First of all I'm really bad at titles and wish I was more creative with them.

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Chapter 41 – Aubade

On the train back to Hastings, Madelyn fell asleep against him with her arm around his neck. It was nightfall by the time they made it back to the house. Everything was silent save for the waves lapping on the beach, and the occasional buzzing of a drone circling somewhere above them in the darkness—a not so pleasant reminder that Khan had no choice but to accept his fate… for now.

He would have carried her inside from the cab, but she insisted on walking half-asleep, so he kept his arm tightly around her instead. Her clothes marginally dry, she still shivered as she pulled him softly towards her bedroom. She sighed as she dropped her bag on the floor and sank down onto the bed, pulling her shoes off but not bothering to put them away. He settled beside her, pulling her tightly against him as he sank back into her sheets, breathing the scent of rain off her damp hair. She sounded so content as she rested her forehead under his chin, breathing deeply and softly. A faint shiver made her tremble. That wouldn't do.

"I should not have kept you out in the rain," he murmured, running his fingers along a damp lock of her hair.

She sniffed and managed to tilt her head enough to look up at him. "It's fine."

"You're shivering."

She rolled her eyes, snuggling up against him further. "I still can't believe today's your birthday."

"You're the only person I could imagine sharing it with."

She pushed herself up enough to be able to look him in the eye. "I don't believe you." When he didn't respond, she huffed and rolled off of him. "A hot shower is sounding good right about now."

Khan made a noise of affirmation and followed her into the bathroom, outstretched fingers barely brushing her. She moved with smooth intensity, turning on the water then swiftly undressing while waiting for it to reach an optimum temperature. He pulled off his clothes the moment she disappeared into the shower.

Apparently her optimum temperature was scalding. He slid in behind her, breathing in the spray that surrounded them inside their glass box, his hands lingering on her waist as she raised her face up to the water. She wasn't at all surprised at his presence. He could feel the tension in her body subsiding as her wet skin grew flushed under the heavy spray. He ran his fingers over her shoulders and down her back, kneading her muscles while she leaned into him. After a while, she caught his hands and held them in front of her, leaning back against him like he was a wall, the back of her head against his shoulder.

"I'm going to do everything I can to keep this from being our last night together," she said, turning around so she faced him. He pressed his fingers into her back. "I'm starting to realize that I'm not sure I can stay here without you."

As much as he appreciated the idea that she wanted to stay with him—and would do whatever she could to make that happen—something about the way she said it rubbed him the wrong way. That she would abandon what she'd managed to create for herself in the rubble of her shattered life—a life that he had shattered—well, he wouldn't encourage her on that. And he had just asked her to be his wife. It made little difference if the current course of events drove them apart anyway.

"You would abandon everything you know just to be with me? What about everything you've fought for? Your career?"

She sighed, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. A sad one. "Khan," she breathed. She slid her hands up his arms until they crossed his shoulders and landed behind his neck. It was her favorite way to hold onto him it seemed. "What I love to do, I can't do here. I can't do it anywhere. People hate me here. You saw their faces at the gala. I'm nothing more than what the media tells them I am."

The senselessness of the thought made him grind his teeth. The media. That was truly where things had gone wrong for her. Had his trial remained under the radar, she could have easily escaped him unscathed, even if Owen Gallagher had still managed to reveal those photographs. Without the circus that had followed, Madelyn would have been able to return to some semblance of her life before. Instead, corrupted Federation bureaucrats had allowed reporters in on the case, and her life had been wrecked as a result.

"And you believe the media?" he said.

"No, of course not. I fucking hate the media. They're more interested in shock and awe than the truth. It's the nature of the profession, I suppose. Gotta draw in that audience."

"No," he was quick to reply. "No, the purpose of media is to disseminate important information to the public in a professional manner. When I ruled, there was no such thing as tabloid j—"

"It doesn't matter, and that's not the point." She sighed again. "The point is, I feel more free when I'm with you than I do without you, just here, fighting to hold onto a job that does nothing for me intellectually. Not to mention the parents I have to deal with." She made a noise that sounded like retching.

"I remember seeing you at the university and being frankly surprised at the wealth of knowledge you shared in those few minutes."

She peered up at him with a smirk. "You don't have to pretend like you were impressed."

"I was." It was not a lie.

"Because I knew so much about you, or at least thought I did?"

"I could say the same for myself regarding you."

Now Madelyn was the one grinding her teeth, pursing her lips in a frustrated expression. He saw the pain in her eyes and resolved to fix it. "I have already been proven wrong on many levels," he added.

