A/N: This main plotline of the story takes place when Kirk is twenty-eight years old, in 2261, three years after the events of Star Trek 2009. Kirk was 13 in 2246, during any events on Tarsus IV.

o0o0o

"Power, like a desolating pestilence,/ Pollutes whate'er it touches, and obedience,/ Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, /Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame / a mechanized automaton." – Percy Bysshe Shelley

"In the face of a catastrophe on this scale so deliberately inflicted, perplexity is an indulgence we cannot afford." – Inga Clendinnen

Aboard the Enterprise, one year into the five year mission into deep space and its uncharted territories, Captain Kirk was again pacing his office when he heard a knock on the door. "Enter," he said, turning to find Commander Spock. "Hey, Spock. A new mission?"

"Yes, Captain. We have been asked to provide safe passage for a high-ranking government official from Cygnus IX to Cygnus X. It seems he wishes to conclude a peaceful treaty with his enemies on that planet and wants Starfleet and Federation protection."

Kirk sighed. "Well, it's more interesting than star-mapping, and not all that far out of our way. Sure, why not? I'll give the order."

"Very well, Captain."

Kirk gave the order over the intercom system, but Spock did not leave his office. "Is there something else, Commander?"

Spock hesitated. The subtlest hint of worry crossed his features. "I have what… you would call a bad feeling about this mission, Captain."

"Spock, if you're going to admit feelings in front of me, this seems like a friend-to-friend conversation where I need to be Jim, not Captain." Kirk sat in his chair and gestured that Spock should sit. "Please, explain."

"Very well. There have been reports from this planet that this official is no less than a dictator, and that he has killed great numbers of his own people to gain and keep power."

Kirk was suddenly very glad he had sat down, unexpectedly very dizzy. "Spock, why did you not say this before I gave the order to give this individual safe passage on our ship?"

"Jim, if he is what he says he is, then we have done the right thing. And if he is what my information indicates he is, well…" Spock gave a chilling grin. "Then he is here, where he can be interrogated, and which gives us the opportunity to investigate his planet for ourselves."

"Maybe it was a bad idea to introduce you to feelings, Spock. That facial expression is awesome, and also really scary."

Spock's lips twitched. "It seems my human side is showing, my friend."

Over the intercom, "Transporter to Captain."

Kirk reached over and enabled the intercom. "Captain here."

"Governor of Cygnus IX, Lord Nikolai Dadian, is requesting permission to be beamed up to the ship."

Kirk looked at Spock. "I hope you're right about this plan."

"I am 95% certain of its success."

Kirk flicked a button on the intercom. "Beam him up. I will meet him at the transport center and escort him to his quarters personally."

"Yes, sir."

Kirk turned to Spock. "Walk with me?"

"Of course."

They walked from the captain's office through the clean, wide, white hallways of the Enterprise. If Kirk squinted, he could remember what everything looked like in those dark last few minutes before he had gotten the warp core re-engaged after the fight with Khan. With no gravitational stabilizer, those beautiful hallways had turned on their head and turned into falls hundreds of feet long. It shouldn't be possible to fall to your death on a starship, but it had happened.

It will never happen again, not if I have to crawl back into that warp core again knowing Khan's blood isn't around to help Bones bring me back to life afterward.

Kirk remembered the look in Khan's eyes when he had crushed Admiral Marcus' skull. Kirk wished he hadn't had to see that.

Those eyes. Ruthless. Burning coals, a fire sparking to life as Marcus was extinguished –

Spock spoke, interrupting Kirk's thoughts. "Captain, I wished to ask you something about our mission to New Vulcan approximately 18 months ago."

Kirk stopped walking and turned to Spock. He noted that there were no staff members prowling this part of the corridor. Spock had perfect timing some days. "Yes?"

"I have spent many months in an attempt to determine when you would have had the required months to become as hungry as you said you once had been. I found that a timespan, from approximately age twelve to age fourteen, has been missing from every conversation you have had with me, Uhura, or Dr. McCoy."

