Author's Note: Yes, update! It's been 84 years! The dinosaurs have come again! Well, that would be cool, but terrifying. Please enjoy, my devoted readers! You know who you are! :)
Joachim was taller now, a strapping eight year old. He ran on sturdy legs and pushed and pulled with insistent, frighteningly strong arms. Once he had accidentally caught his mother off balance and pushed her over into a pile of laundry...the entire camp's supply, no less. He was horrified and said he was sorry, but Marla suspected he found the image of her (thankfully) covered legs kicking in the air very amusing. In fact, she was rather certain Khan did too…there was definitely the ghost of a smile on his Excellency's face when he picked her up.
Marla had learned early on from her husband that there was nothing more difficult to control than an Augment. So she had been careful from the very beginning to use verbal commands, spoken punishments backed by Khan's silent, menacing presence. Joachim could be stubborn, but he was sweet. He rarely needed any other signal from his parents, although Khan had been forced to apply a heavy hand to the boy's backside once or twice, and a heavy hand from Khan was the equivalent of being slapped with a canoe paddle. Joachim couldn't sit down for hours.
Marla reflected on this as she watched Joachim strut in front of the mirror. His blonde hair was growing longer, like his father's. He never mentioned it, but she knew exactly who his model was. She had given him a strip of faded red cloth to tie it back. That, along with his motley suit composed of all the torn off scraps in the camp gave him the appearance of a miniature scarecrow.
He turned towards the door, intending to rush outside. "Hey!" she cried, half sitting up.
Joachim reluctantly turned around. "Yes, Mother?"
Marla forced herself not to smile at his little face, trying so hard to look all adult and responsible, yet mingled with childish loathing. She put one hand on her hip and pointed with the other at a bucket. "Salt. It's that time of day again."
Joachim grimaced, but clumped over in his small, cobbled boots and grabbed the pail. "Will we have some tonight?" he asked suddenly, a light in his eyes.
Marla smiled and used her thumb to rub a dirty smudge off the pointed chin that was so like his father's. "Probably. Who knows…we might even have something to eat besides cave moss."
"What do you mean, Mother?" Joachim asked, conveniently resting the pail back on the table.
"Your father said they had found a new life form…he didn't say what, just that it might be edible." Marla leaned back on the edge of the table.
" A life form?" Joachim let go of the pail completely in his excitement, plopping a fist down on his mother's leg. "Like an animal? A real animal? Like in the pictures Patricia showed us?"
Marla shrugged, not wanting to build his hopes up. "Perhaps…a really small one. Maybe just a worm."
"A pet?!" Joachim asked breathlessly. His face, however, took on a nervous quality.
Marla frowned; it broke her heart, but she knew it was better to make it clear in this way…sharp and inflexible. "You know why we can't."
Joachim's eyes darkened. Slowly, trying to hide his hurt, he picked up the bucket. "Yes," he muttered, turning and slowly walking towards the door, "we might get hungry."
At that instant, the door burst open. Khan came in; his robes seeming to float in the sandy wind as he slammed the door shut and leaned against it for a moment, facing away from them.
Marla straightened instantly; something was wrong.
But when Khan twisted around, his face seemed to be fine. He went over to Joachim, dropping his sand mask and bending over slightly. Then, to Marla's surprise, he reached down and gently pressed a hand to either side of the tiny, blonde head.
Joachim seemed as startled as she was; he froze.
Khan softly, slowly moved his fingers a moment, brushing through the downy hair, over the jawbone below each ear. Then, he let go and straightened up. His eyes caught sight of the bucket and he gave Joachim a light cuff. "Go get the salt."
Joachim hurried to obey, but just before he reached the door, Khan wheeled around as if he had forgotten something. "Wait!"
Standing between them, he lifted up both forefingers, pointing at wife and son in a gesture Marla had often seen him use in old video files when he was making speeches on Earth. But his eyes, when he looked from Joachim and straight into Marla's face…she could definitely see something wrong.
But he spoke on, "now, listen carefully, both of you. You must not go near the sand."
