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Chapter 34 – Irrevocable Truths

When she woke up later, everything rushed over her all at once. She must have finally passed out, or fallen asleep. She'd fallen asleep in his lap. But unconsciousness was much preferred to lucidity when the side of her face felt a million times larger than it should have been.

The house was quiet. She forced herself to look around without moving. Her head ached, but it was a dull ache now rather than a fresh, burning one.

She was laying on her right side on the couch in the living room. There was an ice pack on the floor within arms reach, in a small puddle of condensation. Warm sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows nearby. She shifted, moving her arm so she could try to sit up. She glanced down when she felt constricted. Khan's arm hung loosely about her waist.

When she stilled, she could feel him breathing behind her, his chest pressing faintly against her back as he inhaled. If she held her breath, she could feel his heartbeat thudding through her, strong and steady. Something inside her clenched tight, something from a long time ago, until another kind of ache overwhelmed her.

Trying to sit up had irritated what was probably a mild concussion and made her head throb. She sank back into him, letting out a long, uneven sigh. He inhaled more deeply, his arm shifting up her torso until his hand lay on the couch in her line of sight. She tried to resist the urge to run her fingers over it, but he was asleep. He wouldn't know.

Nestled within him, she let her fingertips trace the contours of his long, elegant fingers, brushing over veins until her palm settled over his knuckles. She'd forgotten what this was like.

She'd forgotten what he was like.

Not wanting to wake him, she lay there for a while with her hand over his, fingers brushing but not entwined. He'd really, actually done it, and she knew why. It made her chest tighten again.

He probably didn't realize how much this meant to her, what this meant for her. She remembered the look on his face right before he'd done it and that thing inside her clenched even more. She had asked too much of him—but was there really such a thing as too much with Khan? He was too much. It was inherent in his being.

But deep down, she knew that he was offering all of it to her.

His breathing shifted, signaling that he was awake. She withdrew her hand from his as his fingers curled towards hers. She was so unsure of how she felt being so close to him when he was cognizant. She slid her hand beneath her head, even as his breath brushed the top of her head.

"Good morning." His voice rumbled in his chest and his arm tightened around her. She would have turned to look up at him, but it hurt just to blink. "How do you feel?"

"Like you punched me in the face," she muttered. Then she snorted softly. It didn't even matter. She just needed to cement the fact that it had been her idea, that he shouldn't feel ashamed or guilty.

"I made sure to maximize the radius of the blow by focusing on your cheekbone, where there is less cushion and where the bone is strongest. I did not clench my fist, but used the force of my momentum. That is why you fell."

She groaned. "Too many words, not enough caffeine. Try again later."

She swore she heard him chuckle, a deep, mellow quake in his chest that filled her with a wave of comfort. She tried to smile, but winced. His hold on her shifted but remained.

"I find now that it was indeed a necessary evil. Had I not struck you in such a manner as to temporarily disable you, the police would most certainly have arrested you. A lesser man to myself would not have been able to cover for you in the face of such direct questioning."

She managed to roll her eyes, an attempt to lighten the dark feeling that curled up through her at his words. She still couldn't bring herself to respond.

"Your troubles would then be multiplied, given the mark on your record currently referring to the "incident" with Commander Gallagher. Life without parole most likely."

"I can't tell whether you're being serious or trying to make me feel better," she mumbled.

She sighed when the warmth of him left her back. Holding himself above her with one arm, Khan reached around her to the floor for the ice pack. She took it from him and turned onto her back, looking up at him as she held it to her face. His hair was tousled and fell into his eyes as he gazed down at her.

"Perhaps both," he said, not even bothering to withhold his smirk. Probably because of the lack of proximity between them, and the fact that she could do nothing to widen it.

She fought to hold back her own smile. "In the end, our plan worked though."

His eyebrow twitched. "I'm not sure I agree."

"Foster is gone."

"Yes." He didn't sound so affirmed of the idea. He settled back onto his elbow and reached down to cover her hand with his, pressing the ice pack more firmly against her face. She inhaled sharply, tears pricking her eyes at the sheer pain. "And I have managed to give you a serious injury."

