Beautiful Nightmare

Chapter 1: Say Something

Disclaimer: If I owned Star Trek it would look like this. JJ Abrams will die. You will all die. Oops wrong villain and movie. This is the only bit of humor you get, sorry.

Warning: Slavery, master/pet relationship, slash, implied non-con, attempted/implied suicide, major character death (again, sorry). Put your seat belts on kiddies, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Ya'll knew it wouldn't end there, don't lie. I just had to do this, because of more dreams. Prepare yourselves for feels.

Say something, I'm giving up on you

At first Kirk didn't believe it. His crew, dead? No, Khan was lying, manipulating him. Denial had him pushing Khan away, anger made him lash out, but it did no good to stop the overwhelming acceptance he could feel creeping in. He knew all along his crew was dead. They would have come back for him, they would have sent him a message, and he would be with them right now if they were still alive. He was struggling with these thoughts for a while even before his master revealed the truth. It was only a matter of time before he started to believe it.

So why did he need to keep on living if there was nothing to live for?

Kirk stared at the knife in his hand, the one he used to cut up food he was preparing for dinner. A symbol of his enslavement and fallen status. He was cooking dinner for Khan. The man who ruined his life, the man who owned him, the man who killed his crew.

The man he loved. The man who didn't love him back.

He raised it to eye level, looking at his bleak reflection on the blade. Should he plunge it through his heart and stop the traitor beating madly behind his ribcage? Should he slit his throat, so Khan would never hear his voice again? No more screams or cries of defeat to utter, no more confessions of love, no more pleading whines. Should he carve his face, mar the beauty he was prized for, so he would be unrecognizable to whoever finds the body? Twist the serrated edge into his stomach, slashing his insides to make the figurative sickness become literal?

What was the most painful? What was the least painful?

Which one would Khan hate the most?

He gulped, took a deep breath, and made his decision. Right before he closed his eyes the blade picked up another reflection. He blinked, wishing it would go away. A dark figure stood behind him, steel eyes glaring out of the blade's reflection. Kirk's expression went from resolute to forlorn. The figure approached quietly and took the knife from his hand, which dropped to the counter, weightless. He wouldn't meet Khan's stare.

They said nothing to each other as Khan nudged his pet to the side and continued chopping the food himself. He glanced up once to give Kirk a knowing look, so the pet shrugged off his apron and trudged into the dining room, head in his hands when he sat down. Khan watched him for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face even though Kirk knew all too well how he felt. He finished the preparations and brought dinner, sliding it under Kirk's bent form who straightened, before sitting near, still silent. Kirk slumped back in his chair, looking at the food with a blank face. Khan stared at him, eating, until Kirk picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of meat, bringing it to his lips and chewing. Khan gave an approving nod and went back to his food.

"I won't allow you to commit suicide, you realize." Khan finally spoke up later as they were preparing for bed.

"Why? What do you care?" Kirk mumbled, already laying on his side, facing away from his master.

"I don't, but there is no point in throwing your life away now."

Kirk grumbled something incoherent, refusing to acknowledge the tenderness he felt. He didn't want to admit Khan was right. Suicide was such an easy way out of his situation, tempting, calling his name, but after everything he went through it would mean the ultimate defeat. He toyed with the idea, despite Khan's insistence and interference, for a few more days. Brooding and sulking, he contemplated the benefits of death versus survival. On the one hand, he would finally be out of his misery. On the other hand…

I'll be the one, if you want me to

He couldn't deny his feelings, especially having already confessed. He loved Khan. He knew it was wrong, a psychological defect, but it was there. Sometimes he felt like being affectionate toward his master, who may have reciprocated once or twice, showing restraint and leniency. Idly, he wondered how Khan would react if he increased his affection. Would he turn from treating him as a pet to treating him as a lover? Would their dynamic change? Would Kirk be able to attain some sort of freedom?

While waiting for Khan to come home one night, he determined to test his theories, perform an experiment in lieu of another attempt at suicide. Kirk noted, painfully, how incensed Khan got every time he so much as pretended to commit suicide. The punishment was more painful than the results were worth. If Khan didn't want him to die, it was either because the superior being preferred to do it by his own hands or actually held some sort of compassion for his pet. Kirk would figure out which it was one way or the other.