"But there's sand everywhere," Marla said cautiously, watching him for a response.
He looked at the ground, as if he could see something there. His voice was light, his face pleasant, but his eyes were horrified, fixed, and wide. "Ah, yes, I meant…of course, not to allow your head anywhere near it."
"The eels?" Marla asked, raising her eyebrows in realization, "they're dangerous?"
He smiled in amusement; bitter amusement. "Yes, you could say that. They enter your ears, latch onto your brain, and drive you mad…Michael's son took one…we do not know if he will live through the night."
Finally, his eyes met hers. There was so much disbelief, so much anguish, Marla almost gasped. It was pain again, their old friend. Marla had the humility and the faith to allow it to puncture her without destroying her, but Khan could only wrestle eternally with it…he would not let it win, would never submit. He knew no other way. So it built up in him, heavier and harder, fueling despair and weariness and hatred, suffocating his soul.
It was the way he was built. He must either conquer or be destroyed. And Marla knew…in a way, Khan knew…they would never conquer Ceti Alpha V.
She took an impulsive step forward. Khan met her, grabbing her hands wordlessly, the smile on his face faded and frozen, the pain in his eyes like fire, burning instead of illuminating him. For a minute, he just held her, staring straight at her in what Marla realized with utter shock was a mute plea for help…a plea he couldn't voice…help me…couldn't even voice.
Then, just like that, he dropped her hands and turned around. "I must return and help Erickson with cargo bay 4's repairs. Joachim, I see, has gone to get the salt…when he returns, make sure he understood what I said. I will not be disobeyed."
"I know," Marla said softly.
Khan left without looking back. Once outside, he paused, closing his eyes and leaning back against the burning wall of the metal cargo bay as it roasted under the desert sun. He tried in vain to get rid of the memory…
The little boy…his screams...Khan watched as Michael clasped him fiercely to his chest, clawing off the critters, taking him home kicking and screaming obscenities…just a little boy, like Joachim…
Khan swallowed roughly and forced himself upright, forced himself to open his eyes. He was beginning to feel nauseous and terrified, and he knew he must never, ever feel like that. So he swallowed deeply, body tightening as he forced the nightmare to the back of his head, burying it with all the other ghosts that ravaged his brain, all the other whispers that haunted his dreams.
"Yes, you were busy! Busy doing nothing. You were seen, Attila."
Marla heard Khan's voice coming from just beyond the scrapheap. Others did too and were making their way over to see what was happening. Marla propped the iron beam she had been dragging against a wall and followed suit.
As she made a wide curve through the sand to avoid the crowd of impossible tall, broad, immovable Augments, she saw Khan standing in front of a teenager she had seen often, loitering around while those of his own age were working under the hot sun.
The boy was good looking, with sharp green eyes and thick but fluffy brown hair. His body was well formed and his bearing was princely. He stood the judging stares of the crowd and the chastising glare of Khan far, far better than others would have…perhaps even Marla herself, if she hadn't been married to their leader and done a few things no one else would have dared to do to him.
"You nearly caused Augusta's death when you abandoned her in the sinking hole. Did it not occur to you that that pit might just start sinking again when evening came?" Khan's voice was like tempered steel. It reverberated sharply and clearly across the desert, but seemed to stab into his target with all the venom of a scolding.
"No, your Excellency…it did not occur to me," Attila answered honestly. There was an unsettling flippancy to his tone, as if he knew he'd done wrong and wished he hadn't…but also didn't care how hard his punishment was going to be...or at least, fought to persuade himself he didn't.
"If Augusta had been killed through your negligence," Khan took an intimidating step forward, his eyes narrowing. Every eye followed him. "Then I would be compelled to kill you in return."
Attila swallowed visibly, his hands clenching. There was a hush. Khan looked down at him, and suddenly Marla remembered him making the same face on the Enterprise …exasperation, fury, disbelief…he utterly does not understand the human emotions he is faced with…"it's so useless!"
