Nobody

A Star Trek Fan Fiction

.

Chapter Three

.

The world was as black as china ink, and from the depths of that infinite darkness came a series of unfamiliar events. They began to form themselves before his eyes, along with emotions from a past he could barely remember. There was the raw hunger he felt gnawing in the empty pit of his stomach; it made him feel ill. Strange primal urges were heightened in his desperation for food that he didn't feel like himself. He remembered fighting his older brother for a battered apple… hitting him in the face until the boy hit back, and the weight of his actions dawned on him. They were turning into monsters; but monsters were better then the dust they swept out of the incinerators – the people who were deemed unworthy.

Before them was humanity falling into pieces for relying on one voice. A voice that was just as much villain as hero. The voice haunted his dreams… told him to do things he didn't want to do. Told thousands to die for the sake of the rest. Thousands. He had never imagined such death before, and now he had seen it – been a part of it.

He remembered people that had taken him away from that place. They were going back home where the demons wouldn't claim him, and he wouldn't have to look at the dust anymore. The dust he once respected, or rivaled or even called friend.

He went to a world of bright lights where he could drown in something other then misery and helplessness - a place he could recover from the horrors. He remembered running an errand. It was buying cigarettes in a store he shouldn't have been in, and hearing something he shouldn't have heard.

Screaming. It was a woman screaming… just like his friends as they dragged them to the incinerators…

No… no more…

The boy sat bolt upright from his position on the sofa and let out a choked gasp that made his throat hurt. His eyes were so wide with misplaced fear that the dawn light penetrating through the windows nearly blinded him. More noises erupted unbidden from his throat. The teen felt as if he were trying to cough out the nightmares he just experienced rather then store them in his fractured memory. It was hard to breathe through the pain in his chest and he winced at every movement. He trembled for a moment and willed himself to draw his arms around his knees before looking around at his new surroundings with some apprehension.

The apartment looked a lot different in daylight. It was still sparse, but what little was present seemed interesting enough. The scarred coffee table had circuitry and some wires on it, as well as accompanying paperwork. The teen gave it a quick read and saw the Starfleet symbol at the top of it – how he recognized it without the aid of his memory was beyond him, but such things were best set aside for the moment. Right now he needed to determine the location of Auri and Johanna. For a moment he wondered if he had been dreaming this entire time and the girl and Auri were just illusions, but after brushing his fingers over his beaten up face the fragile doubts ebbed away; after all, Alice didn't get out of the rabbit hole sitting around pondering reality.

"You are awake."

The voice was monotone, yet it still managed to make the boy jump and wrench his head around to the source. His neck let out a jolt of pain to remind him that movement was unappreciated at the moment. God his body hurt. The boy tried not to let his weakness show as he appraised the newcomer, wondering if he could best him in a fight if it came to that. The man was a tall, gangly, young Vulcan and he stood serenely at the entrance to the kitchen. There was a mug of something steaming in his hand.

After getting over the shock of his appearance the boy gave a hazy smile. "Somehow I'm not certain that being awake right now is a good thing…" He rubbed his collarbone, wincing slightly. "Was that you who karate chopped my neck? It wasn't really neccess-"

"You were intruding, such actions are be expected. I did not intend for you to be unconscious for such a long length of time, however - I am late for a seminar."

Was this kid for real? He was acting as if a stranger frolicking through his room with a wounded Caitian and depressed seven-year-old was an everyday occurrence. The blond ran a hand through his hair and chuckled nervously at the situation he found himself in. "Yeah… seminar… okay. I suppose I'll be on my way then. Where's the cat-girl I dragged in here last night?"

"She and McCoy's daughter are with Cadet Chapel. She has the means to see to the injured Caitian and she is also familiar to the young girl. You, however, are not. I find this odd." There was a subtle darkening to the Vulcan's tone that made the adolescent feel several degrees colder despite no change to the external environment.

"Uh… yeah. Long story." He smiled and got up off the couch; every inch of him protested against the action. As soon as he managed to stand he noticed his shoes were missing. They were no where in sight, which was a bad sign considering there wasn't many nooks or crannies in this room to hide them.

The Vulcan stepped forward and set his beverage down on the counter beside him before fully emerging into the living room. "If you are looking for your footwear, you will not find them until you answer my questions."

The kid laughed, not believing this guy's methods. "You're joking right? You're a Starfleet cadet and the only interrogation technique you could come up with was to hide my shoes?"

"I was unaware that you intended to be uncooperative." He tilted his head and flexed the fingers of one of his hands absent-mindedly. As he talked, the Vulcan strode purposely between the boy and the door. Instantly the kid countered by taking a backwards step towards the window he used as an entrance last night. The boy sensed a silent game of cat and mouse and it was obvious who was who. His mind knew that the Vulcan would probably tear him apart in a fight, especially since the kid was stiff from last night's injuries. He decided to stretch out his diplomatic skills.