Kirk felt dizzy and nauseated again. After a long pause to make sure he could control his voice, "So what is your question?"

"That timespan was the years 2245 to 2247, correct?"

"Yes, it was."

Spock sucked in a breath. If Kirk didn't know better, he would have thought he'd shocked his friend. "Is it appropriate to draw the conclusion that you were on Tarsus IV in 2246?"

Kirk's eyesight swam and he nearly fainted. He felt Spock's strong arm catch him from falling to the floor.

"I assume I should take that to be a yes, Captain."

"For a conversation like this," Kirk managed to say without throwing up, "I'm Jim, not Captain."

"Jim, then. But is my logic correct?"

"Why do you need to know?" Kirk tried to pull himself to his feet. "Why are you bringing it up now?"

"Your experiences as a survivor of the mass murder on Tarsus IV may affect how you behave as captain of this ship. It is my job to ask after it. And not to mention we are about to go escort someone who may well be a murderer himself." Here Spock paused. "And you are my friend, and I care about you. I would rather know if something hurts you, than not know."

"I knew it was a bad idea to teach you about feelings."

"I will take that as sarcasm and accept your unspoken thanks for my feelings of friendship."

"Thanks, Spock. And I do mean it, thank you for caring about me. But that isn't a time in my life I talk about. I've never really talked about it and I don't know if I'll ever be able to. At least not without a lot of alcohol or unless I am under extreme stress. That should tell you everything you need to know right now, and if you need to know more, I will have to tell you at another time. Now, to the transporter room?"

"Of course, Captain."

The two of them continued walking down the corridors. Kirk knew he had told Spock too much again, but there was no lying to Spock. For someone not truly capable of a lie, he was remarkably proficient at catching others in untruths, even white lies.

In the transporter room, they were met by a tall, thin man with thick brown hair and a thin mustache. His rich clothes and fine hands, and the grace by which he walked towards Kirk and Spock, showed him to be an aristocratic man, or at least the kind of man who pretends to aristocratic aspirations. "I am Lord Nikolai Dadian, Governor of Cygnus IX," he boomed imperiously. Seeing that Kirk and Spock were unmoved, his tone softened. "I am glad of your assistance. I do not own or have access to a ship with security I can rely on capable of traveling between my people on Cygnus IX and our enemies in Cygnus X."

"We are glad to be of service," Kirk said shaking the man's hand. "I am Captain James Kirk, and this is my first officer Commander Spock."

The man did not shake Spock's hand. "I was unaware of any Vulcans in Starfleet," he said slowly, softly. "Surely they had all gone to… repopulate their new planet."

Kirk's voice hardened when he saw how the governor refused to give Spock the same civil graces accorded Kirk. "Spock is a being who has earned my respect, Governor. I ask that you respect him despite your clear xenophobia."

"Xenophobia?" His eyebrow arched. "If you say so, Captain."

"Then come with me, please." Kirk started off down the hallway, guest in tow.

I know that face. I have seen that face before. I need to get that makeup off his face. What is he, an actor?

"To my quarters until reaching Cygnus X, I presume."

Spock trailed the governor, and the governor followed Kirk.

"In a manner of speaking," Kirk said, sounding serene.

And, rather suddenly, the erstwhile guest found himself surrounded by red-shirted security officers.

"Ah, Lieutenant Hendorff." Kirk grinned. "Would you please escort our guest to the brig, and give him something with which to take off his makeup, while I communicate with Starfleet?"

"Yes sir," the lieutenant nodded. The man once known as Cupcake now served the man who gave him that name. Life seems to have a curious sense of humor sometimes.

Life's sense of humor has delivered a possible perpetrator of mass murder to the survivor of a different massacre on a different planet in a time out of mind. I just hope we're all laughing at the end of this.

"This is outrageous!" the governor screamed. "I am Lord Governor of Cygnus IX!"

