Hello lovelies! I'm back sooner than I anticipated. Unfortunately this chapter is on the shorter side, but I hope you can bear with me on this. As always, loads of love to all my readers and reviewers!

The title of this chapter is a German phrase that means "fear of the future." I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 39 – Zukunftsangst

The time difference between England and New Delhi was approximately five and a half hours, but it would make little difference if they returned to Hastings before evening the following day, Greenwich time. It was enough time for them to skirt through Khan's mental itinerary before Starfleet needed him back, but he kept in mind that some of the places he desired to visit might not exist any longer. Two hundred fifty years could drastically change the landscape of a country, especially one so diverse and large and volatile as India. Cities rose and fell amidst the chaos of civil and religious turmoil. States divided, reforged themselves, divided again. Whole new nations came into being. But a piece of Khan's India still remained.

After a quick, reasonably quiet flight out of London, they arrived in New Delhi on Sunday afternoon. Reasonably quiet, because Madelyn had insisted on informing Dr. McCoy of their travel plans, as though she could stave off any problems Starfleet might concoct due to Khan's intercontinental movements. It made little difference to him, however. As long as he was on Earth, there were torpedoes in orbit locked onto his location. Had they attempted to board an interplanetary flight, he imagined things might have turned out unfortunately different.

Since his chosen destination was outside New Delhi, Khan rented a vehicle, lapsing easily into Hindi without realizing it at first. The look on Madelyn's face afterwards was seared into his memory, but he chided her outwardly as they headed south and east, for Patna.

"You of all people shouldn't be surprised."

"I'm not surprised you can speak it, I was just surprised to finally hear it. It's beautiful."

"Millions of people speak it just as well as I. Do not romanticize what is a normal way of life for those millions."

"I was just appreciative of the way you were speaking, Khan. Relax."

"I understand. But perhaps you should also understand that as someone who has had my cultural identity completely stolen from me, courtesy of the deposed Alexander Marcus, I would prefer if you treated my ability to speak Hindi as nothing extraordinary. Since it is not in the slightest."

She was silent for a while, her gaze flitting over the passing scenery while he steered their vehicle swiftly and carefully through heavy urban traffic. Even in the 22nd century, the traffic was still horrid.

"We should have rented a shuttle instead," he commented into the silence. He glanced at her when she didn't respond. She appeared faintly wounded and didn't look at him, drumming her fingers on the windowsill. "Maddy, you should know I meant no disrespect. I merely want you to understand that I am no foreigner here, no matter that I look it. My agency was taken a long time ago, before I ever met you."

In a sense, I was born without agency altogether. He kept that thought to himself. But he had. And then he had forged his own agency by destroying those who had meant to use him and his people for work less than helpful to society every single time.

Now, it seemed, his own destruction was catching up with him.

"I just thought the Hindi sounded nice," she muttered. "The way you talk, it's always…"

He reached over and put a hand on her arm. "I am sorry."

She rolled her lips together thoughtfully before taking his hand from her arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry about it. You're right. I should've considered that this is your home."

There was the India of his childhood, his teenage years, before the wars began, and now there was India. New Delhi had seemed almost overwhelming at first. Nothing was familiar until he realized the streets and the layout of the city remained. The architecture, the technology, the culture, it had all simply received a facelift. Still, nothing of the Hindu and Muslim roots of India's past had been erased, only enhanced.

As they passed around Lucknow and the landscape began to change, Khan began to recognize things with much more clarity. They were coming up on the outer districts of Patna, and he hoped that Madelyn would not be disappointed. It would be difficult to explain how much this city really meant to him, but perhaps she didn't need to be convinced of its value if she merely knew that it was where he grew up.

He pointed out the Ganges, which they'd been driving parallel to for an hour or so. Farmland stretched out around them, soaring mountains cutting the northern horizon beyond into jagged snowcapped pieces under a cerulean blue sky. He gripped the steering wheel with baited breath, a rush of memories flooding his cerebral cortex. He glanced down at Madelyn's hand on his thigh.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "You keep me grounded, you know."

She didn't smile at that. The implications of his words were astoundingly complicated, he realized. He decided not to dwell on it.

He pulled off onto the side of the road, away from heavy traffic. Madelyn climbed out and gazed around, looking unimpressed and uncomfortably hot. He'd not considered how the heat would affect her. They'd come here during the beginning of monsoon season and the hottest time of the year. The humidity alone was unusually stifling even to him.

