I nursed the drink in my hand, straight whiskey, powerful and burning as it slid down my throat. It warmed me in spite of the pain, and it numbed everything that hurt, everything I remembered and wished to have forgotten. It made the tiredness behind my eyes fade, replaced the horrid pain with an alcoholic indifference, an overreaching apathy that drowned it all out for a while.
It pushed the nightmare away, it pushed the pain that still aches inside me, a low throbbing remembrance that tainted everything. Even now, I can still feel the way those fingers gauged into me, reaching into me and breaking me from the inside out. I can still hear his raged breath, his horrible words, my awful screams, nearly muted, that begged him to stop.
I threw back the rest of the drink then, letting the amber alcohol wash down my throat and help me forget.
It was still early; I had retreated here not long after class, not acknowledging anyone I knew, not stopping to see Leonard or check-in with Gary. It's been three hours since classes let out, and I'm still here. My communicator rang incessantly for a while, vibrating like mad over the course of a half an hour, but I wasn't ready to answer the calls, to listen to concerned voices from people who could never know what happened.
I slammed the glass on the table.
I couldn't believe that I was still afraid, but I couldn't shake it. My body would never let me forget and my shattered psyche could never stop the pain, the memories. I was just fragile enough to be afraid to put myself together and move on, just broken enough that I couldn't do it even if I tried.
He broke me in.
I tried, God, did I try to fix myself, tear myself away from this. But he didn't leave enough of my whole. I was in too many pieces that I couldn't see what belonged where, and my edges were all ragged and open, and they dug into every part of me and never let me forget. The sharp, jagged edges never let the wounds stay closed, and I never had absolution, never had someone who wanted to put me back together.
Nobody wanted what he had left behind, what a broken woman I had become, so overcompensating for what he had stolen. There are scars he left behind that no one dared to touch, as if afraid I would drag them down with me and engulf them in my pain.
I never let someone get that close again.
I couldn't. It hurt too much to try to trust myself to someone's promises. As much as I wanted and needed it, I wasn't able to let someone get close enough, too afraid of being hurt, of them seeing my scars and leaving me. I couldn't stand to be used and let go. I didn't need any more pieces.
Another drink was set before me. I stared at it absently, watching the light glimmer though the amber liquid, casting strange and beautiful shards on the bar top, a shining dance of color.
I looked around quickly, suddenly not so absorbed in my drink. I wasn't even sure when so many other cadets had shown up. The entire tavern was packed, loud and noisy, the music barely able to be heard over the thrum of voices and laughter. People were here with friends and dates, and I was alone, as I always was. But that was just how it needed to be.
A woman approached the bar then, her long dark hair loose along her back, silky smooth. She was still in the cadet uniform, though without the jacket and the crimson turtleneck molded to the curves of her body. Her voice was smooth, beautiful and as I listened, I recognized the tone. She ordered quite a few drinks before stopping to wait for the bartender to fill the order.
"That's a lot of drinks for one woman." I commented, trying to force everything else out of my mind. It helped that the whiskey dulled everything so well. Too well. I leaned forward over the barstool to get a better look at her around the man who sat in between us.
She eyed me suspiciously, and I fought back the urge to smile at her.
"And a shot of Jack, straight up." She called to the bartender, ignoring me completely. A challenge. Always more fun.
"Make that two, her shot's on me."
"Her shot's on her." She shot back. "Thanks but no thanks." She added with a condescending smile and a slight shake of her head.
"Do you want to at least know my name before you completely reject me." I offered, with a slight fake hurt. She put her hands up in front of her defensively, that smile still on her face.
"I'm fine without it." She replied then, shooting me down. I laughed a little at that. She had personality, feisty and beautifully and so sure of herself, confident and whole and something I wished I could be. I didn't have my uniform on then, and I'm glad. I couldn't wear it with the same grace and purpose as she did.
