"Oh, goodie: more underwear!"

Khan looked up from the PADD he was dismantling; watched, amused, as McCoy pulled an armful of undergarments out of the storage crate; tossed them onto a growing heap of clothing on the storeroom floor.

"They'll definitely all've been washed this time."

"I can do nothing about the personal hygiene habits of dead Starfleet officers," Khan remarked. "I simply gathered whatever I could find."

The doctor glared; turned back to the storage crate; gathered another armful of clothing.

"So, what? Ya grabbed some of this stuff off the bathroom floor? Why didn't ya just strip the boots off their feet while you were at it?"

"Who says I didn't?"

McCoy went still; stared at him. After a beat, he looked away; quickly set the clothes down; sat next to them; silently began sorting them into shirts, trousers, socks, and undergarments.

...Did the man think he was serious?

Even mostly cowed, the doctor could not resist lacing his remarks with sarcasm and snark. With Khan's new personal rules against harming his captive, it was...simpler...to respond to the man's remarks in kind...But given their past experiences, misunderstandings were still quite commonplace.

...It was probably best to clarify his intent.

"It was a joke, McCoy. I may have taken everything from their quarters, but I did not leave behind barefoot corpses."

"...Right..." McCoy tossed a brassiere into the appropriate pile. "Ya know, usually when people make jokes, they try ta make 'em...tasteful. More horrible puns; less...horror."

...Tasteful.

"I will keep that in mind," Khan pried the camera apparatus out of the PADD. "Remember: if you see something in your size that you like, you are welcome to it."

"...Thanks, but I think I'm good for now. Ya let me pick some new stuff a couple days ago, remember?"

The Augment looked up, eyebrow raised.

It did not escape his notice that McCoy had, for the third time in six days, elected to wear his navy blue button–up over his black t–shirt. When the top two buttons were left undone, the ensemble bared a vague resemblance to the doctor's old uniform...as Khan was certain McCoy was well aware.

...It had to be difficult, letting go of something to which he had dedicated so much of his life. And the doctor's moral objections to wearing clothing salvaged from the wardrobes of dead Starfleet officers had definitely been heightened by Khan's...poor...attempt at humor.

...But eventually, the man would have no choice. Better now than when options became far more limited.

"You and I both know that when we reach our new home, you will need far more clothes than you currently have in the medbay. Choose another outfit by the end of the day, or I will select one for you."

McCoy glared at him again...then nodded.

"...I'll figure somethin' out." The doctor picked up a pair of boxers; wrinkled his nose. "...So...um...are we goin' through the whole crate today, or just part of it?"

"Actually, there are seven crates to sort," The Augment smirked. "But there is no need to rush yourself."

"...Seven?"

"McCoy, these are the personal wardrobes of forty–odd people, plus their uniforms, and all the replacement uniforms their bases had in storage. They take up a great deal of space."

A pained look crossed the doctor's face.

"...Right. That makes...sense. Well, if ya ever wanna lend a hand foldin' and sortin' this...stuff...I––"

"I am busy."

"And what exactly are ya doing?" McCoy gestured to the piles of intact and dismantled PADDs scattered around Khan. "All I've seen you do today is rip apart PADDs. I know you're probably tryin' ta build a mini warp core or some other complicated chunk of tech from scrap parts...but from where I'm sitting, it just seems like a waste of working equipment."

Khan's eyebrows shot up; he tilted his head; scowled. "I do not need to explain my work to you, McCoy. Kindly focus on your own."

His captive blinked, clearly taken aback by the change in tone. McCoy swallowed; nodded; went back to folding.

"Just...um...just let me know if there's anything else ya need me ta do."

The killer let out a frustrated sigh.

...He should have simply explained his project; initiated a conversation about the adaptability of Starfleet tech to their situation. McCoy might have learned something useful, and the atmosphere of the storeroom might have turned light, as it had on multiple occasions in recent days.