"The city's down there," she said, pointing down the hillside to the east where the sky was growing darker. Traffic glinted on a distant highway, reflecting the setting sun behind them. Khan came up beside her.

"That is Patna. That is where I was created and raised, along with Kati and a few others."

He took her up the road a short ways, clutching her hand tightly until they'd reached the top of the hill. The road curved around, eventually falling away towards the south and leading down into the city. Up here, the elevation offered a wide view. The white peaked domes of ancient Takhts rose up above the urban sprawl, signs of a fading but still existent Sikh heritage. He could name every landmark, every visible bend in the Ganges, every district he recognized—there were several new ones. He told all of this to her.

"It's beautiful, but why did you bring me up here? Why not take me into the city?"

"Because I wanted you to see it from far away before stepping down into it and dirtying your feet."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, obviously put off by his comment.

"Patna, however dear to my heart, was once lead by a corrupt dynasty that thrived off of the contents of its citizen's pockets. Growing up, I witnessed firsthand how absolute power could corrupt the hearts and minds of lesser leaders. So one of my first acts when I rose to power was to return to the people what was rightfully theirs. Now, it is the year 2259, and the government has sunk even lower than ever. Would that I were in a similar position as before, I would take drastic measures."

He remembered the fat, scarred faces of the local magistrates, remembering the way their heads had rolled—

"We should go down there. There's only so much to see from up here. I don't want you to remember this trip as the one where you reminisced about everything bad that ever happened to you."

He tore his gaze from the land below and gazed down at her. "What do you want me to remember?"

"Everything about this place that's good."

She was right. She was absolutely right. Without another word, he pulled her back towards the car, being sure to kiss her fiercely before letting her climb back inside it.

By the time they reached the eastern district of the city, the sun was long gone. This area had once been a hub of economic development for the poverty stricken slums one district over, but apparently the last two hundred fifty years had been kinder—or crueler, depending on one's caste. Khan's anti-social stratification measures based in Sikh belief had clearly failed to take root, and the gentrification of this particular neighborhood was an all too obvious example. He resolved to keep his thoughts to himself as he watched Madelyn soak in their surroundings. At least the layout of the neighborhood remained familiar, but he couldn't bring himself to remain silent.

"I should inform you that this district was once a dilapidated excuse for a neighborhood," he said. "Clearly, the economic times are different."

She gave him a look. "You're just pissed because whatever laws you once enforced here no longer exist, giving people the freedom to live as they choose."

"On the contrary, my goal was to prevent economic anarchy. Instead of cracking down on the black market, I upheld it and regulated it, keeping lesser criminals from filling the prison system and leaving room for the truly despicable. As a result, the middle class thrived, the lower classes had room for upward advancement, and the upper class consisted of myself and my government, on which, might I add, I kept a very tight leash."

"Why do I get the sense that you're not telling me the whole truth?"

"Because the whole truth is far too complicated, and without a proper understanding of the context in which I governed, you would only become angry. Weren't you just previously adamantly against my reminiscence of what once was?"

Her fingers threaded more tightly into his as they continued to stroll along under the glittering lights strung across the plaza. "I'm just trying to understand."

"There is little left to understand that has not been destroyed or completely changed and twisted."

"Maybe there's more than one form of correct government. Have you ever considered that?"

He didn't respond to that. His government had been good, right for the time that it had conquered, responsible and constructive to its subjects. "Clearly you're not going to be easily convinced."

She smiled and shook her head. "They didn't call you the Augmented Tyrant for nothing."

"Those who write history are rarely the defeated." Perhaps an admission of his defeat would convince her of something.

"That doesn't make your opinions any less skewed."

He stopped and gazed down at her, taking in her light expression, starkly contrasted against the seriousness in her eyes. "Perhaps it would be better for us both if we discussed something else."

She blinked. "I'm fine actually. You're the one who brought it up." She looked down at their intertwined fingers and ran her other hand around his wrist. "This is about who you are, where you're from, where you became something… extraordinary. Regardless of whether your actions were right or wrong, you did them. You took steps, you made declarations, you did what you thought was necessary. And it's all in the past now. I want to know everything. I want to know who this man really is that I've fallen in love with, because we've only got tonight and tomorrow, and after that…" She'd sidled up to him and draped her arms around his neck so that she was looking right up at him. "I don't want to think about what happens after that, because it's not going to be as exciting as everything up until now as been."