He already noted that taking on a submissive, affectionate state allowed him to pacify Khan's darker moods, as well as make it easier to get what he wanted. He was sure Khan knew what he was up to, but if it became a genuine, normal occurrence, what changes would they both see? The door opened and Kirk decided to find out.

"So what's the damage today?" Khan sighed as he entered the room, greeted by a not-so-sullen looking pet and a chaste kiss on the cheek. He blinked, leaning back slightly with a confused expression. "What was that for? Switching tactics?"

Kirk shrugged, nuzzling him. "Glad you're home." he mumbled, not feeling very talkative just yet. He gave Khan the silent treatment throughout his suicidal phase, which irked his master to no end.

"Really? Are you hiding a knife in your pocket or just happy to see me?" Kirk blushed, jerking back with a sound of embarrassment. He scowled, to which Khan gave a sly smirk. Kirk found himself burying his head in Khan's neckline again, a habit he picked up when frightened or ashamed. Khan gave a small chuckle, the sound distracting Kirk in the way the vibrations tickled his ear. "So are you feeling better now?" Khan's tone was more serious, yet held concern. It was odd hearing it. He disengaged from their embrace to look into Kirk's face, searching for any signs of the depression or betrayal he assumed would be coming.

Kirk was still upset about his crew's death, still partly in denial of the obvious truth, and still psychologically unable to deal with the entire situation. If he blocked it out, pushed it to the far reaches of his mind and ignored it until he was in a place where he could take it out to analyze without losing his ever-loving mind, he would survive. He tried to think of a sincere answer to his master's question, not wanting to anger the man and get off to a bad start. Tilting his head to the side as he thought over his feelings, Kirk ended up shrugging. His face was a mask, but held no trace of the obvious sorrow or anger he carried for the past few days.

Khan didn't look like he believed his pet's response, narrowing his eyes for a moment, but accepted it nonetheless. Kirk opened his mouth to ask why Khan was so worried about his welfare all-of-a-sudden, acting so strange when it came to suicide attempts, but quickly closed it. He refused to talk about it. The sound of his jaw snapping made Khan quirk his eyebrow in a questioning expression.

"So…how was your day?" Kirk eventually asked, keeping his voice level. Again Khan looked wary of his behavior. Kirk sighed and shook the numbness out of his limbs. "You were right. I just…realized that. So…" he couldn't articulate what he was trying to do, not without making Khan suspicious. He hoped Khan would simply assume the reasoning behind his actions.

"I see." Khan murmured. A new expression tweaked his features as he snaked an arm around Kirk's waist and pulled him closer, putting a hand on the side of his face and into his hair. For some reason, Kirk noticed the amount of attention his master paid to his blond, short locks, always running his fingers through it or tugging it during sex. There was a slight challenge in his eyes when he paused, then closed in for a kiss. He met no resistance like normal, no hesitation or refusal to participate. In fact, Kirk reciprocated. It wasn't the first time, but it was more enthusiastic than normal, resembling their first passionate hook-up. Kirk dared to run his own fingers through Khan's hair and heard a slight noise of approval.

Anywhere I would've followed you

From then on, Khan was greeted with a kiss every night when he returned from work. Kirk's personality fluctuated back to the version which most resembled his original nature, recovering from the shock and momentary lapse into the abyss he experienced after triggering moments. He acted more like a lover than a pet, flirting and teasing as if Khan were a bar girl.

"Hey hot stuff." Kirk called as he passed, grinning. Khan rolled his eyes but made no move to scold him, intent on finishing his work for the night. It was when he received a slap on the ass and heard the giggling of his wayward pet as he ran down the halls that a grim expression overtook his features. He set the tube he was examining down and slowly turned to glare in Kirk's direction.

"You're going to pay for that." He called back. Kirk snickered in response, hiding around the corner as he doubled over to laugh at his rash actions.

Later that night, when Kirk wasn't paying attention, Khan took him from behind and bit his neck, a sensitive area which earned him a shriek as his pet squirmed. Khan held on, using his fingers to tickle the sides of Kirk's stomach, another sensitive area. Hands scrabbled to pull him off as laughter followed shrieks, with Kirk kicking and flailing in his arms. Khan's fingers slowed and slid under Kirk's shirt, the laughter turning to moaning as he licked the bite wound.

"Okay, you win." Kirk gasped, not struggling as much but still squirming under the touch.

