So uh...I know I said that I was going to write a Spock and Kirk survival chapter, but uh...I got distracted by an entirely different story. And I know that updating took a while so uh...my bad. Sorry. School is killing me. Literally had two months worth of cramming and exams. It was horrible. But good news is that in two weeks, I'll be on break, so hopefully I'll get another chapter up soon (probably the Spock, Kirk survival story), but no guarantees, sorry. I'm also thinking of doing a multi-chapter story involving Tarsus? I'm not sure. I've got bits and pieces written down, but again, any requests?
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Spoilers: it has to do with Frank the stepfather.
As always, please review!
Disclaimer: I do not own any Star Trek franchise.
X
Skeletons in the Closet
Riverside, Iowa. It was a never-ending swirling sink of misery, pain, and memories that should have long been pushed into the past. It spoke of loneliness and a coldness that only abandonment could bring about.
Jim never thought that he would ever return there. When he boarded the shuttle to San Francisco so many years ago, he had sworn that he would never look back. As the desolate farmland disappeared behind him, so did the chains of hatred and anger that held him there and he finally got to breathe for the first time. It took a while, but he finally found himself an amazing surrogate family and a true purpose to his life. No longer was he a shadow of his father or the whipping boy of a drunk. He was Captain James Tiberius Kirk, officer of Starfleet - not a scared, abused little boy that always wished to that the stars would take him away like it did to his father and whatever childhood he should have had.
He had pushed all those memories down, shrugging them aside like a pesky bug on his shoulder. He deflected and twisted out of its grasps, telling himself that he had already moved on. Frank was only in his nightmares - nothing more, nothing less. But deep, deep down, Jim knew that he was merely running. He was running farther and farther into the darkness with tears and sweat dripping down his face, because he knew that the moment he stopped - the moment he tried to take a breath - was going to be when his past caught up to him with its sharp claws, digging and cutting until he was bleeding profusely with nothing to stop it.
So when Jim read the small scribbles across his PADD one day while on the Bridge, he felt his heart stop and a cold chill run down his spine. Numbly, he scrolled through the words and he felt his stomach twist violently. The large, ropey scar across his lower back - courtesy of a particularly violent event in his twisted childhood - throbbed psychosomatically, and the PADD slipped through his fingers to clatter loudly on the floor.
Instantly, his Command crew turned around to stare at him in an odd mixture of confusion, exasperation, and concern. When they saw how pale Jim's face had become - as if he had seen a ghost - alarm rang through them.
"Captain, are you alright?" asked Spock, standing up and approached him.
Jim exhaled and shakily ran his hand over his face, smoothing over his frightened expression to something more akin to exhaustion. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."
The crew gave him a questioning look, but when Jim refused to make contact with them, they dubiously returned to their work, relying on Spock, as usual, to ascertain their Captain's well being.
Jim chewed on his bottom lip and fidgeted, well aware of Spock's gaze upon him. He could sense Spock's growing curiosity and debated satisfying it. For as long as he could remember, he had relied solely on himself - sharing feelings only led to misery and pain. He was used to quashing down all emotions and dealing with things on his own. Even now, his first instincts screamed at him to go "lone wolf", but he wasn't alone anymore. His crew had made that very clear so many times.
Habits were hard to break, but Jim had to start somewhere. Shyly, Jim stretched his arm out towards Spock, his palm facing the ceiling with his eyes wide and exposed - it was an open invitation for Spock into his private thoughts.
A spark of warmth erupted deep in Spock's chest. For Jim to trust him so deeply to allow him to use his touch telepathy on a clearly personal matter, it meant more than Spock could possibly describe.
Spock slowly reached out to place his own hand in Jim's and instantly a torrent of images flashed into his mind. Ones of little James crying and cowering from a raised hand, of James lying unconscious from a beating and bleeding from cuts, of burns of cigarettes on his small, white arm. The barrage almost floored Spock and he struggled to find his own feet amidst it all, but before he could, Jim had already neatly swiped away the memories, leaving behind an unusual calm, blue lake that was rapidly being tinged black.
"Sorry about that," Jim's voice broke through, his words rippling in the water. "I thought I had a better grasp of my memories. Didn't mean to overwhelm you like that."
Spock was more concerned than overwhelmed now. "Do you need assistance in strengthening your shields, Jim?"
"No, they're fine. I was just taken by surprise is all."
Jim sent more images of what he had just read to Spock and as he laid everything out, he could feel a growing anger from the Vulcan transfer to him. He broke off the connection there, gently pulling his arm away. There were already too many emotions running amok within him; he couldn't handle someone else's right now, even if they weren't directly towards him.
"We'll have to go," he said out loud, the suddenness of his words drawing the attention of his crew once again.
Spock shook his head, his eyes dark. "I do not believe that that is wise."
"Tough. We're doing this, Spock."
"We're doing what?" asked Sulu, spinning around to look at them with confusion.
"We've been ordered to make a quick pitstop in Riverside, Iowa, for repairs," Jim answered, bending down to grab his PADD. "Sulu, set course. What's our approximate arrival time?"
Sulu's fingers clacked against his console. "Two days and four hours," he answered.
"Good. Uhura, let Scotty know the change in plans. Spock, you have the conn. I'll be in Medical if anyone needs me."
"Are you alright, sir?" frowned Chekov, almost rising out of concern.
Jim flashed him a smile. "I'm fine. I just have to go over some technicalities with Bones."
He rose to leave, and Spock took a step towards him. Jim raised a hand and squared his shoulders, making him seem taller and stronger than he was before. "I'm fine, Spock. I promise. I'll see you later."
And then he was gone, leaving behind frowns and confusion.
"What was that all about?" asked Sulu.
Uhura rolled her eyes. "You're daft, aren't you?"
"Hey!"
"Hikaru, ve're stopping in Riverside," said Chekov, as if it explained everything.
It didn't. Sulu shrugged, "So? That's where the Enterprise was built. It makes sense that we'd stop by there sooner or later."
"Jim was raised in Riverside, Iowa, until he was approximately twelve years old, Mr. Sulu," Spock answered, "At least ten of those years was spent with his stepfather."
The color drained from Sulu's face as he remembered the vague stories of Jim's past with the abusive Frank. "Oh."
