A/N: I was already half way into writing this when I posted the first chapter, so here's a really early update! Thanks for reading, and of course the following and favourites!
Bones pulled Jim into sickbay again, grumbling and cursing, the gown making it easy for Jim to escape his clutches. The doors hissed shut again.
Blue florescent lights. Emergency power.
Jim stumbled forward in desperation, "Please Bones, I have to get to the bridge, I have to keep us safe!"
McCoy pulled Jim's arm towards him and almost growled, "Jim! Not too long ago you had a seizure!"
Jim pushed himself away and stomped over to his clothes, switching over from gown to Captain uniform hurriedly.
"Jim!" McCoy urged again. Jim rolled his eyes and whipped his body to face McCoy's.
"Bones... Bones, if I don't do something, neither of us are going to be alive for you to take care of me anyway! No one will!"
McCoy shook his head, running a hand through matted hair.
"Alright! Alright. But, Jim; the second you start faltering I'm dragging you back here, even if I have to pull you by the hair while a Klingon is wrapped around your damn leg!"
Jim nodded, storming out the door and brushing off the doctor's weird remarks.
McCoy followed him, grabbing a medkit with "Jim's non-lethal hopefully non-allergic emergency kit" written on tape with crude black marker.
...
The second Jim's foot stepped through the bridge door, all hell broke loose.
"Captain!" Uhura shouted as the room tinted red.
Red alert, Jim thought.
"What's going on?" he motioned to the lights.
"A Romulan vessel hailed us, asking for you. We told him you weren't available on ship's business, they opened fire on us," Sulu informed him, from the helm.
Kirk turned to Spock, who sat as idly and emotionless as ever.
"Mr Spock?"
The chair spun around.
"Captain?"
"What's our distance?"
"Approximately twenty three point sev-"
"Captain Kirk!" boomed a voice.
Everyone's heads shot up to look at the attacker on screen.
Jim tensed up. McCoy, obviously, took notice.
"Is that the guy?" McCoy muttered into Jim's probably not caring ear.
Jim nodded.
"I.. uh.." he stuttered.
"We're not finished yet, Kirk!" the Romulan shouted. "In fact you vanished the second I sent half my plan down your throat."
Jim absentmindedly touched his neck, remembering having the weird liquid forced down his throat.
The screen split into two.
For Jim.
"Bones.." Jim realised, stumbling and gripping onto the hand rails.
"Woah," McCoy was behind him, gripping his arms and carefully pushing him to the floor, "Easy, easy," he muttered.
McCoy's frown deepened.
"What did you do to him?" Jim heard McCoy shout at the screen. He laughed internally.
Like they were gonna tell him.
"Let's just say I'm not stupid" the Romulan laughed, "I thought I'd put backup in place, just in case you grabbed him"
Jim groaned.
"And only I can make it stop. So give him to me, or give me a shuttlecraft."
McCoy scoffed. "And what do you want with a shuttle?"
"It'll be easy to bring my vessel in the middle of Federation territory if they think a Starfleet ship had permission to bring it there."
McCoy shook his head in frustration, looking down to focus his attention back on Jim.
"You doin' okay?"
The younger man grunted.
"Don't..give him... ship.." Jim breathed.
"I ain't stupid, kid," McCoy whispered, "Come on, back to sickbay with you, let Spock handle it, right Spock?"
Spock lifted his head.
"Affirmative."
"Right," McCoy stated, hauling Jim up to a standing position.
"Oh no you don't!" The screen voice boomed again.
But the screen transitioned to black, the hailing frequency cut.
There was an awkward confused silence.
Until Jim's legs buckled, and the room was suddenly filled with godawful heart wrenching screaming.
"Alright," McCoy grabbed Jim's under arms and hauled him to the turbo lift, howling. "Spock, with me." he grumbled.
...
Jim took a sudden huge gulp of air and swayed, but his body wanted more oxygen. He couldn't supply it.
He watched as the people around him melted to the ground, suffocating and gasping for air.
He couldn't give it to them. How could he? How? He needed the air too. Was he being selfish?
He felt his back dragged across the cold marble floor by Kodos, a pair of hands, likely his captors, clasp onto Jim's face.
Voices penetrated his hearing, but he couldn't concentrate on them. Images of his dead friends appeared in front of his vision.
No, he couldn't do this again.
He couldn't.
Petrified, Jim began thrashing under the strong hands that held him down, likely to interrogate and torment him.
Where are the rest of them? They would ask. Jim wouldn't answer, and would get beaten as punishment, but at least his friends would survive..