Something in the sentimentality of her tone irked him. "I'm happy to know I excite you," he replied.

She rolled her eyes, but he kissed her before she could respond. She deepened the kiss without hesitation, her fingers playing with his hair. He wanted to go on, to find a private place and make her respond in the beautiful way that she did, but he reminded himself that every minute was precious, so he tore his lips from hers enough to breathe words against her skin.

"There are still things I want to show you."

She sighed against him. "I can think of several right now, off the top of my head."

"Madelyn, please."

She pulled back enough to look up at him again, looking faintly disappointed. "Alright."

Though faintly disappointed with himself that he'd actually refused her despite her suggestive tone, he knew what he wanted to show her. He took her down the length of the plaza, then around the corner and down a quiet side street. Coming back out into the open, he heard her breath catch in her throat.

The peaked white domes of the sacred Takht Sri Patna reached towards the black, starless sky, and colorful spotlights illuminated its intricately carved walls, giving it a regal look that rivaled its usual glittering appearance in the midday sun.

"I was sent to study here as a young boy," Khan said, gazing up at the structure, that had since been shut down and turned into a national monument. "Imagine it as a sort of monastery for Sikhs. It was here I realized I wanted to rule, rather than be ruled."

"Monks are supposed to be peaceful."

"Do you imagine I was dimwitted enough to believe my sole purpose was to serve? Madelyn, the skills I learned here would serve me time and time again during the wars. It is because of this place that I still survive."

"It's so beautiful."

"A monument to the ingenuity of ancient mankind. It was originally built as a Sikh temple in the 18th century, to commemorate the birth of a wise and devout guru of the Sikh faith."

He watched her as she gazed up at the structure silently, her lips parted, her eyes flitting across every detail. He imagined her mind was whirling through the history, the religious significances, and his own sentimental connection. He would never have shared this with anyone else. He would never have shared any of this with anyone else, except her. Strands of hair clung to her sweaty neck, her expression showing her still lost in deep thought. She was so beautiful in this light.

"Did you ever practice?"

The question tore him from his thoughts. "Sikhism?"

She nodded.

"I have never allowed the tenants of my faith to constrain me, however important they may be to my identity."

She regarded him thoughtfully. "I think they helped to define the sort of ruler you became."

"Perhaps."

"Do you believe in God? Or any kind of higher power?"

He raised his eyebrows at her bluntness.

"I've questioned the existence of any sort of higher power for years. Anything or anyone able to spin and weave together the fates of peoples and nations, yet choosing to allow the vile and ill-willed to rule those who would do great and wonderful things does not deserve my worship."

Her eyebrows shot up into her forehead. "I'd say that answers my question. Still, you can't say there isn't someone out there, working everything together for the good of… us."

"What could you possibly—"

"What I mean is that if I hadn't met you, a lot of horrible things still could've happened to me. Even back before we were sleeping together, there was Foster."

"Do you believe he still would have found you if I had not dragged you into the spotlight constantly placed upon me by Marcus and his people?"

"Foster was working for Joaquin, and Joaquin found my grandfather before I ever met you. Don't tell me there wasn't a purpose to our meeting, regardless of where we ended up."

"Maddy, you continue to confound me."

She smiled. "You know what I'm trying to get at here. I think we've both reached a point where the phrase "forgive and forget" should mean exactly what it's supposed to, in both of our cases."

The sentimentality of the idea she proposed was almost too much to bear comfortably. "Despite everything I have done to you, despite everything we have been through, ultimately none of it matters because you and I were meant to find each other?" He cringed inwardly at the idea as it fell from his lips. He much preferred the idea of karma, but everything that had happened neither lined up with said philosophy nor led him to want to continue believing in it. Everything he had done had ultimately fell on Madelyn, and yet all of her attempts to right things had put him right back where he'd started.

She shrugged. "I'd like to think that someone out there knew what they were doing."

"I'm finding your optimism both revolting and contagious."

She gave his hand a firm squeeze. "That's good enough for me."

His gaze lingered on the gentle smirk she wore, watching as it faded into the silence that took hold around them. It stung that he could be good enough for her, solely because of the small amount of time they had left. He knew he was not, and had they been given more time, he would have fought to reach that goal until he was.

But this was all they would ever have and he wasn't going to let it go to waste.

He cupped her face in his hands and planted a brief kiss on her lips, memorizing the feel of her lips, the shape of them, the taste of them. He couldn't stop. He memorized her jaw, her nose, her cheekbones, the curve of her neck, until his hands clutched at her waist, holding her tightly to him. Her arms had found their way around his neck again. Had they been in private, he never would have stopped.