"Desperate times," she murmured, paying more attention to the contrasting temperatures currently smothering her left hand. And the fact that his entire body was flush to hers.

"You acted foolishly."

She opened her eyes and tried to focus on him again, scoffing. "What would you have done?"

"I'd have killed him in his hotel room."

She sighed. "That's the difference between you and I. I didn't want to kill him at all. It was an accident."

"Men like Foster cannot be allowed to continue. For your sake, I hope he is the last."

She considered him with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes, moving her jaw around experimentally—it was sore too, but not as sore as her head. Khan was practically leaning over her now, his hands on either side of her head keeping him from crushing her into the couch. She wondered, if her face hadn't been completely bruised and in pain—and if he hadn't been the cause of it—if he'd even practice self-restraint.

She glanced towards the window, noting the morning light streaming into the room. "I'm probably late for work."

"You will not go to work today."

She looked pointedly at him. "I have a lot to do—"

"Not looking like this. Would you like to call and explain? Where is your communicator?"

Her eyes grew wide as she remembered. "Shit. I left it in his hotel room."

Khan straightened, carefully climbing over her and off the couch.

"And my car. Oh god, I left my car in the hotel parking lot." She started to sit up, setting the cold compress to the side. Her head immediately began to pound and she rubbed her temple with a groan. He was beside her a moment later, hands on her shoulders forcing her to lie down. "No, I have to go!"

"You will stay. I will retrieve your car and your communicator, and anything else that might be incriminating. It is still early and the authorities may not have looked over all of their records yet." He snagged his boots out of a corner and slipped them on. "Dead men tell few tales and Foster was of little importance to anyone still alive."

His rush and willingness to help her were overwhelming. "Are you even allowed to leave the house?" she asked, suddenly remembering that Starfleet probably had an iron grip on Khan's location.

"As long as I appear to be doing nothing out of the ordinary, it will be perfectly fine. You, on the other hand, will not if you so much as attempt to stand up."

He started to turn and head for the door.

"Wait. Can you get a PADD out of my room? I've still got to contact the school somehow. Also the location of his hotel is on it."

He came back a moment later and handed it to her. "Do not move from this position. If you have when I've returned—"

She almost rolled her eyes. "What are you going to do?"

He hesitated, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I shall think of something." Then he turned and headed swiftly out the door.

It hit her a few moments too late to warn him that she was starving.

Khan felt naked without his coat. He'd been in such a hurry to tie up every loose end that could potentially incriminate Madelyn that he had gone out the door without it. But perhaps wearing nothing but a wrinkled white t-shirt and gray trousers tucked into boots would make him seem less… suspicious. At any rate, if he was to get into Foster's hotel room, he would need to be. He couldn't afford to be breaking down any doors when Starfleet had him in a virtual cage.

When he arrived at the hotel, he was relieved to see that there was no sign of police activity. Madelyn's car sat in the middle of the far end of the lot, looking untouched and thankfully out of the way. He would drive it back when he'd found what he was looking for.

He waited for a few hotel guests to leave out of a side door, then slipped inside before it automatically locked behind him. A brief run up the stairs to the third level and he spotted room 304 immediately because its door stood partially ajar, held open by an unremarkable briefcase. He pushed it out of the doorway with his foot, and the door slammed shut behind him, leaving him to look over Foster's room in privacy.

Cheap and rudimentary lab equipment lay scattered across the lone table under the window. A silver cooler sat on the floor underneath, just as Madelyn had mentioned. Probably what had contained Foster's samples before she'd destroyed them. He picked her communicator off the floor and slid it into his pocket. He would need to retrace her steps and purge the room of her prints.

Taking a hand towel out of the bathroom, he quickly ran it over the cooler and its contents—thirty cold, empty glass vials—and everything in the bathroom. A quick glance over the tile floors revealed a few of her hairs, which he washed down the sink, using the towel to keep his own prints from appearing anywhere.

