Dissociation
"…Space is disease and danger, wrapped in darkness and silence…"
"…James T. Kirk was considered to be a great man. He went on to captain the U.S.S. Enterprise... but that was another life. A life I will deprive you of just like I did your father!…"
"...There's greatness in you, but not an ounce of humility…"
"…Is there nothing you wouldn't do for your family?..."
"…because you are my friend…"
"Jim?"
"Jim!"
"Dammit man, will you acknowledge me?"
Captain James T. Kirk snapped himself from his thoughts and stared blankly at his Chief Medical Officer. The older man scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. He stood in front of the Captain's desk in his ready room, tapping his foot.
"Did you even hear a thing I just said?"
Kirk sighed and looked at his friend with tired eyes. "You want me to come to Sick Bay for a check-up, and '…don't you dare skip out on me or I'll hunt you down and jab a goddamn hypo where the sun don't shine.' That about cover it?"
McCoy's glowered. "Don't get smart with me, Jim. I can tell that you're not sleeping well, and Carol tells me that you haven't been eating much. Now, are you going to tell me why, or do I have to drag it out of you?"
"I'm fine, Bones. Really."
"Like hell you're fine," the older man scoffed. "You were late for your last two shifts and…"
"Wait, a minute, how'd you know that?"
McCoy smirked. "I have my sources. I mean it; I want your ass in Sick Bay before the day is out. You need some blood tests to rule out anemia."
"I don't have anemia."
"Well somethin's going on with you! I know you're not feeling well right now just by looking at you!" Kirk started to speak, but was cut off. "…and don't tell me that you feel fine! You're pale, getting thinner by the day and your hands were just shaking a minute ago."
Kirk looked down at his hands and scowled. "Trust me, alright? I promise I'll come to you if I feel like shit."
"Trust you?" McCoy growled. "That'll be the day. I'm worried about you, Jim." He approached the desk and leaned over, resting his hands on the top. "I'm speaking as your best friend right now, not your CMO. You need to be honest with me. I can't help you if you won't open up."
"I don't need any help, Bones. Really. Just drop it."
McCoy threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "I don't know why I bother sometimes! It's like talking to a damn brick wall! You need a complete blood workup, cardio monitoring and a body scan. Don't fight me on this."
"All that's really not necessary."
"You don't get a choice, Jim. I'll tell you what's necessary and what's not. Sick Bay—by day's end—or I pull rank. Something's up with you and we need to figure out what it is. You can choose to cooperate or not, but I will get to the bottom of this."
Kirk rolled his eyes. "Are we finished? Because I have a lot of files to go over before I go back to the bridge."
McCoy pursed his lips. "Yeah, sure."
"You're dismissed, Doctor." The doctor furrowed his brows and Kirk watched as McCoy turned silently and exited the room, hands clenched into fists at his side.
Kirk swiveled his chair around and faced the blackness of space. He sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He begged his brain to stop the headache that was threatening to rear its ugly head. The pain in his head had been consistently present for weeks, dull and always there. Every once and a while, it would spike in intensity and turn into a migraine.
He hoped today was not one of those days.
Of course, he had lied to McCoy every time the doctor asked about how he was feeling. He had successfully avoided most of his medical exams, citing bridge business or lack of time. The doctor had grumbled and threatened, but in the end Jim had always managed to calm him down with a peace offering. Usually bourbon.
"…Dammit, Jim, I mean it. You need to take better care of yourself. One of these days you're gonna collapse on the bridge." McCoy swirled the amber liquid around in the highball glass, a smirk crossing his face. "You know…your performance in bed could suffer too."
"Shut up. My sexual prowess is just fine, thank you."
McCoy grunted and drained his glass. "You might be a tiger in the sack now, but if you keep this shit up—this whole running yourself ragged business—well, just don't say I didn't warn you."
"Gee, thanks, Bones. Glad to know you're so interested in my love life." He poured the doctor another shot. "You need to get laid…"
Three weeks had passed since that conversation. Jim had seen his physical stamina start to suffer, his attention span decreasing.
He wasn't eating well.
His virility was waning.
And he definitely wasn't sleeping.
He couldn't…
The dreams were too intense to allow him peaceful rest.
As he sat in his chair, staring out into the void, he tried to make himself forget. All the images that haunted his sleep—Khan and the warp core—they were relentless. Plaguing his everyday life until he was no longer able to go more than a few moments without seeing Singh lurking in the shadows of his quarters, or having the bridge suddenly turning into the claustrophobic access tunnel leading to the core.
Kirk's hands began to quake again, his chest constricting as he was suddenly unable to catch his breath.