"'Oh' is correct, Mr. Sulu." Spock stared out into the vast darkness, seeing flashes of Jim's past flitter before him. "'Oh' is correct..."
The doors to McCoy's office whooshed open, but he didn't hear any footsteps entering. By that, he knew without even looking up from his paperwork that it was Jim. That man could be as silent as cat when he wanted to, despite being so rambunctious usually. Back at the Academy, McCoy had been surprised out of his wits by Jim's skills many times and he had learned to expect the unexpected from Jim, but he simply didn't have the time for Jim's shenanigans at the moment. Leonard had gotten extremely far behind with his paperwork, thanks to Jim and his constant distractions (not that McCoy was complaining all that much. Jim was his best friend after all), and was trying desperately to keep his head above the water.
"What do you want, Jim? I'm busy," McCoy grouched as he roughly signed off on a document, but there was no heat in his words.
McCoy sensed Jim settling down in the chair before him. There was a long moment of silence, which raised a red flag immediately. Jim didn't like the quiet and he never was unless something was wrong.
As if he knew exactly what McCoy was thinking, Jim almost absentmindedly said quietly, "Our next stop is Riverside."
Instantly, all of Bones' movements stopped and he looked up in horror at Jim. Jim merely nodded from where he sat, his posture tense and stiff.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. Orders just came in."
Bones knew better than to ask if Jim was okay. He knew his friend well enough to know when to not push. "Do you have to beam down?"
"Hmm. Probably not."
"You're going to anyway, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Masochist."
"Not all of my history in Riverside was bad. I met Pike there, you know."
"Of course I know. I was on that shuttle with you."
"Where you puked on me."
Bones pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, where I puked on you. You're never going to let that go, are you?"
"Nope." Jim almost smiled at that. Almost.
McCoy paused, reading his friend's body language with slight confusion. The expression on Jim's face was strained, yet determined; there was no sign of fear or apprehension either. All Bones could see was slight distress and a sort of resolution in Jim's blue eyes.
He frowned. "You're planning something, aren't you?"
Jim tapped his nose.
"I'm not going to like it, am I?"
"When do you ever like my plans?"
Bones groaned and really considered face-planting onto his desk. "And to think that I thought I was going to have a good day..."
"Yeah..." Jim murmured as he looked into the distance with a faraway glimmer in his blue eyes. "Same here..."
The next two days passed in a blur. Jim sat at his chair and completed his duties, but it was as if he was a puppet and was moving around the ship mechanically. He smiled and chatted like usual, yet, his friends could feel him pulling away at the same time. It was just like Jim to be such a conundrum - not that anyone could fault him for it.
Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty knew parts of what happened to Jim when he lived with Frank. They didn't know all of it, but they knew enough to know that if they ever saw Frank, they would not let him off easy. But Jim never once spoke of his stepfather. Where he was, what he was doing, or even if he was alive was a complete mystery. And no one could find it in themselves to ask.
Jim had never let on the inclination that Frank was still in Riverside, but he had definitely shown clear reluctance to return to his hometown, even though he had never said it out loud. There were too many memories and too many tears spilt there. It was the place where Jim was neglected by his mother, abused by his stepfather, and abandoned by his brother. Why he ever returned in the first place in time for Pike to scout him was an enigma.
There was only one thing that could draw Jim back to Riverside and that was his ship. The Enterprise had been built in that town and it was the best possible place for her to get maintenance. After all the missions she had gone on with her ingenious and possibly insane Captain, she desperately needed care that only Riverside could provide.
No matter how Jim felt about Riverside, he could not deny the Enterprise the trip.
It didn't mean that he had to like it.
Jim could feel a jitteriness shaking his bones, making him feel like he needed to pace back and forth until he had worn a hole into the ground. He ran his fingers through his hair for the eighth time in the last five minutes as he stood in the corner of the bustling bar, nursing a half empty glass of whiskey.
Chekov, Sulu, and Uhura were laughing at something a few feet away from him; Spock was watching them with slight amusement in his eyes from where he sat next to Jim. Bones and Scotty were deep in debate regarding what alcohol was the best. Despite all of them doing their own thing, Jim could feel their side glances towards him and their subconscious rotation around him.
Not for the first time, Jim wished that he was back onboard his precious girl and listening to her hums than joining his Command crew for a quick drink at the very bar in Riverside that he had met Uhura. They had almost begged Jim to join them, not wanting to leave their Captain all alone where they were sure he was going to drown himself in his dark thoughts. Jim would never say it out loud, but he could never refuse his friends anything, so here he was, down in Riverside for the first time in five years.
Someone nudged him and Jim looked up in surprise to see Bones nod at his glass. "You want another?"
Jim's self-defense mechanism instantly kicked in without his bidding. A smirk spread across his face, "Why Bones, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to get me drunk. Shouldn't you buy me dinner first?"
"I did, you ungrateful brat," Bones huffed back, completely unfazed. "Here." He shoved Jim's favorite beer into his hand. "Drink."
"Eloquent," Jim snarked before drinking a few gulps. He noticed Spock's eyes looking at him. "Spock, I know I'm gorgeous, but you don't need to stare."
Spock would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't part Vulcan, especially when Bones snorted in laughter. He was about to answer when another man behind them interrupted.
"Hello, James. Fancy seeing you here again."
The smile instantly dropped off Jim's face. That deep, condescending voice was one that Jim would never forget. It haunted his nightmares and followed him everywhere like a shadow that was threatening to swallow him whole.
Jim stiffened, his entire posture frozen. His face was wiped unusually clean, but had turned as white as freshly fallen snow. He hid the tremble in his hands well, but McCoy and Spock easily spotted it and they automatically started shifting to comfort their friend.
His crew immediately noticed the sudden change in dynamics and all subconsciously mimicked their Captain's body language, freezing as well and watching their surroundings warily. Jim behaving oddly usually meant that danger was hovering over their heads.
Slowly, Jim turned around to eye the man that was behind him. The older man - leaning towards his mid-fifties - had a head full of short, crew-cut grayish hair. The lines on his face were clear, speaking loudly of his age. A scar cut through his right eyebrow; another was just above his upper lip, disfiguring it slightly. He wore a dirty plain, grey long-sleeved shirt with jeans that had white paint splattered all over. It had been years since Jim last saw him, and he had buffed up quite a bit. His beer gut was long gone, replaced by well-built muscles that made his arms bulge from his shirt. Even his defined torso could be seen through his clothing.