"I always win." Khan purred in his ear. He watched Kirk's eyes flutter closed, sighing in a contented way with a small smile curling his lips. He cataloged it in the back of his mind. Just as quickly as Khan attacked, he let go of Kirk and continued to his intended destination, leaving his flustered pet behind.

Kirk wondered how far Khan's own affections would go. He received soft kisses and light touches from time to time, but rarely was the man gentle with him. Khan never cared for the weakness of others and always did things at his own pace, whether Kirk could keep up or not. He didn't forget about his own strength, he just never subdued it for his pet's sake, not even as a reward. Kirk decided to change that soon. Even though Khan rarely joined him in bed because of his superior genetics—at least not for sleeping—Kirk would have to initiate the first move to get his message across.

He was nervous but determined as he approached Khan, facing away from him as he put his jacket into the closet. He placed a hand lightly on Khan's waist and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. Khan paused, turning slightly. Kirk took the opportunity of having a better angle to nibble his master's jawline, leaning into him. The man was always difficult to figure out, never showing his true emotions, so Kirk rarely went over his boundaries. This time would be slightly different if he didn't start reciprocating. His master preferred to start any sexual advances, even though he was now used to Kirk being overly affectionate at times.

The pet nudged him with his nose, pulling Khan back against him, sliding his other hand underneath the dark shirt he wore and kneading the skin. Khan smirked, putting a hand over the one around his waist. "Do you want something?" he murmured. Kirk nipped at his ear in response, tugging his belt. Khan moved both their hands to the front of his belt, using Kirk's fingers to unlatch it. "Is this it?" A trail of kisses went from the top of his neck to his shoulder. Kirk's fingers slowly slid down, unbuttoning his master's pants and slipping past the fabric. Khan hummed.

Then he spun, pinning Kirk to the bed so fast the pet was left disorientated and blinking. Khan gave him a devilish grin and leaned down for a proper kiss, mashing their lips together. Kirk made a disagreeing noise and his master leaned back, quirking an eyebrow. His pet tried to pull his wrist out of Khan's grip, and upon succeeding lifted it to his master's face. He gave a light kiss, again nuzzling the neck. Khan pushed him back down and dragged his teeth across Kirk's throat, already removing his shirt and trousers. Despite the protests, he continued in his rough manner, going in dry and making Kirk yelp.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" There was no question in his tone, only accusation.

Kirk gasped, arching in pain, eyes squeezed shut. He shook his head slowly, pressing his knee into Khan's hip to make him pull out. He tried again to make his desire clear, ripping his arms free and wrapping them around Khan's shoulders to pull him down and into a softer kiss. He rolled his hips, rubbing his leg against Khan's sensually. The master knew what his pet wanted even without the demonstration. He returned the soft kiss and moved in a slow, teasing way, earning a moan.

"Ahhh, you want me to be gentle?" Khan whispered. Kirk licked his lips, nodding. Khan was used to his silence when he was shy or embarrassed about something, noting the tinge of red on his pet's cheeks. He smirked. "You could have told me." he rumbled, licking the tendons of his throat where he bit before. Kirk arched again, inviting him, and sighed. He was already congratulating himself on his idea. If this was how it felt when Khan made love, he would never dream of leaving. His touch was light, lingering just above the skin, pushing in unbearably slow and pulling out just as deliberately. Kirk licked at Khan's mouth, fingers digging into his scalp, to show his appreciation. His legs were wrapped around Khan's hips, barely squeezing, body lifting to squish them closer together.

Suddenly Khan rammed in, clawing Kirk's chest and biting his lip. His pet screamed, tensing and tightening his grip. "But I like to mix a bit of pain with my pleasure." The master purred. A whine was his reply, blue eyes pleading once more for mercy. Khan returned to his gentle ministrations, licking the blood from Kirk's lip and feeling his pet relax beneath him. For his part, Kirk was doing everything to soothe the anger he assumed his master had toward him, kissing and nipping him. Khan continued switching the tempo, going from savage to tender, eliciting cries of pain and ecstasy. In the end Kirk was left exhausted and sore like normal, groaning and writhing beneath the sheets.

Say something, I'm giving up on you

He gave up on trying to seduce Khan's compassionate nature, finally acknowledging the man probably didn't have one. Instead he remained loving, expecting nothing in return, gradually getting used to expressing his feelings. He wasn't sure if Khan noticed what it all meant, or if he even cared. He made it clear there was only lust between them, only accepting the amorous behavior of his pet as a form of obedience. At times he would push Kirk away, sending him a glare to show his disinterest. Kirk never pushed back.