"You are fine without it." I answered, grinning slightly. She looked at me disapprovingly with her warm brown eyes before looking away. "It's Jim. Jim Kirk." I said then, leaning over the bar to study her, her eyes intensely studying the countertop in front of me, more than likely hoping that I would give up. But this was a game I loved to play. "If you don't tell me your name, I'm going to have to make one up." I continued, watching a sly smile spread across her lips as I spoke. She may not particularly like me, but at least I got her to smile, even if it was at my expense. There was a brief moment of silence before she finally broke it.
"It's Uhura." She ceded, looking at me over her shoulder, lips pressed tightly as if avoiding the urge to smile.
"Uhura? No way. That's the name I was going to make up for ya." I got an eye roll from the man sitting between us. "Uhura what?"
She laughed once condescendingly, with a wide smile.
"Just Uhura."
I continued to look over at her.
"They don't have last names in your world?" I questioned, feigning seriousness.
"Uhura is my last name."
"Then they don't have…" I started, but the alcohol rushing through my veins in the place of blood stalled me a little. I caught the right word and continued. "First names in your world?"
She laughed at me then and I grabbed my drink, walking over to lean against the bar by her side.
"So you're a cadet, you're studying. What's your focus?"
"Xenolinguistics." She stated curtly, not looking at me. She turned her head then as she addressed me. "You have no idea what that means."
"The study of alien languages, morphology, phonology, syntax." I responded smoothly, not intending to inform her that I was in her class. "Means you got a talented tongue." I added onto the end, with a smile. She smiled back, still facing me.
"I'm impressed." She looked me once over before continuing. "For a moment there I thought you were just a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals."
"Well, not only." I joked. She laughed as another few cadets, also still in uniform, walked up to us.
"This townie isn't bothering ya, right?" The gruff, nearly bald man asked Uhura, not even looking in my direction.
"Oh, beyond belief!" She responded, turning around to gather the drinks the bartender was placing in front of her. He looked at me then. "But it's nothing I can't handle." She finished, turning back around to face the brusque cadet.
"You could handle me, that's an invitation." I stated as she took a sip of her drink.
"Hey!" The cadet spoke up then, eying me down angrily. "You better mind your manners."
"Oh, relax Cupcake, it was a joke." I said, slapping him on the shoulder half-heartedly before turning back to the bar.
"Hey, farm boy." He said angrily, fisting his hand in my jacket as he forced me around to face him. "Maybe you can't count, but there are four of us and one of you." This guy really shouldn't raise his voice. I resisted the urge to subconsciously wipe the spit from my face before answering.
"So get some more guys, and then it will be an even fight." I said, getting right in his face. I backed up after that, patting him on the cheek derogatorily before turning around. He grabbed my arm, however, and swinging me around, punched me right in the jaw, the blow folding me over the counter. I tried to recover from the shock and prayed the blow didn't re-fracture the bone.
"Guys, stop it." Uhura forced.
I really didn't intend to fight this guy. He wasn't worth my time. But he grabbed my wrist as I turned myself to face him, that same look gleaming in his eye as the quarter back, the need to dominate and break and humiliate and ruin and I couldn't hold myself back, all too ready to take out my pain, even if it was on the wrong person, at least that could make it go away, if even for a moment. He coiled his arm back to punch me again and kicked him in the solar plexus, sending him flying back onto a bar table, knocking it and himself to the floor.
"Stop it!" Uhura shouted, her voice hard.
One of his friends came at me then, and I blocked him.
The alcohol that had helped me not too long ago backfired now, changing all of their faces to his, to the quarter back's, to his teammates with their ridicule and I needed to take it out on them, needed them to see that it was all his fault that I was so messed up now, that if they knew I could heal. I needed to beat that into them. But I was frenzied and not thinking clearly, and one of the cadets held me back while the other laid into me, hard, his fists heavy and I was defenseless and if it weren't for the anger bubbling in my veins, I would have trembled, would have cried, as images of him hovering over me, holding me down and assaulting me flashed in front of me. If it weren't for the pain of the punches, I would be able to feel him ripping me open, forcing himself on me as I begged him to stop.
I got free somehow and broke a bottle over the cadet's head, though I imagined him as I did it, trying to help the vision of me, protect myself from that monster, but I was already too late.
