I do not own Star Trek or its characters. This is not for profit.
Jim Kirk was bored. The sellers were getting nervous. Product after product had been marched in front of him. Normally, his impeccable taste would have led him to the perfect selection hours ago. But today was different.
"Pick something you like," Nero had told him with a small smile. "You deserve it. Won't belong to you, but I think you deserve to pick out something you want to look at."
And Jim hadn't found it. He sighed.
"Mr. Kirk, perhaps we should take a break?"
Jim nodded. "Yes. Let's."
"We have made some renovations to the facility since your last visit. Would you care for a tour?"
Jim nodded. He supposed, the truth was, that he didn't want to be here. Nero wanted a new pet, and he had trusted Jim's selections for the past few years. He knew what Nero liked. But now Nero had thrown him a curve ball: pick something – someone – he liked.
He listened half-heartedly as his exuberant hosts showed him around the facility. They were always happy to see him. Nero was one of their oldest and most loyal customers. Jim could have asked for a solid gold couch to sit on, and they would have obliged him.
He looked around the expanded holding area. He liked to imagine that there was a time when seeing a bunch of human beings in cages would have bothered him. Nero had bought him young; he didn't clearly remember what freedom was like and didn't have much of a problem seeing others deprived of it. A lot of aspects of his job required that he be detached. This was just another one.
"And here is where our expanded recreational facilities will be," the salesman – Francis – told him as they entered an open courtyard. It was currently occupied by two, large fenced in areas.
Jim looked at the group of people in regular clothes inside one of the large cages. "What's it being used for now?"
"Ah, right now, it's a temporary holding cell for some of our newest acquisitions."
Jim spotted a man standing near the fence in a bright red shirt and faded jeans. He was struck by the ferocity in his green eyes and liked the way his unkempt hair crept down his neck. The man locked his fingers into the fence.
"What're you lookin' at, kid?" The man's voice was gruff and deep with a Southern twang.
Jim smiled. He finally saw something he liked. Nearly everyone in his life was at Jim's beck and call. He liked the fact that this stranger was challenging him.
"Mr. Kirk, please forgive me," Francis babbled. "These acquisitions are completely untrained." At Francis's gesture, two guards flanked the man and jabbed him with a tazer.
The man cried out and dropped to his knees. He grabbed the fence again to keep himself from hitting the ground. He looked up at Jim again with a furious gaze. "What the FUCK is this place? Let me out, you sick –" He was cut off as they hit him again until he lay twitching on the ground.
Jim turned to Francis with a dazzling grin. "Good news, Francis. I found something I like. I want him."
Francis's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kirk, but we don't sell our untrained acquisitions. He hasn't been broken yet –"
"I know. But I'm not interested in your regular products. I want him."
"Allow us to break him first and –"
"No. I want him now."
"But we can't guarantee –"
"Nero will pay whatever it takes. He told me to pick something I like, and I like him. We have the facilities to break him ourselves, and we won't hold you responsible. I'll arrange a transport to pick him up tomorrow. We'll take it from there."
"Yes, Mr. Kirk. As you wish."
Jim looked over his shoulder as the man was hoisted up by the guards. They dragged him by his arms towards the door of the cage.
Weird, Jim thought as he walked towards the office to fill out paperwork. First time I've made a decision for myself in a long time.
"So, what did you pick for me this time?" Nero asked at dinner that evening.
Jim smiled slightly. "Something a bit unusual. You told me to pick something I liked, but I just couldn't see anything that interested me. So, while we were touring the facilities, we passed by a cage of new, unbroken acquisitions. I picked one of them. I think you'll approve. He's certainly got spirit."
Nero grinned. "Jimmy, sometimes I forget how brilliant you can be. It will be a delight to break him ourselves. It's been too long."
Jim nodded in agreement, though an unpleasant feeling churned in his stomach. He could faintly remember going through the process himself; it seemed so long ago.
"Did you get a name?"
"The official papers said he's called McCoy. Leonard McCoy. Used to be a doctor."
"Impressive. Might even be handy to have another person with medical training on staff."
"Yes, sir."
Nero pushed back from the table and stroked the back of Jim's neck affectionately. "I knew letting you choose was a good impulse. I'll have to do it again some time. Good work."
Jim leaned into the touch slightly. "Thank you, sir."
Nero dropped a kiss to the top of his head. "Goodnight."
"Do you want me tonight?"
"No, Jimmy. I need you to stay in the Stable tonight, make sure it's secure for our new guest. Send Erin in for me, would you?"
Jim repressed his shudder with practiced ease. "Yes, sir."
After relating Nero's orders to the staff, he headed out to the separate building known as the Stable. Despite the pleasant evening air, he was shivering by the time he got inside. The building had probably once been a stable. Now it was a dungeon.
Scotty greeted him at the door with a grin. "Jim! What can we do for you this evenin'?"
Jim forced a smile. "You've been told about the new acquisition?"
"Of course. We've got the place all nice 'n cozy for 'im."
"Nero wants me to stay here tonight and check it out personally."
Scotty's smile faded. "I … see. Well, I guess we'd best get on with it then."
