Chapter Eight: Brothers Under the Sun

Charlie could only stand and stare, unable to comprehend what Jim had just told her. "'Gone.' What do you mean 'gone'?"

"He was killed, Charlie," Jim choked, his voice caked in emotion.

"What? No, no he can't, he can't be," Charlie denied, stumbling backwards as if struck, he eyes snapping upwards toward the broken windows and battered façade. "You're lying. Why are you lying to me!" It couldn't be true, it wasn't. Pike was a force, a man who could move mountains if he so desired. It wasn't possible that he was dead.

Charlie tried to brush past Jim, shoving him out of the way with all the force she had to enter the partially destroyed building, but he grabbed onto her shoulders and stopped her in her tracks. She could have tried to move a boulder for all the good it did her. In the back of her mind, she knew he didn't want her to see what he had: all the bodies and blood mixed with the debris and broken glass, but she had to know. She had to see for herself, to validate Jim's claim.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," he grunted as she continued to struggle against his hold.

"Then stop lying to me!" she shouted as she propelled him away, spinning away from him as her hand came up to rub her forehead, the tense muscles causing a headache to grow.

"I'm not lying to you," he insisted, standing between her and the door. "I wish I was. I wish this was a bad dream, but it's not."

Charlie searched the darkness, unwilling to believe what Jim told her. "How is it not?" she gasped, turning toward him again. "How can this be true? Let me in there and see for myself. Get out of my way, Jim."

"No, Charlie," Jim denied, sidestepping in front of her and grabbing her shoulders. "It's a mess up there. I'm sorry but the building's being quartered off."

Charlie twisted out of his grip, running a shaking hand through her tangled hair in agitation. "How could this have happened?" she wheezed.

Jim held his palms outward, the dirt and blood from above mixing with the sweat that ran down his face. "No one was smart enough to think Harrison would know protocol after the bombing. He attacked us in the middle of our meeting and Pike was hit with a plasma shot."

"Well, well maybe Pike's just unconscious," she tried to reason, attempting to get past Jim again hoping he was wrong. "Did you think of that? Maybe he just needs medical attention and he'll be fine. Where's Bones? We'll get him there. Remember what happened last time—"

"He's not unconscious, Charlie!" Jim barked as he reached up to give her shoulders a small shake. "He's gone, I saw it with my own eyes."

She shook her head, her tangled dark tresses flying around. "No. No, I don't believe you. I can't! This can't be happening. Please, tell me you're lying."

With the truth evident in his gaze, her knees grew weak and shaky, and before she could stop herself, Charlie crashed onto the concrete. Giant wails tore from her throat as she wrapped her arms around herself. Never in her whole life had she felt pain like that which stabbed at her heart. Her body was trembling with the force of her dry heaves, her arms holding her stomach as she rocked back and forth on her knees, unable to keep a reign on her emotions. Icy flooded her veins in a cold fire, and water poured from her eyes. Her mind went blank except for pain and she was only partially aware when Jim kneeled down and wrapped his arms around her frame. His fingers were buried in her tangled hair as he held her against his chest, offering the only comfort possible.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Her arms embraced him while they held each other in their sorrow. She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating. Great gasps of air were drawn into her lungs and still she felt like she was drowning. She prayed he was wrong, but as the time continued forward, it became less and less probable that she was in a nightmare. She kept crying 'no' over and over, lightly pounding onto Jim's arm every time her wails peaked. She was trembling, and her head was feeling as if it wanted to explode from the pressure of her screams.

After a few more moments, Charlie began to calm as she got her breath under control and the tears ceased. She pulled back from Jim and wiped a hand across her hot cheeks.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered, her throat raw and unable to process how to manage the next few minutes.

"We're going to carry on," Jim muttered firmly. "We're going to find the bastard that did this and we're going to destroy him."

"Oh, we're going to more than destroy him," she growled, her shinning, amber eyes snapping to his as a fire Jim had never seen entered her gaze. "I want him to feel every inch of pain that we do right now. I want him to suffer as we are suffering; I want to break him."

Jim's brow rose in surprise. "Charlie—"

"No, Jim. I don't care if it isn't proper, or part of being a good person. I don't want to be a good person. I want that man's head on a spike."

"We're going to find him, I can promise you that," he reasoned, his fists clenched and shaking. "He'll see justice."

"'Justice'," she snorted. "I'd give him my time's kind of justice right now if that coward hadn't run."

Jim was again startled but the vehemence in her voice. "How do you know he ran?"

"I checked the ship after it crashed," she nodded toward the wreckage surrounded by the police and Starfleet as she shakily rose to her feet. "There was no body there. He must have run. That's the only thing that makes sense."