Her faintly sad smile returned. "I should hope so."

His hands drifted down her back to her hips and further. "Answer me this," he said. "Should a suitable planet be found for my people and I to colonize, will you accompany us, or will you stay?" He felt a rush of blood at the way she pressed herself up against him and he responded by sliding his hand along her warmth. Her breathing hitched.

"You're asking this of the woman who just accepted your offer of marriage? Khan, please, of course—"

He paused his ministrations on her. The way she was searching his face for more of an explanation was incredibly unbearable. "I am trying to be realistic, Maddy. Answer the question hypothetically."

Her gaze faltered and it was a moment before she finally responded. "I don't think I could stay here."

"I could, however, find it within myself to understand if you did."

She frowned. "But I don't want to."

"That is all I wanted to hear," he murmured, gently lifting her up and pressing her against the cool glass wall. Her arms tightened around his neck. He slid a hand down her thigh and pulled it to his hip. She latched around him. He could have held her against the wall without her assistance, but he didn't want to hurt her.

"So I gave you what you wanted to hear, is that it?" she breathed. Her face was just inches from his. He could have silenced the rest of what she wanted to say with his lips, or drove it from her mind with a single swift action. Instead, he waited, breathing heavily, fingertips digging into her thigh and bum as she continued. "I said that I'd go with you, but that doesn't mean I've made up my mind. Nothing's set in stone."

He remained as he was, silent, until she rocked her hips against him eagerly. Slowly, he angled himself inside her, willing his focus to remain on her words. "That is what I want," he admitted, practically growling. "But you're right. I can't force you to do anything right now."

She caught her lower lip in her teeth as she took him completely. She was pulling at his scalp. He slid his hands behind her back to protect her from the wall before he lost control.

"If you really love me, you'll never try to force me to do anything," she hummed in his ear.

He groaned at her words, at the way she surrounded him, then caught her neck in his teeth as he thrust. The sound that came out of her throat hit a switch in his brain and he forgot about control. Eventually the shower water lost its heat, but their bodies wouldn't have known the difference.

Hours passed until he finally allowed her to fall asleep, tangled in sheets beside him and probably needing another shower. He didn't care about that. He knew every inch of her, the way the crook of her thigh tasted, the way she'd involuntarily flinch away if he touched a choice few square centimeters of skin between her shoulder blades. But more than this was the way she'd looked at him without a hint of trepidation or hesitation. She trusted him completely. Him. Not John Harrison.

He watched her sleep for hours. He couldn't let himself drift away, forsaking these last moments with her to his own weakness. Maybe he shouldn't have dragged them both along for such an extended amount of time. In the moment, he'd given no thought to it. He'd only wanted her as much as she'd wanted him and he'd had no trouble satisfying the desires they shared. But now she breathed deeply, lost in the darkness of slumber, turning and shifting once or twice, always with a hand on his chest or her head brushing his arm.

She remained incorrigible. Her drive to come up with an alternative solution to his current trajectory was more than admirable, and she'd proven herself again to be more than just a passive fixture blown by the aggressive, changing winds of political bureaucracy and international media. Her actions months ago had proven what she'd truly valued, but to see her turn around to act in his aid was an action deserving of even more respect. He found himself surprised to realize he would not be angry if she made the decision to stay on Earth after this. Disappointed, yes. Saddened, immensely. Heartbroken…

Absolutely.

But not angry.

And even though she'd stated she wouldn't stay, he couldn't help but sense a wisp of uncertainty in her voice. He'd learned to put his trust fully in her actions, knowing that her words might be guided by an emotional response in the moment, pushed by physical inclinations or simply a need to keep herself within his sphere, inclinations that he encouraged. Whatever the case, she'd done more than enough to prove that she deserved whatever she fought for, and if that included a life independent of anything or anyone who got in her way—including himself—then he would accept that. Though she was, for all intents and purposes, engaged to him, she wasn't yet bound by any legal obligation, and wouldn't be as long as she remained within Federation jurisdiction. No woman with professional goals would bind herself to a convicted criminal in the public eye.

He was torn from his thoughts when she jerked up, twisting around in the sheets with a terrified gasp. The panic filling her wide eyes turned to confusion as he reached for her, firmly taking her arms. She struggled against him, hands scrabbling, legs kicking at him under the sheets.

"Maddy, it's alright," he said firmly.

She didn't seem to hear him. Her toes rammed into his kneecap, but he barely felt it. She, on the other hand, flinched and inhaled sharply. He took her moment of weakness to pin her legs beneath him, trapping her arms with his. Then he cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

He knew these reactions without even thinking.