"…On behalf of Christopher Pike—my friend—I accept your surrender…"
"…Ignore me and you will get everyone on this ship killed…"
A sharp pain in his chest jolted Kirk back from his mind, doubling him over in his chair. He recognized the all-too-familiar symptoms. Shaking hands, difficulty breathing, and intense pain over his heart: he was having a panic attack.
Jim extended his arms and pushed the chair back until it touched the wall. Gripping the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white, he stretched his back as he tried to take deep, even breaths. He knew he had to squelch this attack quickly, or he would have no other solution but to call for McCoy.
In and out…
You're not in the core…
In and out…
Khan's gone…
In and out…
The comm beeped. Jim tried to swallow the bile rising in his throat.
Not now…
In and out…
I'm alive…
In and out…
It signaled again.
Don't puke, Captain.
In and out…
The tightness in his chest began to subside as the attack waned. Jim lifted his head cautiously, cracking an eye open to peer at the viewscreen on his desk. The comm was coming from the bridge. It rang again, this time accompanied by a soft voice.
"Captain? Is everything alright?"
Uhura's voice was comforting. Kirk took a deep breath and sat up, connecting the hail with a tap of his finger.
"Just fine, Lieutenant. What do you need?" He inhaled deeply, feeling the air expand his lungs to almost painful fullness. He slowly let the breath out, and along with it the remnants of the panic attack.
"We've been hailed by a small cargo ship. Their engines have given out and they're requesting assistance."
"I'll be there in a minute. Have them stand by."
"Yes, Sir."
Jim stood and walked to the small bathroom off of his ready room. He took a moment to splash a bit of cold water on his face, slapping his cheeks as the cool liquid came in contact with his skin. He looked into the mirror above the tiny metal sink. Blue eyes stared back at him. He blinked lethargically.
"You can't even guarantee the safety of your own crew…"
When his eyes opened once again, it wasn't his own face staring back at him, but that of Khan.
Jim jumped back; squeezing his eyes together so hard it hurt his face. He backed up against the wall, chest heaving, pressing his body against the cool metal. He willed the image to go away.
Not real.
He's never real.
You're Jim Kirk.
…not Khan…
Kirk cautiously cracked his right eye open, and immediately spied himself in the mirror, cowering against the far wall. He scrutinized the image intensely, committing his own likeness to memory so he could be certain that Khan's visage would not replace his own again.
He held a hand over his chest in an attempt to still his stuttering breaths, all the while eyeing the reflection in the mirror. The comm beeped again.
"Sir, their Captain is waiting."
Jim straightened his tunic and exited the restroom. He stopped briefly at his desk to turn off his viewer and strode onto the bridge of the Enterprise.
"Sir, the ship's Captain's name is Borgir. He says they suffered a catastrophic engine explosion yesterday afternoon and have been stranded. Their long-range communications have been damaged, leaving them with only the capability to send out short-range distress beacons."
Kirk sat in his seat. "Thank you, Lieutenant."
Keep it together.
As Jim motioned for Uhura to connect the hail, the headache that had been looming in the recesses of his brain all day once again began to surface. He winced slightly and squinted in the bright lights of the bridge. A sharp pain behind his left eye flashed into existence for a moment, then fizzled.
Shit.
Take a deep breath and get through this.
"Captain Borgir, I'm James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise. I've been told you're having some engine difficulties. I'd like to offer our assistance to get you up and running again."
The man on the screen smiled thankfully. "We would be forever in your debt for any services you could offer. We need a skilled technician or two to help rebuild our damaged engine. It's small, so it shouldn't be too difficult of a task. Our engineer passed on a few months back and we have not had the opportunity to take on another. So, we were at a disadvantage when this mishap occurred."
"I'm sorry to hear about your officer. Give us an hour or so to get a team together, and send a list of all the components and supplies you think you'll need for the repairs—we'll see what we can scrounge up."
"Thank you, Captain Kirk. Word of your generosity and kindness has reached all corners of the galaxy. It is an honor to be helped by you and your crew."
The pain came back just as Kirk was finishing the comm. He desperately tried to save face as a wave of nausea swept over him. The stinging behind his eye was growing ever more intense. Jim forced a smile.
"Don't mention it, Captain. We'll be contacting you as soon as we're ready to come aboard. Is there anything you need in the meantime?" Kirk gripped the armrests of his chair tightly. The nauseous feeling was becoming more intense. He willed himself not to throw up.
"I don't believe so. We will be in touch, Captain."