Jim suppressed the urge to shiver and kept his poker face up. Coldly, he raised his chin, drawing himself up to his full height, which (to his pleasure) was a couple of inches taller than the man.
Venom dripped in Jim's voice as he spoke. "Hello, Frank."
That name sent sparks of burning hot anger within Jim's Command crew. Instantly, as soon as they got over the shock of Frank appearing before them, they surrounded him, stepping in closer as if they could shield Jim from his stepfather. Spock and Sulu were closest to Frank, ready to take him down in case he posed a threat. McCoy, on the other hand, sided against Jim, pressing the length of the side of his arm next to Jim's - physically grounding the younger man.
"I hear you've become some big-shot nowadays. Didn't think someone with your record could get into the 'fleet," drawled Frank.
Jim had to work to stop himself from flinching. "And I didn't think that someone like you would live up until now. Thought you were rotting in some corner with the rest of the garbage."
"What was that, boy?" growled Frank, stepping forward ominously.
Jim didn't even react, knowing full well how safe he was among his overly protective crew. Before Frank even completed his one step, Spock was already between Frank and Jim with Scotty and Sulu right beside him.
"Sir, I advise you back away," Spock said lowly.
Frank ignored Spock and addressed Jim. "Having your dogs handle your problems now, aren't you, James?"
"That's 'Captain' James to you," said Jim, calmly taking another swig of his beer, "And I didn't give any orders, did I? But I would suggest that you listen to them. They're a tad overprotective of me. The fact that you were my stepfather won't help you either."
"So you told them 'bout me? I'm flattered."
Bones actually growled at Frank and Jim felt a bundle of warmth flutter in his stomach, but he quickly squashed it down to concentrate at the task at hand. He chuckled, leaning back onto the counter - the picture of nonchalance even though he felt far from it. "It's because they know that I think you should run as far away from me as you can. Otherwise, it won't end well for you."
"Are you threatening me, boy?!"
"Why yes, I am. Good for you, you actually picked that up!" Jim clapped mockingly.
Frank lunged forward, but he got nowhere close to Jim. Spock was an unmoving statue that Frank couldn't get past. When he tried, Spock aggressively grabbed Frank's outstretched out before spinning around to shove him face-down into the countertop a couple of feet away from Jim.
"Get off me!" shouted Frank.
"You have attempted to attack a Captain of the Federation. I am obligated to protect my Captain by any means necessary," Spock warned coldly, relentlessly inflicting more pain on Frank.
"There's no need for that," Jim said quietly, looking down at his beer. "He's not worth our time. Mr. Spock, Mr. Sulu, remove the man from premises. He's making my beer taste bad."
"Are you sure, Captain?" questioned Spock.
Jim glanced up to look at Frank's red-flushed face with anger, pausing for a brief moment. His eyes flickered with uncertainty before they ducked down to the drink in his hands again. "Yeah. I won't stoop to his level. Escort him out."
"Understood," Spock replied as he reluctantly let Frank go.
"Come on, you fucking bastard," snarled Sulu, roughly shoving Frank towards the door with Spock closely behind him.
Jim didn't even watch them go, keeping his eyes glued to his beer as he fought down the rising bile in his throat. He was losing the battle fast.
He could feel Chekov and Uhura watching him warily. Bones touched his arm so gently, as if Jim was going to break at any second, and Jim hated it.
"Jim..." Bones murmured.
"I need to go to the restroom," Jim said quickly and jumped out of his chair, rushing to the bathroom without a backwards glance.
He braced himself against the sink, breathing heavily as he tried to quell the emotions threatening to burst out of him. He looked up at the mirror and just stared at those turbulent blue eyes. What he saw sickened him - Frank was just a skeleton in his closet. He had seen far, far worse and yet, Frank was still about to instill an undying spark of turmoil within him. It disgusted him. Even after all that he had been through, Frank still had that effect on him. He could feel tears prickling his eyes as he tried hard to not hyperventilate with the memories that were about to overcome him.
Shit. He was such a pansy. He should've been over this by now.
He leaned down and splashed his face with water, leaning over the sink for several minutes as he took calming breaths. With the running water, Jim didn't hear the door to the bathroom or the footsteps that came near him. He did sense someone coming up to him, but he reacted too late.
Something sharp pricked the side of his neck, right where his jugular vein was, and he felt a burning sensation as the liquid was injected into his bloodstream.
Jim automatically clamped his right hand over the site of injection, but he knew that he was far too late to do anything. Almost instantly, Jim felt his entire world tilt nauseatingly and he stumbled back, staring dumbly at the blurry face before him.
"Night night, Captain James," the distorted figure before him said.
Even as drugged as he was, Jim would recognize that voice anywhere.
Fuck. As if he didn't already have enough nightmares about Frank already.
This was going to suck...
And then the world faded to black.
"He's been gone for a while," McCoy muttered for the seventh time. The doctor was alternating between looking worriedly at the bathroom where Jim had disappeared off to and at the rest of his friends.
Uhura sighed. "He's fine, Leonard. You said it yourself. Kirk likes to handle things like this on his own."
"He shouldn't have to though."
"I'm not saying that he will be." Uhura took a slow sip of her Bud Classic. "Look, he just met his abusive stepfather for the first time in years. Even someone like Kirk needs some time to compose himself. You know how much Kirk hates being vulnerable in front of others, especially somewhere so public."
"I know…I know…" muttered Leonard, taking in a huge gulp of his whiskey.
Uhura eyed the door, noting Spock and Sulu making their way back to them. Both had worry and concern etched onto the lines of their faces. She was sure it was the same for her, Chekov, Scotty, and even more so on McCoy's.
McCoy was jittery, his legs bouncing up and down as he bit on his lower lip. His eyes were almost glued to the restroom. Uhura never truly understood the depth of their friendship. It was always just Jim and McCoy. One was always within reach of the other, even back at the Academy. Now that Jim was Captain and was constantly putting his life on the line, it seemed that they gravitated closer to each other out of worry and need of comfort.
To put it simply, they were brothers with a bond that was stronger than blood.
Uhura could only imagine what was going through Leonard's head at the moment, so when McCoy stood up suddenly and announced, "I'm going to go check on him," she could only nod.