"Madelyn, look at me," he ordered. "It was a dream."

She panted for air, like she'd been running a long time. He could feel her tension subside into shaking as she stared up at him, confusion slipping away, replaced with consciousness and guilt, and fear. He ran his fingers along her hair, pushing some from her face as she regained her senses, still keeping her beneath him. Her breaths came in uneven rushes of air. He kissed her forehead.

"You're alright now," he whispered. She was fighting not to cry, but she mumbled a name and it made him so immediately angry and sick all at once. "He's gone, Maddy."

He loosened his hold on her as lucidity took hold, but she circled her arms around him, keeping him there. "I killed him," she whispered.

"You did what you had to do."

She sniffed, barely able to breathe right. She looked as though she wanted to respond, but the words were on the tip of her tongue and she kept them there. And she was still trembling. He lay back on his side and pulled her up against him so he wouldn't crush her, but she didn't let him go and buried her face in his shoulder instead, staying like that until the shaking subsided and her breaths evened out.

There was more to this. There was always more. This reaction was not unfamiliar to him. Who knew how long she'd been plagued by nightmares, probably triggered anew by his looming absence. He might have asked her how long these had been occurring, but she'd fallen back asleep.

He didn't sleep at all that night. He didn't want to miss anything. The hitches in her breathing, the way her fingers brushed the arm he'd draped around her, the way she nestled her head beneath his chin so that he smelled her every time he inhaled— sweat, vanilla soap, and a hint of sex. She looked so incredibly peaceful when she slept, but there was so much more behind that and he wanted to know it all.

If only they had more time.

She finally woke again as the first rays of dawn filtered through the window across the room, but she didn't budge from his side. She pulled the sheets up around herself when goosebumps rose on her skin, holding his gaze for what felt like an eternity. He slid a hand under her sheet, tracing his fingers over her shoulder and down her side.

"I dreamed about Owen last night," she murmured bluntly. "Wasn't the first time."

"I assumed as much."

Her eyes drifted away, as though she couldn't bear to saddle him with more troubles. "Foster too. Maybe Madsen. You know how dreams are." She looked back at him suddenly, realization dawning in her gaze.

"Yes, I have dreams," he reassured. He wouldn't go any further than that. No matter that she looked as though she wanted to know more. He kept his mouth shut.

"What do you think he was going to do? With both Section 31 and Joaquin gone, he wouldn't have had a lot of help. But he had all of those test tubes—"

"Which you destroyed," he reminded her.

"I just can't help but wonder about his intentions. The more I wonder, the more I realize I probably don't want to know."

"I imagine his intentions were akin to Dr. Madsen's."

She reached out from under the sheet to trace his jaw. There was a hint of stubble there. He hadn't shaved in several days and it was all her fault. "Did you know him in Section 31 as well?"

"No, only Madsen."

That didn't seem to dissuade the troubled look on her face. "What about that syringe? You sent it to a college for testing."

"You may be able to retrieve the results today. They'll be under the name McGivers."

She cupped his face and reached over to kiss him. It was a chaste, quiet kiss, and she kept the sheets tucked around her shoulders when she was finished. "McGivers-Singh."

He held her gaze curiously. Her lips curved into a faint smile at his silence.

"What I'd have liked my name to be. I'm the only McGivers left."

The way she said it as though it would never happen prodded at the anger he'd kept stowed away from her. It was reserved for others, when the time was right. Not her, not now.

"Madelyn Marla McGivers-Singh." He crinkled his brow at the length of it. "With a hyphen?"

Her smile grew. "If you'd left out my middle name—"

"Would you discard mine?" he retorted.

"Noonien," she murmured. Her smile widened into a full-fledged grin and she snorted. He was mildly disappointed.

Wearing a perpetual smirk now, he rolled on top of her, pinning her down with his legs, hands on her arms so she couldn't escape him. "My full name is to be respected, Marla." He lowered his face to her collarbones, giving her skin the torture he felt she deserved at that moment. She gasped and fought to withhold what sounded like… giggling? Dear god, he thought. This woman had totally undone him.

"You're right though," she breathed, as though his mouth on her skin wasn't enough. "Khan Singh doesn't q-quite have the same—" She hissed as he descended on her breast. "The same ring to it," she managed to finish.

He came up to her mouth and devoured it, until she was gasping. She strained under his hands and the thought crossed his mind to take her right where she was. He knew she wouldn't resist. How could she now? She was completely his.