Jim nodded, willing his shivering to stop. These people technically worked under him. They wouldn't do anything to hurt him – at least, not without direct orders from Nero.
Scotty held the door for him.
Jim took a deep breath and stepped inside. He tried not to flinch at the smell – it smelled like a stable, but worse. Stables didn't usually smell of dried blood. Memories briefly flashed before his eyes. Scotty's hand on his arm was like a lifeline bringing him back to the present.
He was led through the dark corridor, past rows of empty cells to a heavy, steel door. Scotty punched in the code, and the door swung open.
This area – the secure lockdown – smelled strongly of antiseptic. Jim blinked in the fluorescent lights. There was a medical area of sorts ahead of him with a gurney, blood pressure cuff, and other materials one would find in an emergency room. As they swung left, there was another cell, all painted white.
"There have been some upgrades since you last visited, Jim, but not much. Not really sure why Nero –"
"Don't worry about it. I'm sure everything's in perfect condition, Scotty."
Looking as uncomfortable as Jim felt, Scotty unlocked the door to the cell and held it open. Jim took another measured breath and stepped inside. He forced himself not to wince as Scotty locked it behind him. It had been a long time since he had been forced to sleep in a cell – at least, one that actually had bars.
"D'you want me to stay for a bit?" Scotty asked kindly.
Jim turned to face him. "No, Mr. Scott. It's fine. Go enjoy your evening. Starting tomorrow, you're going to have your hands full for a while."
"Yes, sir." He turned and stepped out of view.
Jim couldn't help the slight shiver as he heard the heavy steel door close and lock. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and paced around the cell, testing the bars and looking for any weaknesses. There was a small, high window, but it was out of reach. The single bed was bolted to the floor, so there was no chance of dragging it to the window. There was a toilet and sink, no mirror. That was it. This is where McCoy would be held while he was broken, however long it took.
He sat down on the bed, sighing. It was unlikely he would be able to sleep.
Jim was able to leave the unpleasant night behind him with Scotty released him the next morning and wordlessly offered him a cup of hot, fresh coffee.
"Thanks," he said, taking a careful sip. "Everything's in tip top shape, all set for McCoy."
Scotty raised an eyebrow. "Another Scotsman?"
Jim shook his head as they walked out of the Stable together. "No, he sounded like he's from the South. Alabama maybe."
"Shame, sir. Could use more of us around here."
Jim smiled. "Sure could, Scotty. I'll see you later."
Jim's job for the day was to oversee the proceedings as McCoy was brought in. He was mildly surprised to find that Francis had ordered him to be drugged to make the transfer easier. He watched from the sidelines as his crew lifted the unconscious McCoy onto a gurney and secured him with thick, medical grade straps. They may as well have been moving a couch.
Jim signed off on the paper Francis handed him and then climbed into the passenger's seat of the van. "How are his vitals?" Jim asked over his shoulder.
"Excellent, sir," Spock answered. "He's in good health. Probably slightly underfed and dehydrated. No obvious injuries, but we will perform a full exam."
Jim nodded, gazing out the window as they pulled away. "Keep me informed."
"Yes, sir."
Jim was surprisingly good at waiting. In fact, if his mother could see how patient he had become, she would probably die of shock. But Nero's training guaranteed that. And, in the beginning, the only way to stay alive was to do what Nero wanted.
Now, as his right hand man, he didn't have to worry about Nero killing him. In fact, all things considered, his life was pretty sweet. He lived in a lavish mansion, with a staff to cater to his every whim. His thoughts were cut off as Spock approached him.
"Report?"
"The only injuries he suffered were light bruising and burns from the tazer. He's been awake for just over two hours. He … is very spirited, sir. The fight has not yet left him."
Jim smiled. "I'll go to him now."
"Sir –"
"Now, Spock."
"Yes, sir."
Entering the Stable again was easier this time; he knew he didn't have to stay. He was led back to the cell he had spent the night in.
McCoy was locked inside, still strapped down to the gurney. He had been divested of his street clothes and dressed in a simple white t-shirt and sweatpants. And, Jim noted, he was cussing up a storm.
"Goddamn it, you people LET ME OUT OF HERE!"
"Mr. McCoy," Jim said clearly, standing in front of the bars where McCoy could see him.
McCoy went still, glaring at Jim. "You."
Jim smiled. "Mr. McCoy, my name is Jim Kirk, and I'm here to inform you that you're now the property of Mr. Nero."
McCoy's eyes widened. "What? What are you talking about?"
"We purchased you from Wilson and James –"
"You can't buy people! What the fuck is going on here?"
"Actually, Mr. McCoy, you can. Especially if you're as wealthy and powerful as Mr. Nero. Everyone who works here is his property, including you."
McCoy raised an eyebrow, looking Jim up and down. "That include you, kid?"
Jim's mouth went dry. He hadn't felt ashamed of the fact for a long time. "Yes."
"And you just … all do what he tells you to do?"
"Yes. And you will, too, McCoy. This process will be a lot simpler if you try not to resist us. You will learn to obey."
McCoy stuck out his chin stubbornly. "Or what?"