Working for hours on end was far more...pleasant...when there was someone to talk to. Even if that someone tensed every time Khan came near him, or made a sudden movement...or entered the room.

The reasons for those behaviors were obvious, and there was a decent chance that the doctor would always be afraid of him...although whether that was a positive or negative was still up for debate.

If Khan's efforts to convince the other Augments of his identity failed, the man's fear would allow the gentler among Khan's people to recognize McCoy as a hostage; flock to his aide. In that scenario, whomever asserted themself as leader would let the doctor live in order to placate that delegation of soft hearts.

But there were other ways to protect McCoy from the more...brutal...champions of their culture. Ones which would only succeed if Khan remained in power...and his captive could at least somewhat suppress his visceral unease.

It would be difficult, but eventually––

"The hell's this doing here?"

Khan tensed; his head snapped up to find McCoy holding a small, flat device. A long, forked wire protruded from the bottom; a pair of small, round objects dangled from the ends.

"Man, I haven't seen one of these in––"

"Set it on the floor, and slide it to me," Khan ordered with a growl.

The doctor blinked. "What's wrong?"

"Now, McCoy. Quickly."

His captive gave him a confused expression, but carefully sent the device skittering over.

Khan snatched it up with a scowl. It did not look like a piece of Starfleet technology, which potentially made it all the more dangerous. One side was solid metal; the other was covered in what appeared to be real glass. There were a couple buttons along the edge, along with a small circular button embedded in the glass itself.

He could not be sure if it was a weapon of some kind, or a medical device, or––

"Khan...it's a music player."

The Augment scowled; looked over at the doctor.

"What did you say?"

"It's a music player," McCoy repeated. "It fell outta a pair of pants. I turned it on for a second, before ya told me ta hand it over. It looks like it's got a full charge on its power adaptor, so if ya unplug the...um...I think they called 'em...earbugs...from the body of the thing, we should be able ta listen to music while we work...If ya want."

Frowning, Khan looked the device over again...and quickly felt the blood rising to his cheeks.

He pulled what upon further inspection was clearly a set of tiny headphones out of their jack; pressed the circular button embedded in the glass. An entire library of music––some that he recognized; some he did not––filled the screen.

Khan found a song he knew; tapped the glass. In an instant, a familiar melody he had not heard in hundreds of years filled his ears.

On a dark desert highway…

Cool wind in my hair…

Warm smell of col…

He tapped the glass again, and the song went silent. A quick glance revealed McCoy's nervous...but amused...smirk.

...Well...this was...embarrassing.

"Like I told you before...it's just a music player," McCoy said. "A pretty antique design...an old as dirt design, actually...but I guess ya left Earth 'fore Humans even made a decent pair of wireless headphones, so––"

"If you are implying that I am a living fossil when it comes to technologies not designed for war…" Khan paused as fear flicked across his captive's face. "...Then I suppose you are correct. The Federation did not supply me with music history lessons when they revived me and forced me into servitude; I undoubtedly have many other knowledge gaps you would find...surprising."

Sometimes, in his room late at night, Khan could forget what century he was in; that he was hundreds of years removed from his empire...but in truth, countless technological and cultural shifts meant that almost everything Khan knew, outside of what the Federation had forced upon him, was obsolete.

The doctor's tension eased; he let out a small laugh. "Well, if I'm bein' honest, tech changes so quickly these days, I'm probably already a dinosaur myself. And I'm really not that big of an expert on antiques, either."

"You identified this music player quickly enough."

"Yeah, well that's just something Jim always babbles…"

McCoy froze; gave Khan an uneasy glance.

...Patience. Tact.

No punishments for minor mistakes. Encourage the change instead.

"Finish your thought, doctor. What does Kirk babble about?"

The captive grimaced...then sighed.

"...Kir...K...Kirk...loves classical tech. 'Specially when it comes ta music. Sometimes he walks around with a portable compact disk player. I don't know where he gets the CDs...but he keeps 'em in pristine condition. He's also got this antique monstrosity––somethin' called a 'boom box'––that he carts out any chance he gets. Shakes the whole room when he turns it on."

