Jim blinks his eyes open, slowly at first then quicker to make the muted silvers and blacks of the Jefferies tube take shape into something more recognizable than the nothingness of oblivion. The painful throb in his head is relentless; he needs to get the name of the bartender that over served last night. At the very least he could have picked a better place to sleep off his drunken stupor than the unforgiving grates of a Jefferies tube.
It's awkward but Jim manages to flop around like a fish enough to settle himself into a sitting position. He cradles his aching head, his shaking fingers a poor comforting substitute in the absence of Leonard's warm steady embrace . "Computer," he croaks, his voice brittle and throat painful dry. "What time is it?"
"The time is zero five hundred hours," chirps the computer.
Jim lets out a long sigh. He's been out all night; Leonard's going to be pissed. Leonard's…Leonard. It hits Jim like a house being dropped on him- Khan, the Botany crew taking the ship, the gas…
The phaser blast.
Jim looks up and down the Jefferies tube, but he is alone, completely, utterly alone. There's no one to tell him it was a mistake or lie, and say it's going to be alright. There's no Leonard to make everything better, to pick up Jim's broken jagged pieces and build something worthwhile. Jim's never felt so alone in his entire life and he's spent more than his fair share left to his own devices. Khan's taken everything- hope, love, his future. His hands clench into tight fists, his fingers going white and his joints tensing to the point of breaking. There's nothing to hold on to though, no amount of punches that are going to release the fire and fury that's ignited to consume Jim's fragile soul.
Khan's taken everything from Jim and he'll be damned if he doesn't do the same to Khan. The first thing Jim's going to take, is this ship.
He abandons his trek to the cargo bay, detouring at the next junction to make his way to engineering.
Jim watches intently from an access grate, high above in engineering. The Botany crew has it secured but their over confidence is showing because they only have two permanently stationed guards here to run the department and keep an eye on Scotty and Chekov, who they've seen fit to keep tied up in engineering. Much to his disappointment, Khan isn't one of the men posted to engineering. No one seems inclined to come and check in with engineering so if Jim times it right, he only has to deal with two augments. Two. Piece of cake right?
Jim remembers what it was like to punch Otto and he doesn't like his odds, even if he was in perfect shape. He's going to need help.
He crawls quietly back through the tube system and heads for his quarters. The ship is eerily quiet like a graveyard. Gone is the throbbing pulse of a crew of four hundred living their lives and navigating duty shifts, replaced instead by the silent and unrelenting iron vigil of forty highly skilled combatants. From the bits and pieces of conversation he picks up as he passes through the ship unnoticed, the majority of the crew are locked in their quarters with the exception of the bridge crew whom are being held in one of the briefing rooms.
Jim climbs out of the junction nearest his quarters. Normally at this time the corridors would be filled with people hurrying to grab breakfast before alpha shift or the slow saunter of the zombies coming off of gamma shift, looking for the sweet embrace of a bed. Now there's nothing but the dimmed lights casting shadows down empty halls. Jim hugs the walls, exercising caution like a mouse evading a cat, in case one of their captors comes this way.
Jim gets to the door and enters his code. The door beeps its denial. He supposes it would be too much to ask for something to go smoothly, but points to Khan for changing every lock. He tries Leonard's just for good measure and then Leonard's medical override code that Jim absolutely did not crack and memorize behind his husbands back for the unlikely case that Jim needs to get somewhere he's not supposed to. Kudos again, the door refuses to budge with another harsh beep.
Jim bites his lip, digging his fingertips into the small crack between the door interface and wall. "We'll see about that," he mutters, removing the face plate and exposing the circuitry underneath. He hisses as a circuit shorts sending a sharp burst of electricity into Jim's fingers before the door finally caves into Jim's demand. "Three hundred year old popsicle man, you've got nothing on the only genius level repeat offender in the Midwest."