As the image on the screen blinked away and was replaced by the normal forward view, Kirk began to see stars—and not just the ones on the viewer. Bright lights danced in front of his eyes, obscuring crew members and equipment. The crew finally began to take notice, as he slumped back into his chair and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets in an attempt to relieve the anguish.
"Sir? Are you feeling ill?"
Never opening his eyes, Kirk sighed. "I…Mister Spock, you have the conn." He stood and turned towards the turbolift.
Uhura's concerned eyes followed him as he walked. "Captain, is there anything I can do?"
"No, Lieutenant. Just a bad headache. I'm going to try and sleep it off."
Spock rose to take the Captain's chair. "Do you require me to alert Doctor McCoy?"
"No. And don't tell him I'm leaving early. He'd just worry."
Spock raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Very well, Captain. Though I must remind you that Vulcans cannot lie. If he were to enquire, I will be obligated to tell him of your whereabouts and why you left your shift before it was scheduled to end."
"Sure, Spock." The lift door whooshed open and he stepped inside. "Comm me if you need me."
XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX
The warp core was hot and loud. Every surface he touched seared his fingertips. He struggled to climb the massive frame to the misaligned housing. His body screamed at him with each painful movement, threatening to give out on him at any moment.
But he wouldn't give up.
He needed to save the crew.
As he climbed the final few feet, a shadow loomed overhead, blocking out the bright lights of the central core. Kirk looked up to see Khan, towering over him, lifting his boot to smash down on his already weakening fingers.
"Well, well, Captain. Trying to save what I've worked so hard to destroy?"
Jim fought to pull his weight up onto the platform. Instead of stomping his hands and sending him to certain death below, Khan watched silently, lowering his foot. He didn't offer assistance, rather laughed sinisterly as Jim crawled onto the grating and collapsed, the radiation already eating away at his body.
Kirk got on his knees and tried to brace himself on a part of the core housing to help him stand. He wobbled he stood, Khan staring him down with cold eyes.
"Look at you. You're weak, no good, and can't even stand on your own two feet without swaying."
Jim tried to stand up straight, but his body was growing weaker by the moment. He steadied himself and glared at Khan with steely determination.
"Get off my ship."
Khan laughed and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him high into the air, his feet dangling just inches from the damaged core. "Your ship? You're mistaken, Captain. This ceased to be your ship the moment Christopher Pike took her away from you." Khan squeezed Kirk's throat.
Jim wriggled in his mighty grip, trying to free himself from the growing pressure of Khan's fingers digging into his neck. He tried to speak, but Khan just pressed his fingertips harder into his throat.
"You will never be a hero, Captain Kirk. No one will remember you. You're not worth it."
Khan abruptly dropped him, Jim crashing to the floor clutching his swollen neck. He gasped for air, a hoarse barking cough escaping his mouth as his lungs greedily absorbed the oxygen they had been cruelly deprived of. He was on all fours, his equilibrium slow to come back as he tried to get his brain to come out of its haze. Jim groped around on the floor, trying to find something to hold onto as he attempted to stand again.
He scanned the immediate area, looking past Khan's boots to find…
'A cane?'
He squinted at the silver tip resting on the floor. It swayed back and forth slightly as the wielder shifted their weight. Kirk looked back to the legs of whoever it was, expecting to find Khan's black pants and boots. Instead, Jim was greeted with gray dress slacks and impeccably shined boots, very reminiscent of a Starfleet uniform.
He turned his weak neck upwards, the lights behind the figure obscuring their face. Kirk could tell by the body shape that it was no longer Khan. The person was shorter and less built, leaning heavily to the left on the walking stick.
"Admiral?"
A hand came out of the shadows, and Kirk shakily reached out to grasp it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He was face to face with Christopher Pike. The older man offered a warm smile, but said nothing.
They both stood there silently for a moment, Kirk relieved that he was no longer in the presence of Khan. He wanted Pike to say something—anything. Jim just wanted to hear his voice one more time.
"Admiral, please say something."
Pike just stared at him, blue eyes glistening with moisture. He had begun to cry. It seemed as though he was trying to speak, his mouth was opening and attempting to form words, but no sound emerged from his lips. It was obvious that the older man was distressed by inability to talk.
Kirk looked at him with concern. He gently took the Admiral by the shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. He didn't know what to say.
Pike continued to try and speak, becoming more and more frustrated with every passing second. He huffed in annoyance and scowled. Jim just squeezed his shoulders harder; he didn't know what else to do.
Suddenly, Pike threw his head backwards and screamed in anguish. Blood began to stream from his nose and mouth, splattering on Kirk's uniform as he coughed. He grabbed his head between his hands, the cane clattering to the ground. Kirk tried to steady the older man, but Pike shoved him away and recoiled as a blue light enveloped him.
