Chapter 7- Obsession

Disclaimer: At this point, I'd be willing to give my soul for a High-Def Blu-Ray collection of the TOS episodes so I could give them to Dad and steal his DVDs permanently and a cruise vacation because OH MY GOD do I need a vacation... Is that evidence enough that I don't own anything about this story?

Ratings and Pairings: Seventh verse, same as the first.

((Author's Note: For the record, I love constructive criticism. If anything about the story seems 'off' to you, from the most minute typo to the hugest OoC moment or historical inaccuracy, please, let me know. If you're afraid of starting a flame war over it, just PM me- that way no one but you and I have to know about it and you can decide to block me if you think I'm offensive in response. I can't fix a problem I don't know about. That said; outright flames are most unwelcome. Tell me I'm wrong all you like, just say it nicely.))

WARNING! In Oceanus one of the major characters is effectively a teenage girl with a crush on an adult man. Nothing sexual is going to happen between them, but I don't want to offend anyone who gets weirded out by such things. Just consider yourself warned.


Some call the sea a woman. They aren't quite wrong, but they aren't quite right. You see, the woman sailors call Marina is really a little girl who still isn't sure of who she is growing into. She still plays with superstitious sailors, she still throws tantrums that leave ships wreaked deep within her depths, and she still sings and dances in the breeze and the red morning sun- but when once she was small and confined within the reaches of the known world, a world of overbearing parents who knew her as well as anyone, lately she has grown. She wasn't sad to see her old parents fall, not when they were so caught up in the killing and the stealing that they stopped loving her. Now there are new friends, old familiar faces who are offering a chance to explore her identity and theirs, together. She really thinks she likes these new friends. Indeed, the sea is not a woman who answers to Marina; she is a little girl who would much rather be called Miri- a pretty name for a pretty girl, at least, that's what her favorite sailor says.

"Keep rowing, ve have to geet beck to ze ship!" Chekov barked at Greene and Finney, clutching his calve. His ankle, formerly only slightly sore was now throbbing with pain. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid as to run up those stairs the night before. If he hadn't twisted it, he might have been able to keep up with Riley- he might have been able to save him.

The young sailor looked over his shoulder at the tropical hell-hole he'd been forced to abandon his best friend on. He felt something tight ball up in his throat and he blinked his eyes rapidly to keep from letting the wind fog up his eyes. The moon was bright- if Greene or Stiles saw his face they might think the pain in his ankle was making him tear up like some kind of little boy. He tried in vain to swallow the tight lump that threatened to cut off his air, and looking into the waters between the shore where he'd been forced to leave his best friend and this tiny rowboat he swore he saw something- something weird and not quite glowing but… shimmering really with an almost silver tint racing from the inky blackness to the pinpricks of light from the windows of the fortified port town of Havana.

"Vot vas zat?" He muttered.

"Huh?" Finney panted as he rowed. Chekov looked over at the two of them. Even in the moonlight he could tell they were red-faced and dripping in sweat.

"Ve are close. Keep rowing, you are doing wery vell."

A smile flicked across Finney's lips. "Don't worry, Pav," the older man panted as he pulled the oar into his chest, "We'll get him back okay."

Greene nodded and looked over at Chekov. "You just sit tight, kid. We're almost home."

Miri never had fallen in love before. She'd had lots of silly crushes, but now that she was older she knew better. This was real; this was love. She'd known a million sailors in her youth, but this one, her favorite, he really understood her. He really loved her back like none of the other sailors ever could have. He was handsome, brave, and true- he was perfect. There couldn't be anyone better for her. She would make him hers; she would do anything for him.

Kevin sat staring at the damp hay in the gaol cell. He couldn't believe stupid luck: his first chance to lead a landing party and he gets himself captured. He shook his head. The pretty wench hadn't been that pretty- certainly not worth getting thrown in a Spanish cell. Now, instead of ever getting another chance at leading a landing party again or getting a bigger cut of the booty, he was going to get hung or something. He was just lucky that the Spaniards didn't know he was a pirate, but since he didn't understand Spanish, he had no way of knowing if they had caught up to the landing party or not… if Pav and his cocky attitude had gotten the party into trouble… Kevin shook his head dejectedly. What could he do about it from in here? He could still hear his friend shouting demonic sounding curses in his sharp strange language as Finney and Greene pulled him to his feet. If his ankle hadn't been hurt then Chekov would be in this cell right along with him.