He was mostly content in just resting his chin on Khan's shoulder as he worked, falling asleep at one point in the position. Being near, barely touching, was enough to satisfy him. When it wasn't, he made sure to let Khan know. Crawling into his lap, almost cat-like, he would interrupt him with a kiss. Khan would sigh, pulling him aside and continuing to work. Pouting, his pet would lick and kiss his neck, sometimes biting his ear to get his attention, running his hands up Khan's shirt. Unfortunately, the augment was better at controlling his baser instincts.

But not always. Sometimes, he gave an unexpected response.

Kirk was straddling one of Khan's hips after being pushed away, messing with his master's hair and biting his jaw, when he received an elbow to the gut. He grunted but continued, less adamant now but still seeking attention. He searched for sensitive spots on his lover's body, but got no reaction except for a hiss to stop. Kirk let out another whine and kissed him on the cheek. Khan finally sighed, giving a slight smile.

"Yes, yes, love you too, but I'm working right now."

Once the words left his mouth they both paused. A wide grin was spreading across Kirk's face as Khan chuckled sardonically to himself, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his face. He pushed his hair back, combing through it with his fingers. Kirk took the opportunity to change position, sitting directly in Khan's lap and kissing him while his hands were still in his hair. Khan didn't respond, instead lowered his hands to push Kirk roughly, slamming his back into the edge of the table. Kirk winced, hissing, and arched his back to relieve the pressure. Khan hated how the sight of his pet like that aroused him.

"Leave. Now." He growled. Kirk's face fell, wounded. He got up when Khan moved his chair back to give him room, trudging out of the office. He looked back to see his master taking a deep breath, eyes closed, back straight. His mouth quirked up, a new plan forming in his mind.

When Khan was done for the night, finally feeling his body ache for rest, he went to their shared room. He expected his pet to already be asleep, but when he opened the door a bare, outstretched form greeted him. Kirk lay on top of the sheets, hands beneath his head, leg propped up, grinning. He wiggled his eyebrows and chuckled at Khan's exasperated expression. The master covered his face with both hands, and Kirk liked to think it was out of his own embarrassment.

And I will stumble and fall

Kirk sat staring at his master, listening to him speak and smiling absently. He wasn't even sure what Khan was saying, having asked to tell him a story or some other nonsense, he just focused on the sound of his voice. It was soothing, somehow, despite the danger lurking beneath the surface of his tone, the acidic quality it took when he was angry, or the coldness seeping out. To Kirk's ears, it was a symphony. His hearing was still so sensitive after the gurgles and robotic commands from his previous master, and even before he was a slave, Kirk had to admit the man's voice captivated him.

Khan caught him staring, seeming entranced and barely paying attention, and smirked. "And so then I slit his throat. Quite the sound one makes when vocal chords are cut, like a gurgle almost, from the bubbles of blood in the vessels popping." He said to see if Kirk would react. When he paused, Kirk nodded slowly for him to keep going. His lips twitched into a cruel smile. He knew his pet enjoyed hearing him speak.

What was also obvious was how much he enjoyed hearing Kirk as well. He was less vocal than ever before, instead sometimes going an entire day without speaking or making a sound. Other times he would whine and moan, sounding animalistic and childish. Then there were the days when Kirk spoke to him, saying anything he wanted to hear. But what Khan loved the most was hearing Kirk scream. Whether it was out of pain or pleasure, the pitch and hoarse quality to his pet's voice elated him as it ripped from his throat.

"The tendons wiggled about, almost like…tentacles." Khan added, locking eyes. He could pinpoint the exact moment Kirk registered the words, because those bright irises turned dull as he shut down. He watched as Kirk's smile vanished and he sat up, slowly, uncomfortably. Khan leaned toward him. "You just want to hear me speak, don't you?" His pet looked like a lost puppy, staring at him with those pale eyes and pouting lips. Khan realized he was condemned to silence now. "Well at least pay attention. I prefer conversation."

He waited, but his pet wouldn't speak. Instead he stood to leave. "Where are you going?"