Doors slamming outside caught his ear and he went over to the window to see three police vehicles pulled up in front of the main entrance. With the room cleaned of any evidence that Madelyn had been there, he started out the door, pausing only to consider the briefcase.

She'd mentioned a storage drive containing information about her family. Unless Foster had done something with it prior to his arrival, it was most likely inside that briefcase. He snagged it off the floor and exited the room, stepping into the stairwell just as the lift down the hall slid open and a handful of uniformed officers piled out into the hallway. They didn't see him.

He slipped out the side door and headed for her car. Once inside it, the first thing he noticed to his displeasure was how little space he had. He triggered the seat to move backwards to allow himself more leg room, and only then did he head back to the house.

When he walked through the front door, Foster's briefcase in hand, he smelled eggs, cheese, and mild peppers. He wasn't surprised. He walked into the kitchen to see her moving about, albeit slowly and casually. She'd showered and changed, wearing tailored black shorts and a slouchy gray t-shirt. Her damp hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. An omelet sizzled on the stovetop.

He set the briefcase on the bar and prepared to corner her, but she turned at the sound of his boot steps anyway. The hematoma on the side of her face had turned dark purple and spread around her left eye. The sight of it snagged something inside him, leaving her to break the silence.

"Success?"

He nodded, pulling her communicator from his pocket and setting it to the side. "Your car is out front and I wiped the room. They will find no sign of you having been there."

Something crossed her face like shock. Maybe she hadn't considered the fact that she would have left prints in the first place. He wasn't surprised.

"Thank you," she said quietly, pressing her lips into a thin line before noticing the briefcase. She looked at him with a different sort of shock before reaching for it with one hand, the other still grasping a fork.

"I was in too much of a hurry to get away from him. I should've grabbed it before."

"It was better that you didn't." The case's weight had been nothing for him, but for her it would have required more effort, enough to have slowed her down.

Her burning gaze flitted over the combination lock for a moment before it dulled. "We'll have to break it open."

He glanced at it. "Not necessarily. The wear on some of these keys is more obvious than others." The sizzling on the stovetop grew louder and the smell burned his nostrils. "You might ought to turn down the heat," he suggested.

Looking at him funny at first, it took her a moment to realize what he was talking about and she whirled around, cursing. He smiled faintly. Everything she did pulled at him.

The edges of her omelet had blackened to a crisp. She glanced up at him as he ambled over, her cheeks taking on a flushed shade of pink. "Don't," she warned. "Don't even."

"I can repair this unfortunate turn of events if you like," he said, letting the corner of his mouth rise freely now. Her cheeks were bright red.

He began pulling the necessary ingredients from the refrigerator, while she cursed at herself again and shoveled her burned food onto a plate. It wasn't until she'd settled at the bar that she shoved a forkful of it into her mouth. "Mr. Better-At-Fucking-Everything," she muttered, low enough that she obviously thought he hadn't heard. He turned his back to focus on what he was creating, and so she couldn't see the overly amused look he was wearing.

A few minutes later and he had a plate of several omelets that barely met his standards. She continued to eat her own, clearly trying to make herself feel better, and he almost hesitated to offer her one of his. She eyed him but took one anyway. "What's in it?"

"A little of everything."

He waited to gauge her reaction while he ate, leaning over the bar and unable to take his attention away from her now that he had her. It was a marginally good meal, considering the low quality of ingredients. She chewed thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes as though critiquing the flavor. Then she shrugged. "Not bad. I would have left out the bacon."

This woman! "That is the most important ingredient," he replied, feeling a little incensed. "It provides a smoky flavor to enhance an otherwise lean collection of vegetables."

She didn't try to hold back her grin as she continued eating. "Seriously?" She put another forkful of her burned eggs into her mouth, as though they were just as delicious.

Clearly she cannot admit to her mistake. "Would you prefer I not cook for you in the future?"

She choked. Her hand flew to her sternum as she gasped and coughed. Khan slid a glass over and filled it at the sink. She took it from him with a grateful look in her eye and guzzled it down until her passages were clear, then she shut her eyes for a moment when an obvious instance of pain passed over her.