He places the faceplate back on the wall and steps inside. The door slips closed plunging the room into darkness. "Computer, lights." The lights slowly come up, chasing away the shadows but the cold dark feeling remains. Everything is exactly how he and Leonard left it, but it feels different. The warmth of home has vanished, replaced with a haunted tomb like quality that sends shivers down his spine. This room is a shrine, a holy testament to the life and love of one Dr Leonard McCoy. It's sacrilegious to be standing in such a holy place; Jim's clearly not worthy of that love. If he was, he would have been able to save his husband.
Jim walks along the wall, staring at the pictures hanging there. They no longer feel like candids chronicling their lives and the happy home they've constructed, but rather portraits in a museum, the final hallmarks of the once living. It's like looking at a stranger, not the laughing visage of Leonard as Jim tries his hand at Joanna's violin or the three of them on a picnic sitting next to a lazy river.
Jim never thought he'd be jealous of himself, but looking at those pictures and how happy they all were, he'd do anything to be that Jim again. It lights a fire deep within, one that burns hot with an insatiable appetite that he needs to roast Khan over.
He runs his finger over Leonard's face, desperate to commit every detail to memory, to remember the warmth of Leonard's skin. A picture just doesn't capture the rich texture of Leonard's hair or the faint taste of peaches and bourbon Jim swears he can taste when his tongue worships Leonard's body. It's all gone and Jim's left with nothing but fading memories and a deep ache.
Jim has memories he's been fraught to forget for years; moments in time he would give anything to unfreeze. Now that memories are all he has left of Leonard, those one are quickly fading. Already the image of Leonard's dimple that appears when he's desperately trying not find Jim adorable is becoming less vivid. Jim would map out every shard of yellow and four shades of green that comprised the kaleidoscope of color that forms Leonard's hazel eyes and now Jim can only picture a vague sense of monotone green.
Out of the corner of his eye, he catches something white tucked half in the couch cushion. Leonard is usually the one that tidies the room up after Jim's gone to bed. Leonard didn't get a chance to last night. He never will again, thinks Jim as he pulls the sock out. He carefully folds it with its pair and tucks it safely in the closet drawer in their bedroom.
The bed isn't made either, not the way Leonard likes it anyways. Jim's fingers itch to fix it; a small apology that's so late, it doesn't matter anymore. This isn't what he's here for, Jim reminds himself.
He heads to the bathroom which does nothing for his resolve. It smells of Leonard's cologne with faint notes of that hair cream he uses on mornings when Jim's kept him in bed too long and mussed up those beautiful black locks into something untameable.
Leonard's medical bag sits on top of the cupboard next to the vanity. Jim rummages through it until he finds the vials Leonard medicates Jim with. "Always prepared for everything," hums Jim, grabbing the vials and hypo injectors.
He takes one last look at the home he's shared with Leonard since boarding the USS Enterprise before leaving and crawling back into the Jefferies tube system.
"Bones!" says Jim with relief as he lays eyes on the doctor huddled in the corner. The situation might be perilous but at least he knows Leonard is alive, and that, feels like a victory. Jim wades through the huddled masses of the surviving crew members and sits down next to him. He wants to hug Leonard, to kiss every inch and hold him until the troubled look haunting those deep hazel eyes vanishes. He wants to, but he doesn't. Not only would it give the guards something to work with, but Jim's too afraid he'd hurt Leonard if he lays a finger on him.
Leonard's cradling his left arm protectively against his chest and the wound over his eye is bleeding heavily, never mind the fact that the rest of him looks like a well used punching bag. It just speaks to what their captors are capable of. Jim's a little rough because he excels at being a pain in the ass; he goes nowhere and does nothing quietly. Leonard, not for himself but in the interest of the preservation of those around him, will cooperate and remain passive, so if they see fit to assault a doctor like this, none of them are safe.
"Are you okay?" whispers Jim. It's a redundant question, there's no way Leonard is okay but one word and there will be an unholy rampage of retribution on his behalf.
Leonard glares at Jim like he's particularly stupid before going back to intently staring at the ground.
Jim hasn't seen him this distressed since that shuttle ride out of Riverside. "Don't worry. I'm going to get us out of this," insists Jim. He watches the guards pace back and forth in front of the door while a couple more drag in any remaining stragglers they find.
