Down The Rabbit Hole
Warnings: Mild violence. Explicit content warning below the third line break for those who feel uncomfortable with such content. You won't miss any relevant information by not reading it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Ok, I got bitten by the John Harrison/Khan bug. Sorry Loki! Also, I am completely overwhelmed by the incredible response to this fic! Thank you so much!
Cassandra's gaze travelled up, over calf-length boots just marred by the dust of whatever planet they were on, dark combat trousers which clung to muscled thighs, over a narrow waist and broad shoulders covered by a grey greatcoat, to his face.
Pale, chiselled and sensually beautiful, just as she remembered from her dreams.
But his eyes were the most familiar. How many times had she awoken from dreams and the only detail she could vividly remember was the pair of icy blue, piercing eyes watching her?
He spoke again, that name, the name that was both strange and familiar to her. "Cassia…"
She scrambled backwards, shrinking from him even as every cell in her body was urging her to go to him. "What the hell are you talking about and where are we?" she snapped briskly, as he started towards her.
"Qo'noS," he paused, holding his hands up to show they were empty.
She stared at him. "Are you mad?" she spat. "We're one intergalactic incident away from war with the Klingons and you beam us here!"
"Do not be afraid, Cassia," he told her again; as she forced herself upright, dusting off her uniform skirt. "We are currently in an uninhabited province of the planet. There's minimal chance we will be discovered."
"Somehow, I don't find that reassuring," she snarled, stepping back as he moved forward again, his greatcoat flaring in the high winds of the wasteland they were currently standing in, temple-like monolithic ruins stretching out over their heads and into the distance. "And why do you keep calling me that? Cassia is not my name."
"Who are you?" he breathed.
"Commander Cassandra Mason, first officer of the U.S.S Hotspur, acting captain now you murdered Captain Tregannan," she spat, glaring at him fiercely. "Now, Mr Harrison, how about we get to the part where I take you back to Starfleet to stand trial for everything you've done?"
"Your empty bravado is pointless," he retorted, as an achingly familiar smirk played over his features, the wind ruffling his hair. "You always were spirited."
"Stop talking like you know me. You don't," she snapped angrily, folding her arms as he towered over her. "You are a cold-blooded murderer, Harrison-"
"That is not my name!" he snarled suddenly, jerking her into his arms with an iron hold around her arms. "You know my name, I saw you say it back at Starfleet Headquarters, and somehow I doubt Admiral Marcus divulged the true nature of my attack, so you know another way. Say it!"
"You're hurting me!" Cassandra glared at him, but although the grip felt strong enough to break her arms, she felt a similar strength running through her.
"I really don't think I am, Commander Mason," he growled, drawing out the syllables of her surname and rank mockingly. "If I am harming you, push me away. If not, then say my true name!"
"No!" she growled through gritted teeth, shoving at him. To her surprise, he was forced back a few feet, and she stared at him, shocked. He watched her, intently, as a slow smile, one she knew she really shouldn't like, grew on his lips.
"That would have been impossible for any normal human, which brings me back to reiterate my previous question," he continued nonchalantly, as if she hadn't just shoved someone away who had already shown an inhuman amount of strength. "Who are you?"
"What do you mean, impossible for any normal human?" she asked in turn, panting a little in the thinner atmosphere of Qo'noS. "And why are you so insistent you know who I am?"
Harrison regarded her through those disturbing eyes for a few moments more, before he held out his hand invitingly. "I will answer your questions, Commander, but perhaps it is better done in less inhospitable surrounds," he said, at her suspicious look. "I brought you here, and currently I remain your only way back. I doubt somehow the Klingons will be amenable once they discover a Human female on their home planet."
She glared at him, but took his hand, allowing him to lead her away. They navigated a series of tunnels and wide, cavernous halls, almost cathedral-like in their ruined majesty.
"These were once monasteries, during the Klingons' early history," Harrison explained to her as they walked. "Long abandoned."