"Why did you make yourself eat that mistake of an omelet?" he chided, not holding back the truth of his expression. He couldn't hold back anything anymore. She gazed at him a moment, realization flashing across her eyes before she dipped her attention back into her glass of water, until it was empty.

She is so incorrigibly ignorant of herself.

"It wasn't that bad," she said finally.

He stared at her, at the black eye he'd given her that made him grind his teeth, at the tension in her jaw that told him she was fighting herself over something.

"Maddy, this pretense is doing you no favors."

She set her empty glass down on the granite countertop with a loud hollow clink. He watched her carefully. He knew why she was looking at him like this. He didn't care. He had no reason to continue playing these games that she still insisted on foisting between them.

She ran her tongue along the edges of her lips. "You called me that once before, I think," she said quietly.

"I did."

"Not very many people get to call me that." She regarded him carefully. "Almost all of them are dead now."

He had to force himself from physically taking a step backwards. Had he already crossed a line? Her grandfather had surely called her Maddy. Her friend Kelly…

Owen.

"But maybe it's alright," she said, running a hand over her forehead, until she winced again. "I mean, for you to call me that. I don't know."

"Which do you prefer?"

Only what she wants, he reminded himself. He slid his hand across the countertop anyway.

She returned her gaze to him, looking a little surprised. "Either one. It's not that I prefer one or the other. You're choosing to call me Maddy, so…" She shrugged, but her expression was anything but nonchalant, especially when she realized that his hand had settled on top of hers. He drew circles around the base of her thumb, waiting for her, willing her to realize the truth that was all over her face. She pulled her hand away wordlessly and reached for Foster's briefcase, narrowing her gaze at the combination lock. "These three look more worn than the others," she said, pointing to the numbers on their tiny screen. She turned it around so he could see. "What do you think?"

This will not last as long as she wants it to, he decided. "Four. It's a four-digit combination. This is a standard Section 31 issue piece of luggage." He took it from her and quickly deciphered the code after two misses. It was impossible not to see the indentations from constant use. The tiny red error light flashed blue and the case unlocked itself. He set it down on the counter again so she could see what was inside.

Turning now to the contents of the case, Madelyn pulled out what appeared to be a small storage drive that fit in the palm of her hand, and a folder containing a small stack of papers. Khan picked up the drive to examine it, then retrieved her PADD from the other room while she rifled through the papers without finding anything interesting. It was the drive that drew her interest the most.

It took a moment for its contents to load onto the PADD. Khan watched her as she waited, her eyes glued to the screen, anticipation leaking out of her pores. He hoped that whatever was on this drive would reveal itself to be useful to her.

Finally a small window popped up onscreen. A twenty-digit password was needed in order to view the drive's contents. She heaved a sigh and leaned back away from the PADD, closing her eyes briefly and running her fingers through her hair. Khan wondered if she'd taken any pain medication while he was gone, then pulled the PADD over to get a better look.

She opened her eyes and sniffed. "You think you can crack this one too?"

"Yes, of course." He keyed in the obligatory code and handed it back to her. "A generic passcode, used by the simpletons in Section 31 who were too lazy to come up with something that was actually secure. Needless to say, I cannot disagree with them on this one."

She stared at what he had entered before opening the file, biting her bottom lip as though trying to restrain a grin. "Admiral Marcus is a dick? That's the passcode?"

Khan raised his eyebrows and nodded, enjoying this new look she was wearing. She proceeded to pour over the contents of the drive as they flooded her PADD, her expression shifting from excitement to sheer focus. When the entire drive had been uploaded, she unhooked it she could hold it close to herself while she read. He came around the bar and sat beside her, reading everything that came onscreen. None of it was surprising, but all of it was new.

Almost two hours passed and she hardly spoke, muttering the occasional "huh" or "oh," and one "shit." By noon, she finally set the PADD down on the countertop and bent her neck until it cracked. Then she leaned backwards, stretching her arms a little, only to hunch forward with her elbows on the bar.

Khan pulled his attention away from the PADD to look at her. She stared into the distance, breathing evenly, her chin resting in her hands. A picture of thoughtful, if sad, satisfaction.