Khan chuckled. "I remember those. But it does raise a logistical question: how does he power it? From my training in modern engineering, I know lithium batteries have not been used in any form for over one hundred fifty years."

"He made a special powercell adaptor," McCoy said. "An assignment for a beginner's electrical engineering class. His first prototype gave him second degree burns...but the second one worked great."

"I should hope so," the Augment set the music player on the floor. "And what noise did Kirk re–inflict upon the universe as a result of his homework assignment?"

"...Well, he loves Beastie Boys, and a lot of other classical music from the––"

"I apologize..." He could not have heard that right. "But did you just call Beastie Boys classical music?"

"...Yeah," the doctor said hesitantly. "I...um...I hate ta break it to ya...but that music's over two hundred seventy years old now. It's pretty...classical."

...Well, McCoy had him there.

Why would Khan's taste in music be any less obsolete than the technology he used to play it?

"It is astounding, the things one may have in common with one's enemies." The Augment muttered; sensed the doctor begin to tense again. "...But enough talk of Kirk: what about you?

"...Me?"

"Yes, McCoy: what kind of music do you enjoy?"

His captive relaxed a little more. "Bit of everything. There's some really interesting songs comin' outta the colonies right now...but I do like some of the stuff from your time period too."

"Like what?"

"Like...um...like Johnny Cash, or Green Day, or Kansas...There's a lotta classic stuff that's just fun ta sing along to."

"Decent choices." From what he recalled, McCoy's singing voice was as good as his taste in music. "...I am curious: did you teach yourself how to sing, or did your sheltered upbringing include voice lessons?"

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Little bit of both. Sports kinda took over from middle school through high school, so I didn't have time for formal lessons after that. Kept practicing with my guitar whenever I got a chance, though."

The Augment snorted. Of course his captive played the guitar. He could hardly see the man playing anything else.

"And what sport enveloped your youth?"

"Basketball," McCoy smirked. "When I was a kid, I thought I was gonna be a pro...but my last growth spurt kinda screwed me over. My feet still aren't nearly as coordinated as my hands."

"I've noticed." Khan chuckled. "I am sorry puberty was so unkind."

"Well, it wasn't all bad." The doctor shrugged. "But I would've liked ta play a bit longer. Might've changed a few things."

...That was an obvious understatement. McCoy's choice of a profession profoundly shifted not only his life's path, but the paths of every person he ever encountered. If the man had become a professional basketball player instead of a doctor, there was no telling how differently events would have played out.

"I am certain basketball would have been a fun career...albeit short–lived, given the energetic nature of the sport." Khan shrugged. "But at least the path you chose allowed you to develop two highly valuable knowledge bases."

McCoy gave him an odd look. "...I understand completely why ya find my medical skills valuable...but unless you're thinkin' of starting a couple all–Augment basketball teams, I don't get how––"

"No, McCoy," the Augment shook his head. "That was not what I meant. I was referring to your experiences as a father."

The doctor went rigid. "...What's that gotta do with anything?"

"My people put off having children while we struggled for our freedom," Khan explained. "As fate would have it, you are going to be the only person in the colony who has ever raised a child. Your experiences will undoubtedly prove invaluable for the rest of us."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "So...what? You're gonna have me be a doctor, parenting coach, and nanny all in one? Is that the plan?"

The Augment tilted his head. "Do you object to it?"

"Well…I don't exactly object. Anything that keeps me useful probably keeps me a little safer, right? But––"

"But what?"

"I...I think you're missin' a pretty big flaw."

...Doubtful.

"And what exactly would that be?"

"Your people might not want a regular Human tellin' 'em how ta raise their kids," McCoy said. "I'd rather not get my teeth knocked out by some pissed off parent that can't figure out how ta change a diaper."