He led her up a passageway, the steps crumbling beneath her boots, into a large room, overlooking the complex below them, visible only through a crack in the stone walls. Inside were Starfleet issued field lamps and equipment, including what looked like a phaser pulse cannon, and a rifle. A small bench held more equipment, most of which Cassandra didn't recognise, as she eyed it curiously. A small cot stood behind the bench, and she forced her eyes away from it.
"You've planned this for awhile," she breathed in realisation. He glanced at her as he shrugged off his greatcoat, revealing the simple black shirt of Starfleet Intelligence. "Why did you bomb the Kelvin Memorial Archive? What was Marcus hiding?" she asked suddenly, folding her arms defiantly and eying him the same way she would a crewman who failed to get his report in to her by the deadline. He eyed her, clearly amused.
"The Kelvin Memorial Archive was in fact a Section 31 secret facility building and testing weapons for a war your Admiral Marcus believes is fast approaching," he replied.
"With the Klingons," she finished, as he nodded.
"Weapons I designed and built," he continued, turning his back to her. "You wish to know why I did what I did, Commander?"
He went to a holoscreen, and she was slightly horrified and impressed to realise that he had a direct access to Starfleet records. How did he access the system without alerting Starfleet Intelligence now he was a fugitive?
"The truth is, Commander," he continued, as she watched his back intently. "I was one of 74 genetically engineered individuals created during the wars of the early 21st Century, the Eugenics Wars I believe you call them now. After we were cast out into exile, we froze ourselves in cryotubes, hoping that when we awoke, the galaxy might have changed. Admiral Marcus began aggressively searching unexplored regions of the galaxy for new technologies to use in his war, and he found our ship, the S.S Botany Bay. I was awoken, to be used for my intellect and savagery, while the other 72 were kept as hostages in their cryotubes. When I escaped, I knew Marcus would not hesitate to destroy them, so I responded in kind."
"Assuming I believe any of this fairytale you've come up with, you said 74 of your people were frozen," she began carefully, as he turned back to face her, his face haunted and dark as he stared at her. Something within her rose in response, making her gasp but she held it in. "Who else was awoken?"
"My lover," he replied, his tone suddenly so bleak she ached to comfort him. Tamping the urge down, she listened instead. "Cassia. Our cryotubes were primed to deactivate together in the event of one of us awakening, or our ship entering the pull of a gravitational well of a planet. She awoke with me, and they took her away while we were still weakened by the de-freezing process…I believed her dead, until tonight…"
"You can't possibly think…that I am…her!" she breathed heatedly, stepping back unconsciously as he moved towards her purposefully. He smiled, a knowing, wicked smile that made her shiver.
"Who else would be so drawn to the murderer of her own people, unless of course, she knew they were not her own and he was," he replied, sparking her anger and she lashed out at him, backhanding him across the jaw, drawing blood from his lip. He watched her calculatingly, wiping the blood away with his thumb. "Once again, you show strength where no human would possess it. Physical fitness above species' average, it says on your personnel file,"
He began to pace around her in a circle, his clothes brushing hers as she sucked in a breath. "I make sure to keep in shape," she replied coldly. He went on, his words gliding down her spine like honey on her skin.
"Your mental aptitude and all test scores are perfect," he whispered in her ear. "Your psyche profile, however, is somewhat wanting. A tragic accident which deprived you of your family also deprived you of your memory up until you awoke from the accident, two years ago. Vivid nightmares, dreams, which affect your working life, as well as tendencies for impatience, independence and intolerance of others' weaknesses. Has shown an alarming amount of savagery in close combat situations."
"That doesn't mean anything," she protested quietly.
"Doesn't it?" he whispered, and she saw her image on the screen behind him, her psyche evaluations and vital statistics displayed for him to read. "You know more than you realise, Cassandra."
Images stirred in Cassandra's mind, snatched echoes of conversations, sensations ghosting over her skin as he stepped close, close enough that she felt drowned in the heat emanating from his body.
Panic lanced through her, and she reacted, driving her elbow back into his solar plexus. He fell back with a grunt, as instinct had her dropping into an ankle sweep which landed him on his back on the rocky floor.