"Yeah? And how are you going to do that?" Leonard grumbles, tilting his head towards the armed guards. This is why man has no business in space.
"You just let me worry about that." Jim has no idea what he's going to do but everyone makes mistakes, he just has to keep his eyes open for one he can exploit.
"Romulans aren't exactly push-overs, Jim. Besides, I think the Captain might have a few plans of her own. She doesn't need some hot shot ensign causing havoc," cautions Leonard. This is something that should be left to the professionals and some cadet who has dreams of grandeur is not it. God, he should have stayed home.
Leonard seems more tense and irritated than usual. Obviously captivity doesn't agree with. "She's dead, Bones. The Captain's dead," whispers Jim, and he wishes there was a gentler way to break that news.
Leonard's lips quivers slightly before his jaw tightens. A small hiss escapes his lips as he shifts his position minutely. The fact that he doesn't use his left arm at all concerns Jim, but what really fires him up is the small pool of blood that's settled underneath Leonard that was previously concealed by the angle of the doctor's leg.
Leonard can see the darkness flash in Jim's eyes as Jim notices it's more than tendon damage from a dislocated elbow Leonard had one of the science cadets pop back in for him. The good thing about a scalpel wound, is the tool cuts clean and is relatively sterile, which judging by their current accommodations and treatment could be the difference between death by gangrene and living. Even the bleeding's not so bad, all things considered.
Jim gets up on his knees, ready to spring up and intimately introduce one of their Romulan captors to his fists. Leonard's a doctor, how could anyone justify hurting him like this? Leonard grabs a hold of Jim's hand. It's warm, steady and Jim can't help but feel safe in its grip. They're hands that could show Jim a thing or two. He'd gladly play doctor with Leonard any day.
"Don't go doin' something stupid on my account," pleads Leonard, holding on for dear life. The last thing he needs is to watch a Romulan beat Jim to a pulp. Jim's destined for greater things than dying a captive on a ship commanded by a psycho Romulan that saw fit to randomly attack a research vessel.
Jim counters, "No one gets away with doing this to you."
Leonard lets out a morose huff. People have been gutting him his whole life, this is just the first time the wounds are externally visible. Christ, Jim does it to him every time Jim does something thoughtful or adorable that makes Leonard want to tear Jim's clothes off with his teeth, but can't because it would poison the friendship between them. "There are other people to think about- what's left of the crew. They're going to need you to save them, Jim. You can't get yourself killed over me."
Jim begs to differ. Leonard's the only person he'd gladly lay down his life for without question or hesitation.
"Promise me?" asks Leonard, looking Jim square in the eye. This isn't the time to go off half cocked. There are other people that could suffer because Jim's taking offence to Leonard's treatment. He's taking offence to his treatment too, but there's more at stake then Leonard's comfort. "Please."
"Fine," relents Jim. He'll worry about everyone else before he sets about retribution, but make no mistake, before Jim sets foot off this ship, every Romulan that's even looked funny at Leonard is going to regret the day they took the Troubadour.
An alarm on one of the consoles sounds breaking the tense silence of engineering. Both Otto and Kai look at the offending consol before sharply turning their accusatory glares at Scotty and Chekov. More so Scotty than Chekov since the kid is tied with his back to Scotty. Scotty looks aloof. The whole ship could fall apart around these scoundrels for all he cares, but he's taken excellent care of the Enterprise and doubts it's going to be a mechanical problem that derails their plans.
"What is it?" demands Kai.
"I couldn't begin to guess," says Scotty with a shrug. He knows exactly what the alarm is concerned about, but all of his goodwill was used up around hour five of being tied up.
"Try again," says Otto, pulling his knife and pressing it against Chekov's throat, eliciting a sharp hiss from the kid.
"It's a pressure sensor. If it builds up too fast the system requires a manual release. It's the third button from the left," relents Scotty.
Otto signals Kai to check it out but keeps his knife at the ready. These peons have been uncooperative from the start. There's nothing these inferiors can offer that outweighs their inconvenience. It's only under Khan's direction that Otto doesn't solve the problem here and now but if the engineer remains insubordinate he won't hesitate to make an example out of the curly haired kid.
