George Jr. would have been an orphan meant little to her. They meant little to her at that point in her grief.

That finally changed when James was about five months old.

She was sitting in a gliding chair with James propped under her on a pillow as he nursed. She did so automatically, knowing that natural breastmilk was superior to the replicated variety and that her husband had always enjoyed watching their first son nurse. She vaguely remembered constantly holding George Jr. at this age as he suckled, singing and talking to him. She didn't do that with James. When he cried she responded to his needs, changing him, bathing him, putting him back to sleep - but she rarely spoke to him. She never sang anymore, not even lullabies. When she thought of James, all she could focus on were the circumstances of his birth.

That day, George Jr. was actually with her, which was rare. She had been sending him to his grandparents for weeks at a time since returning. He had spent the last two years with them, and missed them, but also she just felt unable to cope with him. When he couldn't evoke the positive emotional responses he normally expected from his mother, he settled for negative. Her nerves were too frayed to deal with a demanding four year old. Today, he had simply watched holo-vids all day, only speaking to her when he wanted something he couldn't get himself. He had become rather self-sufficient since her return, out of pure necessity. The mother she had been when she had to leave George Jr. behind two years ago would have felt guilt about that, but the shell of that woman she was now couldn't bring herself to care.

It might have gone on that way, Winona ignoring her sons and sinking into her deep depression forever, if Jim hadn't been so like his father.

Winona was rocking and nursing Jim, watching George's cartoon holovid out of the corner of her eye, but mostly just staring into space, until a sharp pain forced her to gasp and look down.

Jim had bitten her nipple, strong and hard. Confused by her reaction, he studied her very seriously and she glared back. A deep anger filled Winona for a moment, and she understood how parents could seriously harm their children, even infants. Shocked, she planned to go move him into his crib and calm down.

Jim on the other hand, was delighted. It was very rare for his mother to actually look at him, and react to something he had done. He pulled away from her breast and for the first time that she had noticed, gave his mother a huge, toothless grin that showed how pleased he was with her attention.

"Oh…" Winona cried out softly. She recognized that grin. It was the same joyful expression she had seen so many times on her husband's face. The charming grin that said "Kiss me!" and "Don't stay angry at me!" and "You know you love me."

She had spent so many months now missing George, that she had nearly forgotten she still had something left of him with her. Two small "somethings", who desperately needed a loving, involved mother and not the shell of the woman their father had loved.

She lifted Jim up, so they were looking into each other's eyes. He was too small for his age, too quiet. She would have to fix that.

"Hey Jimmy-boy! You look so much like your daddy. My sweet boy! Look at your beautiful smile!" Winona crooned.

Unused to such attention, baby Jim laughed and smiled, not sure what he had done to earn her regard but wanting to repeat it.

George Jr. had moved away from his shows and was standing nearby, regarding her warily. She had a lot to make up to this boy as well, who didn't understand really that his father was never coming back and that he had nearly lost his mother as well, in every way that mattered. Who didn't see any part of the mother who had sent weekly messages from space to him the past two years in the sad, withdrawn woman who had come back.

"Georgie, let's get dressed. Can you find your shoes so we can go to the park? You haven't been out to play enough lately."

His face lit up as well, however although he carried his father's name, George resembled his mother more. Still there was something of George Kirk Sr. in his eyes, and he would continue the name as well.

Ten minutes later, what was left of their little family was walking towards a local park. Winona looked at the city around then and realized that this wasn't where she wanted to raise two little boys. They needed fresh air and sunshine and room to run.

In George's will, there had been mention of a small farm belonging to his grandfather. It was time for them all to move on and make a fresh start.

From the carrier facing out from her chest, Jimmy wiggled with delight and regarded everything they passed with bright eyes. His father's laughing, curious eyes. Georgie held her hand tightly, as though afraid she would let go,

It was time to begin moving forward again. George would have wanted them to do so.

It was time to think of the future.