Jim paused a moment and nodded. "He transported out, I saw it when I was up there."

"Fucking coward," she barked, her hands clenched and relaxed as she considered pounding them in his flesh.

"Not how I'd put it, but you're right," he consented.

A wave of lightheadedness swept through Charlie and she leaned over, bracing herself on her knees and breathing through her nose as she felt her heart pound.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked concerned, his arms moving to support her.

"No, Jim, I'm not," she snapped, standing back up straight as the wave passed. "I want to go after Harrison right now. I want to find where he went and bring him back here, but I can't do that right now. So what do you want me to do? What can I do?"

"Go home," Jim said, surprising the woman. "I have to go up to help set up the investigation and give my account; I only came out here to catch my breath. I'll meet you back at the apartment in hour, maybe two. I promise."

"But, I could be much more useful here," she argued. "I can go back to helping the injured or help with the investigation—"

"Charlie, you could have been hurt or even killed today," he interrupted as he gripped the sides of her face. "I didn't even know you were here, and it scares me that I could have lost you too. Just go home, for my piece of mind. I know you could help, but this one time, please do this for me."

Charlie searched his gaze a moment and saw something she never thought she'd see: fear. Her heart hammered in her chest as another swell of anguish rose, but Charlie nodded, reaching up to squeeze his wrist as she pushed the pain away. "Alright, fine I'll head home, but I expect you to follow soon. No excuses, Jim."

"I will. Charlie?" he added as she turned to walk away.

"Yes?" she asked glancing over her shoulder.

"I love you," he muttered, his shoulders slumped and his eyes rimmed with red.

Rushing forward, Charlie reached up and jerked his lips to hers, the warm wetness reminding the pair for their own life. Releasing him, she whispered, "I love you too. I'll wait for you at home."

He smiled sadly, brushing a lock of windswept hair behind her ear, before he headed back into the building. Taking a deep breath, Charlie turned toward the apartment, her steps heavy and her heart thundering in her chest. Giant ice picks drove into her heart, and she had to pause periodically to regain her composure. She couldn't remember how she was able to make it into the apartment, every step bled into one large marathon of emotional strife.

Once inside, Charlie leaned her back against the door to the apartment, feeling completed drained after the rollercoaster events from that day. Her head fell back and she slid down the door, her legs folding under her as she landed on the floor. She wiped a hand under her running nose as another wave of tears attempted to surface again. Charlie could not believe that Pike was gone, taken away in a single moment. She knew life could change in an instant, her current history testament to that, but losing Pike had never even entered her radar. She had just started to enjoy the sensation of having a father by her side, and now it gone faster than it began.

Unable to prevent the surge of raw emotion, Charlie found herself hyperventilating, her heart and lungs squeezed in vice grip, causing her to gasp in both panic and pain. Giant sobs bowled through her and she pounded her fists against the tile floor in anger, screams bouncing off the walls of the apartment. How could God be so cruel to finally give her a man willing to be her father, only to him ripped away? What travesty had she done to cause such a horrific event? What hurt worse for her was thinking of Jim; the man who never had a father. It wasn't fair to him to lose Pike, and that killed her even more.

She knew she should get up, to get herself under control because when Jim came home he was going to need her, but dammit if she was having issues pulling herself together. She trembled and bawled until her head felt swollen, reaching up to pull at her dark hair and begging to be saved from the misery in her soul.

After a few more moments, she focused on breathing through her nose to push the pain aside. She clenched her fists tight, her nails biting into her palm to the point she knew there would be marks. Slowly, she exhaled and released the tension in her hands; letting them rest before clenching her fists again. She did that for every part of her body until she finally felt a sense of fragile control, opening her crusty eyes to take in the darkened room.

Pike would want her to be strong. She didn't know where the thought came from, but it was true. He thought she was cut out to be a Starfleet officer; and for the rest of her life, she would prove him right. She slapped the tear from her cheeks and her throat was raw and sore. She slumped to her feet, and her knees shook as she stumbled over to the counter in the kitchen. Digging through the drawers, she found Jim's stash of whiskey and a glass. Pouring herself a shot, she raised the glass toward the ceiling.

"This one's for you," she toasted before swallowing the liquid. The fire burned her throat and she coughed, but the warming in her stomach was soothing against the rawness of her heart.

As she debated pouring herself another, the door to the apartment opened and Jim walked in, falling back against the closed door with a defeated sigh. He was still in his dirty and destroyed uniform, small marks still marring the sides of his head. His hand subtly shook as he reached up to wipe it down his face in exhaustion. Before he had moved from his place in the entryway, Charlie had already reached into the cabinet to pull out another glass.