Kai walks over to the consol and presses the blue flashing button. The computer chirps and a gentle hiss sounds somewhere further back in engineering. "It's taken care of," reports Kai, shouting back to Otto.
"How do we stop it from happening again?" demands Otto, getting right in Scotty's face.
Scotty pulls back as much as his bonds will let him. Honestly, it's nothing serious nor a regular occurrence, though he does wonder who shut off the automated regulator so the computer wouldn't handle the situation without crew involvement. He's about to open his mouth to make some dig about the Botany crew being ill-equipped to run a starship when something comes crashing down from above, landing on top of Kai.
Scotty can feel Chekov flinch behind him as Kai hits the floor with a thud, the clang of an access grate hitting the floor reverberating throughout the undermanned department. He's not the only one who's jaw gapes open in disbelief and wonder, Otto seems utterly dumbfounded as well.
"Oww," moans Jim with a cough as he rolls off of Kai. He'll be feeling that landing tomorrow; the augment wasn't quite the soft cushion he was hoping for. His vision swims in and out, like waves crawling up and down the shore line.
Kai's hand twitches next to Jim's prone body. There will be time to nurse injuries later, Jim can't waste a second of their confusion or his hard earned advantage will be lost. He grits his teeth and pulls his leg up, taking the hypo-injector out of his boot. Rolling over quickly, he stabs the hypo none too gently into Kai's neck. "Nighty-night, asshole," says Jim as he injects the contents.
Jim's victory is far too short lived as Otto wraps his large meaty paw around Jim's throat, lifting him off the ground until he's eye level with Otto. His feet kick and dangle but he can barely do more than scuff the ground with the tip of his boot.
Otto smiles as Jim chokes and gargles, desperate for air. "I should have done this the first time we met," snarls Otto with sickening delight as he pulls back his free hand and forms a fist.
Tears well in Jim's eyes as pain rattles around his skull like maracas. The pain starts in his right cheek, spreading rapidly as Otto gets in a couple more punches. It's getting hard to think, every punch turning the world to molasses. Jim claws at Otto's hand but it comes across as nothing more than an irritation like tiny mosquito bites on a giant elephant.
"Three hundred years and humanity is still week and feeble," spits Otto. His head snaps down as he feels the sharp prick of something against his side. His eyes follow the offending device to Jim's hand, up his arm and to Jim's Cheshire grinning face. The effect of the injection is almost instantaneous, Otto's limbs failing him as he crashes to the ground in an unconscious heap.
Jim unceremoniously falls to the ground too, rubbing his throat and gasping for air. "Yeah, but our medical advancements kick your ass," he says, clenching the injector tight to his chest. It's Leonard's break glass in emergency backup needle. Not as pleasant as a hypo but a lot harder for Jim to dismantle in the throes of an episode. Trust Leonard to have all the cool toys and drugs squirreled away to help Jim.
"Jim!" cheers Scotty. God it's good to see a familiar face, that isn't trussed up like a turkey.
Jim rolls his eyes. All his battered body wants to do is sleep for a year and he's barely made it through round one of this deadly game. He groans as he rolls over and gingerly gets to his feet. His hand and arm have that numb tingly feeling he's grown accustomed to when his shoulder is dislocated. One problem at a time. He hobbles over to Scotty and Chekov.
"It's good to see ya, laddie," greets Scotty, relief evident in his voice.
Jim gives a half hearted smile as he sets to work on releasing the pair from their restraints. It takes some fiddling but he manages to open the locks.
Chekov is the first to give Jim a tight embrace. "Jim," he says fondly. Jim bites his lip to keep a whimper from escaping. The kid's been through enough, he doesn't need to feel bad about crushing Jim's already aching shoulder.
Scotty kicks Otto in the leg, getting no response from the now sleeping mountain.
"Bones's top of the line sedatives," says Jim holding up the injector. "He'll be out for awhile. Trust me." Jim's had a lot of experience with Leonard's medicine cabinet. While the dosage would keep Jim down longer, it should be enough to keep these two out of the game for a couple of hours.
