Author's Notes: Ha, I said that I wouldn't have any more really long author's notes, but I can't resist.
Oh my goodness! I totally did NOT expect… This! The reviews! The responses! The love for Chris Pine and all that is Hurt!Kirk! The love for fictional cookies that I promised but could never really give out because I'm nothing but a hopeless, poor teenage girl without a job or money! The love of obnoxiously long run-on sentences that don't make sense to anyone except…. Well, me!
I love you guys. Thank you to each and every one of you who reviewed! I'd also like to shout out the… er, 51 people who have this on alert and 11 people who have favorited this. I hardly ever favorite a story after only one chapter, so you guys have made me feel that much more awesome because you did.
And I see you. Yes, you. The lurkers! I appreciate you so much! You're awesome enough to read this and put it on alert! I've been there. But I like reviews… a lot. So even if you seriously just type in "Kirk = Love" into the box (oh joy, what am I getting myself into), I will be happy.
Who am I kidding? I'm be happy anyway. I love the support you've given me no matter what.
I'd like to point out that in the last chapter, Kirk didn't appear once. All I had to do was mention that he was hurt, missing, and everyone was worried, and everyone got excited about the story, which excites me!
Title: Stained Glass
Relationships: Crew/Jim friendship, mostly concentrating on Uhura/Jim friendship and Bones/Jim friendship (aka no slash).
Summary: He always made an impression on all of them, but it was up to them to turn the tables.
Red. White. Red. White. Red. White.
Where is it? It shouldn't be that hard to find. Wait… What's missing? Red, white…
"A….nd… bl..ue?" he mumbled aloud without really thinking about it, getting another blow to the head from one of those guys in the black cloaks as a response. If I'm going to die like this, I can at least pretend that it's a brave, bold, heroic, patriotic way, Kirk mused, his mind sluggish and slow.
He couldn't actually see; he kept his eyes squeezed tight. There was no way that it would actually take away any pain, but… He wasn't exactly coherent enough to think of a reason.
It came in waves, the pain. One minute his mind was swimming in a sticky, marshmallow-y of a weird sort of frothy, bright light, absolutely numb, spreading from his toes to his fingertips in a slow-moving line. He couldn't tell if it was hot or cold, only that it like nothing. This was bearable. And then… His entire body would be set on fire; powerful red waves of electrocuting pain paralyzed everything. Every finger, every limb, every cell, every molecule, every atom… inside of him was burning. The fire was like an ocean during a storm, and he begged- no, pleaded!- for it to take him over and drown him. He wanted to die, he wanted it to end… Why couldn't they just kill him and get it over with?
It didn't help that two of that weird guy… Kaime? Was that his name? Yeah, Kaime! Wait, why does it excite me to remember the name of the guy who… heck, he freaking tried to kill me. Kirk found that he couldn't stay alert or attentive to one subject for very long, even in his own mind. He kept his thoughts to himself, holding a conversation with himself in his head to keep his mind of the pain and keep himself occupied.
It all came down to the fact that two of Kaime's "assistants" were now dragging him throughout the long back halls of that godforsaken church.
Ha, godforsaken church. Isn't that ironic?
If he was going to die, and he probably would soon, then he'd like to think that he still had his sense of humor. There was a lot of things he wanted to die with. And bravery was one of them, so he decided that maybe, just maybe, he didn't want it all to end just yet. He silently retracted his wish for death, hoping that no one had been listening.
They very eloquently introduced themselves as they barged into his quarters in the middle of the night, one them pinning him to a wall while the other one laughed and went at him with a particularly dull knife, ripping skin, tissue… he didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think of the pain. That Kaime guy, he didn't laugh. Nope. Never. He just went around… Slapping people… Or maybe it was just him. He hated guys who were too serious like that. At one point, Jim thought about asking him if there was any screwed-up genetic way he was partially or all Vulcan, but he thought better of it. It might not be wise to piss off the guy who's trying to murder me if I want to live a little bit longer.
But Kaime's cronies didn't mind laughing at his pain. Not at all. They giggled as they stabbed him, snorted while they watch him slowly bleed to death in front of them. They were clothed in simple black robes, tied with a long, twisted bit of a thin, gold rope. He really didn't get a good look (why would he want to unless they were of the female gender) under their robes, but he was pretty sure that the extensive dark fabric covered their bare, dirty feet. That's sanitary.
Red smeared all over the black and white tiles; it took a minute for him to realize that the sticky liquid was coming from him. He hadn't found connections like this easy in a while. His logic had evaporated, his common sense disappeared, his cognitive functions missing. Spock would be very disappointed in me right now, Kirk thought, and somehow, through all of his mind-numbing pain, he thought of his Vulcan friend and was overcome by a mixed feeling of relief and fear.
Maybe he was going crazy, but he could have sworn he heard Bones's voice.