Instead, however, he cried, "have you any idea what we are doing?! What we are responsible for?! It is not you…not me! We are responsible for each and every man, woman, and child!" He pointed at the crowd, still gazing angrily at the boy, "we are all fighting together, dying together…and you dare to serve yourself! You dare!"
Attila blinked, but stubborn rebellion began to rise in his eyes, along with the injured conceit of a man who hasn't even earned the right to be proud. Khan saw it, and the animated passion left his face, leaving it cold, grim, and resigned. He snapped his fingers suddenly, and the sound seemed to echo over the silent desert.
A man came from the crowd. In his hand, he held a metal pole. The end of it was red, glowing hot with a white, molten heart. There was a rustle, like a human sigh, that ran through the crowd. But still, no other reaction from these Augments, created to be as emotionless as they were strong.
Marla, however, took an impulsive step forward. She was sure Khan saw her, but he merely looked away. His face stern, he took the poker. Attila stepped back, but Khan was far too swift.
He grabbed the boy's wrist and, with one move that was so fluid and quick that Marla didn't even have time to cry out, he touched it to the poker. There was a hiss and a sizzling sound.
Attila gave a grinding moan of agony, slumping down as he tried desperately not to scream, too limp with pain to even fight back as Khan whipped off the poker and tossed it away. It landed in the sand, smoking.
He mercilessly tugged the boy back to his feet and held his now smoking hand out. There was a circular black mass of burnt flesh on the top of his hand. The crowd was absolutely quiet, mesmerized, enthralled. They had seen far more brutal things during the wars on Earth…but to have it happen here; to one of their own…it brought home just how much their actions affected everyone else.
Khan grabbed the back of Attila's neck, forcing him to look at the burn with teary eyes. "The mark of a man who serves himself," he whispered harshly. Then he let go. Attila stumbled away, his face torn between rage and shame and misery as the crowd parted from him.
Khan walked towards Marla.
She didn't know what to think. Every compassionate part of her being was revolted; to brand a boy, to mark him for life for one sin…one mistake, to hold him up as an example in front of every person in his life who would ever matter…it was barbaric.
She turned her face away from him. He didn't even pause, merely turning slightly so as to pass by her without touching, like shadows on the street.
Attila's father, Alexander, was a strong man, brilliant and fiery and persuasive, though not quite at the same level as Khan. However, he had long thought himself a more suitable leader. The recent humiliation of his son only gave him an excuse to prove it.
He challenged Khan.
The evening had been remotely pleasant, warm but without wind, as the nighttime chill crept over the dunes and mingled with what had been burning heat of the day. It was still warm enough to sweat, but you could move around outdoors without collapsing from heat exhaustion.
To save their dwindling energy stores, someone made a fire to see by instead of an energy lamp, using old scraps as fuel. It smelled horrible, but it shed a huge halo of yellow light, where some of the Augments sat cross-legged on the sand, performing small tasks, talking quietly…or just staring into the distance, meditating on who knew what.
Khan was sitting on the sand with one knee up, conversing with Julius and Patricia about whether they should spend more time moving supplies into the caves, as the weather seemed to be getting exponentially unbearable. It was a difficult choice…so much needed to be done simply to keep them alive every day. Gathering cave moss, salt, purifying water, repairing the cargo bays after every acid rain…it was a never ending puzzle that exhausted his mind and drained his spirit often.
Alexander came out from one of the cargo bays. Attila was nowhere to be seen, but his father had tied his sandy hair back, his face set like granite, his grey eyes reflecting the fire as a silver flash of light.
Khan saw him instantly; detected him by the difference in his walk, his bearing…perhaps even the change in the atmosphere that wrapped around every individual Augment like a floating representation of their personality.
He glanced once at Marla; her head was down. She was drawing pictures in the sand with Joachim, laughing as other children swarmed over to join the game. Marla was good with children; she had a gentleness, a calmness that children craved, that they couldn't always get from their loving but high-strung mothers.
Ascertaining that she was safe, not a target of whatever Alexander was coming up with, Khan looked back at the approaching Augment. Then, he stopped talking. His leg came down to join the other. He was on the alert. The change in his bearing acted like a trigger.