"So, my mom was twenty-five percent Augment," she said quietly, her voice breathy and distant. "My grandfather was thirty-three percent Augment. His dad was forty-three percent, and his grandfather was fifty-seven percent, also the son of Joachin's granddaughter, who was seventy-five percent. I'm only nineteen percent, but somehow it still overrides the rest of my genome. The reason my mom died giving birth to me was because the ratio of her own Augment to Human genetics wasn't enough to offset the completely Human genes I received from my dad, so when the time came her body got confused and shut down all necessary reproductive processes to prevent further complications. Apparently I almost died as well."

She paused, heaving a heavy sigh and running her fingers through her scalp. Her brow gradually tightened as a thought formulated in her eyes.

"I wonder if that's what really happened to me," she pondered. "When Owen—he pushed me up against the wall, crushing my belly. I wasn't even that big." She finally looked at him. "What if I just… can't?"

Khan met her gaze firmly. He couldn't honestly say for sure whether her theory might hold water. He hadn't had time to study the details of her genome. He probably never would. "Whether or not you can carry to term, your genetics had nothing to do with it," he reassured her quietly. "You are not responsible for it. Owen was a bastard. He knew what he was doing, and he got what he deserved." He placed a gentle hand on her arm and squeezed it. The action seemed to reassure her as much as was possible.

She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, nodding slowly. "You're right. I remember everything. He had to have caused it." She looked hopeful, but still sounded unsure. Glancing at her PADD again, she straightened. "I have an appointment at twelve thirty I need to get to. I'm assuming you'll be here if the police call with anymore questions?"

"You shouldn't be leaving the house."

She lifted her chin as though she could look down at him from over her nose, slipping down from her bar stool. "This is an important weekly appointment I have, and I'm not going to skip it, especially not for you."

"Maddy," he warned.

She went quickly out of the room and disappeared down the hall. A moment later, he could hear the shower running.

He opened up her personal schedule on her PADD and quickly scanned the events she had planned for this week. Today showed an hour-long appointment with a Dr. Abayomi. Tomorrow, she was supposed to teach at mid-morning, and her afternoon was crammed with tiny notes relating to Saturday's event, some sort of gala for financial benefactors of the school. Sunday was empty. The following week looked routine. He counted the days until he was told he'd have to return to San Francisco.

Five.

Hardly enough time. And he would have to tell her before then.

He looked up Dr. Abayomi briefly, discovering that she was a clinical psychologist who worked at a local college and also ran her own private practice out of her home. Scanning through Madelyn's schedule, he could see that she'd started seeing Dr. Abayomi barely weeks after returning to England.

A therapist. Madelyn was seeing a therapist.

Khan ran a hand over his jaw. He couldn't help but resent this fact, no matter that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. She should've been able to talk to him about what she was dealing with, not some doctor who'd spent ten years in school for a title.
He waited in the hallway outside her bedroom, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. When she opened the door at twelve twenty-five, she raised her eyebrows at him in utter annoyance. He'd blocked her way on purpose. "You're going to make me late," she remarked.

He noticed she'd tried to cover her black eye with too much foundation. "You're seeing a therapist."

Her annoyance morphed into a composed mask. "It helps me. It's a way for me to talk through everything that's happened. And I have a lot more to talk about now that you're here, so if you'll excuse me I need to get going."

She pressed herself against the wall, trying to sidle around him. Khan sighed and reached for her, taking her arm firmly so she had to stop in her tracks and look at him. Her mask dropped, revealing her exasperation.

"I am here, now, because I wanted to see you. I had hoped you would be more open with me, more honest. After last night, I realized I would do anything in my power to help you, whatever that may involve."

Her eyes widened a little, as though she couldn't believe what he was saying. Then her eyebrows shot up. "You think you can replace my therapist?" Now her mouth was open in amused disbelief. "That's the Khan I know. Welcome back!"