"Hey soldier," she drawled, pouring one for him and another for herself. "Pull up a chair."

Jim shuffled his way to the island and plopped down into the chair with a great sigh. Charlie slid the glass of whiskey over to him, and he immediately swallowed the whole glass in one shot.

"Thanks," he mumbled, setting the empty tumbler on the counter. The clink of crystal on stone reverberated through the silent apartment, neither Charlie nor Jim wishing to disrupt the fragile calm.

Charlie braced her arms against the edge of the counter, her mind set adrift as she studied the small specks of gold and opal in the pale countertop. The silence of the room became deafening to her, but she dared not make a sound and disturb Jim. After the last few days, peace and quiet was what he needed.

Minutes passed and still neither voiced any of their thoughts; the only sounds in the apartment was their breathing and whatever filtered in from outside. Charlie was lost in thought as she calculated mindless equations in her head to keep calm while Jim fiddled with the glass.

"How are you doing?" Jim questioned, his voice thunderous after the long silence.

"Wishing I could get drunk, but knowing that's probably a bad idea," she confessed with a shrug.

Jim snorted, although no smiled graced his cheeks. "Yeah, me too."

"Are you okay?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," he retorted. He sat back against the back on the chair, his hand reaching up to rub his red and tired eyes.

Charlie blew out an exaggerated breath, her bangs flying up and out of her eyes. "I can't just stand here and do nothing. I can't Jim, this isn't in my nature but I have no idea what to do."

"They were just starting to take the forensics when I left," he told her, his head tilted back exposing his strong throat. "Until they get done with that, there isn't anything to do."

"That's bullshit," she snapped, slapping her hands down on the countertop and began to pace around the kitchen. "We could be finding where Harrison went. We could be tracking him down to bring him back to answer for what he did. Or just leave him in a room with me and a bunch of garden tools; that could work too."

"Charlie. . ." Jim sighed, exasperated.

"What? It's not like you haven't considered the thought."

"I've got Scotty working with the investigation surrounding his ship, and there are others that will inform me the minute they find something."

Charlie growled deep in her throat. "I'm going crazy, Jim. I just want to hit something, or cry, or scream. I want to rip his head from his body and put in on a spike in the middle of campus, but the very thought exhausts me. I don't know which way is up right now."

"You think you're the only one who feels this way?" Jim snapped as he sat forward. "I was in the same damn room, and I did nothing. Yea, I was able to destroy his ship but it was too late; I figured it out too late. I could have saved them, I could have saved Pike and I didn't."

Charlie paused, her gaze morphing into contrition as she reached forward to grasp Jim's empty hand. "Jim, you're not superman. You can't stop everything from happening."

"Didn't you once say I was the hero? Aren't heroes supposed to save the day?"

"Yes I did," she consented. "But heroes also have their dark moments; they can't save everyone."

"Oh please," he scoffed, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms.

"No really," she insisted, more force laced in her voice. "Didn't Arthur lose Lancelot and Guinevere? Didn't Hercules kill his wife and children? How many men did Hrothgar loose before Beowulf defeated Grendel? Every story has a point where it slides into darkness."

"Is that what you're telling yourself?" Jim growled, pushing himself off the chair as he stormed off toward the bedroom. As he walked, he loosened the neck of his uniform and pulled it over his head. "This isn't a story, Charlie. This is reality."

"I understand that," she maintained as she followed. "But life is full of dark times too. You and I know this better than most. These moments are when we remember what we do have. It's you and me, Jim; to the bitter end, and at least we still have that."

He braced himself against the chest of drawers, the shirt of his uniform thrown to the side and his shoes kicked off. "I want him back, Charlie," he whispered, sorrow cracking his voice. "I just want him back."

"I do too," she answered as she hurried over and wrapped her arms around his torso, leaning her cheek against his strong back. The soft warmth of his black shirt was soothing and she closed her eyes, inhaling his scent. His hand reach up to grasp her wrapped arms, his head tilted back to rest on top of hers.

"I don't know how I could have handled this if you weren't here," he confessed. He spun and drew her into his chest, squeezing her until it was almost painful.

"You would have survived, just like you always have," she mumbled into his chest. "But I'm glad I am here for you. We'll get through this; somehow, someway, we will." She felt him nod as he released her, surreptitiously wiping his eyes while he dropped his Starfleet pin on the dresser. "Come on. Let's go to bed," she suggested. "My grandmother always said even the most hopeless night finds serenity in the morning."