Patricia and Julius went silent. They glanced at each other, and then around the fire. Others who had been watching them or even just noticed out of the corner of their eyes stopped whatever they were doing. From them, the quiet spread like an invisible wave. All talk died. Marla looked up.
Alexander came into the firelight. When he spoke, his voice seemed to echo like the clear peals of a bell. "You burned my son, Khan."
Khan didn't even blink. His brown eyes reflected the fire, seeming to burn behind them, like a heart of flames hidden behind a sheet of glass, brittle but hard. They reminded Marla, somehow, of the burning fires of a palace courtyard of execution, or the Temple of Sacrifice under the Aztecs, or even the great torches used to burn the tiger out of the jungle. When he finally spoke, he didn't bother to remind Alexander that his true title was, 'Excellency'. His words were clear and deliberate, catching everyone's attention, exotic with the slight South American accent tempered by the soft tones of India. "Your son is a wastrel."
Marla caught her breath. The crowd seemed to be a cloud of energy, swaying first towards one speaker, and then the other.
Alexander's face darkened. "You did not consult with me."
"I did not need to," Khan's brown hand held itself out to the fire as if to get warm. His body seemed to relax, although the tension did not leave his muscles. His eyes, however, never left Alexander. Marla knew what he was doing; he was giving the man a chance to back off, to stop this when he still could.
"He is my son…you did wrong."
The challenge in his voice felt like a physical punch to Marla's guts. She spoke hastily, impulsively, her tongue running away with her in a desperate attempt to avert disaster, "I'm sure we should've discussed it with you, but…"
"I did nothing wrong," Khan interrupted quickly, as if afraid Marla would say something really stupid if she continued. She felt the displeasure in his voice and inwardly slammed her head against a wall. Her husband, meanwhile, stood up slowly, smoothly, his height and impressive build seeming to tower over her and everyone else, no doubt his intention. His long black hair was loose around his shoulders, giving him a slightly wild and feral look. He repeated himself, "I did nothing wrong, Alexander. Your son disobeyed my commands and endangered the life of another. You know as well as I…he should have been executed."
Marla felt a chill at those unexpected words. She was too petrified to stand up, afraid of being caught on the same level as those two giants, afraid that all the insane, power hungry killers gathered around the fire would look at her and see her.
Alexander merely grinned. "I would say you did wrong, Khan."
Khan's eyes narrowed. The beginnings of his princely smirk appeared on his face. "You may say it if you like. Say it here, in front of everyone. But if you do, you will have the punishment your son deserved."
Dead silence. Then, as if on invisible signal, Julius and another Augment, Grant, moved up behind Khan, arms crossed. They knew who the strongest man was; they knew who would be the victor. But more importantly, they understood why Khan was avoiding a physical competition to the death. Because even if he won, he would be constantly challenged by every Augment who thought himself better than Alexander, constantly forced to kill more and more of them until he was finally killed himself. This meant he was wise. This meant he was worth supporting.
Alexander seemed unaffected. But something barely noticeable wavered in his gaze as he glanced between the two. Then, with a sinking heart, Marla saw his jaw tighten. The greatest killer of the Augments….pride…had stuck its claws into Alexander's heart. Now he was going to die for it. He was going to risk a gamble that the Augments would side with him against what seemed like tyranny and domination, something they would never have otherwise accepted. But this planet had changed them. They were not going to help.
"You did wrong!" Alexander cried, taking a bold step forward, almost frightened by his own daring, the adrenalin flaring in his eyes. Anyone could see, just by looking at him, that all he longed for was a fight to the death with Khan.
He was not going to get it. Julius and Grant rushed forward. Patricia and some other Augments leapt up from the other side. They overwhelmed Alexander before he even had time to cry out in surprise. Marla felt sick, felt like she had just watched one creature swarmed over by a pack of wolves. She stood up on shaking legs, staring at Khan, who had not moved.
He seemed not to have noticed her. The fire in his eyes flared brightly and he breathed through parted lips, looking like a mystic preparing himself for communication with the spirits. Marla knew what he was going to do. She grabbed Joachim with surprising strength, crushing him to herself, leaning over his head to release an agonized hiss, "Khan!"