He had no time for these games. "Maddy—"

"My therapist is going to wonder why I'm late, and when she hears that you're back and see's my face, she's going to start asking more questions. Now I'm not sure I'm comfortable telling her the whole truth about what happened last night, because a man is dead and he really isn't supposed to be. But he is, and it's my fault." Her voice cracked suddenly and her eyes grew rimmed with red. "And I'm… I'm really tired of shit happening to me every time we cross paths. So please just let me go and talk to her so I can get this out of my system. She's a hell of a better listener than you are."

He did let her go, after a moment of watching her fight to keep from crying. When she was free to leave, she didn't. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, glancing down at her fingers. "Now I need to go fix my makeup," she muttered.

It wouldn't have made a difference, but he didn't tell her that. Everything within him knew he might never have another chance to do this. Before he changed his mind, he gently took her face and pressed his mouth to hers. She gave way surprisingly quickly, reaching around his neck for support and deepening the kiss. God, he had missed this. He took her hungrily and she responded, sliding her fingers into his hair. Then he realized something tasted… off.

He chuckled deep in his throat, pulling his lips away from hers enough to be able to speak. "You taste like burnt eggs."

She was staring at his mouth, oblivious to his comment. "I'm gonna be late," she breathed. She pulled away, hurrying down the hall. He heard the front door slam and her car pull away, and shook his head ever so slightly. In her rush not to be late for her appointment, she'd forgotten to brush her teeth.

Madelyn lounged at the end of Dr. Layla Abayomi's long white couch, staring down at her bare toes. They were in desperate need of a fresh coat of polish.

"Madelyn?" Dr. Abayomi's smooth voice came from the chair across the room. "How do you feel now that Khan is back in your life?"

That was the second time she'd asked that.

She sighed and leaned her head back to stare at the high ceiling. The glistening light fixture above swayed as a breeze filtered through the wide, open windows that made up two of the room's walls. "He's not in my life. He's just visiting."

"Based on the story you just told me pertaining to your black eye, I'd feign to think he's only visiting."

Madelyn pushed herself up off the couch, breathing through the throbbing in her head the sudden motion caused. She paced across the width of the room, her bare feet padding across the cool floor. Dr. Abayomi's house was the pinnacle of modern design, one of the few like it in Hastings. Every time she came here, she could think clearly.

She couldn't think clearly now.

"He's only visiting," she insisted, turning on her heel to face her therapist. "He said he'd be here a week. It's been two days."

"And in two days, he's managed to give you a black eye."
"I told you I asked him to. It was the only way to make sure the accident didn't get misconstrued."

Dr. Abayomi eyed her, then scribbled something on her tablet.

"Patient confidentiality ensures you're not going to tell anyone about this, right?"

"No, Madelyn. What's done is done. I'm here to listen and to give advice. That's what you're paying me to do."

Madelyn nodded curtly, sliding her hands into her shorts' pockets. "So then this morning, I woke up to find myself… very close to him. And I liked it." She ran her tongue along her teeth. "There's always been something about him that drew me in, even when I hated him. Maybe I'm just attracted to powerful, egotistical men. Maybe I'm the one who's fucked up."

"Mark doesn't fit that description."

The thought of her former husband, now long since passed away, made her bite her lip. Dr. Abayomi was absolutely right about that. Mark had been nothing like Khan. The two men were literally a different breed.

They both care a lot. You saw the look on his face last night. She wanted to punch her inner voice in the throat.

"Madelyn, what happened next?"

She recounted the last few hours, from breakfast to devouring the contents of Foster's storage drive, all the way up to the kiss.

"How did it make you feel? Did you want him to kiss you?"

"I wasn't expecting it," she answered quickly, skirting the perimeter of the room now, admiring the new piece of art hanging on the wall. A Caravaggio. She studied it for a moment, lingering over the details of the young boy's feathery wings. He had arrows in his hand and mischievous smile on his face. It made her feel suspicious so she turned away from it to focus on the broad space of the room. "But I kind of missed it. Kissing him." She felt like she'd just punched herself in the gut instead. "I can't believe I'm admitting this."

"This is good, Madelyn. Describe your feelings right after the kiss."