"Stupid!" Kevin cursed himself, kicking at the bits of hay. The motion made Kevin rub his raw back against the stone and he winced in pain. Ten lashes with a rod weren't the worst he'd ever endured, but it was just for starters… especially if they ever found out he was a pirate. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid as to follow that Spanish dame. Even if he couldn't have known that she was leaving the tavern to 'entertain' two Spanish soldiers, he should have known that trying to interrupt a working girl in the middle of a transaction was just begging for trouble. Pavel had tried to tell him it was a bad idea. Kevin could still hear himself taunting his young friend- telling him he was going to be as stiff-necked as Mr. Spock if he kept up that attitude. He was really becoming more and more like Mr. Spock every day, spending so much time with him going over charts and figures; Kevin could tell it was another bad case of hero-worship on Pav's part. Pav's heroes changed from week to week, first Pav's old man, then the captain, then Spock. It wouldn't be long before the kid traded in his maps for a set of surgeon's knifes to be just like their new doc, if past behavior was any indication. Kevin shook his head at the image of Pav with his short hair tied back under that stupid fur hat, trying with his weird accent to tell a gent that he was going to die. "Dumb kid," he muttered affectionately. He had thought for sure trading in uniform blues for that stupid hat would help Pav loosen up, but the kid had a soldier's heart behind a sailor's skills.

He heart footsteps strolling leisurely through the gaol. Kevin's shoulders tensed as he looked up to face the Spanish dog. They'd already whipped him once today- the only reasons they'd come back for more were if they were cruel bastards or they'd found him out. If they whipped him for being a pirate, he could take it- he would have deserved it for getting his friends killed along with him. There's nothing like guilt to make physical pain… less. However, in the dimly lit hall he didn't see the high-kneed boots of a Spanish soldier, but delicate buckled boots and grimy grayish stockings. The Irishman's eyes shifted upwards, taking in dark blue breeches and a darker blue coat, both dripping wet and tattered like those of a man who had been tossed about in a storm; the clothes even had seaweed and sand stuck to them. Riley swallowed back the fear he'd kept under wraps for almost a year now- he knew the fashion of a British naval officer, the not-quite uniform of a fine Lieutenant of His Majesty's navy, but the shadows obscured the face of his doom.

Against the Spanish Riley had a chance for survival- they could only hang him if they thought he was a pirate and unless they caught the others, they had no reason to think that, but against the English Riley had no chance. He was guilty of piracy, desertion, and conspiracy to commandeer a ship and the English knew it. The English were not known to be lenient toward deserters, and they hated pirates.

"Hello, Mr. Riley." The voice was warm, friendly in tone, but Kevin felt himself shiver. It wasn't possible- it had to be the voice of a ghost come to haunt him in his worst hour.

"Who's there?"

The lieutenant stepped into the light and Kevin pushed himself to his feet. He couldn't decide if he was relieved or even more terrified. "My God… Gary?"

When she had found him he was nearly dead. Many, no, most of the stories started like that- why would this one be any different? This one was different though, because even near death he was practically glowing with life. So many of the others wasted away in despair before she could save them; this one fought. He fought against her, he fought against death, he fought against everything. In the end he lost, but she didn't like that, so she made him live again. She made him a part of her.

McCoy and Spock came out of the lower hold bickering about whether it was necessary to stock extra ale or if they should just resupply more frequently when they saw a crowd gathering at the port side of the main deck.

"Captured! What do you mean, captured, Chekov? I sent you there to establish we were merchants, not to get into trouble!" They could hear Kirk shouting at the weary boy as he and his comrades stepped aboard the ship.

"I know, sair, and I vould have stopped him if I hadn't- AHH!" Chekov gasped, collapsing on his injured ankle. McCoy pushed through the crowd to get to the navigator.

"Chekov did try to save him, Cap'n." Greene said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Finney nodded. "If it weren't for his ankle the kid might have gotten to him in time."

McCoy touched the swollen skin and Chekov hissed. "It's just sprained. I'll bet it hurts like the devil, but as long as you stay off it now…"

"I'll chop my leg off before I seet by and let those Spanish dogs hairt my friend, Doctor."