"I don't care what planet you rule, I care only for what you might have done to your people," Kirk hissed coldly. "If everything checks out, then you will be escorted to Cygnus X as promised to make the treaty arrangements. If things are," here Kirk looked at Spock, "as we suspect, then you will be returned to Cygnus X until some Starfleet vessel can be bothered to drag your miserable prisoner hide to justice. Understood?"

Dadian squeaked. Kirk understood that to be both an "I understand" and "I'm doomed."

Kirk left the prisoner – for that is exactly what the governor was at this moment, no joke about it – in Lieutenant Cupcake's capable hands.

"Will you be leading an away team to the surface of Cygnus IX, Captain?"

Kirk looked at Spock, thinking for a very long moment. "Do you think I should, Commander?"

"With all due respect, Captain, I believe an away team is necessary, but that your participation in it would be less than helpful at this time."

Silence.

I've always led the away team. I've never been the kind of man to let life pass me by. Better to be of use on a dangerous planet than of less use, safe and cosseted back on the ship. But I don't have the strength to deal with Dadian and keep my own emotions under control, and Spock is more than capable of dealing with this planet and will certainly be more objective than I.

After a full minute, Kirk said, "I agree. Would you be willing to lead the away team?"

"Of course. I will choose my other team members, by your leave."

"Yes, Commander. Time estimate?"

"I anticipate it will require no less than three standard hours to prepare to beam down to the planet." Spock walked away.

He would likely take Uhura with him and possibly Lieutenants Nabokov, Thomas, and Williams, Kirk knew. He walked back to his quarters, sat down, and commed the brig. "Captain to Detention Center."

"Detention, Captain, Hendorff speaking."

"Lieutenant, did you get the governor's makeup off his face yet?"

"Uh, no sir. He is resisting."

Kirk sighed. "Tell him that if he doesn't get that makeup off, I will give the order for him to be chemically sedated. I want to see his real face and if I have to break out the less strictly regulation parts of our arsenal to make that happen, I will do it."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Kirk disconnected the comm call, sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stared at the ceiling and drifted off in thought.

I hope Spock was right and something is up. Otherwise those stuffy Admirals back in San Francisco will be quite unhappy with me. It's not like I need or want another promotion beyond Captain, but it's also not like they can fire me, so all they can do is make me miserable and give me and my crew the most boring missions they can find for the remainder of our five-year mission. As consequences go, that's not too bad.

And yet I so hope Spock's wrong. I wouldn't wish mass murder and genocide on a planet. Never. Never again will anyone stand by and let such things happen if I can help it.

Kirk's thoughts automatically went to his conversation with Spock.

He isn't going to like that I threatened the prisoner, but it's not like he's currently available to reign in my more impetuous side. But I am not looking forward to discussing Tarsus IV with him. I've never told anyone and never wanted to. What happened to me there and what I did there in order to survive showed and made the worst part of me.

On cue, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

Speak of the Devil.

It was Spock, in uniform save for the extra phasers on a belt over his shoulder. "What can I do for you, Commander?"

"I have assembled a proper landing party and we are well on our way to being ready to beam down to the planet, Captain." A flicker of emotion crossed Spock's face. "I came as your friend, to see if you were all right, Jim."

Kirk sighed. "You're really not going to let go until I tell you what you want to know, are you?"

"I believe I should know at least the basics of your experience. Vulcan – " Spock grimaced – "never experienced genocidal warfare before its destruction. Many other planets have, but the survivors have spread all over the galaxy and I have never spoken with any survivor about their experience. Considering I am about to land in what may be a war zone in all but name, I would appreciate any insights about what I am up against."

Kirk was again glad he was sitting down, and managed not to faint or throw up. "Spock, you're asking me to go into my darkest memories, while I am on duty, without the benefit of alcohol or any other agent capable of numbing my emotions enough to deal with them."

"I know, Jim. I don't ask it lightly. If you cannot speak about your personal experience, I understand." Spock made to leave.

"Spock, wait." Kirk met Spock's eyes. "Even if I can't tell you everything, not now, I can still tell you something, not only from what I have seen but also from what I have learned from more academic sources."