"I was driving here just thinking 'why did he do that? Why did he do that and why did I like it?' I feel so confused."

"Confusion is a sign of dissatisfaction with your view of the relationship. It could mean you're not ready for it to move forward, or it could mean you are ready for it to move forward, but you haven't communicated with him enough to feel personally comfortable with further physical intimacy."

"That's the problem. I don't know if I'm ready for it to move forward or not. I was settling in here so well. Hastings is so different from London. People here, they don't care where you've been. I wish he hadn't had the balls to show up the way he did."

"So you would like to move forward, but perhaps not quite yet."

Madelyn tore her gaze into Dr. Abayomi, incensed at the way she was ignoring everything else she'd just said. "I don't even know if I want a relationship with him at all. Please don't assume that I do."

"I'm merely making assumptions based on the evidence you've presented. He kissed you and you didn't resist or feel uncomfortable or get angry. This is after you woke up this morning having slept beside him. You've described previous occasions on which he's touched you or invaded your space and you've lashed out. I'm not getting the same messages this time. I'm getting that you're more open to him, but you have yet to emotionally reconcile his presence with your physical attraction to him. Thereby leading me to conclude that you would like to move forward with him, but aren't quite sure how to go about doing it without feeling overwhelmed."

Now it was Dr. Abayomi's gaze tearing into her, a subtle look from her dark eyes. Madelyn rolled her lower lip between her teeth, letting her words sink in. "I can't believe I'm letting you give me relationship advice."

"Am I wrong to assume this about you? It seems like something you needed to hear."

"What I needed to hear was something to affirm that I should stay far away from him! You know who he is and what he's done. I've told you everything."

"Madelyn, I think what you're failing to realize is that time and time again, no matter how often either of you mess up, you keep coming back to each other. For one reason or another, the things you've been through, both alone and together, have formed a legitimate bond between you. Just last night, you trusted enough to let him strike you, and yet you said he hesitated?"

"I felt like I was begging him to do something I know he… he would never do. Not to me." Now she was shaking her head, coming face to face with the reality of his behavior. "He's been acting so desperate almost. It doesn't seem normal."

Dr. Abayomi scribbled something else down on her PADD before leaning forward. "You need to talk to him. Figure out what he's thinking. Ask him point blank if you have to. You know how he functions. If he is genuine, he will tell you exactly how he's feeling—"

"He already has—"

"No, I don't mean that. I mean he will tell you what he's still hiding from you. Odd behavior from someone as charismatic as Khan almost certainly means he is hiding something. You need to find out what it is. If he cares for you enough, he will reveal it, but you have to let him know it's bothering you. Otherwise he won't see the need."

Madelyn sank into the chair across from her, running her fingers along her forehead. "You're really good at your job," she muttered.

"I'm here to help you, Madelyn. That's all. You shouldn't let this turn of events discourage you from continually going after what you want. Whatever that may be."

Dr. Abayomi's words rang true within her and she gave a slow, careful nod. "So, just ask him to his face and hope for the best?"

"I would leave expectations out of it, except for the expectation of the truth. Anything more will reveal itself in good time."

When she got home, Khan greeted her at the door.

"We need to talk," was all she said as she brushed past him, dumping her keys on the counter. She planted her feet in the middle of the living room, where there could be no cornering and no stealing kisses, but when she finally looked at him, he wore a careful expression that instantly told her she wasn't paying her therapist enough.

"What do you want to know?" He'd chosen the words carefully for the way they fell off his tongue.

She crossed her arms defensively, lowering her gaze in preparation for what she wanted to say. "You come to my house out of nowhere, you help me get rid of a Section 31 man who thought it'd be funny to get a job where I work, and now you're standing in my kitchen and wearing expressions I've never seen you wear before, while acting like you aren't who you've always been so proud to be. And then you kissed me earlier, without warning, without so much as an explanation. I just want to know why you're really here, and what's going on, because this isn't you." She almost couldn't believe the words that came out of her mouth. "You're not supposed to be like this and it's making me crazy."