Khan's eyes flickered. He looked at her and for a split second; she saw surprise there, as if he wondered who she was, what she was doing in his world. She gestured helplessly at Joachim and herself, than at Alexander, who was kicking and roaring like a trapped lion. She had no words.
Not too long ago, Khan would have given her a look of disappointed disgust. "I had hoped you would be stronger."
Now, something close to understanding flashed across his face. He nodded then sharply jerked his head towards a nearby cargo bay.
Marla grabbed the hand of the first child she could touch and dragged both it and Joachim away, fleeing to the shelter of the cargo bay. She shrieked for the other children to follow, praying that they would. She knew they had each seen a few executions already, but she didn't want them to see it again.
As she sat, shivering, with the children crowded around her, all she heard from outside was the mutterings. Khan's clear voice without words as it echoed solemnly out into the night, Alexander's spitting replies, and then…silence.
Dead silence.
Marla lay quiet in the bed, curled on her side, staring wide-eyed at the door like a wary rabbit. Not frightened, but wary. The children had gotten bored long ago, slipping out into the silent camp and, judging by the still-dominant quiet, probably returning to their homes. Joachim was sleeping in his little bed in the corner, his tiny fists clenched.
It was late now. The slight crack at the top of the doorframe was completely black from lack of starlight; at another time, it would have been the heavy, dead shade of being buried under mountains of sand. When that happened, Khan had to climb through the roof and help the other Augments in clearing it out. Or if they could afford to waste the time, they just waited for the next big windstorm.
But it wasn't sand. It was night, black and tired, pushing through the door crack like an oppressive force, clouding the air in shadows, dimming the tiny glow of the heat lamp.
Khan still hadn't come inside. She could imagine him standing with his arms crossed in front of the dying red embers of the fire, his face finely chiseled by the flickering shadows and orange light, his dark eyes hooded under darker lashes. Never moving, never speaking, just staring.
She often wondered what went through his head at times like this. What did you think about after killing a man with your bare hands? A man you'd eaten with, worked with, swore to fight with? A man who had a wife, a son, perhaps more? What did Khan think of? Was he proud of himself? Was he justifying himself? Or was he wondering what Marla would think of all this.
No, he wasn't that stupid. Khan knew exactly what she thought of it all. If only the favor was returned. If only she knew what he thought.
At that moment, boots scraped over sandy metal; a hand grabbed the iron handle with so much force that it squeaked as it bent inwards and the door swung open.
Khan stepped inside and then halted at the threshold. His vaguely illuminated form was large and threatening against the inky blackness behind him. Sometimes, even when he didn't mean it to, his aura seemed to rise around him and imbue others with a sense of respect and submission, of awe and even fear.
Marla stiffened, but it was neither from her husband's threatening aura nor the chilly wind that tore in through the opening. She sat up, the woolen blanket twisting around her legs. Adrenalin began pumping through her body and she didn't know why; her hands shook with unused fury. "Why did you do it?"
Khan spoke quickly and loudly, as if he had been expecting this argument and was determined to win it. "He was a traitor and I gave him fair warning. They all heard me. He heard me. He chose his own way."
"He thought he would win!" Marla cried.
"Then he was stupid as well as treacherous," Khan smirked, and his eyes were hard, "no one can defeat Khan."
Marla wanted to scream. As it was, her voice rose enough to make Khan shut the door behind him. "What does that have to do with it?! You killed him with your bare hands in front of everybody! You're an intelligent being and you wiped out another one without a single thought about it! Do you even care?!"
Khan narrowed his eyes at her, and his voice became low and tight. "Are you saying I did wrong?"
"If so then what are you going to do? Kill me too?!"
Khan's fist clenched. "That is not what this is about! I did not execute him because he disagreed with me, you fool!"
Rage filled her. "You're right!" she was on her knees on the bed now, pointing at him in the dark, "what's wrong is that you don't even care! You didn't care about Attila, Alexander, or any of the people you make miserable on a daily basis! Oh, I understand there are things you have to do…but it sure is easy for you since you don't care about anyone but yourself!"