Shock made her freeze, as she stared down at Harrison, laid out before her, watching her patiently. That wasn't a move taught by Starfleet hand-to-hand combat instructors; that had been pure instinct, a skill she had no memory of acquiring. Abruptly her world tilted, as she felt his boot hook around her ankle and force her down onto him. She was left straddling his waist, and she grabbed his wrists before he could reach for her, pre-empting his move, and pinned them to the floor above his head.
When she realised what she'd done, she blinked at him in horror, lying beneath her quietly, staring up at her with something like pity in his eyes, and was that…wonder?
"There she is, there's my Cassia," he breathed fiercely. "We would often play games such as this, do you remember?"
"No," she breathed, trying to push away the heat building within her at the feel of his muscled body beneath her own, the strong planes of his abdomen pressing against the tense muscle of her thighs. "Stop this, please."
"I thought you dead, my love," he said quietly, so simply and earnestly, lying passively beneath her, though instinct warned it was only for now. The word dropped from her lips before she could force it back.
"Khan…" she whispered and they both froze, triumph flashing in his eyes, eyes so familiar to her, and she could feel more disorientating flashes of sound and images across her mind's eye. She couldn't fight it anymore. She released his wrists, and what was meant to be just letting him go turned into a sensuous caress, as she trailed her hands and fingers down his taut arms, and settled them on his chest, over his heart, beating twice as fast as a human's.
His hands dropped, and lowered to where her legs bent at the knee against his side, curling around the muscle as he drew them up, making her shudder violently, unable to move her gaze away from his. "I know this is confusing for you, my love," he breathed as he slowly sat up, his hands gliding over her hips to her waist and pulling her forward into him. "Much of what you are has been suppressed, but I can help you regain it and find the truth. I will help you become who you truly are, once more."
"Everything is so confusing, it has been for so long," she gasped weakly, as one hand left her waist to slide into her hair, caressing her skin comfortingly. So familiar. She closed her eyes as his forehead touched hers. "How will you help me?"
They were so close, they were almost kissing. "With my blood," he replied. "A transfusion of my blood should be able to break down whatever chemical blockers Marcus used to suppress your memories and enhanced abilities."
Everything seemed to happen in a daze after that, as Cassandra watched him get to work, taking a sample of his blood from his arm and then transferring it to a hypospray injector. He turned back to face her, and took a step forward.
Restraining the urge to step back from him, she took a deep breath and held out her arm. "Don't be afraid," he murmured soothingly, and she spared him a cold glare.
"I'm not afraid," she replied quietly, pushing aside the part of her screaming at her, telling her not to do this, not to trust him. Some part of her intrinsically did, however, and it was far stronger than the other. A memory of the glee in Marcus's eyes when they fell on her at the briefing washed over her, and her fist clenched. The sick bastard probably found it funny, setting me on Khan, watching me hunt him down, IF Khan's right about this…
"No, you never were," he chuckled, taking hold of her arm and raising the injector.
She was braced for the usual discomfort when the injector forced the blood into her own, but she was unprepared for the burning pain that engulfed her entire body as she cried out. Khan reached out to steady her, but she collapsed to her knees, pressing her face into his abdomen as her screams echoed around the chamber.
Everything was a chaotic rush of noise, light, sound, colour, sensations and images, overwhelming her senses. Fire raced along her every nerve, through her muscles and bones, and every part of her screamed in agony. She heard Khan calling her name, both names, as the blank that had always filled her mind was filled once more, the fog lifted from her mind.
The pain stopped almost as soon as it started, and she panted against Khan's body, every sense raw and aching.
Suddenly sensation overwhelmed pain, and suddenly, she felt everything. The muscled male gently holding her arms, calling her names, was known. The scent filling her senses was known, the sound of his name on her lips was lovingly known.
She looked up, into blue eyes so full of hope and relief, as she smiled, feeling the alien irritation of tears on her cheek, formed by pain. "Khan," she breathed his name, and he smiled, dropping to his knees and hauling her into his embrace.