"Or … things will be very unpleasant for you. Trust me. I've worked with these men. You don't want to upset them."
"Why the hell did you pick me?"
The question threw Jim. It had been so long since he'd talked to anyone outside the system. He shrugged. "Mr. Nero instructed me to pick someone I liked. I decided I liked you."
McCoy rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Well, lucky me. Thanks a fucking lot, kid."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "You know, people purchased from Wilson and James are used for all sorts of things. Experimentation, lethal jobs … there are lot worse places you could have ended up."
"You expect me to be grateful?"
Jim considered that for a minute. "I suppose not. I was just offering some perspective."
"So … what happens now?"
"Now you will learn obedience and the rules of the house. Then Mr. Nero will decide what job to assign you."
"And when do I meet the all powerful leader?"
"When he decides he wants to meet you. Though there are cameras everywhere. He will probably check in on you. Now, if you feel you can remain calm, I can instruct the guards to release your restraints and get you some food."
McCoy's eyes narrowed. "Why in the hell should I cooperate?"
"Because, if you don't, two men are going to come in here, beat the shit out of you, then strap you back down and feed you intravenously until you agree to accept solid food."
McCoy finally looked afraid. "Who the hell are you people?"
"Like I said, Mr. McCoy, I suggest you cooperate. I'll be back to check on you later."
Jim turned to leave.
"Doctor."
"What?"
"It's Doctor McCoy, asshole."
Jim smiled. "Whatever you say, Leonard." He heard the shouting start up again as he left the secure area.
Two days later, Jim went back to visit McCoy again. He had been released from the gurney, mostly because he didn't have any strength left to fight. He looked, in a word, like shit. His stubble was getting long, his hair was dirty and greasy, and his eyes were red rimmed. His lips were cracked and dry. According to Jim's staff, he had only been taking a few drops of water a day. He had refused all food.
Jim couldn't say he was surprised.
"Leonard," Jim said, standing in front of the bars.
McCoy managed to glare up at him from his place on the cell floor. "What do you want?"
"I'm here to ask you to be reasonable. I've warned you what will happen if you continue to disobey my staff."
"And I don't care."
"I don't think you understand exactly how unpleasant this will be for you. You're going to wish for death."
"I will never do what you say. Ever. I'd rather die than be a slave."
"We're not giving you that choice, Leonard. You have no choices, no rights. They won't let you die. They'll keep you drugged up and helpless but awake. You'll know exactly what's happening to you, and you won't be able to stop it unless you obey."
McCoy smirked. "Sounds like you almost care, kid. They do the same thing to you when they dragged you in here? How old were you?"
Jim smiled in return. "Nice try. You think it's that easy to get under my skin?"
"I think I'm already under your skin. You just don't want to admit it."
"Well, unfortunately, you're wrong. I'm not going to hold them back. Accept dinner tonight, or they'll punish you tomorrow."
Jim could see the fear return in McCoy's hazel eyes, but he remained defiant. "Fuck you."
Normally, that was the moment that Jim would leave again. He hadn't seen someone broken down in a long time. For some reason, he wanted to try and make it easy on McCoy. After all, he liked him. "Leonard, seriously. You don't want to do this. You don't know what they're capable of. I do."
"Go to hell." He was shaking almost imperceptibly.
Jim stopped himself from pleading with him. He dropped his gaze to the floor and turned to leave.
"Kirk."
"Leonard?"
"You didn't give in either, did you. You fought them every step of the way."
Jim felt his heart start to pound. "Yeah. I did."
"Why?"
"It doesn't matter anymore."
"It matters to –"
"Enough. Eat tonight, Leonard. Or you'll pay for it." With that, he left the room.
The next morning, he watched via video feed as Scotty and Sulu beat McCoy senseless. They were careful; they knew how to do it without causing brain damage or actually breaking bones. And Spock was on hand to patch him back up when they were done.
They weren't even halfway through when McCoy started begging.
Jim sipped his coffee, glaring at the video screen. He was having a hard time remaining detached. Leonard had no idea what he had gotten himself into, and Scotty and Sulu didn't care. Jim's fingers itched to reach for his phone and call them off. But he knew that would raise more than a few eyebrows.
He turned off the video and tried to get back to his daily duties. It was then that he realized he could still faintly hear McCoy screaming from the next building over.
For the next two days, Jim tried to put McCoy out of his mind. He threw himself back into his work, only getting distracted when Spock would bring him a status report. McCoy was recovering from his injuries and being fed intravenously. He would endure it until Jim made the decision to offer him food again. At the end of the second day, Jim told Spock he would check in personally at the end of the day.
He stopped by the kitchen first, asking for a bowl of soup. He carried it carefully across the campus to the Stable.
"Welcome back, Jim," Scotty greeted, raising his flask in a toast. "Had a nice workout the other day. Been a while."
Jim simply nodded. "Excellent work as always, Mr. Scott."
He said nothing else as Scotty led him through the Stable and into the secure lockdown. Jim had override codes for the lock, but it raised some red flags if he used them.
He could see Spock in the medical bay.
"Sir," Spock said, inclining his head.