...Ah.

"They will not harm you, McCoy," Khan assured him. "Once I convince them of my identity, they will treat my word as law. A prohibition against harming you will be one of my first edicts."

"Well that's...great," the doctor did not sound convinced. "And what about the kids?"

"What about them?"

"A lot of kids rebel in their teens," McCoy pointed out. "Not usually to the extent of slaughtering a bunch of power–hungry jackasses and tryin' ta take over the world...that's really just you guys...but they still rebel. What if one of those superpowered youngsters decides they don't like the advice I'm givin' their parents, and––"

"Anyone that intentionally harms you will be severely punished," Khan snapped; reassessed his statement as his captive cringed. "...I assure you, children would be given more leeway...but I doubt it would ever come to that. In fact, I suspect that as my people's children grow, many of them will seek you out as a source of advice."

McCoy snorted. "Have ya met me? I'm not exactly the most approachable person."

"I have met you, McCoy," Khan smirked. "And although you can be a bit...abrasive...you are also naturally compassionate. I have no doubt the our children will recognize this, and come to trust your counsel in matters that they do not wish to bring to their parents."

His captive blinked; finally managed to smile again.

"Well...people've always told me I'm good with kids. Hopefully I'll be able ta help 'em out."

"I am glad that is settled," Khan leaned forward. "Now, while we are on the subject of children, I would like to ask your opinion on some of my more...logistical...concerns."

McCoy nodded. "I'm guessin' ya mean like how many diapers and stuff like that you'll need?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I could rattle off a buncha statistics..." The doctor shrugged. "But the short answer is: a lot. You'll probably wanna go with cloth diapers––thousands of disposables aren't really practical for a situation like this––but that means your people are gonna have ta get used ta washing them every day. I'd say ya wanna plan for at least twenty five to thirty cloth diapers per baby...ta be safe."

"...I see." That was...a substantial amount of supplies he would have to acquire. He would likely have to break into a warehouse on a colony, or even back on Earth, in order to find what he needed. "And what about clothing?"

"Well...if you're willing ta let your kids wear 'em…" McCoy shifted uncomfortably. "...Then I'm sure some of the Starfleet uniforms you've got in here will fit. Every base and starship's required ta keep uniforms that fit every species in the Federation...and some of 'em are the size of Human infants. Ya might wanna sew up the extra arm holes...but they'll work. At least at first."

...The thought of clothing his children in the uniforms of his enemies was...disturbing...but from a practical perspective...it was a good option.

"I will consider it," Khan said. "Now: how often will we have to worry about replacing clothing as the children grow up?"

"With your people's physiology, I honestly don't have a clue," the doctor admitted. "Even normal kids grow up fast...But it's not actually that hard ta take things in when they're little, and let 'em out as they get bigger. If I were you, I'd scrounge up some needles and thread, 'stead of tryin' ta steal more clothes."

The Augment huffed. "Do not tell me sewing is another of your hobbies."

In an instant, McCoy's miniscule smile faded. He picked up a shirt; folded it; began on another.

"I...um…I used ta alter a few things for my daughter. She grew like a weed, and it was easier ta just get stuff a bit big, and make 'em last longer. I took a class; learned a bit 'bout hemming, and makin' sure a seam's straight, and all that. 'S'not my area of expertise...but when she was five I sewed her a pretty nice bat costume for Halloween. Big wings and all that. Joanna flapped around all night, screechin' at her friends."

...Of course.

That scenario was far removed from anything Khan had ever experienced; yet the doctor painted a vivid portrait.

He could see McCoy scowling as he ran a seam through a sewing machine; nervously showing his efforts to his daughter; beaming with pride as her face lit up…

...And then spending the holiday rushing after his screeching bat-child; ensuring Joanna had a fun, but completely safe, evening.

"...You are a good parent."

The doctor shook his head; kept folding clothing.