"Let him know that we're waiting for him," she said quietly.
McCoy just grunted in response and quickly waded through the sea of bodies to disappear into the back corner of the bar.
"Where's he off to?" asked Sulu as he settled down between Chekov and Uhura.
"Where do you think?" she responded gently, turning to Spock. "Frank?"
"Gone," Spock said. "Is Jim alright?"
It was just like Spock to skip the whole obvious question: "Jim isn't back yet?"
"Leonard's checking up on him."
Spock nodded, raising himself to his full height to glance towards the bathroom. His eyebrow rose when he saw McCoy rushing back with panic in his expressions.
"Doctor," Spock greeted.
McCoy went right up to Spock, "He's gone," he said lowly.
"Pardon?"
"He's gone!" McCoy hissed.
"Maybe he just went back on board," suggested Scotty.
McCoy rounded on him. "Without telling us?"
"He is correct. Jim would not leave without informing us."
"Frank's got him, doesn't he?" Sulu gulped.
"Yeah…" breathed McCoy, "Most likely. Spock?"
Spock was already dialing on his communicator, ordering a beam up as he headed out with the rest of the crew following him.
As the lights swirled around the Vulcan, he turned to stare determinedly at McCoy. "Doctor, do not fear. We will get him back."
"You better. And you better find him before I do, because I will tear that bastard a new one for doing this," McCoy growled.
Scotty, Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura all looked at him – each with a matching, bloodthirsty expression. "Get in line."
McCoy smirked. Frank was going to regret ever messing with their family.
They would make sure of it.
There were distorted voices all around him, deep and unearthly. Jim had an inkling that he recognized a few, but everything was swirling around discerningly. He couldn't make sense of what was up or down; whether he was upright or lying down. What he was sure of was how nauseated he felt and how confused he was. Bile was trapped in his throat and he wanted desperately to throw it all up, except he wasn't quite sure where his mouth was. He couldn't even feel any of his fingers and his head felt completely discombobulated.
His heart was pounding in his chest, and he had an odd image of it being oversized and thumping out of his ribcage, like one of those comical cartoons that he had seen long, long ago. Forcing what he thought was his eyes open, he saw blurry figures before him. Most were mere shadows and transparent, like a ghost. They spoke to him in low terms, whispering.
"George...I need you..."
"I'm sorry, Jim. I can't stay here anymore. Not with him."
"You fucking brat! I'll kill you!"
"Your execution is so ordered..."
"I dare you to do better."
"I may throw up on ya."
"Permission to come aboard, Captain."
They shifted, coming closer to him and laying their cold hands on his face, blocking his view of the barren room that he could barely make out.
Somewhere or another, his sluggish brain connected the dots. Ah. So what he was seeing was just hallucination, which meant that he was drugged.
Fuck. He hated being drugged.
Despite having that cloud fogging his entire mind, he mentally ran through his symptoms (he was a genius after all; his mind worked on several tracks at once and at least one of them, luckily, was still working). He had an increased heart rate, nausea, numbness (particularly in his fingers and legs), hallucinations, and he was having slight difficulties breathing normally. And if he remembered correctly, the drug was injected into his system – not through ingestion.
Ketamine was probably the most likely culprit. Damn it. He was like 70% sure that he was allergic to that. Bones was not going to like that.
He shifted, trying to fight through the haze, and tried to figure out his surroundings like he always did. He was sitting (most likely) in a wooden chair with his arms bound behind it and his legs tied to the legs. He wasn't gagged or blindfolded, which was a great mistake on Frank's part. Rule number one of capturing Jim Kirk was that you had to keep him quiet. It was also the rule number one that Jim had to keep to in order to survive longer, not that he abided by it. He had a bad habit of taunting his captors, but that was neither here nor there.
He needed to focus, but the stupid drug was making him extremely ADD and his thoughts were all over the place. He almost preferred being knocked out by a hard hit to the head over this. Bones would not agree. Well, at least until his body decides to reject the drug and send him into anaphylactic shock. He probably had at least twenty minutes before that happened? Maybe? He couldn't remember anymore.
What was he even thinking about before this?
Oh yeah. Escaping. Or did Spock's eyebrow of death come into factor here? Something about McCoy's gruff bedside manner? What the hell was he thinking about before this?!
Jim groaned. Goddamn drugs...
"Are you awake now, boy?" came that ridiculously horrifying voice that had haunted him throughout his childhood.
Jim lolled his head forward (oh, that was his head?) and an ugly but familiar face came into focus.
"F-fucker..." Jim forced out, trying to spit it out as angrily as he could. It probably didn't happen.
Frank smirked, "Good to see that you're still with me. I was a little worried that I overdosed you. Still need you somewhat coherent."
His words sounded like Jim had cotton stuffed in his ears. "Where..." Jim licked his dry lips. "Where am I?"
"Like I'm going to tell you."
"Who...put you up to this?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"That's why...I asked, you i-idiot."
Jim probably deserved that smack across his face. Judging by how harshly his head turned, it was a hard blow, but he couldn't feel it quite yet.
"You've made some very dangerous enemies, James, scampering around the universe the way you do. And they found me. The one person you're truly afraid of."
He couldn't help it. Jim snorted. "I'm...afraid...of a lot of people, but...you are not...on that list, Frank."
Frank leaned forward, bracing both hands onto Jim's chair. "Then what am I?"
"A skeleton...a skeleton in my closet," Jim gasped out. His chest was getting tighter.
Frank laughed loudly, grating on Jim's nerves. "And yet, I still captured the famous James Kirk from under his crew's nose. Winona would be so proud."
Jim frowned, still trying to figure out if he was upside down or not. "Winona...? She's dead."
She was, wasn't she? He remembered going to her funeral. He remembered standing stoically and dried-eyed under the sun with all these people that he didn't know crying by her casket. His brother was there, he was sure. So was Pike. Neither had spoken to him: one couldn't because of guilt and the other had no more words of comfort. Yet, her cutting declaration that he was merely a ghost and that she couldn't bear to look at him anymore flittered through, as if she was standing right next to him.
The world swirled again and Jim found himself trying hard to cling on to what was actually reality and what were memories.
Rough hands grabbed the collar of Jim's black leather jacket. "Don't lie to me! She said that she'd wait until I made something out of myself!"