"All right… I get the picture tough guy. I'm afraid my answers are going to frustrate the hell out of you though, since I have no idea who I am or what I-"

"You are James Tiberius Kirk. Human. Age 17. Place of Origin - Earth."

The boy's jaw dropped a few centimeters, but he immediately closed it. His eyes were searching the young man's face for any sign of deceit but there was none on that angular, stony visage. James didn't know how to properly respond, but that didn't stop him from blurting, "How the hell do you know that!"

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. It was obvious he was amused by his prisoners actions. "After I rendered you unconscious I took a hand, face and retinal scan in order to run the data through Starfleet's database. What I found most intriguing about my search was that that you were not in there to find. I am the most proficient computer technician among current non-commission Starfleet personnel and I was unable to obtain any information beyond your name, age and species." The Vulcan narrowed his eyes. It was obvious he assumed this 'intruder' of his was an enemy.

James T. Kirk raised his hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "Honestly, you know way more about me then I do. I have to say I'm a little rattled at that… I mean I'm seventeen! Well… apparently. What shenanigans are going to land me a confidential file with the Federation? Did I blow something up I shouldn't have?" It would explain why there were a group of alien mobsters trying to kill him. "Maybe I'm some sort of spy, and one of my gadgets backfired…?"

The Vulcan looked at Kirk as if he were some kind of idiot. "I do not believe you."

The human rolled his eyes and started to pace back and forth on the Vulcan's rug. "Look. Seriously, I don't remember anything… but I really wish I did. You have no idea how messed up this all is. Everywhere I go someone dies or gets hurt! No joke. I'm leaving a trail of freakin' blood and I have no idea why."

They stared at each other for a few tense moments before the Vulcan moved several paces forward. "I am finding this story of yours hard to believe. I need to be sure that I can trust you and I need to have all the available information on this particular situation before I can take steps to solve the problem." There was a strange undertone to those emotionless words, but Kirk couldn't quite put a finger on what would cause it. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say that the Vulcan was suddenly uncomfortable.

"Well there is no way you can be sure. You'll just have to make a leap of faith and trust me."

"Vulcans do not make 'leaps of faith'."

"There's a first time for everything."

The Vulcan looked like he was suffering from some sort of internal conflict raging within. He kept clenching then unclenching his hands into fists. It made Jim nervous.

"I don't trust you."

"Whatever, I'll work at it then. I have to admit breaking into your apartment in the dead of night with a little girl and a wounded alien is a bad place to start any working relationship..." He looked around before adopting a small smile. "So, do you have anything to eat? I'm starving. I can't remember the last time I ate…" With that he wandered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. His host followed him into the room with confusion written all over his features. The blonde paid him no attention as he grabbed an apple from the crisper and took a large bite. He was momentarily stunned by the taste.

"Huh. I think I like apples." He appraised the fruit with a expression bordering on the philosophical. " So, I'm James T. Kirk - according to you - so does that mean I get to come up with your name? I have a feeling getting your fingerprints and running them through a database while your sleeping is going to be a lot more difficult then it sounds."

The Vulcan looked dumbfounded for a few moments before replying quietly. "That will not be necessary." His eyes flitted to Jim's face. "My name is Spock."

"Spock…" for some reason the kid liked the sound of that. "Cool, very original. So now what do you suggest we do? Are you planning on holding me prisoner, or can I make bail and check up on my friends?" If he could call them that.

He took another bite of his apple and started to rummage around for a more proper breakfast. He didn't trust the replicators after the failure of McCoy's.

Spock left the kitchen, pausing to fetch his steaming mug from the counter. In silence he wandered around the living room collecting various items as he sipped his beverage. Kirk followed him with his eyes, now playing the role of the observer; however, he was a lot more vocal in nature then the Vulcan.

"What are you doing?"

The young man looked up from the tricorder that appeared in his hand. "I am packing a few essential items in the event I will not be returning here in the short term. I have hypothesized from the limited information available that you tend to be unpredictable, and if I am to remain in your company for an extended period of time, it is best to be ready for anything."

Kirk blinked and finished his apple. "That conclusion already? I don't know if I should be flattered…"

"Under the circumstances I believe flattery is acceptable. The probability that - given the previous events you have inadvertently hinted at – I would have the notion to accompany you, is extremely low."

"I didn't think Vulcan's had whims."

Spock stiffened and stood at his door. "I said notion."

A grin couldn't help but surface on Jim's lips at the Vulcan's gall. "If I'm to be following you anywhere I think I'll need my shoes."