"Spock, have there been any changes in his physical condition?"
"None, sir. It would be best if we could get him off the IV as soon as possible."
Jim smiled. "I'll see what I can do. If you'll excuse us?"
Spock merely raised an eyebrow at the slightly unusual request before leaving.
Only then did Jim turn to look into the cell.
McCoy was once against strapped down to the bed. A red ball gag had been shoved in his mouth and buckled. Silent tears were tracking down his face as he breathed in heavily through his nose.
Jim looked him over clinically, noting the bruises and bandages that were visible. The ones on his face were starting to fade. Jim turned and picked up the keys to the cell, letting himself in.
McCoy looked up at him, and it bothered Jim that there was no defiance left in his eyes.
"I warned you," Jim told him, stirring the soup idly. "I tried to reason with you."
McCoy whimpered softly.
Jim looked back up at his face. "I know you're in pain. That's the point. When you disobey, you will be punished. That's how it works."
McCoy looked away before shutting his eyes. A small sob shook his frame.
Jim swallowed hard. He had never let anything like this bother him before. "I have good news, though. This soup's for you. If you promise not to make a sound, I'll give it to you. Then tomorrow, they'll take you off the drip if you continue to behave."
McCoy didn't respond.
"Do you understand, Leonard?"
McCoy nodded.
"And I mean it when I say not a sound. If you say anything, I will gag you again and tell them to leave you on the drip for another twenty-four hours. I'll do the same if you fight me when I gag you. Nod if you understand me."
McCoy nodded again, opening his eyes.
Jim set the soup down on the floor and leaned over, unbuckling the gag and easing it out of McCoy's mouth. He set it on the bed beside him.
McCoy didn't make a sound, just winced and worked his sore jaw. The strap had left angry red lines across his face.
Jim picked up the soup and ladled a spoonful. He raised it to McCoy's lips.
McCoy's eyes were locked on Jim's as he obediently opened his mouth and swallowed. His eyes closed briefly in relief.
Jim wasn't sure what McCoy's eyes were telling him as he fed him silently. He was scared, but he wasn't quite begging. He looked relieved but not grateful. And truthfully, Jim wasn't sure what he was feeling either. Confusing, protective feelings welled inside him. He desperately wanted to lean down and wipe away Leonard's tears with gentle fingers, kiss his cracked lips.
Attraction. He could deal with that. There were certainly plenty of people on the estate that he was physically attracted to and most of them were available for recreation. And occasionally, he did feel protective over the ones he was closest to.
But that didn't explain why he should feel that way over a complete stranger. He didn't know Leonard McCoy, never met him before this week. When he had finished the soup, Kirk poured a cup of water from the sink and held it for McCoy to drink.
He had to curl his fingers into a fist to resist wiping off the drops that ran down McCoy's chin.
"Better?" Jim asked when he had finished.
Leonard nodded, turning his head to wipe his eyes into the shoulders of his shirt.
"Now, if you behave tomorrow, you can have more. Things will be easier for you if you obey my staff." He picked up the ball gag. McCoy opened his mouth and didn't resist as Jim buckled it around the back of his head. Jim carefully loosened the straps a little. "Think that was on a little tight."
Damn it, he thought as tears filled McCoy's eyes again and spilled over. Get a grip, Kirk. It isn't your job to coddle him.
"Try to get some rest," Jim told him uselessly.
When McCoy looked up at him again, unbridled terror shone in his eyes.
Jim couldn't stop himself. He went to the other side of the bed, so his back was to the camera, slightly blocking McCoy. He leaned down and raised a hand to wipe away the tears.
McCoy flinched.
"I won't hurt you," Jim murmured. "Take it easy." McCoy didn't have anywhere to run as Jim reached out and wiped the tears off his face with his thumb. The action seemed to settle him a little.
When their eyes met again, Jim could tell that Leonard wanted to know why he was doing this.
But he didn't have an answer. "Do what they say, Leonard. You haven't even seen a fraction of what they're capable of. And I can't protect you."
Won't, he had meant to say. But "can't" had slipped out instead. He sighed and pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed up to Leonard's chin, tucking it around him.
"Get some rest," he repeated.
Leonard looked a little bit more relaxed; Jim decided that was good enough. He picked up the bowl and left the cell, locking it securely behind him.
He thought he might have heard McCoy whimper slightly as he stepped out of view, but he ignored it and marched out of the Stable.
Jim hadn't seen Nero in a few days; it wasn't unusual. He wasn't in charge of the man's schedule, so he wasn't sure when he was traveling or attending to other business.
He appeared at breakfast the next morning. "And how is our new acquisition … McMahon?"
"McCoy," Jim corrected, forcing a smile. "He's making slow progress. We will know more today about how stubborn he decides to be."
Nero had a wistful smile on his face. "Do you remember any of that, Jimmy? Remember me breaking you?"
Jim looked back down at his oatmeal, appetite gone. "Yes, sir, I do."