Jim chuckled mirthlessly, almost hysterically. Damn drug. "She's dead...you fucker."
He was rewarded with another punch to his face. His head went flying backwards and collided with the hard wood on the back of his chair. That one, he felt, and out of habit, he snapped his mouth shut and distracted himself from the pain in his nose by focusing on the feeling of blood dripping down his face.
"That's better..." Frank muttered and he backed away, mumbling to himself. "They said if I got you, they'd pay me. I'll be rich. Winona will come running back."
Jim tilted his head to stare at Frank a little lopsidedly. Frank was pacing back and forth in the small room, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor that creaked with each footfall. Beads of sweat were clear on his forehead and he was wringing his hands worriedly.
If Jim could, he would frown. He was the one captured, so why was Frank anxious? The man had no emotional attachment to Jim. Frank could care less what happened to him so an internal battle with morality was not on the table.
It seemed as though Frank was afraid of the people he was working for, which meant that they were truly dangerous. Probably even had ties to terrorist groups around the world and had connections with some pretty powerful people; otherwise, how else would they have found and sought out Frank? Jim had personally made sure that all his juvenile files had been erased years ago. Even Chekov wouldn't have been able to find them anymore. Hell, he was sure that he couldn't find them either.
Or maybe Frank was simply chatty in jail and blurted out that he knew Jim as a kid. It didn't matter what the true reason was either way. Whoever hired Frank was always going to continue going after Jim until he was in their hands. Jim had to strike first.
"They...? Who's...'they'?" Jim rasped out.
"The ones who's going to pay me for you, dumbass. Who else?"
"Are they...terrorists?"
Frank burst out laughing. "That's the best part! It's your own people that want you."
Jim's brain came to a stuttering stop. "What?"
"I was minding my own business when some blokes from Starfleet come knocking on my door, saying that they had a job for me. No idea how they found me or my relation to you, but they offered me a shit ton of money. And I got to rail on you while I was at it? I couldn't possibly turn that down, now could I?"
Jim's chest felt so tight. "What...do they...want with me?"
"They wanted you out of the picture."
"You...gonna kill me?"
"You're no good to me dead. Just need to hold you here until they get here."
"You kidnapped me…in front of my crew. If…what you say is true…no one's coming. It's too hot."
"Doesn't matter. I have back-up plans. If they won't pay me, you will."
Faltering chuckles erupted out of Jim, making him gasp for air when he managed to get it under control. "What makes you think…I'll do that? After…all this, dumbass?"
Frank leaned down, snarling into Jim's face. "Because I know you."
"Bullshit. There's…nothing you can do…to me…that'll make me do…what you want."
"That's true. Never could beat some sense into you, but you always did cave when your brother took your place."
Jim sucked in a breath at the mention of Sam. With the drug in his system, all his psychic defenses against the shadows of his past were slowly being overridden. Thoughts of his brother laughing as he throwing him up into the air, only to catch him safely into his arms, of Sam protecting him as fists and empty bottles crashed around him, swirled around his boggled mind. Sam was always a symbol of love, safety, and warmth. And then one day, it was all gone. He left behind a dark void that could never be filled no matter how much Jim drank or partied.
For a while, Jim could handle it. He buried the aching, bleeding part of his heart that Sam had caused deep, deep into his soul where it could never see the light. Years and years later, Sam's hole had been filled by first Bones, then Spock, and Chekov, Scotty, and Sulu. They were his brothers and Jim barely felt the ache anymore, but right now, he was all alone. There were no comforting fingers through his hair, no reassuring words or touches. Just him, his memories, and the man who was responsible for his wretched childhood.
Needless to say, he wasn't dealing with it as well as he could. Hearing Sam's name sent him spiraling down another path of memories he didn't want to remember.
"What're…what're you trying to say, Frank?"
"That you'll do anything I say to protect what's precious to you."
Jim felt alarm rising as he made the connections. Strength spread through his veins in the form of adrenaline. He shifted, pulling himself up. "What the hell are you planning? What did you do to my crew?!"
Frank grinned. "Nothing yet."
"I'll fucking kill you if you touch them!" Jim roared, almost jerking out of his chair.
Frank ruthlessly shoved him down, "Shut up, you fucking pest!" Frank returned, just as loudly.
Spittle sprayed onto Jim's face, but he was too dazed to pay attention to it. The movement had made the entire world tilt to the left and Jim was back to trying to find his footing again. All of sudden, his chest tightened so harshly that he was starting to gasp for air. Black dots appeared in his vision as he fought to catch his breath. He barely even noticed Frank backing off when his communicator went off. All he could focus on was how far and quickly his allergic reaction was progressing.
Words drifted in and out of Jim's hearing. First, it was a male voice. "You captured Captain Kirk too publically. We ordered you to bring him in discretely, Frank. You assured us that your history with him would ensure that."
Then, Frank angrily responding, "Well I have him now. Give me the money you promised me!"
"No. The deal is off. You are on your own."
And then there was the sound of the communicator smashing to the ground. "Fine, if that's how they want to play, then so be it."
Jim felt hands on his neck and another needle piercing his skin. A burning followed the liquid ketamine into his bloodstream. Oh fuck. He was in big trouble now.
Frank looked as if he was behind a cloudy screen. "You stay put while I get the preparations ready. I'll be back soon."
His words were muffled, like either he or Jim was underwater. Frank just grinned at him when Jim found himself unable to respond, and left obnoxiously with a loud slam of the door.
Jim's head lolled forward; he couldn't breathe anymore. Bones was going to be so pissed.
He whimpered as he thought of his best friend. He remembered the first time he found himself under Bones' care – when he had just come back from one of his many bar fights, beaten and bloodied with nowhere to go. McCoy had found him by accident and proceeded to take care of him, no questions asked, and stayed with him all night. When he woke, McCoy was about to leave to class, but before he did, he told Jim that he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted.
Jim didn't leave, Bones didn't send him away. That was the day McCoy became 'Bones'. And they both never looked back. They each completed the voids in their lives, like symbiotic parasites that couldn't live without the other. Slowly, others entered their lives, filling and saving them in ways that they hadn't thought was possible, but it simply couldn't compare. Their bond was unexplainable, yet, it meant everything, for the both of them.