The uncharacteristic nature of this constant string of good deeds and kind words and gentle touches. The way he looked at her every time she bothered to pay attention to him. Not in an infatuated sort of way, or even an annoyed sort of way.

He looked sad.

The thought struck her that this was just another side of him she'd never seen before, but she shoved that aside. He was being too accommodating, too domestic.

Augments were not domestic.

Especially not Khan.

His expression hardened and pulled at her until she hurt. When he started to walk towards her, she straightened and stiffened. He stopped immediately.

And there it is again.

He was being so careful and she didn't like it one bit.

"I am aware of this wretched tradition we have of keeping things from each other." His voice was so quiet and thick with emotion. "But I've not been completely honest with you."

She waited. She really needed to start paying her therapist more.

"The reason I came, the reason I wanted to see you, is quite simple. It is the inevitable result of every choice I have made ever since Admiral Marcus revived me. I would be remiss—no, I would be out of my mind, if I did not come to see you one more time before I lose all agency forever."

"You have agency," she spat out, unwilling to believe he felt this way. Her heart was pounding. Every word that came out of his mouth hurt more than the last, but it was the look in his eye that was causing the real damage.

"I have no agency, Maddy, so long as Starfleet keeps my people locked away from me. So long as I am tracked and monitored by drones and cameras, and armed torpedoes."

Her eyes widened faintly.

"I did not want to scare you. After you gave me over to Starfleet, I was rendered unconscious and implanted with a tracking device. Hoping there was a chance I could remove it, I constructed a scanner so that I could pinpoint it's location within my body, or at least prove that Starfleet was merely bluffing. However, I discovered that the chip sits deep within my skull and requires the skilled hands of a surgeon in order to access it for any reason."

Of course Starfleet couldn't risk losing track of Khan, but this seemed like overkill.

"Before I was allowed to come here, I was informed that the chip broadcasts my location to a ship currently in orbit around Earth, bearing armed torpedoes that have been aimed at me ever since I left San Francisco. That is the very reason why I could not risk any potentially violent actions against Foster. Not because of what a camera might merely see and record. Recordings can be changed and deleted. No, every moment I am with you, even now, you are in mortal danger."

"Khan—"

"Let me finish."

Oh, he was scaring her alright. He was scaring the crap out of her. Because the look on his face told her he was far from finished.

"Were it not for you, I may have found myself in worst straits. I would have continued down the path I had originally set out on, before I realized how much destruction I had wrought upon you, both directly and indirectly. Maddy, you have been both my jailer and my undoing. Were I a selfless man, I would keep these things to myself, if only to spare you, but you and I both know how utterly self-centered I am. So when you betrayed me in Alaska, I felt more respect for you than I have ever felt before. And it made me love you that much more."

Her mind was whirling and her heart was pounding.

"It is because of my faults, my inability to look past my own desires and ambitions, my relentless pursuit of everything I deemed relevant to the survival of my race, that I am here now. I am out of my mind because of you, because I needed to see you one last time. I am putting you in absolute danger and yet I would have you feel completely safe while we are together. Only I respect you too much to keep you ignorant. All of these things I say mean nothing if I cannot concede to my mistakes, mistakes which have driven you away from me at every turn. It will not matter how you feel for me, or do not feel for me. I do not care. Merely that you know how completely destroyed I am because of you, and I cannot decide whether I want to revel in this destruction because it is of your doing, or merely accept it as the ultimate fate which I and my people have been subjected to."

The silence was crushing. She could hardly breathe.

"I wanted you to know these things before I left you."

Before he leaves me?

She hated how he could make her feel this way. Guilty. Confused. Terrified.

Hopeful?

She wasn't sure how to feel. Or maybe she wasn't sure she wanted to feel this.

"What are you saying?" Her voice shook.

She let him walk towards her, until she could have definitely reached out to him and touched him. There were wrinkles in his forehead and a softness in his eyes. Just looking at him made her dizzy. She glanced down when she felt his fingers trail across the back of her hand.

"Starfleet is putting me back in cryostasis before the end of the month. I came to say goodbye."