Kirk was adept at using body language to communicate. Khan learned the language well and responded in kind. His pet's tense stance accompanied by that pitiful expression confirmed his suspicions of the mute phase. Khan leaned back against his chair, eyes hard, swiveling to the vacant seat pointedly. Kirk took a step away, as if about to walk down the hall. Khan's index finger raised to indicate the empty chair again. A subtle shake of the head, followed by a trembling lip, was his response. His pet took another tentative step, wary yet hopeful. Khan glared at him, holding him in place.

"You can't be so sensitive all the time."

And you can't always be cruel. That's what those blue eyes told him, darkened and tired. Kirk shifted, looking down and taking another step away. He kept walking when Khan made no move to stop him.

"So be it. You want to play this game, I'll play as well." Khan growled to himself. It was foolish for Kirk to think he could refuse his master anything, especially the act of speaking. Khan understood when his pet simply couldn't speak because the words jumbled in his head, or his emotion only allowed for small noises, or when he just didn't feel like talking. He understood it begrudgingly, rarely forcing his pet beyond that small comfort, because those rare moments of clarity were worth it. But if he was going to withhold this small comfort, Khan would do the same. Silence was what broke his pet the first time, and he was determined for it to break him again.

I'm still learning to love

The air was tense as their silent treatment towards each other continued. The other slaves grew nervous, skittering around the two and waiting for the bomb to drop. Khan used his eyes to command, and Kirk used his to submit, but they never uttered a sound to each other. No matter what Khan did to his pet, he remained mute. He had the uncanny ability to simply close his throat, choke around the screams or moans, shut down his vocal chords just as easily as his mind. His lips remained downturned, clenched tight.

Khan didn't hum or growl like he usually did to show his pet appreciation or irritation. He noticed how Kirk looked at him sorrowfully, desperately wanting him to speak, but was determined to deny his master all the same. They ate in silence, silverware clinking against the dishes, every other sound heightening.

Khan tried playing music to get his pet to sing along, but Kirk just turned away. He refused to be gentle when he touched his pet, handling him roughly to leave bruises and blood behind, but still no screams were uttered. It only increased his anger to the point where Khan would do anything to make his pet make a sound. Surprising him out of nowhere to catch him when his guard was down, using old torture techniques to elicit a sound. Kirk held on, nothing but wheezing gasps and tears escaping his reserve.

For his part, Kirk tried to soothe his master's anger. He didn't want to give up, but he wanted Khan to understand how important it was for him to share his voice, how much it needed to mean, and how it shouldn't be taken for granted. He also missed the sound of Khan. No matter what it was: a stern command, a gentle hum, a small chuckle, even yelling in a furious rage was preferable to this stone cold silence. Kirk thought he was going deaf, sometimes turning on the TV or hovering near the other slaves to catch a snippet of conversation. He feared he was beginning to lose himself again and tried to make Khan see. He would kiss him, hug him, cling to him, but was only pushed away. It made him cry when he was alone, and not even then did he vocalize his emotions.

Khan got creative. He took Kirk's plate of food away one night before they sat down for dinner, putting it in the freezer, forcing his pet to sit and watch him eat. Kirk's eyes were pained, laying his head on his hands. When he closed his eyes or tried to look away, Khan kicked him underneath the table. Not even a hiss or whine, just a hitch of breath. Khan watched him swallow the sounds down. For once, he thought he wouldn't be able to win.

Kirk began fighting back. He bit Khan hard enough to draw blood, despite the aching pain his teeth endured to pierce the hard skin. He clawed at him, kicking and punching, but was too weak to cause any serious damage. The realization that Khan was purposefully weakening him by withholding food and keeping him up late every night sickened him. Sooner or later, he wouldn't have the energy to hold back, would be unable to keep the sounds locked up within him, would be caught off guard and lose the fight.

It only took one altercation. One physical fist fight—the first in what seemed like, and could very well be, years—to declare the winner. The sound of bones cracking, blood splattering, and skin slapping skin were joined by a muffled cry as Kirk hit the floor. Stunned, drained, barely even alive, he couldn't stop the groaning as he tried to get away. His body moved sluggishly, barely an inch, drawing a knee up to push against the floor, his fingers grasping for purchase. He slumped back down, vision blurring and losing color, limbs numb and paralyzed. He couldn't utter a word, but the strangled sounds of defeat still slipped past his barriers to pass over his lips.