"I want some coffee," she murmured, raising an eyebrow. "You gonna let me go?"

He cared for, protected, and respected what was his. Madelyn could be no different.

He loosened his grip around her biceps painfully slow and slid his hands down to her back, until he cradled her beneath him. "As much as I would like to keep you here," he said, sweeping his eyes down her body, "I imagine Starfleet will not waste time this morning."

She reached up and put her hands on both sides of his face, her fleeting moment of happiness replaced with a hard exterior. "And as much as I would like you to keep going, I think we both need to put some clothes on."

He made a face to showcase his displeasure, and it only made her smile again.

"Now let me out of bed," she chided.

Finally, he willed himself to climb off of her, allowing her enough space to slip away. She held the sheet around herself still as she swung her legs to the floor, and he watched as she stood carefully with an expression of measurable discomfort on her face. She'd enjoyed herself last night, that was clear. Of course, he'd been the source of that enjoyment. He watched her walk across the room gingerly, bend down slowly to pick some clothing off the floor, then stretch her arms above her head to put on a t-shirt. Her sheet pooled around her ankles. He ground his teeth and dug his nails into his palms and finally stood up from the bed, tearing his gaze from her as he went into the bathroom. There he doused himself in a freezing cold shower, cursing Starfleet and the Federation and everything else including his own impatient shortsightedness that had led them to this point.

The coffee flowing from her new food synthesizer was surprisingly authentic. He noted a hint of fruit amidst the earthy flavor and watched disapprovingly as Madelyn watered hers down with cream. She didn't say anything until she'd downed a good portion of her mug.

"Let's say they do find a planet for us," she said, leaning her hip against the counter. She was fully dressed now in shorts and a t-shirt, her hair loosely tied up off her shoulders.

For us. He loved the way that sounded. He felt his chest grow larger and his back go straighter at the thought.

"What happens next? We colonize, we explore, we live…" She trailed off, her gaze drifting for half a moment. "We could start a family."

It was a vague idea, and the way she said it made him wonder how seriously she'd thought this through.

"And we shall, if that is what you wish. As for myself, my hands will be full of politics and diplomatic relations. There were many divisions within my own ranks when we escaped the aftermath of the war." The very thought of being reunited with his people sent shivers of emotion down his spine. "I will not always be available to you."

"Divisions?" The edge in her voice caught him off-guard.

"Nothing I cannot handle."

Something akin to disgust and fear swept across her face and she set her mug down on the counter. "So what about Joaquin and Otto, and all the shit that happened at the Io Facility. Those were just divisions?"

Her words came out of her mouth like venom. He ground his teeth, unable to believe that she was doing this now. "As I said, these divisions are nothing I cannot handle. My place as their leader will once again provide a reason for peace and stability between factions. The very fact of being forced to survive on a new planet will prove no easy task for any of us, and it will force at least an uneasy peace until disagreements can be rectified."

"Don't ignore what I just said, Khan."

"It is a complicated issue and should things come to pass as we have hoped, there will be plenty of time to discuss it."

"I don't want to start a family if I'm going to live around people I can't trust."

With his gaze locked onto her, he realized no simple answer would satisfy her. And the truth was that he had no simple answer. Simplicity did not exist within the politics of Augments. They were complicated by nature, and he could admit, had the capability of being extremely dangerous. He couldn't imagine what she might be thinking, as hard he tried. Compared to other Augment women, she was still quite weak. He knew what Owen had done to her, what Joaquin had attempted to do. When he considered just who remained of his people, he realized there could be others.

"Perhaps, Madelyn, in the time that we are apart, you should reconsider your desire to be with me if you cannot trust that my leadership will prevent past conflicts from representing themselves in new ways."

"No, I trust you," she said quickly. She took a step towards him, but stopped as a beam of white light materialized around him. "Shit, that's not what I meant, and you know it. I just don't want to put myself in another dangerous situation!"

There it was again. The word dangerous. He backed away as she reached for him, unwilling to suffer one last graze of a finger, or risk her being harmed by an ill-timed disruption of his temporary demolecularization. "I wish you had more time to explain yourself," he said.

Her response went unheard, as her kitchen disappeared and was replaced with the familiar white walls of the brig of the USS Enterprise. He glared into the stark intensity of the light, digging his nails into his palm. To have left her on those terms made him furious.

"Welcome back to the Enterprise, Khan," came Kirk's familiar, boyish voice.

He turned with calculated intensity, leering at the young captain on the other side of the glass, not uttering a word. No one in the world deserved a single breath from him as long as he was back in this cage.