Her chest rose and fell vigorously against him, lips swollen, eyes searching his. He could see the resignation within her, but more than that he could sense how desperate she was. Desperate not to lose him? Perhaps. More likely desperate merely not to be alone. He knew what loomed ahead of her. While he slept, unconscious and frozen in the dark, she would remain, living, breathing, walking around, eventually finding companionship in some other person who would never be able to give her what he knew he could.

"Khan, should we get a room?" she breathed. "I think we should get a room."

"I made prior preparations. Do you wish to go?"

She nodded silently, arms slipping away from around his neck. He caught them and held her there.

"I love you dearly."

The look that crossed her features was a mixture of pain and joy and fear.

"Let's go," she whispered in return, pulling her arms from his grasp. He caught her hand as they made their way back to their vehicle, and her grip seemed to match his own: pulling, tightening, never letting go except to settle into her seat. And then when the engines were running and he pulled them out into traffic, she reached over and took his arm, and didn't let that go for as long as she could. At some point, he slipped a hand across her bare thigh, grinding his teeth as he weaved their vehicle swiftly through Patna's crowded streets to their hotel, his fingertips pressing into her soft skin. He could hear her breathing harder.

They barely made it up to their room without undressing. The moment the door slid shut behind them, he tore off his shirt while her fingers slipped hungrily into his trousers. When her hand engulfed him, he almost lost control. He pressed her up against the wall, pausing purposefully long enough to carefully push her clothing from her skin, until it bunched around her ankles forgotten. Madelyn ran her hand tightly along his length, her other arm draped around him, nails digging into his shoulder while he set her skin on fire with his mouth. Her tank top quickly joined her shorts on the floor.

When he could no longer restrain himself, Khan reached around her and gently lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his hips, holding her against the wall with his body. She pulled his face against hers, devouring his mouth like it was the last time she ever would, and he wrenched the rest of his clothing away. He entered her slowly, exhaling against her neck as she immediately clenched around him. Her nails might have drawn blood in lesser skin. Her legs tightened around him as she adjusted her hold, and she pressed her forehead to his, looking him in the eye. He swiveled his hips, using his hands to cushion her against the wall. She inhaled sharply through swollen lips, then a small moan, smothered by his mouth as he thrust again.

He loosened her hair, dark locks cascading around her shoulders that he buried his hand in. With his other hand holding her from behind, he drove into her. She held onto him tightly, grinding herself onto him as he quickened his motions. Her eyes were shut and her mouth was open, delicious noises tumbling off her tongue with every thrust. He couldn't get enough of her. He pressed himself against her until the back of her head gently bumped against the wall. She was everything. She strained, moaning, tilting her chin back as her chest grew hot and flushed. He took the soft skin beneath her jaw in his teeth, pulling until she hissed. He groaned as she tightened around him.

In the moment that she tensed and arched against him, before releasing, before clawing at his hair and bowing her head over his shoulder, before letting his name tumble from her lips, she looked at him. For one moment of primal consciousness, darkened green eyes pierced him from under her hooded lids, in the midst of her perfect, flushed, sweaty face, and he knew.

He knew the one thing he wanted to do before they lost each other, the one thing that would make them as complete as they could possibly be.

Still inside her and fully aroused, Khan held her tightly against the wall as she shuddered and recovered herself. Then he carried her across the room with her legs perpetually locked around him. He pressed her down into the sheets of the large bed and slowly, gingerly, with every ounce of willpower he possessed, he carried himself to the edge right alongside her, until she couldn't even form coherent words and only stared up at him grinning and gasping while he whispered a few choice things in her ear. And then they started all over again. They were tangled limbs, sharp nails, and red marks down spines; raw nerves and slick sweaty skin, trembling and desperate.

Later, as the morning sun peeked its head above the horizon outside their room's small, lone window, when she'd finally fallen asleep beside him, he realized her fingers were wrapped around his arm again. He pressed his face into her hair, committing everything about her to memory, so that at least he might be able to remember what she smelled like after being with him while he wasted away in cryostasis.

Tomorrow he would take her to Shimla, and then hopefully they could make it back to London before his time was up.

London was where they'd begun, so London was where he would ask her how she wanted them to end.

Feel free to leave a comment and/or speculate. I love hearing from you guys!