He was sure it was the lack of oxygen speaking, but he thought he heard the sounds of Bones yelling his name. It was probably his imagination. The world started fading to the black and he let his head fall back, gasping one word with his last breath: "Bones…"
And then he was gone.
Frank was smiling when the swirling white lights around him started to fade. That good-for-nothing brat of Winona's had finally become useful. He fingered the home-made explosive device in his pocket. The Enterprise had been docked for a good few hours; most of the crew was probably down on the surface, which meant that Frank could do what he wanted without being interrupted. It was just as he planned.
Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Frank blinked away the last of the lights. Immediately, the smirk dropped once he saw the armed phasers pointing directly at him.
Before him stood the security team and the majority of the Command crew of the Enterprise. The Vulcan was closest to him and without dropping his guard, Spock took a step closer.
"Sir, put your arms over your head and step down from the transporter pad," he commanded, "Or we will use force, if necessary."
"Please give us a reason to shoot you," said Sulu, his expressions contorted into anger. "I'm itching for it."
Uhura, Chekov, and Scotty's fingers twitched on their own triggers.
"You're done, Frank," hissed Uhura. "You don't get to hurt him again."
"Ve vill make sure of that," Chekov added, even though he didn't look particularly menacing.
Scotty, surprisingly, was the one that Uhura was worried about. The engineer looked as though he was ready to explode at any minute.
Frank wasn't a smart man, but he knew when the game was up. He raised his hands and did as he was told. The moment he stepped onto the ground, Spock and Sulu surrounded him and wrenched his hands behind his back and cuffed them.
The transporter whirled again and they all turned to see two figures come into view.
"That's…that's impossible!" gasped Frank, his jaw dropping.
Jim just grinned and shrugged. "And yet, here I am."
He was still in the same civilian clothes when he was taken by Frank, looking completely as dazzling as always. McCoy was standing closely beside him, but the doctor's face was wiped clean. When McCoy saw Frank held down, anger flashed through his eyes, but he neither spoke nor moved from Jim's side.
Jim, on the other hand, was gleeful and his blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "Hello, Frank. Long time no see," he mocked, stepping down to come to a stop right before his stepfather.
"How did you…?" started Frank.
"How did I escape? Easy. My crew never lost track of me. They came when I called," shrugged Jim.
"Bones…" Jim gasped, his words barely heard on the Enterprise. And then there was nothing but silence. Not even the sounds of Jim's labored breathing.
"Shit…Beam me down, now!" shouted McCoy, jumping onto the pad.
Within seconds, he was in the small, dirty motel room, right in front of Jim's prone form. Jim was tied to a chair in the center of the bare room, his head lolled down against his chest.
McCoy ran to him, falling to his knees right before Jim. Frantically, he checked for Jim's pulse. It was there, but weak. And then McCoy felt his heart stop. Jim wasn't breathing. His airways were constricted, inflamed.
Allergic reaction, McCoy's mind supplied. Immediately, he reached into his bag and slammed a hypospray against Jim's neck – an antihistamine that started to clear up Jim's airways quickly.
McCoy tapped Jim's neck, waking him.
"Wha…?" slurred Jim, opening his eyes. They were dilated and dazed.
"What did he drug you with, Jim? Come on, answer me, Jimbo," Bones said.
"B-bones…?"
"Yeah, it's me. You need to answer me, Jimbo. I can't give you an antidote unless I know what it is that he gave you."
"Drug?" Jim frowned, trying to form the word. "Keta-…"
"Ketamine?"
Jim didn't answer, his head falling backwards onto the chair.
"Damn it, Jim!"
McCoy rummaged through his bag once again, filling the hypospray and jamming it into Jim's jugular.
It took a few seconds, and Jim reacted violently to it, turning to the side to vomit harshly onto the wooden floor. Bones rubbed Jim's back comfortingly, knowing full well that that was just Jim's body trying to purge itself of the drug.
"Bones," Jim gasped, clawing at his friend.
"I'm here. I gotcha."
Jim was shaking and he clung onto Bones, almost hugging his arm to his chest.
"Damn it, Jim," sighed Bones, "I'm a doctor, not a teddy bear." But he didn't move or pull away.
Jim chuckled falteringly as he pulled himself together. He could feel himself getting more and more coherent with each passing second, the haze of the drug behind pushed into the back of his mind. "You're so damn cuddly, Bones, and you know it."
"Yeah yeah. You're high off your ass. You think you can stand up? We gotta get you back onboard. The drug I gave you has a limited therapeutic range."
"Frank get on the Enterprise yet?"
"No idea. He's not exactly my first priority here."
"Help me up, Bones," Jim said, holding his hand out for Bones to grab.
Bones obliged, frowning in confusion.
Jim groped at Bones' waist, reaching for his communicator and calling for a beam up.
"What are you planning, Jim?" Bones asked.
Jim smiled. "I gotta make my entrance."
"What are you talking about?" Frank stammered, still baffled at the sight of Jim towering over him.
Jim leaned down, penetrating Frank's personal space. In an instant, Jim's expressions morphed, twisting into an anger that only a few had ever seen before. "Did you really think that I wouldn't notice your attempts to hack into the Enterprise, Frank? I helped build this ship. You don't think I wouldn't have noticed something off about her? Those programs you inserted had your grubby fingerprints all over it. So I laid out a trap for you. I made sure to choose a bar that you frequented. I made sure that I would be alone and let myself get taken by you."
Jim thrummed his fingers on the table in a fit of anxiety. He steadfastly ignored McCoy, Scotty, Spock, Uhura, and Chekov as they sat around him, eying him warily.
"So…you're saying that your stepfather hacked into the Enterprise to get her to dock at Riverside? What for?" asked Sulu.
"I have no idea," Jim replied, still keeping his eyes glued to the table, as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life.
"What do you want us to do, Jim?" McCoy said.
Jim provided no answer.
"We can arrest him, Jim," suggested Spock. "He hacked into the flagship of Starfleet. That is enough to send him to the penal colonies for a long period of time."
Jim shook his head. "We don't have proof."
Uhura frowned. "Then how did you know it was him?"
Jim rubbed his face tiredly. "I spent enough time with him to know his methods. Hacking leaves behind trails, like signatures. If you're smart, you can mimic others or even avoid that all together, but Frank's not that good. I know it's him, but I can't prove it."
"Zen vhat do you propose?" questioned Chekov.