"What do you remember?" he asked, inhaling the scent of her hair, as she held him close, just to centre herself in a suddenly whirling world.
"It's all so…fragmented, disconnected," she breathed, pulling back slightly to meet his piercing gaze. She laid a hand against his cheek and he inhaled sharply. "I remember…I remember us."
"Then tell me what I said to you, moments after we made love for the first time, and where," he said fiercely, and she smiled, concentrating for second but the images came fast, making her shiver.
"You belong to me now. Never forget it," she whispered. "In the showers at Base 411269, where we first met, in 2012, just before we were shipped out to the battle of Srebrenica."
Khan's breath came from him in a shuddering, long exhale, as he pulled her back to him, cradling her against him. "I thought I lost you forever."
"There are still gaps. My memory has not returned fully," she whispered and she felt him nod.
"They will return in time," he replied huskily, as she glanced up at him. She smiled and reached up, desperate to feel his lips on hers after three hundred years of separation.
His lips were on hers in a microsecond, and she gasped as her body came alive at the sensation. He pulled her up against him, and she moaned, sliding her hand into his hair, ruffling the dark waves, as he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He picked her up and laid her out beneath him on the field cot.
It was uncomfortable but no worse than they had experienced before. She could remember that much, as she moaned when Khan's mouth left her mouth to trail down her neck, his impatient hands pulling apart the sides of her uniform jacket. Her hands restlessly caressed the strong muscles of his back, delighting in the feel of shifting muscle against her palm as she rocked her hips against his.
Teeth sank into her neck and she cried out, an abandoned smile on her lips.
"Three hundred years," she groaned, taking off her uniform jacket and throwing it away herself. "Whose damn idea was it to sleep for three hundred years?"
"Jason's, if I recall correctly," he growled against her, as she yanked his shirt over his head, revealing his pale, perfect torso to her hands and mouth. "Enough talk and just kiss me, woman."
"Finally, you start talking sense," she hissed at him teasingly, inwardly amazed at how quickly she slipped back into their old way of speaking. He grinned evilly, and then his lips were back on hers, his tongue dominating hers in an endless fight that neither ever won. He tore at her shirt and bra, before going for her boots, unzipping them slowly as she laid back, watching him with a coy smirk.
She unzipped her skirt herself, as first one boot fell to the floor, then the other, taking her stockings and underwear with the now shapeless grey material, and throwing them into whatever dark corner she'd thrown her jacket and shirt. She pushed herself up on her knees, flicking her hair loose from its last restraints and reaching for Khan's trousers. The skin-tight material peeled away, and he grasped her wrists, stopping her and pushing her back onto the cot, while he took care of the remainder of his clothing himself.
Then he was back on her, covering her with his warmth, their limbs tangling together as their lips met, and their bodies echoed their kiss, merging together. When she felt him inside of her, she cried out and dug her nails into his back, marking his skin, barely able to feel where her body ended and his began. Just like they were always meant to be.
"Remember this?" he murmured huskily, against her neck as he rocked into her, his superhuman strength and speed making their movements all the more intense as she matched him, stroke for stroke.
"Memory's a bit hazy. Care to remind me?" she joked, as he growled and pinned her to the cot, one hand gently but firmly pressed against her neck, not to harm but merely to hold her as his other traced torturously down her body, grazing her breasts, palm flattening over her abdomen and down, to where their bodies joined. She clasped his wrist to feel his movements as he teased her between thrusts, but he released her neck to pin her wrists above her head, trapping her beneath him. She met his feral grin with one of her own, her eyes darkening as release approached.
She clasped her legs around his hips, using her ever increasing strength to pull him into her, jerking her hips up and drawing a groan from his lips, before he covered her own again in a passionate, bitingly possessive kiss.
Her memory was still fragmented, she was still confused by so much, and her strength had yet to return to so much as tithe of her full power, but for the first time in her life, Cassandra…Cassia, felt whole again.