Spock replied as quickly as a computer, "They are on the other side of the door. I did not think someone would steal them due to the fact they are filthy and rather pungent."

Jim laughed openly, the nervousness he had about Spock completely dissolved. The Vulcan was very interesting. With a wide grin he walked to Spock's side. "At least they match the rest of my outfit…" He looked at his clothing with a frown. His t-shirt might have been white at some point, but now it was very grey and covered with Auri's blood. The jacket he stole last night was tattered and grimy from crawling through the pub's ceiling and charred in places from the explosion that took place afterward. The only thing that retained some semblance of wear-ability was his black jeans, since the blood didn't show.

Spock blinked, "Yes. I suppose it would." He turned to the bedroom that in McCoy's cookie-cutter apartment would have been Johanna's room. After a minute he returned with some neatly folded laundry under his arm. "We will go to Cadet Chapel's apartment to discuss your condition. Your Caitian ally is there, so you may inquire about her health when we arrive."

The teen shook his head, his face incredulous. "Wow. Do all Vulcan's talk like you do… or are you a special case? I have this strange urge to give you a wedgie..."

The Vulcan merely ignored the boy and opened his door. Jim's shoes stood off to the side, the blood splatter on them even brighter in the morning light. Spock allowed Jim some time to cram the footwear on his feet before beginning to trek towards the elevator. Jim followed, his eyes taking in every crack and stain the hallway walls. This place was definitely a dump.

The elevator ride was awkward since Spock didn't feel the need to talk, whilst Jim was itching to distract himself from the pain of his battered body. It was a relief to hear the sound of chatter coming from a ground floor apartment marked '102'. Spock knocked smartly on the door and steeled himself for the inevitable greeting.

Christine Chapel opened the door and gave the loveliest smile at the sight of the Vulcan. Jim's lip twitched as he recognized the symptoms of a hardcore crush. Chapel's blonde hair was neatly tied back and she was wearing her cadet uniform, which Jim noticed hugged her form rather nicely. The effect was lost on Spock who merely looked at her as if she were the coat rack. The woman stepped to the side and gestured for them both to come in.

"Ensign Spock! I see your mystery guest isn't an axe murderer after all."

"I never implied that he was."

"Hn," the nurse hummed as she looked to Jim with concern, "What did you do to yourself? That gash on your head looks badly infected. Come into the kitchen so I can see better…" Chapel gestured to the area before running off to grab her first aid kid.

In the corner of the room sat Auri and Joanna. Both females had grim expressions on their faces as they stared at the uneaten toast before them. At the sight of Kirk, their faces changed to opposite ends of the emotional spectrum.

"John! Oh thank the stars you're all right. I heard from Miss Chapel that someone else volunteered to take care of you… and I didn't know what to think-"

"This is all your fault! If you hadn't shown up my dad would be home!" Joanna interrupted with her high-pitched tones. Guilt ate away at Kirk as he watched angry tears well in the child's eyes. His appearance was definitely the catalyst for the sudden whirlwind of emotion belching forth from the seven-year-old's mouth. "Now the bad guys have him and I'm all alone on this stupid planet! ALL ALONE." She picked up her piece of toast and threw it at Jim. It bounced off his chest leaving a buttery stain.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" She erupted into sobs, leaving everyone momentarily dumbfounded.

Christine moved in as damage control and rubbed the child's back as she cried. "Jo-Jo, it's going to be all right. Your Dad will be fine, we just need to find him okay? To do that we need you to be a good girl and help us out all right? Didn't your father say that it was your job to look after that guy? Throwing toast at him isn't really doing your job now is it?"

Muffled words came from the vicinity of the girl's arms and Christine just kept right on consoling her. Meanwhile Auri slipped out from behind the table and joined Spock and Kirk.

"I didn't think they'd follow us to McCoy's…" The Caitian said in a whisper that trembled slightly. "It's my fault he's been taken. The Executioners normally don't take prisoners… he's in a very bad situation John. What did you do to them to make them so angry?"

"I wish to know as well." Spock added, a hard stare joining with Auri's curious one.

Kirk backed up and raised his hands. "I don't know! I swear! How many times do I have to tell you people?" Frustration, guilt, homesickness and fear made a medley of feelings that Jim just couldn't cope with. He was tired, and hungry and very, very, VERY sore. He looked over the shoulder of the inquiring Caitian for a way out.

"Christine, can I use your shower?"

The nurse looked up from Johanna and nodded. "I want to see you when your done though, as soon as I hear that shower go off I'm coming in there with the med kit."

If he were in the mood he would have said something at that, but all Jim Kirk wanted to do was drown in his troubles and soothe his aching muscles. With some residual frustration, the boy marched off to the shower and shut the door sharply behind him.

This was going to be one hell of long shower.