Khan stalked forward with frightening speed in less than a second; Marla backed away, fighting down her natural fear of a tall, angry, often-violent man. Seeing him kill like that, without a spark of remorse…it seemed to wipe out that tiny, invisible part of him that she had come to believe in…that part of him that was her husband, her horribly arrogant, reassuringly strong, wildly tender husband whom she loved and adored. The man she had fought so hard to find.
Now, she could only see the beast, the primal fury in Khan's dark eyes as he leaned over her in the dark. "You speak of things that do not concern you!"
"I'm your wife!" Marla's mouth was being so courageous she was astonished by it. Everything about you concerns me!"
"ENOUGH!"
Khan's roar made her flinch. He was not used to being disobeyed; much less argued at. He was done arguing, he had given an order, and expected her to obey.
Well, he had another thought coming.
"Alright, you've had enough?! Well so have I!" She slid off the bed with a violent motion, grabbing a blanket and ripping it off the makeshift bed. Without saying a word, bristling with anger, she marched towards Joachim, who was lying wide awake on his blanket bundle in the corner, staring at his parents with big eyes, like a human watching godzilla and titanosaurus do battle.
"What are you doing?!" Khan asked sharply, suspiciously.
Marla plunked down next to her son. "I'm going to sleep!"
He pointed an outrage finger at her. "You will not sleep there! You are my wife, and you sleep with me!"
"I'm Marla McGivers Singh, and I sleep wherever the heck I want! Especially when my husband's being a tyrannical moron!"
Both of them were breathing hard, staring at each other from across the room. Although Marla was too wound up to appreciate it, Khan was at a loss. This was a battle he had never had to fight before, where you had to be right, or at least think you were, and you had to be loving at the same time. He was at a severe disadvantage. He could not execute his wife, or brand her, or pick her up and make her sleep in the big bed. That would just end in disaster, as all his attempts at forcing her had before, such as the time when she had almost died.
The thought sobered him, and he decided to withdraw with as much grace and dignity as he could salvage, to let this stubborn, irritating, loud woman have her way. "Fine!" He picked up a random pillow and threw it at her. "Sleep there like a dog if you will!"
Marla flung the pillow away to the side defiantly, glaring at him. Khan tore off his shirt with a violent motion and threw himself into bed. Marla curled up on the floor.
Silence reigned supreme, feeling about as comfortable as a bed of molten lava. As the adrenalin withdrew, leaving her cold and weak, Marla was able to calm down and actually feel the world around her again. She noticed Khan's magnetic aura, always powerful even when he wasn't talking to you. It filled the room and, at the moment, was uncomfortably warm with rage.
And she sighed, inside. She knew Khan was leader of a violent, headstrong people all crammed together in a stressful environment. She knew he was the only one who could keep them all alive for any meaningful amount of time. She knew he had given fair warning, had tried to avoid the inevitable confrontation. She knew it was a choice, a hard and, from Khan's point of view, even necessary choice. She could understand that.
In fact, she might even be able to forgive him for it, if he'd only show some sign of… remorse. Some sign that the execution he had just committed actually troubled him. Some sign that he actually cared.
Marla's eyes slid open and she blinked in the semi-darkness, resisting the magnetism that wanted to draw her eyelids closed again, the heavy feeling in her body that longed for sleep. She was on her back, staring at the hard, long ribs of metal that made up the rafters. Her blanket had somehow been pulled off her side and she shivered involuntarily,
She wasn't sure what had awakened her. She heard Joachim's soft breathing, interrupted by a whispering rattle whenever he exhaled; the poor boy had a bit of an infection in his chest. She heard the long, drawn out creaking of the cargo bays, a sound she was so used to that it was practically background music to her.
Then, she heard a thump.
Her body stiffened with an alertness that would have made Khan proud. Everything on Ceti Alpha was hostile…weather, people, world…everything. Long ago, it had put her on the defensive. Recently, she had also learned to be prepared to go on the offensive.
