Author's Note: Wow, guys, my readership over on Ao3 is kicking your ass. 29 reviews for 13 chapters here and over on Ao3 I've got a whopping 71 original comments on the same amount of chapters. Jeeze, that's just sad.
Anyway, this chapter features Non-Explicit References to Unfortunate Implications. You'll know it when you see it.
JT woke with a scream and a thrash. Hands were immediately on his shoulders, pressing him back into the bed he was on and he reached for the arms attached. He dug his fingernails into the vulnerable skin he felt and clawed. The person - man, pressing him back didn't respond.
He also didn't bleed red, which meant he wasn't human. JT paused and took a good look at the man.
Vulcan.
There weren't any Vulcans on the colony. Fuck. Right. Starfleet.
JT collapsed back onto the bed. And the Vulcan let him. He took a deep breath and glanced to his left.
Then he looked past the Vulcan at his right in a panic.
Ice. Cold. Adrenaline.
"Where are my kids?" he asked, and when the Vulcan tilted his head slightly with confusion, louder he yelled, "Where are my fucking kids!?"
"Jim, I don't know what children you speak of," the Vulcan said in his stupid Vulcan way.
"Kids! The fucking kids that were brought on board with me! Where the fuck are they? We weren't supposed to be separated! I'm all they have right now!"
JT reached for the catheter for his IV and tried to unplug it, but mishandled the connection only to yank the tubing out instead. It fucking hurt and he started oozing blood all over the sheets around him. The Vulcan had reached for him, probably trying to stop him, but at the sight of JT's arm bleeding, froze. He didn't fucking care, though. He needed to find his kids. That's all that mattered. He had to know they were safe.
He tried to get up and the world spun around him. The Vulcan reacted and caught him before he could fall off his biobed. JT punched weakly at his soft spots. He needed to go. He had to leave.
FuuuuUUUUUck!
The goddamn Vulcan was too fucking strong and JT was too weak besides. His hits were useless.
"I'm sorry, Jim," the Vulcan said quietly and JT had all of a nanosecond to throw half a thought as to why, before there was a sharp, lancing pain at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
He slipped into blackness…
•
Jim drifted into half-consciousness warm and safe and comfortable. He wiggled backward into the body behind his that was filling him up with these feelings.
•
JT screamed his way into consciousness. He was burning from the inside out. His stomach and chest were on fire. What had they poisoned him with this time? He clawed at his ribs and sternum. He clutched at his own throat as the burning crawled up it on the inside. He was in hell, and he was burning.
•
Jim rolled over and puked, conscious just long enough to hear it hit the floor. He coughed and spit and was out again.
•
Jim's beating heart woke him. It was too fast. Where was he? What was going on? Where were his kids? Where was his family? There wasn't anyone around. Wasn't there supposed to be someone? At least one person? Was it all a hallucination? Was he still stuck in that tiny hellhole, delirious and hallucinating everything?
His body hurt. His mind hurt. His chest hurt. His stomach burned and his mouth was dry. Oh gods, he was still there, wasn't he?
He was hyperventilating. He couldn't breathe. He was going to puke. He couldn't be there! He'd rather die! He couldn't breathe!
He was unconscious.
•
Jim hurt. Everywhere. His skin felt like it had been scrubbed raw, especially around his hands and feet. He was itchy. And sting-y. Tingly. And his joints felt creaky-achy. He was made of tin. And he was rusting away.
•
There was an IV in his arm. He was in a biobed in a medical ward somewhere, and there was an IV in his arm. He hated IVs.
Jim reached for it with his free hand and carefully touched the edge of the plastic covering it, keeping it in, in place. Eugh. He scratched at the edge until it was curling up and slowly peeled it off. In movies, it always showed characters just tugging them free but Jim knew that was wrong. That shit hurt. And it made a huge mess.
Clumsily, he pressed his thumb down just above the hole where the needle had poked under his skin. Then, with only slightly fumbling fingers, he pushed the plug down his arm. The tiny tube slipped out and the whole mess fell to the floor. Good.
The fog in his brain wouldn't disappear for awhile but he had to get out before then. Nurses made rounds and he'd prefer to be gone by the time the next one came by. Ignoring the trickle of blood coming from under his thumb, he wiggled around a bit and forced himself to sit up. An intense level of nausea overcame him and he dropped his forehead onto a bent knee, breathing heavily with his mouth open. Saliva pooled under his tongue and dripped from his bottom lip. He nearly gagged.