"Good luck running after them on one leg, boy." McCoy snapped. He looked up at Kirk. "What are you going to do?"

Kirk pursed his lips then pointed at Finney and Greene. "You two know where he was taken?"

"Aye, sir," Finney agreed.

"Good. Back in the boat, you two. Spock, Sulu, arm up! You're with me."

Spock nodded curtly and rushed into the lower hold again. Sulu just pat a sword that hung at all times on his hips. Spock came back out, his sword and sword-belt in place.

Kirk nodded and he and the men got back into the rowboat. As Spock was stepping on McCoy stood and grabbed his arm. "I'm going with you."

"Don't be foolish, Doctor. You can't hold your own in a fight and if the Spanish see you with us, they'll surely label you as a pirate."

"That may be, but I know the Spanish will have thrashed Riley, and God only knows what they've done to him if they think he's a pirate. You need me."

"We don't have time to debate this!" Kirk snapped. "Get in the boat, but I swear to God, Bones, if you try anything I will shoot you myself."

McCoy nodded curtly and got in the boat.

When she told some of her dear sailors about her nature, many of them wept or tried to tell her that it wouldn't, didn't matter. He didn't. He just smiled and wanted to know more. No one else ever wanted to know more about her- they all thought they understood her. She shared everything she was with him. She let him see everything she was, and everything she was capable of. He smiled a smile that Miri fell in love with. She would give anything for that smile.

"Mr. Riley, is that any way to address a senior officer?" Gary stood there, his wig sopping and bits of his dark hair peeking out from under it, sticking to his temples. It would have looked ridiculous if his eyes weren't shimmering with an eerie silver light.

Riley's throat bobbed. "Ah, sorry, Mr. Mitchell, sir, lieutenant, I, ah-" he coughed.

"Oh, that's right. You don't answer to a superior officer anymore, just the captain, the bos'un and their little first mate."

"Captain Kirk's done better by me than any officer I've ever served under, sir."

"Mr. Riley, you're facing the gallows and your precious captain isn't here to help you. I, on the other hand," Mitchell walked through the solid iron bars, his silver eyes flashing hypnotically, "am here, and I can get you out."

Riley ran a hand through his greasy red hair, his wide eyes darting around. "We thought you were dead, Gary… I mean, you were gonna kill all those Vulcans and when you fell overboard-"

"Those green-blooded bastards didn't even blink! They were just as willing to watch me die as I would have been them, don't think for a moment that they're any better! I know of greater powers in these waters than those cold-hearted monsters, and you can have some. Think, Kevin! You're descended from Irish kings, yet you serve like a dog under an English captain."

"I, I, I, know, but… but he's-"

"He's what?"

"He's my captain!" Riley spluttered, his fists balled up tight.

Mitchell narrowed his gleaming eyes, "I know you sailors. You're only loyal to whoever gets you the most gold, it doesn't matter if that's a merchant, a navy, or a pirate. You forget, Riley, he left me to ROT, just like he's leaving you." The walls trembled at Mitchell's words and Riley felt his own knees giving a shake in response.

"Okay… okay! Fine, you get me out of here and I'll do whatever you want."

"Just tell me what I want to know and I'll get you out."

"Sure… sure." Kevin felt like shit as the words came out of his mouth. "What do you want to know?"

"I understood your men were dying- of scurvy, I do believe."

"Yeah, so?"

"It seems strange to me that a ship full of dying men would trek down from Charleston to Havana. Why didn't Kirk turn himself in?"

"We… we were gonna just bunk up on some little island for a few days to recoup, but when we press-ganged this doc, he decided-"

"Doc? You found yourselves a medic? Kirk thinks one doctor will keep his men safe from a raging sea?"

"I don't know! I just know we were supposed to stop here and pick up the supplies the doc asked for."

Mitchell frowned and seemed to think about the matter for a few moments. "I see." He put his hand to his forehead and began to massage his temple with his other hand, a frown pulling at his lips.

"Are you alright?"