"Jim," says Scotty with a tremble in his voice and eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Jim shakes his head. He doesn't want Scotty's pity right now, doesn't want to hear condolences. If he does, it will make it real and Jim doesn't think he can do any of this if he focuses on the fact that Leonard's gone. There will be time for tears and mourning later. "Right now we have to stop them before they hurt anyone else," says Jim. Scotty and Chekov both advert their eyes. "What is it?" demands Jim; he knows avoidance when he sees it.
"They killed Roberts," says Scotty, sorrowfully. "Khan said he'll execute a member of the senior staff every day until they join him or there isn't anybody left." There's a heavy beaten down quality in the engineer's voice.
That throws a wrench in any plan Jim's going to come up with. There's enough pressure, he doesn't need a deadline on top of it. "He's going for quite the body count today," snaps Jim.
Scotty looks hesitant. "It's been two days, Jim. They killed Leonard two days ago."
"Two days?" says Jim feeling a little lost. Losing time somehow makes the wound of Leonard worse. That's two days of Khan going unpunished; two days where Leonard didn't cross Jim's mind because he was out cold in a Jefferies Tube.
"After they killed the doc, Khan's people gassed the crew. They secured most of the crew in crew quarters except for the senior staff. They revived us after locking us in the briefing room," explains Scotty.
There goes any chance of exploiting any disorganization on Khan's part. They've had two days to establish a foot hold and a routine. Jim was really hoping for some good news. "Anything else I should know," he says bitterly. So far he's several moves behind in this chess game.
"They're going to execute the Captain today," adds Chekov in the most demoralized voice Jim's ever heard.
"Perfect," huffs Jim. Scotty and Chekov share a glance. Jim's got a feeling he's not going to like this. Looks like they're going to break through the basement and discover a new level of rock bottom.
The pair have a silent debate about who is going to hammer the final nail in their coffin. "Yesterday we stopped at a planet and took aboard more of those crates Khan brought aboard. It's more of his crew he's planning on reviving," offers Scotty.
Reinforcements, great. Tangling with one is already worse than scrapping with a Klingon and now Khan's going to bolster his numbers. Jim doesn't have a final headcount on just how big the infestation is, but he knows they don't need more.
"What are we going to do?" asks Chekov.
Jim's got nothing beyond seeing the light fade from Khan's eyes. Priorities, they need control of the ship so they can free the crew. The odds will be greatly in their favour if they have the full might of the Enterprise compliment behind them. "We need to regain control of the ship. Chekov, do you think you can lock Khan out of the computer?"
Chekov hesitates a moment, looking at the nearest consol and worrying his lip. "I think I can do that."
"See what you can do, but don't let them know you're in the system," cautions Jim. "Scotty, if we can't retake control of the ship, we at least need to slow him down. Can you work on a back up to shut the engines down completely?" Jim continues.
"Aye," replies Scotty with a little more confidence than Chekov.
First things, first though, "Scotty, I'm going to need you to put my shoulder back in."
Scotty looks a little pale and petrified. "I don't know how to do that," he confesses, with a secret hope it will get him out of it.
"It's easy," insists Jim with a pained smile. "Just grab my hand and pull while pushing my shoulder with your other one." Leonard's done it many times, hell Jim's done it himself once or twice before but he needs to be sure it pops back in correctly if he has any hope of facing off against the augments.
"I really think you should get a doctor to do it," insists Scotty. He's an engineer, not a medical practitioner; he can put the warp core together all day long, but a person…
Jim places his good hand firmly on Scotty's shoulder. "Scotty, it has to be you. There is no one else." Isn't that the sad truth now.
Scotty squeaks, "It can't be that easy."
"Mine is," assures Jim in a steady and calm command voice he hasn't had to bust out in almost a decade.
Scotty looks helplessly at Chekov who steadfastly refuses to make eye contact with either Scotty or Jim. "Ach, alright!" relents Scotty. He grabs Jim's hand and pulls as directed. A sickening pop sounds right before a guttural howl echoes out of Jim as he drops to his knees.