"You were the most stubborn slave I've ever had," there was a small amount of awe in his voice. "It made it even more beautiful when you finally broke. It was also a bit of a relief. The staff tried to convince me that you were a lost cause." He clapped Jim on the shoulder. "But look at the man you've become. I knew you were special." He dug into his eggs and bacon with gusto. "Anything special about McCoy?"
"No, sir. I think it will be a fairly standard breakdown, possibly a little on the slow side."
"You know, Jimmy, Spock mentioned something a little odd to me."
Jim froze. "Oh?"
"He said you asked to be alone with McCoy last night."
Jim shrugged, shoving a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth and swallowing. "Spock looked like he could use a break."
"I'd just hate to think that you're not fit to watch over the progress of your own selection. You're not attached, are you, Jimmy?" There was an edge to the question that he couldn't miss.
"No, sir."
Nero smiled at him. "I wouldn't blame you if you were. I wouldn't even be mad. I'd just have someone else oversee the process, that's all."
And put me through conditioning to get all this "crap" out of my head, Jim thought. His palms were sweating. "I'm not attached to McCoy, sir. I will see that he's broken properly."
"Glad to hear it. I look forward to hearing about his progress."
Jim nodded and tried not to look relieved. "Of course, sir." I'm going to get myself killed, Jim thought grimly. Or McCoy. Or both. Damn it, I should let someone else take over, but … I can't. They'll be harder on him. Jesus, what's wrong with me? Why do I care what happens to him?
For that matter … why did I pick him?
Over the next few days, McCoy wavered between defiance and acceptance. Jim knew it was normal. Scotty and Sulu were in charge of his training. Spock patched up any injuries he received from punishment. Jim simply had to oversee the process.
He stayed as far away as he could, relying only on Scotty and Spock's progress reports. He tried not to imagine McCoy's outrage and being taught how to sit, eat, act, and move like a slave. Memories of his own training kept coming back to him, haunting his dreams. At the end of each day, Jim reviewed his progress and made a recommendation for his punishment. Of course, Scotty or Sulu would reprimand him along the way. But at the end of the day, Jim had to decide what the overall punishment was for his transgressions that day. He never ordered anything above level 2. New slaves simply weren't able to handle it.
At the end of the week, Scotty made a note in his report that McCoy showed a special aversion to electroshock punishment. Jim sent a message to his team, encouraging them to use that threat more often and speed along McCoy's progress.
The second he hit send, he lost his appetite for the steak dinner in front of him.
"So, Jim, when will McCoy be presentable for me?" Nero asked, sitting down at the table.
Jim smiled. "Depends what you want, sir. I think by the end of next week, he'll probably be ready to sit beside you at a meal. If you're looking for him to do much else, it will be a longer wait."
Nero nodded. "It's been so long since we've taken in an untrained slave. Is his progress normal?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. I would like to have him here at dinner by the end of next week."
Jim nodded. "Yes, sir."
Jim avoided the Stable until the very last minute. The following Friday, he paid McCoy a visit. He watched as Spock checked him over for injuries.
"How is he?" Kirk asked Scotty.
"Behavin' himself today, sir. Your suggestion about the electroshock punishment worked wonders."
Kirk noticed that McCoy shuddered slightly. "So, he's ready?"
"I believe so, sir. Try it for yourself," Scotty said with a grin.
Spock moved away from McCoy, and Scotty unlocked the cell for him. McCoy stayed seated on the bed. "No new injuries today. His muscles are adjusting to the poses required of him."
Jim nodded. "Okay, let's see how well he responds." He entered the cell as Spock left it, letting Scotty close it behind him.
McCoy obediently kept his eyes to the floor in front of him.
"McCoy," Jim ordered. "Come here."
Keeping his eyes down, McCoy hopped off the bed, moved towards him and knelt at his feet with his back straight.
"Good. Now listen. Nero has requested that you join him at dinner tomorrow night. You'll sit beside him quietly and eat anything he gives you. Do you have any food allergies?"
"Yes … sir."
"What are you allergic to?"
"Coconut. Sir."
"Good. I'll make sure that's not on the menu. Anything else?"
McCoy shook his head.
Jim bit his lip and cuffed McCoy around the ear. "Answer me."
McCoy straightened back up. "No, sir."
"Better. If you make a mistake like that in front of Nero, trust me, he won't be so nice. Answer any questions properly and respectfully. Keep your eyes down unless instructed otherwise. Eat and drink anything that's given to you. That should be all he asks of you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"If he asks something else, and you don't understand, state that clearly to avoid punishment. My team has been working hard on you McCoy. If you fuck this up, we all look bad. And that tends to make Mr. Scott and Mr. Sulu angry. You've only seen them on good days; you don't want to see them on a bad one."
He could see that Leonard – McCoy, damn it, he's McCoy – was now shivering.
Jim removed the thick leather collar from his jacket and buckled it securely around McCoy's neck. He wanted another glimpse of those green eyes, but they remained obediently downcast. Jim saw a tear run down his cheek as he adjusted the placement of the D-ring on the front. "If you think this is the last indignity you'll suffer, you're wrong. It only gets worse from here, so you may as well prepare yourself now. Obey, and you won't be punished. It's that simple." He could heard Leonard sniffling as he straightened back up. "You know it's better than the alternative. Now, go to bed."