No, wait, they had died, didn't they?
Jim was confused.
Was this real or not? Something was bringing him back there.
No!
He couldn't go back there!
Jim had to fight!
...
McCoy was kneeling down next to Jim, and was running a tricorder over the man, Spock was holding him down.
Scared eyes met with McCoy's, the corner of Jim's eyes were wet with unshed tears.
If only he knew why.
"McCoy to sickbay, I'm with the Captain and I need someone to meet me on route, he's in a bad way," he instructed into his communicator, while scanning over Jim's body with his other hand. "I'm in the bridge turbolift."
"Chapel is on her way down, doctor," said a male voice. McCoy flipped the communicator shut. He watched Jim's shaking body, Spock hadn't taken his eye off him for a second.
"I don't wanna go back there.." a quiet voice muttered from Jim.
McCoy shuffled closer.
"What you mean, kid?"
Jim fell quiet again, but his heart was starting to race. Faster. And faster. And faster. And-
"I don't wanna go back there!" Jim half screamed from the ground, arms flailing wildly at the hands that tried to keep him still.
"Jim," Spock muttered, "Please elaborate on the place in which you do not wish to return."
The blonde only sucked in a breath, rolled onto his side and moaned.
"Jim, what are you seeing?" McCoy whispered. He placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, only to be violently wrenched aside by the man.
"I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK!" Jim screamed, standing and immediately topping over again onto his knees, which seconds later was accompanied by throwing up.
"Alright, alright," McCoy slipped his hands into Jim's clammy ones, they were visibly trembling. His fingers wrapped around Jim's wrist, trying to feel for the steady beat of a pulse, only to be met by quick thready arrhythmias.
"I don't...gasp...wanna...gasp...go..." Jim stuttered, practically vibrating against McCoy. The good doctor rubbed circles into his back, sighing quietly.
"What's that son of a bitch done to you?" he whispered, praying that backup would arrive soon.
Spock watched as McCoy allowed Jim to find comfort next to him, hyperventilating uncontrollably but pressing himself into his body. McCoy felt awkward, but maybe the kid needed some human touch.
Jim remained with his eyes closed, sobbing and shaking with his head leaned into McCoy's arms, waiting for help to arrive.
"Bones.." Jim muttered into his sleeve, voice muffled by the cloth.
"Right here."
"I don't wanna go back there..."
"I know kid, I know." McCoy's fingers found their way around Jim's wrist again.
He needed a god damn sedative, damn it!
"Doctor, I believe I can hear incoming footsteps from approximately four humanoids." Spock informed them, still motionlessly propped up against the wall.
"In other words, help is coming."
Spock's head craned sideways. "I believe I said that, doctor."
Right on cue, the lift doors opened and four nurses came storming in.
Alarmed, Jim threw himself against the wall, panic overwhelming him again.
"No, don't take me back there, please!" Jim cried, his legs like jelly. "I don't know where they are! I swear!"
"It's alright Jim, we're here to help you," Chapel reassured him smoothly, reaching out to Jim's arm in the crowded lift.
Jim wailed and pulled away.
"Stop!" his eyes were red with hot tears.
"It's okay, come here!" Chapel opened her arms out to him at a distance, as though waiting for a toddler to take their first steps.
"No!" Jim spluttered, collapsing onto the floor and struggling to breathe through shear panic. Jim looked up at all the faces above him.
"I... don't..." Jim inhaled, gurgling emitting from the back of his throat, his throat closing up. "Can't breathe.."
"Alright, hands off!" a gruff voice sounded from the side of him.
"But doctor-"
"Hands off! Now!"
Slowly, all the patronising faces backed away, disappearing through his line of vision.
Jim glanced over to the voice of the man who saved him from his torturers. That man too was wearing blue, like all the others.
Could he be trusted?
The man knelt down in front of him, muttering something to someone next to him. Jim never caught it, as the black dots clouded his vision from lack of oxygen, and passed out.
..
McCoy took the chance to jab a hypo into Jim's neck.
And another.
And another.
In fact there were so many hypos going into his neck, McCoy would have found it amusing if it wasn't for his condition. He rested the back of his hand against Jim's forehead.
"Burning up," he muttered quietly, "Get him on oxygen and take him to sickbay" he ordered, rubbing the back of his neck.
...
The sound of quiet, short beeps drew Jim back into consciousness. Something was on his face, making him feel stuffy and uncomfortable.
Cracking his eyes open to see the enemy over his face, realisation clicked that it was only an oxygen mask.
Weird, thought they didn't use masks so much these days?