Mitchell looked at Riley and a smug grin peeled across his face. "Oh, I'll be fine." He thrust his hand in Riley's direction. Even though the lieutenant's hand didn't even touch him, Kevin gasped and began to choke. He fell to his knees, his mouth open and gaping for air, screaming mutely as grey water began to bubble out from behind his lips.

"I just didn't want that answer."

As far as she could see, her love could never do any wrong. He was going to teach her about love and life and being who you are and doing what you want. He was the perfect man.

Spock pressed the edge of his sword to a fat guard's neck. "Where did you lock up the boy?" Kirk asked. He had taken his over-large had and sat it squarely on McCoy's head to preserve the secrecy of the physician's identity.

"Que? Que?" The Spaniard gasped, "No sé lo que estás diciendo!"

Kirk pulled his pistol. "Habla Inglés ahora?"

The guard trembled and fell to his knees. "Boy, boy is in the cell. Two floors down, in the door on the left."

Kirk grabbed the man by his breastplate and shoved him at the door. "Then by all means, lead the way, Señor."

Spock put the tip of his sword to the man's back and the fat guard led him and Sulu down the stairs.

"Go with them, Bones; Riley may be hurt." Kirk ordered. "Greene, Stiles, you're with me."

McCoy nodded and rushed after the two armed men. When he caught up to them he could see them egging the guard to unlock the cell door. The room stunk of bilge water and there were pools of the rancid brine between damp piles of hay and cracks in the stone floor. Riley lay face down in the stuff, soaked to the bone. When the cell was opened McCoy slipped in and turned Riley onto his side and grey water seeped out of his mouth.

"How do you drown in a gaol cell?" Sulu breathed. Spock pressed the guard up to the wall. The fat Spaniard spluttered as the Vulcan pressed his sword to his throat.

"What did you do to him?"

"Me? I didn't… we just gave him a thrashing!"

"Spock, c'mere." McCoy ordered. Spock looked at him, quirking an eyebrow. "I need you to help me. He's not too far gone yet."

Spock shoved the guard against the wall and strode over to help McCoy. The Spaniard swore a bit. McCoy put Riley on his back.

"Hold his stomach." Spock did and McCoy tilted the face and pressed his lips to it. Spock's eyebrows lifted in surprise. McCoy exhaled. Grey water rushed into his mouth and the doctor gagged. He coughed the filth out. "Guh! It's horrible."

"Try again." Spock ordered. McCoy nodded and pressed his mouth to Riley's again. Two breaths later and McCoy had expelled some more of the grey bilge water and Riley popped up coughing and retching up water and bile. McCoy held the boy by his shoulder as the boy finished.

"Easy now," he whispered between the boy's hacking coughs and more bile. "You're gonna be alright, boy."

"Gary… It was Gary!" His wide green eyes fixed on Spock. "I saw Gary! He wasn't dead, he tried to kill me!"

"Lieutenant Mitchell?" Spock breathed. He looked pale. Riley nodded, looking grim. "We have to tell the captain."

"Who's Gary Mitchell?" McCoy asked.

Riley and Spock exchanged a glance but said nothing. McCoy looked at Sulu who was guarding the door.

"Ask the captain. That was before my time."

Spock pulled Riley to his feet. McCoy pushed himself up. "Spock," He grabbed the Vulcan's arm. "Who is Mitchell?"

Spock looked at Sulu and nodded. Sulu stepped over and slit the Spaniard's throat. McCoy's jaw dropped.

"What the hell did you-"

"No one must know we were here." Sulu stated wiping off his blade.

McCoy lunged and Spock restrained him. "If you want answers you will come now. Get an arm under Riley, if we stay we'll loose our lives and our safety. The Spaniards won't let us go if there is even the hint of suspicion that we are not what we seem. If he tells his fellows that we helped him escape our entire landing party will be in jeopardy. We have to tell the captain what we have learned about Mitchell."

Spock shrugged McCoy off his arm and pushed ahead. McCoy linked and arm under Riley and followed, spitting a curse under his breath.


((Author's Note: "Gaol" is an 18th century spelling of the word "jail" and means the same thing.

Spanish for non-Spanish speakers:

Que? - What?

No sé lo que estás diciendo! - I don't know what you're saying!

Habla Inglés ahora? - Do you speak English now?

Señor - Sir.

Thanks again to Allyp for telling me how to write in Spanish.))