"We can't just leave 'im alone," nodded Scotty.
Jim shuffled uncomfortably. "No, we can't. I have a plan, but you're not going to like it."
McCoy groaned. "When do we ever?"
Jim wanted very much to bash his face against the table now. "Trust me, I'm not going to like it, let alone you guys. Just…hear me out before you decide to smack me across the face?"
A few minutes later, the crew was in an uproar.
"Let me get this straight. You want to let yourself get kidnapped by your abusive stepfather so you can question him? Am I understanding this right?" gaped Sulu.
"I've had worse plans," Jim shrugged.
"No, I don't think so," sighed McCoy. "This isn't a good idea."
"Do you have a better plan? Frank hacked into the Enterprise for a reason. He's targeting us and we don't know why. I don't know about you, but if I don't have all the facts, it makes me more nervous."
"I do not agree with this," Spock said.
"Me neither," Chekov added.
"Look, you'll be behind me every step of the way. I'll be safe. Promise."
"There's got to be a better way."
"If there was, don't you think I would've figured it out, Bones? I don't like this any more than you, but it must be done. What if he's planning an attack on the Enterprise? What if he's attacking the Admiralty? We won't know until we do this."
There was a moment of silence as Jim's crew contemplated it.
Finally, McCoy sighed. "Fine, but we're rushing in as soon as it gets dangerous for you, regardless if you have what you need, understand?"
"Deal."
"Right then," clapped Scotty. "Where do we start?"
"What? This was all planned?"
"I'm the Captain of the goddamn flagship of Starfleet. You really think my crew would be incompetent enough to let me be kidnapped by a third-rate low-life scum like you?"
As soon as Spock and the rest beamed back onboard, they all crowded around the console in the transporter room. Scotty and Chekov set to work, activating and tracking the bug they had placed on Jim. Almost instantly, the crackle of static filled the room.
Everyone winced at the loud noise.
"Sorry, I'll get tha' fixed right away," muttered Scotty and he pounded something on the console.
The sounds transformed and turned into quiet rumblings, almost too quiet to be discernible.
"He's in a hovercar," exclaimed Chekov.
"Keep track of where he is going," Spock said. "Nyota, Mr. Sulu, coordinate with the security team and search every inch of the ship. Frank must have done something while we were on land."
Uhura and Sulu nodded and quickly made their way out.
"I'm going to grab my medkit, just in case," McCoy announced, following them out.
"Vhat do we do now, Commander?" asked Chekov, staring so innocently up at Spock.
Spock straightened, staring at the monitors before him. "Now we wait."
Scotty groaned. "I hate waiting."
"As do I, Mr. Scott. As do I."
Jim cocked his head, thinking. "I'd have to admit though, you drugging me was not something that I had expected. It made drawing out the right information out of you a little bit harder, but with your dropped guard and your underestimation of me, we've got more than enough to put you away for a long, long time, right, Mr. Spock?"
"Yes. The recording device that Mr. Scott inserted into your watch functioned admirably. We have more than enough to arrest your stepfather."
"Lovely." Jim backed a step and smiled oh-so-innocently at Frank. "Well, Frank. Looks like our journey together ends here. It's been a pleasure, but I think it's time that you go back to being that skeleton in my closet. Spock, Sulu, take him to the Brig. I don't want to see his face again."
"It will be our pleasure," growled Sulu, jabbing Frank harshly in the back.
Frank didn't go out quietly. He shouted and struggled, but he was no match against an angry Vulcan. One vicious Vulcan pinch later and Frank was taken away.
As soon as his stepfather was dragged out of the room, Jim sighed and the weariness on his face became ever so apparent. All the strength he might've had drained away, like water in a broken glass. His head throbbed viciously as nausea rose in his throat. He sagged against Bones, fighting hard to stay awake – to see this all to the end.
"Keptin?" questioned Chekov, taking a step forward out of concern.
Scotty and Uhura both mimicked their younger friend.
It took a second for Jim to comprehend what Chekov was asking. "I think…I think I need to sit down…" Jim murmured.
Four sets of hands helped him settle down on the ground comfortably. He closed his eyes, fighting against the vertigo that had attacked him. Goddamn drugs. He seriously hated drugs.
Words floated above his head.
"He's drugged up to his eyeballs right now. He just needs to sleep it off and he'll be right as rain," Bones explained quietly.
Jim reached out weakly, feeling someone – probably Bones by the calluses – and blinked blearily at them. "It's…over?"
Uhura smiled prettily at him. It was soft, warm, and caring – not something Jim got to see often. She reached over, cupping his cheek with her right hand. "Yes."
"Your stepfather will never harm you again, laddie. We can promise you tha'," assured Scotty, rubbing Jim's shoulder. "I bet my sandwiches on it."
Chekov plopped down next to Jim, pressing right up against Jim's side. "So rest easy, Keptin. Ve'll be here vhen you vake. Ve vill protect you."
Jim smiled and closed his eyes, settling more comfortably against Chekov (completely ignoring Bones' "We'll have to move him to the SickBay, you idiots.").
He was gone in minutes.
This time, he didn't mind.
When Jim woke, he was back in his quarters. He was a little confused, seeing the darkness surrounding him. His head still throbbed and he was shaky, trembling with cold sweat dripping down his face. He was in for a horrible withdrawal from the ketamine – he just knew it. Ugh. He definitely hated drugs. Fuck Frank. He could've easily just knocked Jim out, but nooo…he had to drug him.
He shifted, groaning, and then froze when he realized he wasn't alone. Bones, unsurprisingly, was lying beside him on his bed, one hand on his wrist as if checking his pulse at all times even while he was asleep. The surprise lay with the rest of his command crew. Spock was sitting in his usual lotus position, meditating, in the corner; Scotty had pulled up a chair was resting his feet upon the end of Jim's bed. Someone had pushed in a long sofa into his quarters, shoving his desk and chair against the wall to make room. Sleeping on it was Chekov leaning adorably on Sulu's shoulders with Uhura curled up and pillowed on Chekov's lap.
Jim couldn't help it. He let the warmth of his makeshift family wash over him and a smile spread across his face.
"Ah see tha'," came a quiet voice to his right.
Jim startled, jerking and almost smacking Bones on the nose like a dog. "Ah, Scotty. Thought you were asleep," he whispered.