"Enough!" Uhura called as they started to gang up on me again. I fell to the floor, my adrenaline high starting to wear off and the pain of eight years of isolation and fear and having no where to turn rose up inside of me, making my knees weak and my body nearly unresponsive.
One of the cadets hauled me off of the floor by my jacket however and threw me onto a table, laying a few punches into my face.
"Guys, he's had enough!" Uhura called desperately as a whistle echoed through the room. Everyone stalled, even the cadet with his hand fisted in my collar and everyone turned to see where the sound had come from.
A man in a black Starfleet uniform stood in the doorway, and the cadet holding me dropped me onto the table. I couldn't even focus on what was being said, my mind was hazy, fading and I was having trouble breathing. I started to wheeze slightly, a pain rushing through my chest as I tried to breathe startled me, but the blood in my mouth, running into my throat, choked off my words.
"Outside. All of you. Now." The man commanded and everyone in a cadet's uniform rushed out. "Are you alright, son?" The man asked, watching me. I still couldn't talk around the blood in my mouth and I still couldn't breathe. He contacted someone, though I wasn't sure what was being said as my frantic heartbeat filled my ears. He introduced himself as Captain Pike before my consciousness started to fade out.
I was next aware of hands on me and a deafening siren that was dulling as we sped forward. Those hands, warm and calloused went for the hem of my shirt and I panicked.
Please. Please don't touch me. Please.
I thrashed, grabbing onto those wrists, but I still couldn't speak. My mouth dropped open, but I couldn't form the words and my vision was still impaired, but I begged with my eyes and repeated the words inside my head over and over again.
The hands in my grip struggled, but I refused to let them go. I couldn't. They couldn't touch me, please, he needed to stop. Couldn't he hear me begging? Please. Why are you doing this?
I found my voice, but it was weak and hoarse and nearly silent and I begged. Please. Please stop. Don't hurt me again.
My vision started to clear but I could only see him, his face over mine, a terrible look in his eyes, angry and possessed, full of hatred and contempt and the need to break me and feel me from the inside, see what made me and rip it apart so that no one would ever want it. The hands escaped my grip and my heart skipped a beat and I tried to curl up, but I was partially restrained, and my mind raced, nonsense pouring out of my mouth, inaudible, repeating please please don't please please.
Nothing touched me then. My muscles still tightened reflexively, attempting to steel myself, afraid of what was coming. Broken promises. Please.
I was carried into a sterile room all white and too bright on my bloodshot eyes and the smell of medical supplied rushed into my lungs and the smell nearly made me throw up. Hands were on me again, and I fought them off, but they were patient and with intent, they waited, dropping me into a false sense of security before touching me again.
I couldn't stop fighting, delirious as I was, as tired and scared as I was, I couldn't just let him. Please stop please don't hurt me please.
Those hands stilled again, but a voice accompanied them, soft and concerned. Concern. No please. Please.
"Jim." The voice was distant, accented, it wasn't his. No. "Jim, can you hear me?"
I trembled. I could hear him. My mouth wasn't working and my vision faded to black again. I laid on that bed, still, unmoving, my unfocused eyes staring straight up, seeing nothing but the faint swirling memories, reduced to vibrant colors and feelings of ripping and tearing and sounds of screams.
The voice continued to address me, even as I became unresponsive, silent and unhearing. My heart rate was sky rocketing, my breathing sporadic and occasionally deep in spite of the pain that raged.
Whenever my eyelids started to close, the voice became more intense, urged me to stay conscious, and I focused on the sound, trying to pull myself away from the sleep that I wished I could lose myself in, even though I feared the dreams.
After a while, my heart found it's rhythm again, my breathing, though shallow was regular, and the faintest tendrils of the world started to cross in front of my eyes. I locked my gaze onto the blurry figure to my left, slowly coming into focus.
He asks me to sit up, offering me his hand but I avoided it, pushing myself up with difficulty as a migraine ripped through my head as I sat upright. My vision wouldn't clear. I tried to fight through the murkiness, to no avail. The headache continued to ravage my brain and there was a faint ringing in my ears.