"...Coulda been better. A lotta crap happened after I...after my dad...and during my divorce. I stayed in bed most days; drank too much; got in shouting matches with my now ex-wife. Trust me, Joanna's way better off with my sist…" McCoy froze; panic flashed through his eyes. "...Um...well...she's just better off away from all my mood swings."

Khan eyebrows shot up...but he decided to let his captive's slip go. At least for the moment. There was little point in making the man fear for his...apparent sister's...life, when they were having such a productive conversation.

"I have no doubt you are underselling your paternal abilities," Khan remarked.

The doctor shrugged; placed another folded shirt onto a pile. "Whatever ya wanna think, Khan. 'S'not like I'll ever get ta ask her how badly I screwed up her life...so I guess I'll just have ta hope she turns out okay."

...Khan tried to ignore the guilt that gnawed at his insides.

Many factors had motivated Khan's decision to kidnap McCoy: the doctor's slight, but vital experience in dealing with Augmented patients; the humiliation the terrorist knew Kirk and that damned Vulcan would feel at having their CMO stolen from under their noses; a touch of revenge against a man that had taken his blood without permission.

But McCoy was...not what he had expected. He was far more compassionate; far more...

...Khan had not set out to separate a decent man from his only child.

"McCoy, if I promise not to harm your daughter's current caregivers...would you like Joanna to join our colony?"

The father stiffened; his head snapped up in alarm.

"Don't you dare do that to her."

...He had meant for that to make the doctor happy.

"To be clear: I am not threatening your daughter. I simply thought you might like––"

"Ta have Joanna live the rest of her life as a second-class citizen?" McCoy bristled. "Ta have her be easy prey for some sick Eugenics Wars soldier that's physically and mentally twenty-some years older than she is? Is that what ya thought I'd like?"

Khan scowled. "I would never allow anyone to––"

"Have ya ever stopped ta think you might not be in charge once your friends wake up?" The doctor demanded. "What if, no matter what ya do, they don't believe you are who you say you are? Or what if they do, but you're still overthrown? Or assasinated? What happens then? I don't have a choice in takin' that risk for myself, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna give ya permission ta put my daughter in that kind of danger!"

The Augment's hands twitched into fists...but he stopped himself from going any further.

Restraint. Fairness.

...In truth...McCoy raised a good point.

Khan's promises were only as good as his position of power. If he was killed, imprisoned, or exiled, then anyone under his protection would be at the mercy of a new regime.

And although there were many kind, noble Augments...they were not the ones likely to attempt a coup.

...Bringing a non–Augmented child into the colony could be disastrous.

"It was just a thought," Khan unclenched his hands; sighed. "I know you miss her terribly...but you are right: the risks are far too great. I will not propose that option again."

Finally, the doctor's irate expression faded; his shoulders drooped.

"...Sayin''thank you' for droppin' that idea feels...wrong," McCoy muttered. "But I'm not really sure what else fits."

The Augment nodded. "I understand."

"Ya really don't," the captive rubbed his eyes; took a deep breath. "Khan...I love my daughter more than anything else in this godforsaken universe. When the nurse handed her ta me, she was a cryin' pink blob that hadn't even opened her eyes yet. But as soon as I got her settled in the crook of my arm, she stopped crying, opened her eyes...and smiled at me. She freakin' smiled at me...I'd dive into a pool of lava if it kept her safe. And the only way I can protect her now is if I never see her again. So, please, do me a favor and don't pretend ya know what that feels like."

Khan scoffed; opened his mouth to respond...and stopped himself.

...There was nothing he could say to that. Nothing that would not appear to be either a taunt, or a threat. Nothing that would not undermine what he was attempting to achieve.

The silence that fell between them was...uncomfortable.

Khan glanced back at his pile half–dismantled PADDs; sighed.

...Perhaps it was time. At the very least, this would allow them both a breath. And at best...

"McCoy, I need to run a diagnostic on our cloak," Khan rose. "I trust I can leave you to your tasks for a few minutes?"