Spock came back into the office and sat in the chair across from Kirk.

"I was not quite twelve when I landed on Tarsus IV," Kirk said slowly. Even that was more than he had ever told anyone else. "It was a planet with remarkable xenodiversity, largely Earth humans but not all. The first winter I was there, everything was fine. Things didn't start getting bad until spring, when the crop failed and there wasn't anything to eat left from winter storage. Hungry people become desperate. The government, such as it was, collapsed, and the governor later called Kodos the Executioner appointed himself dictator."

Spock nodded.

"That much you could have learned from a book. Here is something you can't really understand from any one text on this kind of thing." Kirk swallowed heavily, trying not to throw up. "The people who survived invariably were guilty of killing innocent people, or complicit to a greater or lesser degree in that killing. There is no such thing as a completely innocent survivor. All of them… us… had to do things we weren't proud of, just to survive."

"Jim –"

"Don't interrupt me, Spock, I'm not sure I'll have the courage to go into this if I stop." Kirk's face was ashen and his knuckles were white where he was gripping the table. "When you go down to that planet, no matter what's down there, some people will help you. They might look like victims. They probably are victims, most of them, even with the perpetrators hiding among them. But be careful. No one wants to admit to how they survived by stealing their neighbor's last potato. No one wants to admit their daughters prostituted themselves to earn bread, that they traded the family heirlooms for a pumpkin, that they ate moss off the trees and even ate the rats which survived by eating the dead humans."

Spock was silent for a long moment.

Kirk brushed angrily at his face. He could not help but cry. It was cry, pass out, or vomit, and the first was the easiest to deal with of the three. "I watched people die, Spock," he said sluggishly, reaching for his tissue box. "Even with the destruction of Vulcan, which is damned close to a genocide in all but name, you lost everything all at once. I had months to watch people suffer. I watched my last living relatives starve to death because they refused to steal food from our neighbors. It took four months for them to waste away and die. I watched children claw at each other in the streets, inflicting fatal injuries on each other fighting for a potato peel. I saw what the typhus epidemic did to the already weakened starving people."

Spock had one lone tear running down his face. "Perhaps we are not so different, you and I. I knew we were similar somehow, but I did not know about this part of your past before."

Kirk reached one hand across the table to grasp one of Spock's. "I don't mean to hurt you, my friend. I don't mean to minimize the destruction of Vulcan. That was awful and if I could have stopped it, I would have. But now, maybe you understand me well enough to go see that planet yourself. I just hope this is all a misunderstanding and you'll fall into a barbeque party in the capital."

They laughed together. It was the laughter of desperate people who had already lost everything and had nothing left to lose.

"Detention Center to Captain." Hendorff's voice came over the comm.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"We got the makeup off the prisoner's face, sir."

Kirk looked at Spock. "Want to see what we're up against?"

"Yes, Captain." The tear lines were fading from Spock's face already.

Kirk knew he must look quite the mess after blubbering in front of Spock, but there was no help for it but the tissues he'd already mopped himself with. "Commander Spock and I are en route to the brig, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

Kirk pulled himself up out of his chair by an effort of will –

I was so hungry I might have killed and eaten my own mother if she'd been on that planet. As it was, I lost every ounce of baby fat and then some when I ran from my aunt's farm, ran into the woods and hid. I had no way of knowing if I was to go left or right, to death or to life, if Kodos' men caught me. So I ran and ran and ran and ran until I could not run any more.

The fresh smell of the evergreens dulled by drought – the smell of dry earth, caked clay, sandy riverbeds – the smell of burning farms and houses as Kodos's soldiers went from house to house, confiscating food and making lists of the inhabitants, and if they met resistance, burning people out – the sounds of phaser fire, shouting men, the screams of the not-quite-dead butchered and sometimes eaten where they stood – the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears and feeling so, so, so scared, so scared I pulled into myself –

Spock's voice jerked Kirk out of his near-flashback. "Are you well enough to walk to the Detention Center, Captain?"