When he lifted his head back up the world was tilted. He couldn't focus at all; like his eyes were trying to track spinning objects, they kept drifting away from what he was looking at. He squeezed his eyes shut and became aware of the throb of his heartbeat under his skin. In his arm. Under his thumb. He pried his eyelids up and found the tiny spot where the IV had been.
Then, he lifted his thumb. Immediately blood squirted out, covering his arm and dripping all over his sheets and blankets. His heart throbbed, his arm throbbed, and blood pulsed from the little hole. It was much easier to focus on.
"Ashayam!"
Jim glanced up. Oh. Spock.
Spock was in the doorway of the little bathroom stall in the room. Rushing over. Gripping Jim's arm and shakily calling for someone.
"Goddamnit, Jim!" A voice boomed as the door to the room slid open.
Bones.
Jim looked down at his lap, covered in blood. Patient shirt smeared with it. Arm staining Spock.
"Sorry," he muttered.
He passed out.
•
Jim opened his eyes and squinted until he could see his First Officer's face hovering unusually close to his. He smiled and ducked his head, finding that Spock was close enough Jim's forehead pressed against Spock's collarbone with the action. His skin hurt and itched and he was too hot and his insides felt like they were being liquified, but at least Spock was there with him.
He heaved a sigh and let go.
•
He woke up and there were hands on him, big ones grabbing at his back and his waist. And just— No. Not that. Never— He shoved at the body too close to his, kicked out, aiming for important bits. He had to get those hands to let go of him. There was no way he was letting this happen again. He wouldn't be made to feel helpless, violated again. Needles and experiments and hands and mind games, too weak and slow to fight against any of it. Too desperate to save everyone and he couldn't even save himself.
"Ashayam," a familiar, deep voice uttered.
Just the word was enough to give pause as an unnamed, warm feeling washed over him.
He opened his eyes fully and found the face of the person.
Spock.
Spock was lying in bed next to him, holding him. Gentle arms reeled his unresisting body closer, and Jim. . .collapsed against him. His heart was still racing, beating hard enough against his ribs to make him queasy. And distantly he knew he was breathing too hard, panting heavily into the warm, safe space of Spock's chest.
The wrongness he had felt upon waking hadn't disappeared but breathing in Spock's familiar, spiced scent had it fading.
He clung to consciousness but the weight of his adrenal dump was already pulling his fatigued mind under.
•
"Spock," Bones barked as he barged into Jim's patient room. The Vulcan didn't even bother glancing his way from where he was nestled protectively around Jim on the biobed. Jim was happily unconscious on his side and Spock was spooned tightly against his back, propped up slightly above their captain as he used his arm as a pillow.
With his face pressed into Jim's hair already, he curled closer, nuzzling into his hiding spot more firmly. He peeked out at Bones with one dark eye.
"Growl at one of my nurses one more goddamn time and I'm kicking you out permanently! As it is already, I'm kicking you out for the next hour. You need to get your head back on straight. Go to your quarters, wash up, change, and, when the time's up, come back. Not a minute less. And so fucking help me if you don't hop your green-blooded ass down outta that biobed here in the next minute I will have security on you so fast your pointy-eared little head will spin till it pops right off."
The low rumbling coming from Spock increased in volume as Bones stomped over to the biobed. Spock's angry gaze never left him.
"It's been four days, goddammit! I'm kicking you out for an hour. You'll be fine!"
Spock glared at him a beat longer before sliding gracefully backwards off the bed, still glaring and still rumbling, but quieter. Bones glared back at him until he slunk out of the room like an angry cat forced to move from his favorite sunning-spot.
Bones sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. In the biobed, Jim whimpered and his leg twitched.
Ahh, poor Jim. He's so out of it and confused and having flashbacks.
AN: Ahh, poor Jim. He's so out of it and confused and having flashbacks.
A few words.
1] I realized that no one even questioned me using the term ALON about two chapters ago. Do y'all know what that is? Because I had no idea it was a thing until I got sidetracked while googling. (Then I couldn't resist using it.)
2] Every single one you needs to go on YouTube and watch like all of BrTutty's videos. They're Spirky goodness. It's feels out the wazoo and so much hotness.
3] Why does The Weekend say "Wraith of Khan" in Starboy? Is it wordplay on the meaning of wraith?
4] I forgot, but I know there's something else I wanted to add...