"Do you see, Kirk?" It was Khan's voice, echoing like a phantom within the chamber. "You can't save your ship, yourself or your mentor. No matter how hard you try, or how much of my blood pumps through your veins…you will never be the hero you so desperately want to be."
Kirk looked on in horror as Pike's body began to swell, his skin peeling off in huge strips. As the older man's organs liquefied, a grotesque concoction of blood and tissues began erupting from his mouth. An unseen force lifted Pike off the ground and suspended him several feet above the terrified Captain.
Khan's voice continued to reverberate in Jim's ears. "He is suffering because of you. You can choose to end his life now and put him out of his misery…or you can watch him die. Again."
Kirk screwed his eyes shut, unable to look at Pike's bloated body hanging in the air. Even with eyes closed, he could still hear the awful sound of flesh and bodily fluids splashing to the floor over the Admiral's gurgling screams. The smell of decaying flesh was beginning to overtake Kirk's senses.
A phaser appeared in Jim's hand, heavy and solid. His finger instinctively curled around the trigger. Pike continued to moan as he looked down at the weapon.
'All I have to do is pull the trigger. I can end his suffering.'
Pike began to thrash in the grips of whatever was holding him in the air. Blood cascaded from a giant hole that had appeared in his chest. Kirk could see the Admiral's heart beating behind twisted and broken ribs. Pike looked at him with pleading eyes, and suddenly Kirk could hear his voice in his own head.
"James…help me."
He tightened his grip around the handle of the phaser, fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. He knew what he had to do, but didn't want to face reality.
"Shoot him, Captain."
To save Pike, he would have to murder him.
'No. I…can't"
Kirk collapsed to the floor, the phaser skittering away as it was cast aside. In an instant, all the pain he had felt while dying in the access corridor of the core came flooding back to him. He could feel his blood boiling in his veins and his throat was burning. Fluid filled his lungs, and his heart began to beat erratically.
"You will both suffer because you are a coward, Captain."
Superhuman hands closed in around Kirk's face and began to squeeze. Kirk strained to lift his head and look his attacker in the eye. Khan stared down at him, sinister smirk on his face. Jim could see Pike's convulsing body hovering behind him, bones becoming visible as he was stripped of his skin.
"I'm…not a…coward…" Jim thrashed under Khan's mighty hands, unable to wrench himself from the madman's colossal grip. Kirk felt a warm liquid begin to dribble from his ears as the pressure increased, his eyesight clouding as his brain fought for what little oxygen was left in his bloodstream.
"You will never be as great as your father, Kirk. You're worthless…"
Khan gritted his bared teeth and pressed his fingers into the soft flesh of Kirk's cheeks as he constricted his face.
Jim's vision went black to the sound of his own guttural screams…
Kirk flailed in the blankets of his bed, sitting bolt upright with a throaty scream. He only had seconds to make it to the bathroom before he vomited. He held his head over the bowl of the commode, the cool porcelain chilling his fingers as he gripped the sides tightly. Another wave of queasiness washed over him and he emptied the remaining contents of his stomach in a massive heave.
After a long moment, when he was confident that he wasn't going to throw up again, he sat back and rested his weary body against the other wall. He felt feverish; his entire body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looked longingly at the shower stall, deciding that cold water could possibly alleviate the searing heat.
He stripped out of his sweat-soaked clothes and stepped under the freezing water. The icy liquid shocked him, goose bumps erupting on his sensitive flesh. He braced himself against the tiles, resting his forehead in the corner. He took a several deep cleansing breaths, the awful feeling left by the dream slowly beginning to slip away, spiraling down the drain with the used water.
Not again…
This is getting out of control…
I can't even sleep normally anymore…
I'm losing my mind…
Jim stayed in the shower until the klaxon signaling excessive water usage blared, turning the spray off automatically seconds later. He stood there, naked and shivering for a long moment before stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist.
He flipped on the small light above the mirror, relieved when his own face stared back at him.
XxX XxX XxX XxX XxX
A/N: Shout out to my excellent beta—and great friend—QuietRaine. Not only did you come up with the title, but you've always been an inspiration of great ideas and not scared to wield your mighty red pen. Thank you for everything you've done for me, and will continue to do. I could never do this without you.
And Saber Wing, you're a great sounding board for some pretty strange ideas, and I love that you let me be crazy…and that you share my love of angst. You've already given me great input for this story, and I can't wait to hear what you think!
I look forward to hearing what everyone thinks of this new one! Get ready for an angsty ride! Thank you in advance to everyone who reads.
-Bebedora.