Another thump. Taking a deep breath, she slowly, gently turned her head towards the sound; it came from the bed. A quick, jerky movement, unguided, clumsy, like a marionette being yanked on a string. A crack of burdened wood. Another thump. And then a harder one.
Khan twisted violently, his powerful arm slamming into the bed with so much force that Marla was sure his bones must have been ringing. Then his hand bunched into a fist and, without aiming, it crashed into the metal wall of the cargo bay. A hollow bang rang out, the metal dented, and a sharp snap issued from his knuckles.
And he still didn't wake up. Whatever nightmare he was having was far more painful then a shattered fist.
Without even thinking about it, Marla jumped up and rushed to his side, her light hands brushing over his hot shoulders and face, whispering to him in a singsong voice as she tried to call him back. His eyes were sealed tightly shut, but his face was creased in pain and a terrifying ferocity as he instinctively tried to fight off whatever was torturing his mind.
His hand caught hers like a steel trap. She gave a breathless gasp of pain, her knees buckling as he squeezed tighter, tighter…a bone in her palm gave a queer popping sound, and she cried out in pain.
Instantly, Khan was awake and sitting up. The large, cruel hands that had hurt her now mercifully let go and grabbed the bed instead, fingers digging into the blankets. Huge, ragged breathing caused his body to pulsate as he panted, sweating, staring at her without seeing her.
Slightly confused yet still in pain, Marla wordlessly clasped her hand to her chest and stared into his dark brown eyes. The pupils dilated rapidly, showing that a deep part of his mind was still wrestling with the last horrible, phantom shreds of his nightmare.
Silent, breathing hard in the dark, they both stared at each other. Joachim's feet made a scraping sound as he shifted in his sleep, disturbed by his mother's cry but still not as alert as his father. The pain in her hand fading, Marla reached down and touched Khan's lower arm again, trying to say that she was there for him, that she trusted him.
Khan instinctively watched her hand as it moved, his brow furrowed as if his thoughts were far away. Then, he looked back up at Marla. His lips were partly open as he breathed through them, his face was lined with exhaustion, and his eyes were still wide. But as he looked at her, a feeling of peace began to blossom in them.
He was grateful for her presence. His hand took hers again, only this time, it was gentle. Marla did not pull away.
Then he spoke, his voice thick and low, watching her desperately for her response, "I did not…enjoy…killing him."
That was all she needed.
She put her knee on the bed, purposely not looking as the relief flooded Khan's face and the anxious lines around his eyes smoothed away. He scooted to the far side against the wall. As she pulled the covers over herself, she felt the almost imperceptible way he shifted towards her, as if he was instinctively seeking comfort from her.
He didn't thank her; she didn't expect him to. But he did wrap her in his arms, stroke her hair…and finally, just before she felt herself drifting off, she heard him whisper, "I love you."
It coaxed a beautiful smile from her face, a wonderful feeling as she realized that Khan actually needed her…for some reason she never would have thought of, Khan needed her with him to hold his darkest nightmares at bay.
And, she concluded, as she smoothed his dark hair back from his face before falling asleep…she didn't mind in the least.
Marla struggles, legs straining, arms trembling, literally crawling on all fours as she claws her way to the top of an enormous sand dune…it shifts around her feet and tumbles down, down to the bottom. She doesn't dare to look, knowing that if she does, all she will see is a swirling hole of bottomless darkness, gaping below her like an open mouth, waiting hungrily for the first slip she makes, to swallow her helpless body as she falls. To swallow her into darkness and close its sandy lips and bury her alive.
And suddenly, Marla falls heavily forward, There's a weight in her arms…she looks down into the brown little eyes, wide and sweet…chubby cheeks, downy black hair…it's a baby. Her baby.
Instead of joy, pure terror shoots up her body, so strong and sudden that it hurts. She gasps, hugging the baby tightly to herself. She's just found him, and she knows she can't keep him. Because the planet has claimed him for its own.
But no….this time she'll fight. She'll fight to save her son. She digs her boots into the burning sand, her back aching as she forces herself up, and up…up towards the crest.