He leans closer, flashes a light in my eyes that seemed to burn my retinas, and sat back a little less tense than he had before. He asked me a few questions, but I was finding it hard to focus, to keep awake.
"Jim. Can you hear me?"
"Yes." I mumbled, or slurred, or perhaps something in between.
"Are you alright? What happened?" He pressed. I knew his hazel eyes were looking into my own but I couldn't focus onto them. I didn't say anything to him, just watching his movements closely, with as much hawk-like attention as I could muster with such foggy vision. He tentatively reached his fingers out, pressing the tips into the skin, feeling around my ribcage. I knew he could have used the technology, but he preferred 'good old fashioned medicine' as he once said to me in passing. When those fingers found a sore spot, I arched back away from the touch.
He then scanned the area and checked the data.
"You have a few cracked ribs and one of them is broken." He informed me. He sat down again and sighed, glancing down at the P.A.D.D. in his hands. "Can you remove your shirt so that I can fix them for you?" He asked. I shot away from him quickly. "Jim." He pressed worriedly.
No please. Please.
Leonard's face was gone. I could see nothing but him. No please. Don't.
I tried to get away, but backed into pillows and a wall and my heart started to race.
"Jim, it's me. Are you alright?" Bones' voice was laced with something short of panic, but no less intense.
I couldn't focus again.
"Jim. Tell me what's going on."
"Please."
"Please what?"
"Please don't."
"Jim."
His hands were on me, gentle, not cold and hard. They didn't touch me with the intent to break, to bruise, to command.
"Bones?"
"Yeah, Jim. Yeah."
"Bones." My eyes tried to focus again. The haze was clearing, I could see Leonard. He was not there. The tenseness in my body started to give way, a dull ache passing over the stressed muscles.
"How long have you been like this?" Bones asked. I didn't say anything. I was afraid to answer. "Jim. Talk to me. You can trust me."
"I can't. I can't."
"Why?"
"It'll only hurt more."
"Jim. Nothing's going to happen to you. What's wrong?"
"I can't, Bones. It…" My breathing started to shallow out as I panicked.
"Jim. I need to repair those ribs." Leonard forced, coming up on me urgently. My vision of him ruptured.
No. Please. Don't touch me.
Bones backed up fractionally.
Please don't promise those things to me. Why did I trust you? Why did you do this to me?
"Jim. Nothing's going to happen."
I snapped back to reality fully, my mind forcing me out of my memories. My heart stopped momentarily, my breath halted before returning to my lungs in a gasp, the sound hoarse.
"Bones, I'm sorry." I choked out, trying to discern the look on his face, afraid that I had come out of this too late and he knew.
"Jim, are you alright?"
"Yeah. My chest hurts. But other than that."
"No. Mentally. Jim, are you alright?" Leonard urged, an edge to his tone.
"What?"
"What happened to you?" I could only look at him wearily as I fought to maintain consciousness. "Jim, if I know anything, I could swear you have posttraumatic stress. Jim, are you alright?" He repeated, emphasizing each word, as if he was still worried I might not be hearing him.
"Bones. I… I don't want to talk about it. It happened so long ago."
"It doesn't matter, Jim. If it's still there, it's just as important now as it was then." Bones stopped talking then, stepping back. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm just a little worried. I don't want to invade your privacy."
"I was sexually assaulted." I said suddenly. "I was seventeen."
Bones looked at me with saddened eyes. They marred the beautiful hazel color and I felt guilty. I felt guilty I put my burden on him, I felt guilty that I was so scared to say any more. I hated that I was still so afraid. I shut myself off. Bones didn't pry. He headed for the medical equipment.
"Wait." I shouted, nervous and scared, but none of it leaked into my voice, so passive and tired. "Wait, Bones, please. If I can trust you, I need to say something." I suddenly regret those words, afraid of what would come next. What if he betrayed me like everyone else I've ever trusted? I wouldn't be able to take it. What would they do to me? And they would take Sam. They couldn't have him. I was so scared they would take him. Bones watched me intently, but said nothing. My fingers were trembling. I reached under the back of my shirt, pulling apart the ties to the binder, careful to catch it under my arms to prevent it from falling. "Bones, please. Don't betray me." I begged, looking into his hazel eyes. I could see a few different emotions in his face, deep in those eyes; concern, confusion. I drew my knees up to my chest. "Bones, please understand that I needed to do this for Sam. I couldn't let the Draft ruin his life. He had everything I never could, and I was so lost already, and I loved him too much to let Starfleet take everything away."