"You! But… Where's Jim Kirk, and what have you done to him?" the voice declared, more of a demand than a question.
Kirk didn't have time to think about it, because the red came again. He twitched as the fire raged, prickling and stabbing him with dull, invisible knives. They did more damage, because they ripped instead of cut… It hurt so much…
Bones… he thought, swimming through a sea of his own pain. Bones will make it all go away… he always does…
Bones always came through for him. That made Jim feel better; not physically, but maybe emotionally. Maybe there was hope.
He slowly drifted away… The red burned and burned until it was an ashy, charcoal black, and Jim knew nothing.
Oh my god, Uhura thought, too paralyzed with fear and concern to speak, that's Jim's blood…
"What've you done to him?" McCoy roared again, Kaime's gory demonstration only intensifying his determination to find his best friend.
His best friend… She wondered what would happen if they were too late. She wasn't sure she could bear it. It had hit her hard earlier; she had pondered before why she cared so much before.
Nyota Uhura thought that Jim Kirk was a royal pain-in-the-ass, a no-good, cocky son-of-a-bitch who needed to be taught a lesson. But he was also a good friend, a charismatic, bold, and reckless man, and the bravest and brilliant leaders she'd ever known. He was a superior officer, friend, sleaze, and brother rolled into one.
It came over her quickly and suddenly, and time seemed to freeze as she looked at the two men accompanying her on the rescue mission. How would… What if… If Jim died, if, god forbid, they hadn't gotten there in time…
How would they possibly move on? Wasn't that the first thing they were taught at Starfleet Academy? Did it make her that much worse of a person because she felt… fear-Is that what it was?
Too many questions.
McCoy would lose more than a drinking buddy- this was his best friend they were talking about, after all. They had been each other's shoulders to cry on (not that she had ever seen a sober Kirk shed a single tear), through injuries, drunken rants, and anniversaries of deaths, birthdays, and divorces.
And Spock… Kirk kept hinting at something more than just a casual work relationship. As if there was a friendship already there, and he somehow knew about it. Sure, they didn't always agree, but it wasn't always necessary that they had to. Maybe this… resistance they showed each other was just present to give the other a different, positive way of reflecting on a situation. Uhura thought of the purple rings that had encircled his neck for sometime, and realized that this friendship was life or death. They were like children growing up; it took some time for them to learn each others quirks, for them to warm up for each other. And even though Spock didn't visibly show it, she knew, better than anyone else, that he was deeply concerned for the fate of his captain, his friend. They were more than just co-workers- they were friends. They had a special bond, even if it took them some time to figure it out.
So when Kaime showed them the palms of his hands, Jim's blood dripping and all, she felt something stir inside of her. And she didn't like it- not one bit.
She looked to her right. Spock looked puzzled; something about this situation was confusing and bewildering him. Completely at a loss, his normally stoic face was masked by the subtleness of this new and unwanted emotion.
"I do not understand," he stated, the perplexity trapped in his mind evident in his tone. "Enlighten us. Why have you taken our Captain? Did not the negotiations yesterday go as planned?" Spock inquired, breaking Uhura's trance.
Kaime folded his bloody hands inward and took a menacing step towards them. "You will recall, Mr… Spock? Is it Mr. Spock?"
The Vulcan nodded in response. "That is my name."
"Well, as you may remember from the deliberations and discussions yesterday, the morals, beliefs, and values of this society is what keeps us united. Any temptation should be treated with utmost caution, as it can drive away all that is good and moral."
That is the definition of temptation, McCoy thought. I hate walking dictionaries.
"It is my duty, as leader of this civilization, to purge all threats to that theory," the black-cloaked man continued. "And your Captain Kirk happens to be one of them."
The three Starfleet officers froze. Were they missing something?
"I'm sorry," McCoy began, the bitterness, resentment, and anger he had been shoving away in the back of his heart and mind bubbling up inside of him and threatening to burst through some verbal or physical attack. "I was not aware that the Captain offended you in anyway."
Kaime finally showed some emotion and was taken aback. "Your Captain Kirk did not offend me, personally. He offended this entire society. Tell me, Doctor, what is the first thing you thought of when you walked into this grand hall? What did you think when you saw the waterfall?"
Bones took a moment to think before he answered. "Well, I don't know," he said, the irritation oozing through his words. "I guess I thought, 'Why the hell does a church that looks so damn ugly on the outside look so good on the inside?'"
The man nodded. "I'll ignore your acidic tongue for now. You'll get your punishment in a moment." Kaime paused and looked at the various shocked and startled expressions being thrown around the Starfleet officers. "Come now. You didn't really think that I'd let you 'stumble' upon this fine society's headquarters and let you live, did you? No, no, no. It doesn't work that way. You answered correctly, Doctor McCoy. One of the greatest values of our society is that those that are decrepit on the outside are more than usually beautiful on the inside."
