Summary: Because Jim misses bedtime stories and a life like this should not be real, but it is so he copes the only way he knows how.
Warning: This is not a happy story, or at least not for Jim in the beginning. Beware of angst, mentions of abuse, an extremely large section on Tarsus IV, and Kirk/Spock. Jim will also be slightly out of character since I intend to make him a bit more on the grim side.
Disclaimer: If I owned it…..well let's just say that no one anywhere would ever doubt that Kirk/Spock was canon (though honestly there shouldn't be any doubt anyways!)
Robin Hood.
Things get much worse after that and it is all J.T. can do to keep his children alive. He finally has time to read the contents of that data pad in their entirety and so he knows what is happening, knows about the fungus that attacked the food supply and about Kodos and his beliefs. He finds an almost sadistic glee in looking back at the memories of the lives that he has stolen it is good that they are dead; they deserved death for being monsters enough to comply with orders to shoot down children in the streets and cannot help but wish to clasp his hands around the neck of Kodos himself.
He manages to keep things together through sheer will power and at first it is not easy. Some of the older children do not want to follow someone younger than they are and one day they rebel and leave the safety of the area that he had worked hard to develop. Later that same day they are sore and tired and once again in shock when they return to camp, a blood soaked J.T. following closely behind them. He had ripped his way through the unsuspecting guards who had captured them with the viciousness of an animal.
They never question him again.
He works hard to keep them safe. He works hard and for the most part he works alone and sometimes he feels that if it was not for Kevin he would be dead already Kevin had given him a purpose beyond his own survival because after so much it was sometimes not enough to live for the sake of living before he shakes the feeling and goes back to whatever he is doing at the moment. His original charge proves to be a great help as he listens to J.T. with unwavering loyalty. His steadfast devotion slowly helps to convince the other children that he was not a danger at least not to them, he killed to protect them and he would never hurt them and that following him was the best choice.
Slowly a sense of family seemed to develop.
An older girl named Zafrina is also devoted to J.T. he pulled the guard off her and she knows that she would have been raped and dead in the street if he had not come along and becomes almost a mother figure to the rest of the group. They go to her for comfort because she is beautiful with her soft mocha colored skin, long raven hair, and soothing voice. She tells J.T. that when this is over they will always be together, that he saved her and she wanted to always be in his life. He wants to believe her he knows the truth in his heart, when it was over and if they survived she would see the animal that he was and would turn from him as well so he never says otherwise when she begins to plan out futures for them all.
Their youngest is a toddler, barely able to speak and no one seems to know her name so J.T. calls her Ixia she looks so much like Marixia with her grins and that tumble of fiery hair that he feels an almost ache in his heart every time he looks at her and the name seems to fit. Everyone takes pleasure in her, because she is too young to have been truly tainted by the situation and her laughter and smiles are as carefree as they ever were.
J.T. is not their father; he is their protector, their teacher, their savior and their hope. He organizes watches and codes so they are safe, he sets up a perimeter for security and does everything in his power to stay undetected. He teaches them like he taught Kevin, how to blend and how to move unnoticed. He is a silent and often grim figure but they can not help but be in awe of him for all that he does for them and on the rare occasions that he sits among them they all try and tell him so only to end in failure. He means too much for them to properly express.
He has quiet evenings with Zafrina where they sit and play chess on the old board that he had gathered from the farm and she tells him her dreams it is nice because he has never had a friend since Kevin is more of his child and he finds himself drawn to her quiet conversation even if he does not participate often.
J.T. is forced to face the fact that they are slowly dying. He knows by the time on the data pad and the crude calendar he scratched into the cave wall for the younger children that almost two months had passed. Two months of rationing the food that he had managed to gather, of going days without eating because he knew that he was stronger and the others were so very weak. He has already exhausted the supplies at his old home, what would have feed three mouths for an extended period of time does not last so long when it must feed twenty-three he does not include himself because he can survive on so much less than they can and in so many different ways. Two months and he knows that he will have to venture into enemy territory or his children will die.
It is on a night when Zafrina is finding it hard to quiet the children, where everyone is restless because they are growing hungrier by the day, that he makes his move. He is steady and almost methodical in his preparations he knows this is dangerous, more so than protecting his children or rescuing them, this is different because he has never actively sought out the enemy before and he cannot stop himself from checking and then rechecking the perimeter of the cave. When he is ready, he rises from his crouched position and moves fluidly to where Zafrina sits beside Ixia in the corner, motioning for her to follow him with a tilt of his head.
He gathers a few others on his way to the cave entrance, motioning for them all to be quiet and not wake the younger ones. Echo is a tall slim teen with lackluster white hair and a mellow disposition; Tom is the boy who had been disfigured by the rifle blast and J.T. finds his presence reassuring since he is by nature a calm individual. He is proud to see Kevin at his side, the knife that he had gifted to him so many months ago still where it should be it gives him a sense of relief to know that his original child has protection at all times and E., whose first name is unpronounceable for most of the group, follows closely behind.
When they are finally together and out of range for the other children to be disturbed by their conversation he finally speaks.
"I'm leaving." He states and only his upraised hand stops the loud eruption of voices before it can begin. "Not for good but for the night, we need more food and supplies and I know where to get them. You need to be on guard while I am gone, take the rifles I am leaving behind and keep a watch. You know the rules."