McCoy hesitated for just half a second before unsteadily getting to his feet and then lying down on the bed on his side. He didn't make a move to reach for the blankets and Jim nodded his approval. "Good." He left the cell as Scotty unlocked it for him. "Make sure he's cleaned up before tomorrow night. Give him the option to do it himself. I don't think he's ready to have it forced on him."
"Yes, sir," Scotty replied with a grin. "Me and the lasses will make sure he looks good enough to eat."
Jim simply nodded. "Spock, make a note of his allergy in his chart."
"Yes, sir."
"Tomorrow night, we're on. I expect everyone's best work," Jim said as he strode purposefully out the door. He caught sight of Leonard's tear-stained face as he left the secure area.
This is wrong, his mind screamed at him as he left the Stable. It was a voice that had long ago been silenced. He tried to ignore it, but it had been bugging him since they had brought McCoy in. Why now? he asked himself. I've done this before, seen this before. Seen much worse. Why is it getting to me now? What is so fucking special about Leonard McCoy?
He headed towards the gym, intent on working out his frustrations.
"You seem nervous, Jimmy," Nero purred as he sat down at the dining room table and motioned for Jim to do the same.
Jim plastered an easy smile on his face. "No, sir. My team is the best, after all." He took his customary seat to Nero's left. He looked up as Scotty led McCoy in by a leash.
"Hmm … looks good," Nero said appraisingly. "Bring him here."
Jim didn't need to look as Scotty led Leonard into the dining room to stand between Jim and Nero. He knew that his wrists and elbows were secured behind his back with black leather cuffs. The metallic clinking as he walked told Jim that his ankles had been shackled with a one foot chain. Jim grabbed his glass of wine and took a large swallow, trying to ignore the faint tremor in his grasp.
"Down, McCoy," Scotty ordered.
Like an obedient pet, McCoy knelt next to Nero, his eyes glued to the floor. This time, Jim couldn't stop himself from looking. He was clean shaven now, and his hair had been neatly trimmed. He was shirtless and wore loose black pants.
Scott tied off the leash around the heavy oak table; McCoy wasn't going anywhere.
"Thank you, Mr. Scott," Kirk said. Scotty bowed his head and left the dining room.
"Excellent work, Jim," Nero murmured, reaching out and running a hand through McCoy's hair. "I like him a lot. Nice choice."
McCoy shuddered very slightly at the touch but didn't jerk away.
Please obey, Jim thought silently. Please don't piss him off.
Nero's hand went to the back of McCoy's neck, rubbing it possessively. "He's strong. He'll make a nice addition to the house."
"I'm glad you approve, sir," Jim managed, taking another sip of wine.
"Are you thirsty, McCoy?" Nero asked, as if talking to a child. "I'll bet you are. They usually don't let slaves eat or drink much all day when they're going to be having dinner with me." Tattooed fingers grasped his water glass. He cupped one hand and poured water into it, lowering the hand in front of McCoy. "Drink."
McCoy hesitated for a second before obediently drinking out of Nero's hand.
Jim breathed a silent sigh of relief. The rest of the meal passed in much the same manner. Nero would reach out and pet McCoy occasionally and feed him bits of his meal out of his hand like a dog.
Jim forced himself to eat, even though he hadn't had much of an appetite since McCoy had arrived. McCoy was behaving well, staying still and keeping his eyes to the thick carpet. Jim was relieved when the meal was finished.
"I like him a lot, Jim," Nero said, petting McCoy again. "In fact, I think he deserves dessert."
Jim's head snapped up. "Sir! He hasn't been trained to do that yet!"
Nero smiled. "Jimmy, I'm sure he can figure it out."
Jim struggled to control himself. "I don't doubt it. But it won't be in the manner you're accustomed to. He needs to be taught. We haven't gotten that far yet. Give me two more weeks, and he'll be ready for whatever you –"
"I said, I want him now." Nero was glaring at him; no one had denied him anything in a long time, and Jim knew it.
Jim took a deep breath to steady himself. "Sir, there are hundreds of people in this house that can give you exactly what you want; McCoy's not one of them. He hasn't been taught how to pleasure you. Give me time; you won't regret it." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw McCoy stiffen, as he finally realized what they were talking about.
The servants took that moment to slide plates of chocolate cake in front of Kirk and Nero. They both ignored it.
Nero took his napkin and threw it on the table. "You know, Jim, you've been out of sorts these past few weeks. Maybe letting you pick something you liked was a mistake."
Jim tore his gaze away from McCoy and stared at the dessert in front of him. "I'm sorry, sir. I only want to make sure that everyone does their best to please you. McCoy can't do that yet. Give him time."
"You've been punishing him for his mistakes, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, then, allow me to make it simple. Eyes up, McCoy. On me."
Jim held his breath as Leonard dragged his eyes up to meet Nero's for the first time.
"Now. You're going to have dessert, and you're going to do it well and swallow all of it. If you don't, if you fight, you will be punished far beyond anything they've done to you. Do you understand?"
McCoy's shivering became slightly more pronounced. "Yes, sir."