"Of course," Kirk breathed heavily. "Just give me a minute. Bad memories."

Spock looked at him sadly. Kirk knew the half-Vulcan would not say he understood, for that would be a lie. But Kirk got to his feet without further incident and walked down the Enterprise's hallways, Spock by his side.

When they had almost reached the brig, Spock asked, "Captain, why did you want Dadian to remove his makeup?"

Kirk looked around quickly to ensure that his response would not be overheard. "Because I thought I recognized him."

"From what?"

"I'll let you know if I'm right."

With that, Kirk entered the detention center. He nodded a greeting to Hendorff and looked, for a long moment, at Dadian. Without the makeup plastering his face, which had artificially lightened his skin tone, darkened his hair, and added the hairpiece and mustache (which appeared to have been fake), the face that looked back at Kirk was of a man not younger than fifty years of age and likely closer to sixty, with deep furrowed frown lines and more salt than pepper in his remaining hair. He looked a peculiar mixture of despondent and infuriated.

Mug shot – younger but the same man – warning from Starfleet – man wanted for –

Kirk snapped to Hendorff, "Photograph him, please, and send it to Starfleet Headquarters, Justice Department."

Spock interrupted, "Captain?"

"What is the meaning of this?" roared Dadian. "I am a powerful man!"

"You are a murderer!" Kirk shouted. "Anton Kyevic, as Captain of the Enterprise, I hereby order that you be held in our detention center until you are positively identified and can be transferred to more proper authorities than I."

Dadian paled. "I am not Kyevic! I don't even know who Kyevic is! I am a diplomat and a head of state!"

Spock interrupted again, "Captain, what do you mean? Who is Anton Kyevic?"

"A murderer," Kirk spat. "I'm going to fill out the paperwork to get him off my ship and to justice. And Spock –" Kirk paused and swallowed hard. "Be careful down in Cygnus IX."

Spock nodded. "Of course, Captain."

Kirk stormed out of the brig. He made his way to the bridge, passing a bunch of security officers and ensigns in red shirts going in the direction of the caf and a handful of science officers in blue shirts with them.

"Keptin on ze bridge!" Chekov greeted him.

"Hello, Mr. Chekov." Kirk forced himself to grin. He liked Chekov and shouldn't show his outside anger to the poor kid. "Report?"

"Nussing of walue, Keptin. Other den, I am very confused why we are not leaving for Cygnus X yet. Iz there a problem wit de navigation or de coordinates?"

"No, not to worry, Mr. Chekov." Kirk turned to Uhura. "Lieutenant, please transmit the following message to Starfleet headquarters: Possible Anton Kyevic, kilo-Yankee-echo-victor-India-Charlie, located on Cygnus IX. Held in detention center Enterprise on captain's orders. Await request for transfer and coordinates for transfer of prisoner Kyevic."

"Yes, Captain."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." He paused, puzzled. "Aren't you going with Spock on the away team?"

"Yes, but he said things weren't ready yet. Whatever that means." Uhura grinned. "Not going with us this time?"

Kirk's grin drooped. "Not this time." He had no need to affect a scowl. "Paperwork."

Uhura dropped her voice. "Everything okay, Captain?"

Kirk's breath hitched. How much had Spock told her? "I'll have to let you know."

Bidding Uhura goodbye, he left the bridge and walked back to his office. Seated in his chair, drinking water and wishing it were something stronger, he completed a captain's log on finding Kyevic and dispatching an away team. It took several hours, but as soon as that business was done, Kirk had no further excuses to hide from his emotions.

I've seen the look in Kyevic's eyes before. I saw it in Khan's eyes when he killed Marcus right in front of me. Anger, pain, fear, but murderous rage most of all. Bloodshot, irritated and red, looking like nothing more than hot coals. I've seen that look even before then, in the faces of men too hungry to consider things like morals.

A man – not old – not young – gaunt – grinning the madman's smile – gums receded, baring teeth – lips parched and bleeding – eyes red – cackling as he ate, watching us watch him –

A knock at the door pulled Kirk back to reality, noting dimly that he was about three breaths from hyperventilating. He pulled himself together and said, "Come in."