Without giving them a chance to speak he turns and kneels before Kevin as much as he wishes he could leave the boy out of this he finds that he can not leave without speaking to him again, this small child who was the first to make him actually feel almost human.
"Kevin I need you to be careful. Stay with Zafrina and stay safe." J.T. unexpectedly gathers the boy close to him and cannot stop from whispering into his ear, "Nam-tor karik Kevin, rish-tor." He still does not know what they mean and has not heard the voice in so very long but the tattoos are still there and the words are still an almost hope.
Kevin melts into J.T.'s embrace, his small body clinging to his knight and his young tongue stumbles over the word that he knows means so much to his J.T. because he constantly whispers it to him at night. "Rish-tor J.T." He does not sob like he wants to but the tears are still in his eyes as J.T. sets him aside and disappears in that silent way he has.
J.T. is a blur in the shadows of the late evening as he flickers through the forest. He knows from the data pad he had confiscated from the dead guard that the food they had been told to gather was at the time being held in one of the storehouses in the center of town. He knew the place was still inhabited since the people who had been on the kill list had been gathered for execution in the square like animals, and like animals they had rioted, spilling death into empty streets, since the colonists deemed worthy had been moved for a short time for the euthanasia to take place. His children had been the lucky ones who had managed to flee the slaughter lucky to live only to face the possibility of a slow death. It was a dangerous risk but chances were it would be his best bet to finding a means of sustaining his children.
It takes him precious time but when dark is heavy upon him he finally reaches the outskirts of town and is almost sickened to see people walking through the streets looking hearty and hale his children are starving, will die if he does not succeed and these creatures, these blessed four thousand, seemed unaffected overall. He slinks through town, his job made more difficult by the people milling about and the unforgiving lights that shrink his shadows. It is a complicated game, a complex give and take of risk and nerve to stay out of sight and unnoticed by so many and he feels a part of him sing at the danger.
Hours seem to pass but he knows that it is only minutes as he steals through the town and ever closer the storehouse that holds salvation for his children. He is careful as he slips passed the guard he wishes he could kill the man, wants to feel his life slip away but he knows that a body will make things more difficult and toward the building, staying in the shadows until he is face to face with the keypad that stands between him and his goal. It is almost child's play to open the lock, to use the knowledge he had absorbed to gain an access code without detection, and relief threatens to overwhelm him as he slips in through the door.
It is empty.
Rage and a sense of helplessness fills him as the knowledge that he had been wrong overwhelms his mind. This had been his chance, his children's chance and yet he had failed it seemed as if he always failed in one way or another only this time others besides himself would pay the price. He wants to act out, to channel the rage that fills him into a physical sense. He almost leaves, almost goes outside and attacks the guard in a fit of murderous violence before it hits him, a solid blow to the solar-plex in the form of a voice.
"Nam-tor hayal."
The voice, his life giving voice, slams across his consciousness like a physical blow and he finds himself scrambling after it mentally you're here, you're back, please stay don't go, need you, want you here, don't go. For the first time in his life he reaches out, towards someone else, only to feel the connection slam shut before him. It is not the gradual withdrawal of before, but an all out rejection of his mental self, a slamming of a door and the turning of a lock. An inescapable sense of finality that seems to tell J.T. that it is the end this time, that it will never come back.
A harsh prickling in the back of his eyes takes him off guard as the urge to cry rails through him for the first time since he was small. He shoves it back viciously and instead tries to focus on the issue of his children he is used to being unwanted so this should not hurt, but oh God it does with the flaring pain of a thousand beatings because he had reached out to his voice and been rejected without hesitation but it feels as if something within him is broken now, something that had previously remained untouched through everything is now shattered beyond all recognition.
It is as if something has died within J.T., some wounded and sickly piece of his soul is now gone and in its place he can feel the wolf pacing at the door.
His face set in a firm line he tightly grasps his knife in hand and slinks back out the door. He is silent as he approaches the guard, quiet as his hand flashes out and his knife bits deep into the mans' throat, the blade stifling any sound that would have been forth coming. The body drops, the man's life blood seeping into the ground beneath his feet as J.T. crouches beside his body and searches though his pocket. He knows that there must be orders on the man somewhere because it is not necessary to guard an empty building. The data pad is undamaged when he removes it from a pocket and places it into his own. Carefully he strips the guard of all that he can take and slips back into the shadows, slinking again to the outskirts of town.
He finds a safe place and settles down with the data pad, his face a blank mask and his hands covered in fresh blood J.T. no longer cares about the trouble the body will bring, no longer cares about much of anything, he will achieve his goal and all else matters not as he reads the words on the screen. There will be a transport coming later that same night, a small convoy of foodstuff to be delivered to the guard's housing facilities, followed by a larger shipment for the civilians who live in the town the following morning. It is a routine that is scheduled for roughly once a month. He studies the route, the small number of guards and the timeframe.
He knows what he must do.
AN: I know it is a bit on the short side but I wanted to get something up for all of you who have been so kind to me and I promise I will make it up to you with the next chapter since it is much longer. I hope that everyone is still enjoying the story and are willing to suffer with Jim and me in the future!
Translations:
Nam-tor karik: Be strong
Rish-tor: Survive
Nam-tor hayal: Be calm