"You go ahead. I couldn't sleep right now even if I tried. I'll try to come in later." He reached to stroke her cheek, but she could tell he was distracted. His eyes were unfocused as he stumbled around her, picking up a couple PADDs and heading towards the living room. Left alone in the cold room, Charlie collapsed onto the edge of the bed, the sheets still ruffled from their activities earlier that morning. She let her head fall into her hands as she breathed a great sigh. She was exhausted, emotionally, physically, and mentally with really no idea how to help herself, let alone Jim. A single tear fell onto her knee, her eyes too red and dry to form more. Lying back onto the rumpled bed, she let her brain shut down as her body folded into the mattress. Within moments she was asleep, her world finally at an illusion of peace.

When Jim came back in an hour later, he found her curled on her side, a pale hand tucked under her cheek as dark lashes gently shifted in her dreaming. He pulled a soft blanket up to her shoulders, brushing a stray strand of dark hair from her face. He still couldn't sleep, the horrific images of flying glass, red lights, and green plasma kept flashing every time he closed his eyes. For the rest of the night, he was only able to catch a few catnaps, but nothing as regenerating as the deep sleep Charlie seemed to have found. She had barely moved from the position he found her in, and if he hadn't know better, he would have thought she was dead to the world as well.

Finally, as the light of dawn began to break into the bedroom, Jim sat up and ran a hand through his ruffled hair, pulling it down his face to wipe away to bone deep tiredness in his body. He hadn't changed out of his uniform from yesterday, and glancing back at Charlie who was still asleep next to him, neither had she.

For the next few hours while the light of the sun gradually warmed the bedroom, Jim sat next to Charlie, working on his PADD as he analyzed any information he could to try to find John Harrison and a motive behind his attack. He knew he could have gone to the living room, leaving the sleeping girl in peace, but he didn't want to leave her side. Even in the earliest hours of the morning, when she was doing nothing more than breathing deeply, she kept him calm and centered. She was his rock, just as he was hers, and although they were still figuring out their relationship, he couldn't remember what it was like without her. He never thought he would have found love like that shared between the two of them, but now that he had, he didn't want to lose it for anything in the universe.

Slowly Charlie awoke, shuffling around as if she were trying to fall back to sleep, but she opened her crusty, sand filled eyes, wincing from the impact of the harsh sun.

"Please tell me it was a dream," she mumbled into her pillow.

"I wish it was," Jim answered with a rough sigh.

"I woke up and for a moment had forgotten," she said, shoving the blanket off, and rubbing her burning eyes. "I'd forgotten what had happened and I felt so light. But then I remembered, like a bad dream. God, why did I have to remember?"

Jim didn't know what to say, only to reach his arm around her and lay a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I'm going to go take a quick shower," she mumbled, surreptitiously wiping her eyes again. Jim nodded, and watched as she shuffled her way around the bed towards the bathroom. She had just closed the door when Jim's communicator began beeping loudly, alerting the former captain to an incoming call.

"Yeah?" he answered, his voice deadpanned as he continued to stare at the door to the bathroom.

"Commander," Spock's calm, authoritative voice wafted through the room. "Mr. Scott has found something in the wreckage of Harrison's ship. He has asked to see us right away."

"I'll grab Charlie and we'll be right there," he answered, his heart racing as he stood and ran into the bathroom. Finally, they had something.

Their boots pounded on the stone as they ran through the campus of Starfleet, Charlie having thrown on a quick pair of jeans and one of Jim's Starfleet sweatshirts after he had burst into the bathroom to tell her Scotty found something. The pair found Spock, and hurried toward the rendezvous point where Scotty said to meet him. The man was just arriving, his arms full of some type of machine part.

"Captain!" Scotty shouted when he noticed the trio, thrusting the device into Jim's arms. "I found this in the crashed jumpship, sir. This is how the bastard got away."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked, barely able to get a grip.

"It's a portable transwarp beaming device."

"Well can you figure out where he went?"

"I already did, Sir," Scotty said. "And you're no gonna like it. He's gone to the one place we . . . we jus' can't go." Scotty hit a few buttons and four numbers - - flashed across the small screen. Jim's jaw flexed as he grounded his teeth in agitation while Spock's brow furrow ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed in anger.

"Where?" she voiced confusedly, glancing between the three men. "What do those numbers mean?"

"Those are the coordinates of Qo'nos, the Klingon home world," Spock announced.

Charlie felt her heart drop in chest like a stone. "What?" she gasped, unable to prevent the stumble of steps backwards as if burned by the device.

"Charlie, stay with Scotty," Jim shouted as he and Spock began running toward the main building, throwing the machine back into Scotty's arms. "Spock and I need to talk to Marcus."

"I—" It was too late, they were already gone.

Turning to look at the Scotsman, he could only shrug and say, "Want to go get a pint?"