Nero looked up at Jim with a smug smile. "There, you see? I'll even be gentle. I won't judge him on anything other than completing the act. Sound fair?"
Jim hesitated. "Sir, I still have to object. Understanding what to do and physically doing it are two very different things for someone completely uninitiated." He gulped. He knew that look in Nero's eyes; he was furious.
Nero swirled his index finger in the chocolate frosting until it was coated. He held it out for McCoy to lick and suck. "Jim, I'm disappointed in you. You used to be able to take risks. In fact, I thought you proved that by bringing McCoy here. But you've grown … cautious. Complacent. Maybe you need to be reminded of your place in this house, re-learn some of those lessons I taught you myself when you were just a child."
Jim gripped the arms of his chair, trying not to panic. He had gone too far.
Nero continued. "I might enjoy that, Jimmy. It's been a while since I've had to discipline you myself. I think I – OWW! FUCK!" Nero snatched his finger away; it was bleeding. "He bit me!"
Jim stared, mouth agape; Leonard was smirking up at Nero.
"You impertinent little SHIT!" Nero kicked him, sending McCoy onto his back and blood spurting from his mouth.
Jim watched in shock as McCoy moaned and rolled onto his side, spitting blood and chocolate onto the pristine carpet. "Fuck you," he growled at Nero.
Nero smiled, and Jim's stomach dropped. "Jim?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Punish him. Level five."
Jim felt like he was the one that had been kicked. "Sir! He hasn't been trained to – we've only ever taken him to level two! He won't be able to stand it!"
Nero stood, knocking his chair back. "I DON'T CARE! DO IT!"
Jim lowered his eyes out of habit. "Yes, sir." Feeling sick, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "Scotty. Get Sulu. Take McCoy back to the Stable and start level 5." He didn't wait for a response before hanging up.
"As for you, Jim, I'm willing to let this slide. McCoy here will pay for your insolence. Take the time to clear your head and get back in the game. Then bring him back here, properly trained."
Jim stood up, his heart leaping into his throat. "Sir, please … McCoy doesn't know all of the rules. Don't punish him for my –"
"Jim. You're on thinner ice than you know. Now do as I say, or you can join McCoy."
By the time Nero had finished talking, Scotty and Sulu had arrived and were dragging McCoy to his feet. Jim bowed his head. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Get someone in here to clean up this mess. And send Spock to me."
"Yes, sir." He tried not to watch as McCoy fought against Scotty and Sulu as he was dragged out of the room.
Jim lay on top of his covers, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't been able to sleep. He could hear McCoy screaming from the Stable. He had been through level five himself. He remembered screaming as they had sliced through layers of skin until they reached bone and made him watch. They had put him back together, though not without scars.
Jim felt nauseous. This is my fault. If I hadn't picked him … if I'd let someone else take over his training … no, the result would have been the same. Nero wanted too much too soon. But … damn it, McCoy, why did you bite him?
He ran the conversation through his exhausted brain.
He was obeying. What changed? Was it just the threat of having to suck Nero off? No, he even agreed to that he … he bit Nero while he was threatening me. Why would he do that?
He rubbed a hand over his eyes, looking at the clock. It was just past four in the morning. McCoy's screams had stopped a while ago, but Jim knew that wasn't a guarantee that it was over.
Jim's cell phone rang. He fumbled for it. "Kirk here."
"Spock here, sir. We need you to come to the Stable immediately. It's McCoy."
Jim lurched to his feet. "What is it? What happened?"
"We lost him, sir."
"What?"
"He experienced some form of psychotic break; he's catatonic. Standard treatments have been unsuccessful."
"No … how did it happen?"
"Mr. Scott and Mr. Sulu followed all rules and regulations to the letter, sir. Perhaps it was the jump from level –"
"I'll be right there."
Jim took in the exhausted faces of his crew; he wasn't the only one who hadn't slept. The door to McCoy's cell was open, since he obviously wasn't going anywhere. Even so, he was once again strapped down to the bed, wearing soft white scrubs. He was staring at the ceiling, blinking occasionally.
"He has failed to respond to standard stimuli, lorazepam, or electroshock therapy," Spock informed Kirk.
"Sir, if you review the video feed of the incident, you'll see that we didn't do anything that was outside of regulation," Sulu stated.
Jim ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sure you're right, Sulu. He just … wasn't ready."
"Sir, why did you order level five?" Sulu blurted out.
"I didn't," Kirk answered. "Nero did. I tried to talk him out of it, but you know how that goes." He turned back to Spock. "Is there anything we can do?"
"I'm sorry, Jim," Spock said. "He needs real psychological help. There's nothing else we can do here. We can see if he improves in a few days, but … I am not optimistic."
Jim swallowed hard. Psychological help. There was no way Nero would agree to it. "I don't blame any of you," he managed to say evenly. "I'll inform Nero. Spock, let me know if anything changes. Watch him closely."
"Yes, sir."
Jim went into the cell. McCoy had new bruises on his face and new, healing wounds that were covered by his clothes. Jim could see the outlines of bandages under the fabric. He reached out and laid his hand over McCoy's. The older man didn't react at all; he didn't even seem aware of Jim's presence.