"Jim, what are you talking about?"
"I changed the medical records the day after the draft came in. I hacked the computer systems and changed them so they wouldn't be able to know. So many people would never miss me; they wouldn't care if I disappeared. I had to become this to save my brother. Don't you understand?"
Bones just looked at me cautiously, unsure what to do with himself and the information.
I was shaking. My eyes darted quickly. I was so nervous and unfocused and afraid. I didn't know what to do, what to say. I was afraid I was ruining everything, all because I'm so broken. I can't do anything right. I've let everyone down again. I've let Sam down, my mother. I rested my head in my hands.
"Jim?" Bones asked, resting that hand on my shoulder. That comforting gesture that I didn't deserve. I didn't want anyone else to have to bear this. Leonard had enough in his life; he had his own problems, worries, concerns. Who was I to add to that? "Jim, it's alright." He reassured. "But I need to take a look at those ribs."
I nodded my head quickly, but again refused to remove my shirt.
"Bones. Please understand." I pleaded again as I peeled the blood stained fabric off of me. I tossed it to the floor and looked up at him, trying my best to still the trembling. He didn't say anything for a while. He didn't become hostile, he didn't abandon me, he didn't stare at me like he had. Leonard's eyes were soft, and I could see him thinking, as if he wasn't quite sure he could understand what he was seeing. "You mind not staring? You're making me self-conscious." I joked, trying to ease the nervousness and jagged butterflies in my stomach.
"What? Oh. Sorry." Bones stated, startled. I laughed, and he shook his head, but laughed too. "So, can I patch you up now, or is there something else you need to say?" Bones quipped. My heart swelled when I heard that, every ounce of nervousness gone, even the pain melted away for a while. I couldn't believe that Bones was so calm, that he could just accept this.
"Bones." I said, though it was barely above a whisper. "Why are you acting like this? Aren't you upset?"
"Upset? Sure. I'm a doctor, and you're still in pain here." He looked up. He must have seen the conflict in my eyes. "Jim, uh, whatever, I don't know how you feel, but I think we were gettin' to be friends. Friends should trust each other. And what the Hell do I care what gender you are? It doesn't change much, it'll just get me to think twice before hitting you." He joked. I laughed a little. "I'm going to knock you out before I get started. You're not going to want to be awake." He stated professionally. He jabbed me in the neck shortly thereafter.
"What was that about thinking twice?" I whined, putting my hand onto my neck. I opened my mouth to say something else, but fell backwards onto the bed.
When I woke up, I was still a little sore, but I could breathe easier. I took a deep breath, though slowly, to test it, and was pleased. For being a fright with a needle, he was quite the excellent doctor otherwise, not that I would say anything, he didn't need the ego stroke. I smiled to myself as I thought that. What a strange friendship we had. I pushed myself up then, looking around the stark white room, dulled a little by the darkness as the lights were dimmed. I started to get up.
"Don't move."
"What the Hell?" I called, startled.
"I know you well enough. You need some rest to get over that concussion. Back in bed."
"Yes, mom." I joked, sliding back under the blankets. "You going to read to me?"
"Shut up Jim." Bones stuttered a little and walked out from the offices. "What do I call you now?" Bones asked, in all seriousness. I laughed, and he quirked an eyebrow.
"Well, just call me Jim." I answered. I opened my mouth, but shut it, swallowing the words. I just felt like I could trust him and didn't need to say it.
"Don't worry. I won't say anything." Bones confirmed anyway. I smiled widely. "Now get some rest, or I'll get another hypo out, just for you."
My eyes widened and I pretended to settle under the blankets, peaking over the hem with faked timidity. Leonard chuckled and walked off, and I passed out and for once in eight years, I didn't have a nightmare.