He remembers my name but not Spock's?
"Wait a minute. Nice theory, but why do you remember my name but not his?" the doctor inquired, puzzled.
Kaime shifted his weight onto the other foot. "Your friend the Captain called out your name once or twice. Don't worry," he hastily spoke, seeing their concerned faces, "your Captain Kirk is still alive. Barely, and not for long, but he's still alive."
Uhura blinked back the hot, stinging tears that threatened to pop out of her eyes. You had better be okay, Jim…
"Why take your Captain? Because he inspired… A sort of rebellion. You see, his evil ways seemed to have charmed one of the female council members, and that just won't do. We've already dealt with Senator Phawtay- she was executed for treason at dawn. People start to get ideas, think that they can get away with things, that things are acceptable… And that just won't do. So that is why we have taken your Captain Kirk- so that he might not inspire this temptation in anyone else. He has proven that those with flashy outlooks and exteriors may be hiding wickedness and deceit inside."
McCoy felt himself grow pale. "Are you telling me that you plan to assassinate the captain of Starfleet's flagship and have already executed one of the senior members of your council just because she had the hots for him?" he shouted.
It was one thing for Jim to start a bar fight over a girl, but this was intergalactic war they were talking about.
"If by 'the hots' you mean 'tempted by the evil, damning fires of hell,' then you are more in-tune with your soul than I would have thought. Maybe I'll let you live- you'd have some good insight for the council," Kaime pondered, shrugging it off. "Who knows. But your Captain Kirk is very near to his end. Punishment for conspiracies and heresy is death. And after Kirk has taken his last breath… it will be your turn."
He paused, and then knocked on a large, intricately carved wooden door. "Guards!"
Two looming, bald men threw open the door, bursting in. They dragged something limp and long behind them, and neither Spock, Uhura, or McCoy needed to guess what it was.
"Oh… Oh my god…" Uhura whispered at the sight, shocked.
"Damnit, Jim…"
The two guards tossed his body onto the lush black and white tile, smearing thick red all over. The crimson trail smudged behind them was bold around the ends and translucent towards the middle, a hideous and tragic sight for all to see.
Jim lay in a limp heap, too far deep in his painful unconsciousness to move. His once bright gold shirt was sprinkled with flecks of dust, dirt, and blood, with various sized holes exposing large and leaking rips in the skin and fabric, as well as purple and yellow bruises. Even unconscious, his breaths came out in loud, wheezing gasps, his chest barely moving at all as he tried to continue breathing. Dirt matted down his dark blond hair, coating every inch of exposed skin on his body. It mixed with the deep crimson blood to make a stark contrast against his ghostly white complexion. A pool of blood slowly grew around him as he lay, too deeply unconscious to realize what was happening.
He didn't move. He was too still. The same man who had nearly skipped onto his prized and esteemed ship only the evening before was near death, paralyzed by the red hot pain that he was too consumed by to show.
And if they didn't get him out of there soon, they would lose him.
Kaime sauntered over to Kirk's body and leaned over. He shook away the long sleeve of his charcoal robe to find a bony, pristinely clean hand. Coming closer to Jim's face, the evil man lightly gripped the captain's jaw turning it right and then left, looking for some sort of response. Finding none, he rose, satisfied, leaving Jim's features turned towards his heartbroken friends. "Still alive- but only just. His pulse is weak," he stated, stoic as can be.
"Jim… No," McCoy muttered, his voice a hoarse whisper.
The man grabbed Jim's wounded shoulder and shook, trying to rouse him. "He must be awake… He must be conscious! He must be awake when I kill him!" Kaime shouted, the first hints of a pleasant emotion overcoming his features. "You two- wake him up!"
The two men each gripped one of the wounded man's arms and dragged him to the looming waterfall. To the horror of his fellow officers, they bent him at the waist and shoved the upper half of his body under water in an attempt to wake him up.
"Gentlemen, I implore you to stop. You will kill him if you continue with this vile practice," Spock spoke, trying to hide the blatant emotion he was feeling.
"I think that's the idea, Spock!" McCoy hissed at the pointy-eared man.
Helpless, the three stood in one spot, paralyzed and unable to assist their dying, drowning friend.
They pulled Jim out, and upon seeing he was still unconscious and that they had not received a response, they forcibly dipped his head back into the water.
Oh, there's the blue, Kirk thought to himself, on the very brink of consciousness. He coughed and sputtered, struggling to breathe.
"No more… No more!" Uhura yelled. "He'll die!"
"That's the plan!" one of Kaime's thugs shouted gleefully.
Jim's blue eyes snapped open. He found himself too weak to move, and resigned himself to the pitiful puddle of… well, himself with a little blood. His lungs now burned in addition to the rest of his body, and he found it even more difficult to breathe. His throat was on fire, and every gasp of air felt like acid was being poured down his system.