It was Bones McCoy this time. The doctor took one look at Kirk and said, "Give me one good reason for me not to drag your sorry self down to the sickbay."

Kirk smirked. "Because you wouldn't do that to your other patients?"

Bones chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "Good point, except that I don't have any patients right now. Thank goodness!"

"That must be a new record. Feel like downsizing your department? For some reason we keep running out of security personnel."

"And give my medical personnel red shirts? No thanks. Next thing you know I'd be seeing them as patients."

Kirk winced. The red shirt problem was something he would have to look into at some point, but why personnel in red shirts died or were severely injured so often was a mystery for all of Starfleet.

"Jim, I'm here as your doctor, but I'm also here as your friend. Both Spock and Uhura commed me, worried about you, though neither of them said much about why they were worried. So, are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?"

"Bones…" Kirk's mouth was suddenly very dry. "I've already talked about some of it with Spock today."

"That might be true, but look, kid, you have bled on me, drooled on me, and threw up on me more times than I can count in the six years I've known you. You even accidentally urinated on me in that one incident of mutual drunkenness I won't elaborate on, and I have forgiven it all. I have seen every possible kind of crap being around you can bring. And you are seriously going to try to duck talking to me with the excuse that you already shared feelings with the hobgoblin?"

Kirk heard his mouth say, "Don't call Spock a hobgoblin, Bones," but he already felt himself struggling against another panic attack.

So much blood everywhere they cut Billy up right in front of me he wasn't even done screaming when they butchered him and cut out his heart and they roasted it and it smelled like food but it still looked like Billy oh god why god I threw up everything I had eaten everything I could so sorely lose I lost my stomach and then my bladder and the soldiers left me in the corner in disgust and I lived but they left Billy's bones in the fire -

"Breathe, Jim, you have got to breathe, man."

Kirk found himself still seated in his chair, Bones crouched in front of him, strong hands on his shoulders. He got himself back under control. "Flashback," he managed to say through gritted teeth.

"No shit, Jim." Bones stood and pulled a chair over so he was directly across from Kirk without the desk being in the way.

Good, he's swearing at me.

"How long has this been going on?"

Kirk weighed what he should tell Bones. He had never lied to his doctor (or the friend in his doctor) except by omission. He decided to tell a version of the truth. "Twenty years. Since I was six and my stepfather beat me half to death with his construction boots."

Bones blinked. "Was this before or after the time he threw you down the stairs?"

"Before. He threw me down the stairs after I crashed "his" car off a cliff. Never mind it was my dad's car, not his."

Bones nodded sagely. He was quiet for a long moment and then said, "This seems like a talk that requires alcohol."

"I'm on duty."

"Look at the clock."

Kirk did. Its face showed Kirk to be wrong and he had been off duty for two hours. Spock and Uhura must have left six hours ago, while he was doing paperwork. "Oops."

"In this instance, losing track of time is forgivable," Bones pulled a flask out of nowhere along with two shot glasses and poured something brown and delicious-looking, "as is continuing that endeavor."

"To what end, Bones?" Kirk asked. "Why?"

"Like I need an excuse to drink. And you look like you need it. You don't know it, but you're about the color of a corpse right now, and it's kind of freaky, especially since I've seen it before. So drink, dammit."

"Far be it from me to turn down your contraband," Kirk said, and drank it. It burned going down but he did feel slightly better.

"I resemble that remark."

"Yes, you do." Kirk laughed. "Thanks, Bones."

"Don't mention it. But please, by all means, continue lying to your chief medical officer about your panic attacks."

"Bones…" Kirk felt like melting into his chair.

"Bullshit, Jim. Your childhood was hell. I know it. You know it. It's written all over your body. But I know there's a blank spot you would never directly address with me, and that ends now." Bones' tone softened. "If you're having panic attacks I should have known about it earlier. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

"It wasn't a panic attack –"

"Again, I call bullshit. You were sweating, and shaking, not breathing normally, and Spock said you almost fainted earlier. That's four symptoms of panic attacks as I learned them in medical school, and I've seen all but the last one in the last two minutes."