"Best if you take that off, Jim, don't you think?"
Focusing on the haze figure in the distance, Jim tried to see who the voice belonged to.
He lazily pulled off his mask, leaving it hanging under his chin. His vision swayed, until the voice spoke again.
"That's good, Jimmy."
The figure instantly surfaced.
Frank.
Immediately, Jim became rigid, shoving himself up to the head of the bed, breath caught in his throat.
"Stay away," he demanded feebly, "How did you get on board?"
"I thought I'd invite myself on, just wanted to see you, Jimmy."
Bile travelled up to his throat.
Nausea set into his stomach.
"Get the fuck away from me." he spat.
"Now now, Jimmy, you know what happens when you curse at your uncle Frank," the man strode toward him, and all sense of authority and control left the young Captain.
Alarms blared out from both sides of him, his vision blurring as he forced breathes in and out, uncontrollably.
"Can't have kids treating family that way, can we?" the man reached up to Jim's neck.
Gurgling for air and spluttering out saliva as his throat was squeezed shut, he vomited all over himself, his body shooting in an upright position automatically to get rid of the fluid. Recovering from that ordeal, desperately looking around, Frank was nowhere to be seen.
The alarms penetrated his ears, overwhelming him with noise.
Louder.
And louder.
And screeching, screaming, high pitched wailing.
"ARRRRGH!" Jim screamed into oblivion, trying to get rid of the noise. He could out-scream the alarm.
As he took in a breath to scream again, Jim felt himself fall backwards, as if waking up from a dream.
Staring up, he saw the ceiling, with another man wearing blue looking over him, scowling, but with deep worry. Rough hands were on his face, he could feel them. The man's mouth was moving but no sound came out.
Jim whimpered pathetically, kicking his legs to get out of free of the man's grip, to no avail. To make matters worse, the horrible man pulled the dreaded suffocating mask back over his face.
Great, now he really was going to run out of air and die.
His eyes burned, he struggled to breath, and with weak exhaustion attempted in futile to lift his arm, to get rid of the offending murderous mask, but the hand holding his arm down was forceful, too strong, Jim couldn't move, and he was still suffocating.
He panted, out of breath, hyperventilating, vision blurred over and dots danced in his retinas, Jim screamed and bellowed through the mask that muffled his voice. He grew exhausted, even more than before; crying, panicking, hyperventilating and gasping for life.
A cold sharp metal collided with his thigh, he suddenly inhaled sharply in shock, then it happened again at the centre of his neck. Startled, and terrified, Jim couldn't help his body involuntarily vomit again, moaning at the sensation and shredding hot tears. Bile dribbled out the side of his mouth, as he groaned.
Suddenly, two warm hands clasped the side of his face tightly, the fingers then gliding over to position themselves. Jim choked through short breaths as more saliva built up in his throat as he failed to groan in protest, then the fingers pressed harder; everything vanished.
…
He felt nothing.
Saw nothing.
No breathing.
But he was cold. Shivering. Violently.
"Jim, you must calm yourself." a steady voice washed over him. What the hell?
"I apologise for startling you. I have initiated a mind meld, there was no other choice, as communication with you was ineffective."
Realisation dawned upon him. Spock.
"Wha's..goin' on?" Jim slurred, wanting to just pass out.
"Your body is currently enduring a large state of panic. For reasons unknown to me, you are not responding to Doctor McCoy's sedatives."
Jim felt himself droop.
"Frank" he stated. He was still out there.
"Who is that?"
"My uncle…"
…
….
Moments of silence passed. Jim was beginning to think he was on his own again.
"There is no-one here, except you, Doctor McCoy, and myself."
Oh, so he actually checked?
"But he was there a moment ago, I know he was! I was choking—he was choking me, you can't fake that!"
A brief feeling of warmth ran over him. It seemed Spock was trying to keep him calm.
"You were having a reaction to the abnormal substances in your bloodstream. You were not being asphyxiated, in fact, you suffocated yourself."
Jim felt confused.
"I cannot hold this state for much longer, Jim."
But..
"But I saw him. I did. He spoke to me. He told me to take the oxygen mask off, I'm not fucking mad, Spock!" Jim would love to drop dead right now.
"That is the second time today you have hallucinated a fragment of your past. I shall deliver this information to the doctor."
Jim was about to come up with a retort before everything thundered back to him at full force, not giving him even a second to come to terms with consciousness. The aching, the shrill noises, the constant exhaustion, the feeling of dread, pushed back into him all at once.
But when he opened his eyes, there was Frank, holding a knife at McCoy's throat.