Khan felt it was a hollow victory. He would never admit it, but he was more angry at himself than his pet. That was why he picked Kirk up off the floor and carried him to the medical staff, hovering nearby as the doctor worked. That was why he leaned down to press his lips close to Kirk's ear and whispered "I'm sorry."

Just starting to crawl

Kirk returned to a sense of normalcy after a while. He could get used to this type of life, he could feel it. There was no chance of escape now. How long had it been?

Khan took him out more and more, bringing him to his work at the market and letting him sit in during meetings. They would go into the city on special occasions, whether for dinner or entertainment, and it felt like home. Kirk allowed himself to think maybe this was his life now, maybe if things kept going this way everything would be okay. Maybe he could survive.

So it was by sheer luck that a Starfleet vessel happened to spot the planet during a time when Kirk was with Khan at the market. Having already planned two rescue missions and failed, they recruited extra help for this return. The alien species had no chance against the force brought to investigate the system after losing numerous Federation members who were sent this way, let alone the mass amounts of humans who were steadily disappearing over the years.

It was also sheer luck that Kirk got away from Khan during the massive fight between the native slavers and the Federation ships, who dispatched highly trained officers without so much as a warning. One minute it was a normal day, the master and pet sitting together during a meeting, and the next minute explosions rocked them from their positions, sending debris flying and wounding those nearby. Kirk was blown away, startled yet slightly hopeful. He knew this day would come. After all, he was sent to this place to find out why no one ever came back, and if Khan truly killed his crew then Starfleet would have no choice other than to mount a full-on deployment to end the mystery.

In all the confusion—aliens running around being chased by members of Starfleet, humans escaping their captors, and dead bodies littering the hallways—Kirk drifted apart from his master. He couldn't pass up the possibility that he might just be saved. It was desperate, irrational, but he knew he had to try. This was his last chance. He would find a way to rejoin society, he would survive away from this planet and its tortures, or die trying.

Coming across a group of gold shirts, the color brought back many memories of sitting in a captain's chair, training at the academy, walking around on his starship a free man. He sighed, smiling in relief, and approached.

"I'm so glad to see you guys, thank you for coming." He said, elated.

The one who seemed in charge of this group came up to him. "Were you trapped here? We were sent to rescue a number of officers who wound up lost around this area and discovered what these bastards were doing."

Kirk nodded. "Yeah, I was sent here…" he paused, trying to remember how many years he was stuck here. "Well, I was sent to rescue people as well, but had no idea what I was getting into. I wish I had the wherewithal to bring an army with me." he answered.

"What's your name, son?"

And I will swallow my pride

Kirk's throat closed up. Those words reminded him so much of Pike it pained him. He didn't deserve the term of endearment. This was it. He would have to reveal himself, what he was, what he had become, and face the consequences. Straightening, but with a subdued expression, he replied truthfully. "Former Captain James Tiberius Kirk, of the USS Enterprise."

The group greeted him with silence. The battle around them seemed to dim as they stared. Kirk braced himself, breathing hard, clenching his fists.

"My…god…" the man before him breathed, taking a step back and looking him up and down with startled eyes. "We thought you were dead. You…I'm sorry, but the rest of your crew…the Enterprise…."

"I know." He choked out, looking away and swiping at his face to wipe away the tears, pretending it was dust from the fighting. "If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know. I can tell you everything about this place." He offered.

The man nodded. "We know a lot more than you did, son." Again Kirk flinched, but the man didn't notice. "We also heard a notorious criminal was hiding out here, working with these monsters to enslave the human race. Guess it was the same as killing us all off to him." He spat. Kirk knew who he was talking about and prayed they wouldn't come across Khan. He wanted to get out before the man knew, lost forever, and never see him again. The leader's expression softened. "Do you know who killed your crew? The man we've been chasing across the galaxy? You met him yourself once, a long time ago. Is Khan really here?"

Kirk suddenly didn't want to tell them. What did he promise so long ago? He said if Khan let him free, no one would ever know of the superior being's involvement, he would be left alone, free to do whatever he wanted as long as he didn't cause trouble. Did their agreement still stand? He struggled with himself over the decision to tell them the truth or feign ignorance. If he told them yes, he would have to explain why and how he knew it, and what exactly his function was. He would have to tell them of his humiliation, of being owned and manipulated, tortured and abused by Khan. Unable to seek revenge for the death of his crew and his own enslavement. Weak, inferior, unworthy.