McCoy looked up at him with a frown. "...Wait, you're leaving me here? Alone?"

"Just for a short time. If you continue working, I am certain my absence will go by quickly."

"But––"

"But what, McCoy?"

Khan suppressed a touch of amusement as the doctor glanced uncomfortably down at his unfettered ankles; shook his head.

"It's...nothing. I'll...um...I guess I'll just keep at it."

"Good," the Augment headed for the door; turned back once on the other side. "I will be back shortly. Do not wander off."

With a shrug, McCoy began to fold a pair of trousers.

"...'S'not like I've got anywhere ta go."

Khan rolled his eyes; closed the door.

...Now he simply had to wait.

The Augment turned to the empty wall opposite the storeroom; gave the crevasse near the ceiling that hid his handiwork a grim smirk before walking a distance down the corridor; slipping into an empty room.

Khan pulled a PADD out of his coat; turned it on. As he knew it would, the storeroom door immediately appeared on the screen.

It had not been difficult to create a remotely–controlled surveillance camera out of a PADD's internal audio and video equipment; if the rest of his day's work went according to plan, he would soon have enough cameras to cover every room and corridor of the ship.

An admittedly invasive procedure, but one that could help ensure both McCoy's safety and his own; especially as the first members of his family were due to be returned sometime in the next...

...Six days.

Khan sat against a wall; smiled.

If all went according to plan, a quarter of his people would be free within six days. He wondered who they would be: Gideon, perhaps, or Arya, or Chetan, or...

...Or none of them.

His smile fell away.

...Starfleet was taking a great deal of time delivering his crew to Xedna Eight. So long, in fact, Khan suspected there was a chance, even under the threat of...eight...bombs...that the Federation had refused his request altogether. That they were willing to sacrifice hundreds...maybe even thousands...of civilians to prevent his people from going free.

He could not let the Augment race die out in Federation laboratories! Not after all they had gone through! He would destroy a thousand cities if it freed his people; bring that self-righteous Dystopia to its knees for their crimes!

Khan swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth; rested his head against the wall; closed his eyes.

...If they were anyone but his family, he knew that cost would be far too great. But they were his family; the last refugees of an obliterated society.

And he had promised them a home.

The sound of an opening door broke Khan out of his thoughts; sent his eyes darting to the PADD.

...McCoy was standing in the doorway of the storeroom.

The killer let out a sigh of dismay. He had hoped to be able to rid the doctor of his chain before his people arrived; to trust that the man would not risk his pleasant future in another futile bid for freedom.

"K...Khan?"

He kept quiet. This scenario would end one of two ways, and it was vital for it to be completely his captive's choice.

McCoy shifted in the doorway; touched the bare skin on his left pinky finger.

...Fifteen days after taking the ring, Khan still had not returned it. The absence of that tiny band of metal was clearly distressing to McCoy...however, even with their improving relationship, the doctor had yet to go a single day without cursing...

...He took a step into the hallway.

...Was the man truly going to make this mistake?

The doctor looked down both ends of the hallway, clearly searching for signs of his captor. His slippered feet shuffled on the metal floor; the urge to bolt deep into the ship was more than evident in his body language.

...But then, McCoy stilled. He rested his head against the doorframe; closed his eyes.

A moment of silence; a slight shake of the head...and the doctor slipped back into the storeroom; closed the door behind him.

Khan stared at the PADD a few moments longer; then smiled.

...He could not help but feel...relieved.

Had McCoy decided to run, Khan would have been forced to intercept him. The doctor would have had to 'convince' his captor that it was not a real escape attempt...and then, Khan would have made the man beg for his daughter's life.

...Fortunately, McCoy's choice made that unnecessary.

After a few more minutes without another incident, Khan rose; headed back to the storeroom.

It was clearly still too early to get rid of the chain. The doctor might have fought back his urge to run this time, but there was no guarantee that would happen again.