Kirk knew he was right but hated to admit it.

"Spock didn't tell me anything you actually discussed with him," Bones continued, pouring another dose of alcoholic libation into the two shot glasses. "So feel free to start at the beginning."

Before Kirk could respond, the intercom buzzed, Sulu's voice within the machine. "Bridge to Captain."

Kirk responded with an automatic motion with his left hand. "Captain here."

"Captain, we have received communication from the away team. Can we patch Commander Spock through?"

"Of course. Please do so."

There was a moment, and then static, and then Spock's voice. "Captain, I regret to inform you that my worst case scenario for this planet does not even come close to what we have witnessed here."

Kirk frowned, and a terrible nausea sank into his stomach. "In what way? Is anyone hurt? Do you need help?"

"No one is injured, though several of the security personnel have vomited. I cannot say that this is a personal weakness on their parts. No assistance is needed either, at least not at this time. But I can tell you that we have been misled about our mission to transport the governor from Cygnus IX to Cygnus X."

"How so?"

"It appears…" there was a pause from Spock. "We have not made contact with anyone in the capital. Everyone we have encountered is dead. It appears any survivors have fled."

It took several seconds for Kirk to understand fully what Spock meant when he said everyone. "So why does the governor want passage?"

"He has just conquered the whole of this planet and wishes to determine his standing with Cygnus X which has supported his newly conquered enemies. Or such would be my guess, based on documents we found in his office."

"Spock, did you just admit to burgling a building against regulations?"

"On the contrary. When the governor requested passage from Starfleet he signed an agreement agreeing to an investigation into his identity, covering any Starfleet investigation. It is standard procedure in this quadrant."

"If you say so, Spock. Keep me posted, all right?"

"Of course, Captain." Pause. "Is Dr. McCoy with you?"

Bones growled, "What do you want?"

"Don't mind him, Spock, he's been drinking. What do you need him for?"

"A question." Another pause. "When was the last time anything like this, that I have described, happened? What information is available on the effects of mass violence on a planet like this?"

McCoy leaned back in his chair, thinking, but Kirk already knew the answer before he said it. "Tarsus IV, in 2246," he said, "and remarkably little information. It takes a long time for any survivor to talk about their experiences."

"Thank you, Doctor. I must leave the comm, as Lieutenant Uhura is shouting for me."

There was a hiss of static as Spock disconnected. Kirk sipped the alcohol in his second shot. Whiskey, his mouth determined, and the good stuff at that.

Dammit, Spock, that's a sneaky and underhanded thing to do. You must have figured that if I wouldn't talk about Tarsus IV with you, I might talk about it with Bones, and for some reason you think I should talk. For some reason that is utterly beyond me.

Bones' voice interrupted Kirk's thoughts. "The time period you have never talked about with me was mostly the year 2246," Bones said slowly.

Kirk swallowed. "Yes."

Bones' face crumpled. "You survived Tarsus IV." It was not a question.

Kirk didn't answer, choosing to drink more of Bones' whiskey instead.

"That explains why you looked like you were about to faint, after that military ethics class first year," Bones looked like he was seeing things that were far away. "You never told me why you had reacted so badly."

"I've never told anyone, Bones. Anyone who wasn't there to see it. Who would have understood?"

Bones was quiet a moment. "How much of your old scars, which you had let me think were childhood abuse injuries, are actually from Tarsus IV?"

Bones broke with a wet snap – couldn't breathe couldn't breathe ribs snapped – smell of beer, Frank roaring at a little child – you ruined your mother's life when you were born you misbegotten little bastard –

The pain, god the pain when they forced his broken left arm into a straight enough line to be tattooed blue ink little numbers and letters he had tried to resist but he couldn't when he was so weak hadn't eaten in days weeks months maybe but as soon as the tattooer had let go of his arm and counted him and listed him he ran and ran and ran and ran –

Kirk shook himself. "Many of them. Some of them didn't scar as badly as the older injuries because I got medical care after Starfleet arrived."