But if he told them no, would they eventually find out and ask why he lied? Would Khan escape their grasp, leaving him behind and never interfering with his life again? Or would Khan go after him, refusing to give him up all for the sake of revenge? Did he want to protect Khan, or save his own skin? Would they be able to detain him, bring him to trial, and finally sentence him to death? There would be no other way for Khan's fate to play out. They would have to kill him. Would Kirk be able to live with himself if that occurred?

"I can tell you're distressed at the moment. Just come with us, we'll get you to safety with everyone else, captain."

Kirk nodded automatically, following the officers to a triage center set up on the outskirts of the market.

You're the one that I love

Kirk was attended to by the medical personnel but assured them he was fine, directing them to instead focus on the seriously injured. There was a steady stream of human slaves being brought into the camp and sent to the medical tent, the area flooded with people who never thought they'd see freedom ever again. He knew people were being transported to the ships above in small groups, but there were too many slaves for one vessel to hold and too much confusion to organize them.

He left the medical tent, reminded too much of his own CMO, Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy, to sit there without sobbing to himself. He walked around the camp, attempting to block out his past. Several times he was directed to stay in one place, to remain with the others, but he couldn't look at them. Most of them knew who he was, what he was, and despite their happiness at being rescued they still looked at him as if he were a traitor. He felt like one for some reason, for submitting so easily, for showing his face around the market without so much as a sympathizing gaze. He would always look away, pretend he didn't know what was going on. A selfish monster. He knew he couldn't save them, so he didn't even try.

Now that things were different, he couldn't stand to be around them, to be reminded of his position. He wanted to be part of the rescue party, he wanted to go back in time and do his mission all over again, save them instead of becoming one of them. It hurt him to think he failed and was the one needing saving, and he didn't even try that hard in the first place.

There was a commotion and he was drawn to it. Picking up the pace and using the distraction of extra humans around to snag a uniform shirt lying unattended, he slipped through the crowd and came upon the scene of Khan's capture.

"We caught him among the rubble. Should we just kill him now? We need to focus on getting these people out of here and knocking down this entire slave trade." An officer said as he stood near the criminal, surrounded by guards and handcuffed. There was some blood on him, clothes ripped, as if he were hurt. Kirk's eyes widened as he peered from around the corner. They were in part of the crumbling market now, having commandeered this space, and Kirk noticed the cells nearby where the slaves were put on display.

"No, he needs to stand trial. He needs to answer for his deeds. It's what that boy would have done." The leader answered.

"No offense, but that boy did bring Khan to trial and he was just put to sleep again. We can't risk another escape. This needs to end here and now." The first officer replied angrily. Khan remained calm, still, and uncaring. Kirk remembered it from his first capture. Memories came back, visceral and unending.

They were talking about him, as if he were dead, as if he wasn't among the rescued slaves.

"I understand, but with this new evidence he'll be sure to die by the council's hands. If mass murder wasn't enough, working with these atrocious beasts and destroying that ship should do it."

Kirk breathed hard, trying to keep himself under control. His heart was pumping wildly beneath his chest, painfully, as he watched for what they would do next.

"How do you know he won't sabotage this whole thing on the way back?"

"Put him in a cell for now, we'll deal with him later. That's an order."

"But sir!"

"That's an order!" the leader roared. The men around him flinched and he sighed, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to his head. "Captain James T. Kirk inspired me to join Starfleet, inspired me to be a captain, and inspired me to bring this man to justice. I will not let his memory be defiled, nor will I let him down now."

Kirk couldn't move. Was that man really talking about him? He opened his eyes, realizing they were squeezed shut, to look at Khan's face. He was staring at the leader intensely, curious…pained. Even though he appeared in control and calm in front of the guards, Kirk could tell by his body posture that he was the complete opposite. His arms trembled slightly, mouth tight, jaw clenched, eyes burning. It took a moment for Kirk to think maybe Khan believed him dead with the way they were speaking. He wanted to rush forward, hug the man, damn the man, tell him he was okay, everything would be okay. But it was a lie.

And I'm saying goodbye

Kirk watched as they put Khan in one of the glass enclosures for viewing, keeping his face hidden and making sure the guards didn't realize he was there. When they left, one man remaining to watch over the prisoner, he made a noise outside the door and hid in a hallway as the guard came running out. Kirk slipped inside and closed the door before the guard returned. As he approached, the reflection of his gold shirt shown off the glass barrier separating himself from Khan.