In… and out… and in… and… and… out.
It was horrifying, standing there like that. They could see the spot where the guards had dumped him before, where a pool of blood remained, all crimson and shiny. The water hadn't done anything to wash the dirt off of Kirk's face, only coating it with a shiny, wet film that magnified his pain. And they heard him trying to breathe, his breath catching every once and a while, gasping and wheezing as they tried to stay alive.
They had to do something! But Kaime had already thought of that, and with a snap of his fingers, sent his guards over to keep them away.
Two versus three… Should be easy, Uhura mused.
They fought; a punch and a kick there, a blow to the head there. Those men were going down.
McCoy turned his head as he watched the second guard fell to the ground, just in time to see Kaime remove a very sharp knife (unlike the dull blades his men carried) from the inners of his robe, smile at it, and stab Jim in the shoulder.
Jim's face showed more strength then it had in some time as it contorted in pain. The fire was spreading, igniting his entire body with its flame. His mouth dropped open, and he said, "Oh… oh!" as Kaime twisted the blade into his skin and insides, blood dripping and spurting out of the massive injury.
"JIM! NO!" McCoy hollered, shoving the bodies of the men to the side as he pushed his way through.
McCoy and Spock sprinted towards the evil man and their fallen friend. Uhura leaned on a now knife-marred wooden pew, her hands flying to her mouth as she witnessed the gory and tragic scene.
Seeing that it was all over, Kaime ripped the knife out of Kirk's body and scooped him up in his arms, dropping his weapon to the ground. They saw the blood leak out of the fresh wound as Kaime ran with Jim, now barely conscious.
With his last effort, Kaime threw Jim's body into the water, face first, just in time for Spock to come at him with his own knife.
And in one motion, it was all over. The evil man fell forward, dead, coming to rest with a splash in the water. His dark, heavy robes weighed him down, and the man was no more. Jim was still; the pain had finally caught up to him, and he was stricken by unconsciousness.
They abandoned Kaime, and Spock gently dragged Jim's limp body out of the pool, ignoring the fact that his blood mixed with the water like tea from a teabag.
Uhura rushed over to take Jim from Spock, laying his body on the beautiful wooden floor. She fell to her knees by his side, taking a hand to wipe away the sweat and blood from his face, leaving but one line of cleanliness on his dirty skin. He was soaked through and through; the fabric of his gold shirt thick and heavy. It fell loosely around his body in a pathetic circle of bagginess.
She had never seen so much blood. And she had thought- hours before, before they had even left the Enterprise- that he was a goner- all that blood and the signs of a struggle in his quarters. She stroked his hair, watching as he worked to keep doing normally easy bodily functions like breathing.
He was so… still. So motionless. It was unreal, how quiet and unmoving he was. So out of character for him. She squeezed his hand, hoping for a response. "Jim? You still with me? Jim? C'mon, Ji-"
She stopped in her tracks. Something had changed… It was too quiet. He didn't wheeze or cough… No quick, sharp gasps of air…
And then it hit her. Calling out his name was useless. He was going to die... Oh, he would be dead in a matter of minutes if he didn't get help right then.
All hell broke loose as she figured it out- they had waited too long to get out of there. Several guards burst in- no, she recognized their faces. This was the entire council, or what was left of it. She watched as they took one look at Kaime's body floating in the pool and drew their weapons, ready to attack.
There was no time… His chest was still. Jim had stopped…
"McCoy… he's not breathing," Uhura shouted, panicking. "Help!"
Author's notes: Extending this to one more chapter. Another cliff-hanger, I know. Well… Review please? I really like the responses I've been getting. It really makes me feel all nice and fuzzy inside, so keep it up! And this time… you guys get cookies AND the picture of Chris Pine as Kirk cut out from the back of the Pop Tart box. Ha!
Oh, and I decided that I'm going to give a shout out/plug to an awesome story each chapter, which means I have to (I have to make up for the last one). Everyone go read moogsthewriter's Requiem. I've read it at least nine times since it's been posted, and I get shivers every time. 'Cause the onlything better than Hurt!Jim is DeadButNotReally!Jim (yes, I gave it a name). And the other plug is Ginger Ninja's Plant Life, which has amazing McCoy/Kirk friendship and other Hurt!Jim awesomeness.
I truly haven't found such a skilled fandom since… ever, so this is truly amazing. Keep it up, guys! I encourage every one of you, even those of you who are "retired" like me, to write. Those plot bunnies are made of sugar- they are so addictive!
Thanks again, everyone! Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion to Stained Glass!
And the next story will be up a few days after that. It's called Stained Sheets as of right now, and most of the principle story takes place on the Enterprise itself.
Thanks again, everyone! Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion to… Stained Glass!
And the next story will be up a few days after that. It's called "Stained Sheets," as of right now.