"That doesn't surprise me," Bones looked incredibly sad. The man really was a maudlin drunk.

They were quiet for a few minutes. Kirk had nothing he wanted to say, but even despite the reason Bones was in his office he appreciated the man's company.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Bones asked.

Kirk gave him a hard look. "Would you willingly talk about the worst things you had ever done and seen?"

"Yes. Remember all my stories about my ex-wife leaving me nothing but my bones in the divorce?" Bones took a swig of the alcohol. "I'm not proud of some of the things I said about her and to her around our daughter."

"I wish that the worst things I'd ever done were like that."

There was another long pause.

The stolen potato was the best thing I ever tasted. I watched everyone around me die and I, deathless, could only watch, and steal to eat, and worse. The only thing of value was food, calories, anything to give one's body energy and sate one's stomach. The labor of one's body was meaningless compared to a loaf of bread. Anything to eat!

"Tell me."

Kirk blinked. "What?"

"You've never talked about it. That prisoner in the hold, if he is the killer you say he is, means you have to face all those memories you've got bottled up. So, either you tell me, or I give you a truth serum and stick you in a soundproof room until you've talked it out."

Kirk balked, jaw dropping open and then slamming shut with an audible click. "Bones – "

"Don't "Bones" me, Jim. I mean the best for you." He took a long swig of the whiskey. "I'd rather like to listen, but you need to get it off your chest, one way or the other or whatever."

There was a long pause. "I can tell you some," he finally said. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, first off, how did you recognize the man in the brig?"

"I keep up to date on the Starfleet most wanted lists. The ones wanted for genocide," Kirk swallowed against his gorge. "Those tend to stick in my mind for reasons you can guess. I recognized him, even under his makeup. In a blink of an eye I saw what he had tried to hide."

Just like you're doing right now. I saw him, and that has let (at the least) Bones, Uhura, and Spock see me, when that part of me I had wanted nothing more than to bury forever. Better to be remembered as twenty-six years old and legend for saving Earth from Nero – better to be remembered as twenty-seven and coming back to life after dying of radiation poisoning – than to be twenty-nine and be remembered as the 13-year-old I was on Tarsus IV.

"I can guess, but I don't know. Not really."

"You can't know. You weren't there. I was and," A wave of nausea passed over Kirk, "there are days I can't believe my own memories, but they're too horrible to have been dreamed up."

Silence.

"Tell me about it," Bones finally said. He looked haggard. "I would pour whiskey into you until you told me, but I'd rather have you tell me, as your friend, because you want to."

"I am ashamed of what I did," Kirk said in a low voice. He could feel tears in his eyes again. "I lived when so many died and I lived because I could do things that were so disgusting it makes my skin crawl."

Hiding in a garbage heap – behind barrels of tanning solution – good thing the soldiers didn't have dogs the dogs would have smelled me but all the dogs were eaten after the blight hit – but the soldiers did have eyes so I had to be still oh so still and not move even though I felt bugs crawling all over me and the reek and the rot –

"Jim," Bones put a hand on his knee, making Kirk flinch involuntarily. "Jim, you lived and they died. That doesn't make you bad. You were a kid. You were a strong kid, though, and you did what you had to do."

Kirk's eyes were hollow as he looked searchingly into Bones' face. "I got them killed," he said in a strangled voice.

Bones blinked. "Tell me the story, or part of the story. Let me judge for myself."

Kirk swallowed the last of his whiskey and ran a hand through his hair. "All right," he said. "I will tell you part of the story."

o0o0o

A/N: Kirk's survivor''s guilt is, unfortunately, very common among survivors of trauma such as genocide. His guilt colors a great many of the things that he says here and will say later. As a note from a historian of the Holocaust, please note that what he says about victims being complicit is an extreme and no scholar would say so without a similarly extreme case.