Here they were, back at the beginning.

Khan turned quickly, walking toward the glass and putting a hand on it, wanting to touch his pet. He looked like maybe he was about to cry, or had been crying, but quickly arranged his features into a calmer expression. Kirk was alright, so he had no need to worry anymore. It relaxed him, made it easier to handle his situation. But the expression his pet presented unnerved him. He looked so much like the young captain who first put him in a brig. They stared at each other in silence for a long time, but both knew it wouldn't last. If this was to be their final conversation, they would have to make it quick.

Even though Kirk was relieved, he was resilient in maintaining freedom. Before Khan could speak, he quickly voiced everything he ever wanted to say. "This is the end, Khan. I'm going back to Earth, I may even join Starfleet again. I'm going back to my life."

"You'll let them take me." Khan stated.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"I thought we had an agreement."

"Yeah, so did I."

Say something, I'm giving up on you

They stared each other down. No matter how hard Kirk wanted to walk away, he couldn't. He still had honor, and he still loved this man more than anything. He was tempted to release him, but was interrupted when the guard slammed through the door.

"Sir, you shouldn't be here. He's dangerous!" the redshirt called, grabbing his arm. "No one is allowed in here, you'll have to leave." Kirk let himself be dragged away, never breaking eye contact with Khan until the doors shut between them. He hoped it would be the last time he ever saw those cold steel eyes.

Shouts of alarm sounded only a few hours later. According to the reports from the landing parties, the planet was practically destroyed due to the fighting which took place over the slaves and their rescue. The natives fought back, choosing to bring them all down instead of lose their livelihood—by setting off a mass explosion inside the market. It was the single most vicious act Kirk ever heard of them doing. Crumbling apart, burning, about to implode, there was nothing else to do except escape while they still could. People were being transported onto ships in large numbers.

Kirk ran through the deteriorating building toward Khan's cell.

And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you

When he arrived, even the guards had fled. They stared at each other once again, picking up their conversation from earlier.

"Decided to release me after all?" Khan asked, voice smooth, but not smooth enough to hide an underlying tremor.

"No. I can't let you win this time, Khan." Kirk replied. The building shook and Kirk could feel the heat of fires nearby.

"You know I can escape from here on my own." his expression was false containment, one Kirk could see right through as he tried to convince his pet.

"I know."

"What about Starfleet? If they find me again, they'll kill me."

"I'll get over it, trust me." Kirk replied harshly. His nails dug into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fist.

"You're just going to leave me here to die?" Khan hissed. When Kirk didn't answer right away, he continued in a more restrained tone. "Surely you'll miss me, won't you?"

"I will get over it." Kirk enunciated slowly. The silence between them was deafening. "Just say one thing, and I'll join you." He breathed.

And anywhere I would've followed you

Khan clenched his jaw. "You know I can't. I am incapable of love."

"You just don't want to give up on your revenge." Kirk snapped.

"I'm not going to lie just to save myself. It is beneath me." Khan glared back at him, standing in that predatory manner, muscles tense. He refused to back down, to give up, because of one little emotion standing in the way. His crew was depending on him, there was a larger plan in action. He needed to stick to it.

Kirk could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He was so angry and so scared, wanting to stay with Khan yet yearning for his freedom. If only the man would say those three little words he always wanted to hear, if only he reciprocated what Kirk so openly gave him. It didn't have to end this way.

Say something, I'm giving up on you

"Then I have no choice." He said and began to walk away.

Khan stared at him from inside the glass as the building began to fall apart, lights dimming and sputtering out, the ceiling crashing down around him. Only the spotlight remained until it, too, faded.

Say something, I'm giving up on you

Kirk ran to the camp, joining one of the last groups of survivors as they were beamed on-board one of the starships above. Once they materialized, he felt the ship's thrusters lurch forward as they launched to escape the planet's impending death, lest they be damaged in its wake.

Stumbling along the hall, he found a window and stared out of it, watching his former home explode with Khan still on it.

Say something…

Author's Note: I accept the award of world's worst person ever. Thank you (bows). Okay but in all honesty you can hold back those tears because you'll need them for the next chapter. Yes my lovelies, there's more~