...Nevertheless, giving McCoy a reward for not wandering off could reinforce that behavior; it was merely a matter of deciding upon something...appropriate.

The man's ring was an option...although for consistency's sake, Khan wanted to keep that particular item tied to McCoy's cursing habit...Especially as it appeared that the longer the doctor went without a physical grounding influence, the more...malleable...he became.

...Whatever he chose, it needed to be substantial. Without his captive knowing he had been watched, McCoy would believe the reward to be a gift; the result of Khan's guilt over keeping him from his daught…

...Now there was an option which would work quite well.

Khan heard music through from the storeroom door.

It was a song he had never heard before, although it sounded closer to something his era would have produced than McCoy's. The beat was a bit repetitive, but the lyrics were curious. Something about 'turning back time,' to 'the good old days' to once again find the comforts of a long–lost childhood...

A decent sentiment...if a bit depressing.

Khan opened the door; spotted his captive sitting...exactly where he had left him; surrounded by reasonably built-up stacks of folded clothing.

...The man's desire to mask his subterfuge had greatly increased his productivity. Perhaps that was something to look out for in the future.

McCoy looked up; gave him a nervous smile.

"Cloak alright?"

Khan nodded. "Everything is functioning perfectly. Were there any problems while I was gone?"

The doctor gestured to the piles around him. "Still just sortin' stuff out. Nothin' too exciting."

...McCoy had no idea how lucky he was that Khan was no longer following his old rules regarding lies.

The killer smiled. "Good."

"I...um...I hope the music's alright...Thought it'd make the work go by faster."

"I have no objections," Khan replied. "Although I thought you might choose something a bit more...uplifting."

His captive sighed; turned the music down, but not off.

"I...um...I just didn't really have the energy for somethin'...uplifting...so I just kinda decided to...wallow...in my mood for a few minutes...and see if it helped at all."

"I suppose I can understand that." The Augment thought for a moment; made the obvious decision. "If you wish, you may keep the music player. Perhaps later, you will have the...energy...for something happier."

As Khan knew it would, McCoy's smile grew more genuine.

"That's...kind of you. Thanks."

...That was a good start...but definitely not enough.

Without another word, the Augment crossed to his captive; crouched; noted how the man's expression wavered.

"...McCoy...I have been thinking about our conversation."

"...Yeah? Which part?"

"The part concerning your daughter, Joanna," Khan continued quickly as fear pinched the doctor's face. "Not the part about her joining the colony: that matter is settled. She will not be joining us."

"...Then what are we talkin' about here?"

The Augment rested a hand on his captive's shoulder; gave a reassuring squeeze.

"When all of my people have been returned, I am going to send out one final message to Starfleet...If you continue to behave as well as you have for the past week...I will allow you to include a few words to your daughter."

McCoy eyes suddenly resembled a puppy's.

"...What?"

"Nothing drawn out," Khan clarified; retracted his hand. "But you would be able to say goodbye to her; to ease her fears for your safety and her own; perhaps impart some final fatherly advice. What do you say to that?"

The doctor's mouth opened; closed. He blinked; a watery sheen formed in his eyes...

Then McCoy lunged at him.

Khan's Augment reflexes kicked in automatically.

His captive let out a surprised yelp as the killer shifted out of the way of the attack; twisted the doctor's right arm behind his back; shoved him face first onto the floor.

"Ow! Goddamnit! Khan, what the hell?!"

McCoy squirmed in his grip; the Augment wrenched the doctor's arm harder.

McCoy screamed.

"Stop! For the love of god, stop! My arm's gonna––"

"Then stop struggling!"

In an instant, the doctor's thrashing ceased; was replaced with tremors and shuddering breaths.

The killer relaxed his hold on McCoy's arm; allowed it to return to a far less...agonizing...angle, but kept the man pinned to the floor.

"What were you thinking?" Khan seethed. "I thought we were moving past this foolishness!"