Scotty grinned and scooted around to make himself more comfortable. "Nope. My turn ta watch over ya."
"I'm not about to run," Jim said, rolling his eyes. He shivered, grasping at his covers tightly.
Before Jim could even mask his pain, Scotty was already there, placing a warm, wet cloth onto his forehead. He had no idea where the engineer had procured that hot compress out of nowhere, but Jim greatly appreciated it. He bit back the groan of relief and Scotty could see the lines on his face fade slightly.
"Thanks…" he murmured.
Scotty patted Jim's shoulder in response. "McCoy says yer in fer a rough night, but you'll be feelin' betta tomorrow mornin'. Yer lucky yer bastard stepfather didn't hold you longer, otherwise you'd be feeling this bad for the next few days."
"That jerk." Scotty knew that Jim was referring to McCoy. If he was talking about Frank, he would've used an even harsher insult. "I'm sure he's got some drugs sitting around for this."
"Withdrawal is some nasty business, but you're allergic to anything McCoy can give ya."
"Of course. Shouldn't be surprised anymore."
Jim visibly paused. "Frank?"
"No longer on board. We've beamed him down to Pike."
Jim winced. "Ouch. Pike likes him less than I do."
Scotty grinned. "Exactly."
"Good choice," Jim smiled, leaning back against his pillows.
"Do you want ta know what Pike is going to do ta him?"
"No. I'm done with him. Finally."
"I want you to know that McCoy got a good sucker punch in before tha' bastard got shipped off. Uhura slapped him silly too."
Jim laughed quietly. "That's my girl."
"The rest of us woulda gotten some shots in, but uh…Pike didn't appreciate us kicking a downed man."
"Thanks," Jim said.
"Would you two quit your yapping? Some of us are trying to get some shut-eye," drawled McCoy in his Southern accent. His voice was rough from sleep, but his eyes were wide awake.
"Old man needs his sleep?" Jim mocked.
McCoy rolled his eyes and sat up, frowning as he noted the tremors throughout Jim's body. "How are you feeling? And don't lie to me. I'll call you out on it."
"I'm tired…and I can't stop shaking. Chills too."
"Can't give you anything for it, sorry. You're…"
"Allergic," finished Jim. "I know. Scotty filled me in. It's not too bad, Bones. Don't worry. I've had worse."
"You always say that. It never makes me feel better."
"I try," smiled Jim.
"Doesn't make us feel better either," added Sulu.
Jim shifted slightly to look over at the three who were all looking at him sleepily. "Sorry, did we wake you?"
"Leonard did," said Uhura with slight irritation in her voice. "Loud voice woke everyone up."
Jim looked absolutely delighted at the sight of McCoy looking uncomfortable. Uhura could be bloody scary if she wanted to be, especially when she just woke up.
"Not everyone," McCoy defended, "Hobgoblin is still asleep."
"Incorrect, Doctor. You have managed to rouse me from my meditation as well," Spock said. There was a tightness to his tone that told everyone that he was not happy either.
Jim snickered, but that ended quickly when another chill shook through him. Silence fell and all that could be heard was Jim's harsh and barely controlled breathing. It rang in Jim's ears and he just had to fill it. "Fucking hate drugs…" he said weakly.
"And I fucking hate your stepfather," snorted McCoy. "Wish I got more than a punch in. Pike reeled us in after Uhura went crazy on him."
"Oh, I wish I could've been a fly on the wall to see that."
"Don't worry, laddie. I have it recorded," winked Scotty.
"Yes!" Jim actually high-fived the Scottish man out of his glee.
"Hey, I've got a random question, Kirk," Sulu burst out suddenly.
"Fire away," nodded Jim.
"You said that you helped build the Enterprise. That can't be true, right? I mean, you would've been like twenty years old when that happened."
"Nineteen, actually."
"Wait…you actually helped build the Enterprise? No way. Don't believe it."
Jim chuckled. "Have you ever looked up the name of the Chief Architect of the Enterprise?"
"It was a J. Kirk…" Spock trailed off, looking at Jim with bafflement in his eyes. "Oh."
"'Oh' is right. Genius level repeat offender, remember?" laughed Jim. "I've been in shipyards almost my entire childhood. Knew my way around ships and people knew about it. They told me that they were planning on building the flagship and I just happened to be bored, so I agreed."
"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" demanded Uhura.
"It didn't come up," shrugged Jim. "Didn't think it mattered."
Scotty was looking at him in awe, like he wanted to hug Jim. Jim just shook his head, chuckling. "And that was exactly what I was hoping to avoid."
"Did we ever figure out who Frank was working with?" asked Sulu.
"No, I do not believe so," replied Spock. "However, Admiral Pike has informed me that he will question Frank and keep us updated."
Jim meant to comment on that, but another tremor attacked him and this time, he couldn't quite suppress the groan. He was so tired. So bone tired, and his body felt as though ice was running through his veins. Withdrawal was such a bitch.
At the sound of Jim's noise of distress, McCoy quickly bundled Jim up better with his covers and moved in closer so that his body heat could help. The extra warmth suddenly started lulling Jim towards sleep, but it was obvious that he was fighting it still.
"Go to sleep, you ingenious idiot," McCoy said gruffly. "We'll still be here when you wake."
Jim was already inches away from succumbing, but he had to make sure. "Promise?" he murmured.
More than one voice responded. "Always."
He wasn't sure who it was that started to run their fingers through his hair (he had a sneaking feeling that it was Bones), but it didn't matter. In the end, he was home and safe with the people who cared about him and who never let him down.
With his family by his side, Jim could face anything, even the skeletons in his closet.
He could even forget that there was someone after him again.
Well, almost.
Jim snuggled in deeper into his blankets.
Meh. He could worry about that later.
This was a short chapter, I know, but I hope you all enjoyed it. It popped into my head one day and I just had to write it all down. I know I kind of left a cliffhanger and didn't really answer who the real culprits were, but don't worry. They'll pop up sooner or later.
So it's like 3am here and I'm exhausted, so I'm just going to make this note short.
As always, please review. I love all your reviews - words cannot describe how much I love reviews - and I read each and every single one.
Thanks for reading and as always, let me know if you have any requests for these one-shots or for a possible multi-chapter story.
Cheers!
~ Kanae Yuna