And then she trips. She falls heavily on her stomach, her chin and lips cut by the burning sands that feel like molten glass. Then, the baby is ripped from her arms. It's happened so many times before, always the same way, and it never stops hurting. He slides silently, swiftly, terribly down the hill, down, down towards the black hole, which widens as if to meet him. She makes a step to run down, to save him, or at least hold him as they die together. But the sand has become a million tiny hands, clutching at her, holding her there. Her baby is swallowed by the sand, and Marla screams.
Even before her eyes opened, Marla felt the warmth of another body, of arms wrapped around her shoulders, holding her up in a sitting position. Her head lolled as a hand cupped her face firmly. "Marla! Marla, my dove…wake up!"
The voice caused her to blindly lean towards him, to return the embrace and hold on for dear life to her husband. Khan held her around the waist, letting her lean on him, letting her breathe.
Marla felt stupid and weak, but safe. Her fingers dug into the knotted fabric of his shirt as she tried to fight of the sinking sensation of falling, falling through the bed and through the floor and under the sand below their feet. "I'm sorry…"
"No," he interrupted her sternly, "do not be sorry."
His hands moved to rub her shoulders, slowly, steadily…it was warm and comforting. Marla concentrated on breathing, on letting go of the fading yet vivid images of what she had forever lost, but never forgotten. The words tumbled from her mouth, "I dreamed about the baby."
The rubbing stopped.
Not noticing, Marla took a deep, shuddering breath. "I feel so stupid," she whispered.
As if her self-criticism forced him to come out of himself in order to protect her, Khan resumed massaging her back. "Do not feel stupid either," they were breathing together now, in and out, in and out. "Dreams…" he spoke thoughtfully, as if he was trying to persuade himself as well as Marla, "they can be blessings or curses, over which we have no power. I myself…" he paused, and Marla opened her eyes, "I have bad dreams as well. I simply do not show them as you do."
She pulled back and looked straight into his face. He saw the look in her blue eyes and glanced away, choosing to gaze at her wild red hair instead. An action that he would never, ever have allowed himself to perform outside of that strange, surreal moment in the dark, between sleeping and waking, between dreaming and gazing, with the one person he trusted and loved most in the whole world held in his arms. It was, simply put, a way of telling her he was lying and didn't want to talk about it.
And Marla understood. This was a lie he had to cling to, for his own sake. Although nightmares attack us when we our at our most vulnerable, he still had to pretend he was strong; too strong to bend and bow, too stubborn to break.
So Marla simply smiled, laying her head back on his chest as she gazed over the side of the bed. Then, a small, scruffy blonde head popped into view. Joachim rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, staring at his parents. They both looked at him as if to say, well?
The answer was obvious, although neither even thought of it. "Mother was screaming…can I sleep with you?"
"No, you may not!" Khan's voice wasn't loud, but it was disparaging, as if Joachim had asked for a dress to wear.
"Yes of course, darling," Marla leaned away and patted the bed between them, shifting her body lengthwise again. Joachim's eyes widened, but he didn't dare to take up the offer without his father's approval.
Khan raised his eyebrows at Marla's abrupt contradiction. "It is unseemly…"
Marla gave him a full-blown glare. Again, that midnight magic seemed to work, as Khan actually surrendered without another protest. He closed his eyes and nodded at his son like a prince giving a great gift. Reverently, Joachim crawled between them and burrowed under the sheets.
Marla kissed her son on his forehead, breathing a prayer of heartfelt thanksgiving that at least, at least this child was spared. Khan lay awkwardly apart from the tiny form for a minute, but then, his large hand experimentally extended over the boy until it wrapped around Marla's waist, sandwiching Joachim between them.
The boy grinned and wriggled importantly, making it loud and clear that he was making himself comfortable. Khan nearly smiled, but managed to turn it into a glare as he poked Joachim gently in the ribs to get his attention. "Just this once," he warned.
Marla grinned at him; he smiled back. Then, they fell asleep. Each one felt warm, safe, and loved, and there were no more nightmares.