This is my first Star Trek fanfiction, so I don't mind some flames as long as they are beneficial. Please Review/Favorite as a way of telling me whether or not I should continue this because I don't want to post something that no one is going to read. The only thing I own (so far) is my OC Verloren. Enjoy!
Khan hid in a crevice upon the home Klingon planet, Kronos. He hated hiding from his enemies, but for whatever reason, the patrols that so rarely came to the area had increased, and despite popular belief, he did not desire to end more lives—but do not mistake, he was not afraid to.
Painstakingly, he took the secret tunnels through the dark (getting lost once or twice, though he would never admit it) until he found his way back to the cave that had become his lair overnight.
He was not anticipating finding the fire he had left in embers ablaze.
"I was wondering when you would return." He turned abruptly to face who spoke, instincts setting in, part of him taking in the woman sitting on his bed and poking at the flames and the other part deciding the best way to dispose of her. "Now, are you just going to stand there or would you like something to eat?"
It was then that he realized with a start that the woman's eyes were glazed which gave it an eery shade of green. She was blind.
He raise an eyebrow, aware that she could not see his emotions expressed physically. Curious, he took a seat by the fire and looked over her as she ladled whatever was in the pot over the fire into a bowl.
She held out the bowl to him and he accepted wordlessly. She chuckled, "You're quite a piece of work."
"I beg your pardon." He replied coolly.
"You have a sense of narcissism about you. You believe you are better than everyone you see." She seemed to make a point not to look at him, perhaps to avoid any awkwardness of her unseeing eyes watching him, perhaps because she was preoccupied with deciphering him from just the air he carried around him. "You are intelligent beyond your years, though I've no doubt there are at least a few centennials within you. You are also physically apt, surprising for someone your age. You are young, though. You never intended or expected to be the age you are now."
"Who are you?" He offered no opinion or reaction in his tone to her abundance of knowledge.
"I am nothing to you, there is no reason for you to know my name if you take no interest in it."
He was hesitant, but he began to tell her his name, "I am-"
"I have no desire to learn your name either, Stranger."
"Why is that?" He was becoming greatly annoyed with her secrecy and was losing patience.
"Because you will leave me. All of my visitors leave me and I do not desire the pain of heartbreak any longer."
He was intrigued by her now. She had a past, but she had chosen to forget it. She had her reasons for treating him as but a guest in a hotel who will leave when their time comes. She had a purpose as to why she had chose to forget who she was.
"You call me 'Stranger,'" He said. "But I do not have a name to call you."
She smiled, but never once did she look at him—not that she could. He realized that he would have to be careful about referencing sight if he chose to be humble and decide not to attempt to enrage her. "You may call me Verloren."
He raised an eyebrow and when he spoke, he allowed emotion to come into his voice to enlighten his blind counterpart. "Is that not German for 'lost'?"
"You have proven my detections. Intelligent beyond measure. I am impressed; yet, I am disappointed as well."
He didn't bother to hide the surprise that found its way into his verbal expression. Disappointed? She had just praised him for his accomplishments and described him from what she could not see, if she knew him as he thought she did, why would she be disappointed?
As if reading his thoughts (which he found not entirely out of the question) she said, "You have the heart of a man of technology. The voices of the past and of the trees have long since faded from your soul."
He said nothing. He was not angered by what she said, nor was he all that surprised. It was true, after all. He was a genetically altered superhuman, who could do many things with math and science that others would find an impossible feat. He never truly cared for nature or its properties and even all the medical advances he conjured dealt mostly with his own blood and mutating a few cells here and there. Aside from him being a creature from a time long past, there was also a sort of redundancy he felt towards the past. He never really bothered with the history of worlds and things of the such, though if he tried he was certain he would pass any standard.
"I am disappointed because you are far more blind than I, though I suppose, that is not entirely your fault now, is it?"
Now, she looked at him. Her unseeing eyes peering deep within him unlike anything he had felt before. "No," He said slowly. "I suppose not." He scolded himself mentally for how his stupid curiosity lead him to prolong his time with her, but with each second that came between them, he felt more and more interested in Verloren.
"Tomorrow, I will help to make you remember, but that depends on your cooperation and how open you are to receiving the memories." He nodded, feeling that despite the obvious fault, she knew his response precisely.
On the human home planet of Earth, things do not fair well in the search for Khan. Scotty has found the log for the ship that the criminal took which holds the records of where he was transported. However, the log was heavily damaged and, though it can be salvaged, will take time to prepare. Thus giving Khan more time to spend with Verloren and her mysteries.