"What...What are you talkin' about? I was just––"

"Attempting to sedate me again? Trying yet again to escape?"

"No! Why..." McCoy stilled. "Oh...oh god, ya thought...Nonono, Khan, I swear, I wasn't tryin ta––"

"You attacked me! You were clearly attempting to inject me with––"

"Goddamnit, Khan! Look around! There's not a hypo in sight! Ya practically strip search me before we leave the medbay now; you know I couldn't've brought anything out here! How the hell was I supposed ta sedate you?"

The Augment hesitated.

...Where was the hypo?

There was nothing in either of McCoy's hands; no sign of it on the floor either…

...His searches of the doctor's person––both before he took McCoy off his chain, and after they completed their work each day––were far more thorough than they had been before the first escape attempt. Smuggling a hypo out of the medbay would have been next to impossible.

...The man could not have been trying to sedate him. He simply did not have the means.

"Then what, doctor? What possible reason could you have for lunging at me?"

After a tense, silent moment; his captive let out a quiet...borderline manic...laugh.

"Ya...ya won't believe this."

...A poor answer.

Khan gave McCoy's arm a threatening squeeze.

"Try me."

The doctor winced.

"Alright, fine! I...I was tryin' ta give you a...a hug."

...What?

"A...hug," Khan repeated. "You are claiming you launched yourself at me in order to give me...a hug?"

McCoy's laugh was close to hysteria. "Pretty much...yeah. A hug. God, I'm gonna get my arm ripped off over a goddamn hug!"

The killer stared.

How could the man expect him to believe that?

...How could his captive come up with such a ridiculous lie?

"I am not going to rip your arm off, doctor." At least, not if this was true. "Now, what exactly do you claim possessed you to...hug me?"

McCoy took in another shuddering breath; let it out.

"You...You just told me I was gonna get ta say goodbye to my daughter. I was happy––really happy. Sometimes people get huggy when they're really happy...even if it's the absolute dumbest move they could ever make."

...Oh.

That...made a great deal of sense. Far more sense than...

At the beginning of his captivity, McCoy had seen him kill an officer with his bare hands; had subsequently been on the receiving end of Khan's wrath many times. The doctor knew better than to attack him; especially unarmed.

...The idiot had actually attempted to hug him.

Khan released his captive's arm; moved away.

"...It's alright, McCoy. I believe you."

Slowly; shakily, the doctor rolled himself over; sat up.

The Augment suppressed a grimace. McCoy's nose was bleeding; possibly broken. As it was, there were scrapes along the left side of the captive's face; a spreading bruise on his cheekbone.

...But Khan was certain that was not the worst of the damage.

"...How is your arm?"

McCoy cradled the injured limb; looked up with pain in his eyes. "It's...pretty damn sore. Don't think anythin's broken...but there's definitely some soft tissue damage. If...if it's okay with you...I'd like ta head back to the medbay and check it out before the swelling really kicks in."

"...Of course. Here..."

Slowly, deliberately, Khan helped his captive to his feet. McCoy was still trembling slightly: an understandable side effect of his pain...and also the adrenaline pumping through his system.

...The killer couldn't tamp down his guilt this time.

Fifty five days. Fifty five days spent together, learning about his captive's life; about the way the man responded to both cruelty and kindness...and Khan had still misread the man's intent.

"...McCoy, you must be more careful. I do not care what motivation is bouncing through your head: do not lunge at me. Ever."

The doctor looked at the floor; gave a small nod. "I know. It was stupid. I––"

"It was beyond stupid," he carefully grabbed his captive's chin; forced his gaze. "I could have killed you. And I would have gone the rest of my life believing the action was justified. I know you have decent survival instincts: the next time you feel like hugging me without warning, use those instincts, and restrain yourself."

"Absolutely," McCoy whispered. "I swear, it won't happen again."

"It better not."

Khan released the man's chin; guided him gently towards the door.

"...Come along, McCoy. Let's go fix that shoulder."