"He hasn't reacted to any stimuli, sir," Spock said, standing on the other side of McCoy. "We've tried everything."
"I know," Jim told him. "I just needed to see it for myself." He swore quietly, releasing McCoy's hand. "I'll tell Nero first thing." Jim stormed out of the cell, out of the Stable. He stood in the courtyard, breathing hard.
He didn't deserve this. This is my fault.
When Jim entered the dining room the next morning, McCoy's blood was absent from the carpet. Nero didn't look up at him.
"Sir?"
"What?"
"It's McCoy, sir. We lost him."
Nero's head snapped up. "What?"
"He suffered a psychotic break during his punishment. He's catatonic and not responding to any stimuli or treatment. Spock is not optimistic that he'll recover without psychological treatment."
Surprisingly, Nero's gaze softened. "Huh. Well, it looks like you were right after all, Jim. He wasn't ready. I should have listened to you." He smiled sadly. "I'll make it up to you. Go back to Wilson and James and pick someone else you like. We'll try it again, and I promise I'll listen to you this time."
Jim swallowed thickly. "Thank you, sir. But what about McCoy?"
Nero waved his hand dismissively. "He's of no use to us. Get rid of him."
Jim took a deep breath. "Sir … I appreciate your generosity more than you know. But … I feel that I made an error in bringing McCoy here untrained. If anyone is owed anything, it's him. Please let me take him to a place where they can try to help him. I'd rather do that than have any choice over your property again, sir."
Nero just stared at him. "A place … what, like an institution? That's out of the question. Besides, what kind of life would he have? Wandering around, drugged up all the time? That's no life. And I won't pay for that kind of waste."
Jim went to Nero's side and dropped to his knees. "Please, sir –"
Nero slapped him. "Enough. I don't spend my money on useless things."
"But you don't know what kind of life he would have! He might get better!"
"Jim, get out of my sight and do as you're told. Now."
Jim blinked back tears and left the dining room.
Jim stirred as someone knocked on the bathroom door. He groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and flushed the toilet. "What?"
"Sir, we're ready when you are," Sulu's voice told him.
"I'll be right out." Jim pushed himself off the floor and rinsed his mouth.
This is my fault. He's going to die because I brought him here.
Jim gagged and coughed, trying to keep himself from throwing up again.
"Sir, are you all right?" It was Spock.
"Yeah, just give me a minute!" Jim shouted back irritably.
He had seen this happen before. Slaves were murdered when they became "useless." But this was the first time Jim felt like the blood was on his hands.
Said hands shook as he washed and dried them; he didn't think they would ever feel clean again. He took another deep breath and left the bathroom. He walked down the hall of the Stable, following it out to the back entrance.
There was a white van parked and waiting.
McCoy was strapped to a gurney in front of it, staring blankly at the midday sky.
Scotty, Sulu, and Spock stood around him. He tried not to stare at the syringe in Spock's hand.
"It will be almost completely painless and quick," Spock told him. "He's not aware of anything anyway."
Jim blinked furiously. "Then give the man some fucking dignity. Undo the straps," he ordered.
Scotty and Sulu nodded, unbuckling the straps.
Jim tried to breathe slowly.
Spock took a step forward. "Sir … you can wait until after –"
"No." When McCoy was free, he nodded at Spock. "Do it."
Spock nodded and swabbed McCoy's elbow, readying the syringe.
"Wait!" Jim shouted, making everyone except Leonard jump.
Spock looked up at him curiously.
"Let me do it. I started this … I'll finish it."
Spock looked like he was about to comment but changed his mind. He handed Jim the syringe and switched places with him.
Jim focused on holding the syringe as steadily as possible, bringing it next to McCoy's skin. "I'm sorry," he whispered as his thumb moved to the plunger. He looked up at McCoy's hazel eyes.
McCoy was looking back at him.
Jim snapped back his elbow, catching Spock square in the nose. Scotty and Sulu made noises of shock as Jim rolled under the gurney and swept Scotty's feet from under him. The back of his head smacked into the brick wall as he went down.
Sulu engaged him, exchanging blows until Jim got a sharp upper cut through, laying Sulu out. Spock was groaning and struggling to his feet, blood pouring from his nose.
Jim leaned over and slung McCoy over his shoulder, dodging Spock's uncoordinated grab and dumping McCoy in front of the passenger seat of the van. He shut the door and jumped in the driver's seat, throwing the van into drive. He slammed down the accelerator as he wrenched his door shut, barreling through the chain link fence and pulling onto the road.
He checked the rearview. No one was pursuing. Yet. He fished his cell phone out with one hand and tossed it out the window. He spared a look at McCoy.
Leonard was curled up into a ball, eyes leaking tears.
"I knew it," Jim gasped in relief. "I knew you weren't completely gone."
McCoy looked up at him in sheer panic.
"It's okay. I'll get us out of this. Just stay down."
When McCoy didn't make a move, Jim let himself focus on the road. He had to keep driving; they would soon have the devil on their tail.
End of Part 1
