A/N: Oh. My. God. I cannot believe how long it's been since I've posted anything! I am so, so sorry, dear readers, that it has taken this long to get Chapter 11 up! Real life took over, and I just didn't have time until very recently to beat this into shape. I thank you for your patience, and I do hope nobody has had to go to the ER on my account (I'm looking at you, CaptainCow!). Another big thank you to all reviewers; you guys kept me going through the worst of the writers' block and busiest of Real Life. :) Enjoy! *cue the usual warnings (some language) and disclaimers (I don't own Trek)*
Seventh Circle
Chapter 11
Oh god.
She is using his men to hurt him!
He cannot believe it. He does not want to believe it.
Kirk's hands convulse into fists. His fingernails bite deep into the skin of his palms, the small pain drowned by horror. She was torturing his friends to get to him. Lilith has manipulated him as easily as she has manipulated the others.
All she has to do is hurt his men without rhyme or reason. Trapped in the dank cell, he cannot help them. Nothing Kirk can do or say or give (not even his own life) can save them. The fact that his men are suffering because of him, instead of him, gnaws mercilessly at his psyche. The captain is even denied the small solace of knowing why they are being tortured. All he can do is watch while the excruciating guilt drives him mad.
She does not need to hurt him physically. The emotional agony is enough. One by one, his comrades succumb to death or insanity. The captain is too focused on his men to think about himself. His own strength fades with them. When they are gone, he will have nothing left.
He looks up, forcing his clenched fists apart. Sunlight twinkles mockingly from at him from the captain's bars on the uniform draped over the dying Ensign Chekov. The icy fury flowing through his body forces Chekov and McCoy into a chilling new focus. They are what Lilith had meant when she had said hell is other people. She has used his friends and his comrades to turn her prison into Kirk's private circle of hell.
Kirk's eyes narrow. He must get to her. Lilith has all the cards. She has the communicator, their only hope for returning to the Enterprise. She has the answers that Kirk desperately craves. He has nothing but his life, and she will not take it. Frustration eats through his newfound clarity, and Kirk angrily hits the stone floor with the side of a fist. If only he knew what she wanted, he might be able to--
He abruptly stiffens. He does know what she wants.
Lilith wants him broken like the others. Why else would she put him through this hell?
Maybe he does have something to bargain with after all.
He could give her what she wants. Kirk can certainly play down, out, and desperate. He could pretend she has snapped his spirit. Lilith would need to examine him in person to be sure.
A little hiccup of hope begins to rise in his chest. The burly gray guards have been deaf to anything he has hurled at them (be they invectives or cajoles) so far. Perhaps defiance has been the wrong tact to take with them. If Lilith is trying to snap him psychologically, then they almost certainly had orders to look for the opposite. The guards weren't ignoring him, but waiting for signs that her torture is working.
He could pretend like it has. With a little (okay, a lot) of luck, it just might work.
The sound of distant footsteps makes the decision for him. Kirk's head snaps towards the sound. They are coming for Spock. His plan is half-baked at best, but he is out of time.
"Spock!" he hisses.
The Vulcan is crouched in his meditative position. The green hypo marks on his neck stand out lividly against the pale skin visible above the collar of his uniform. For a moment he looks so fatigued that Kirk almost reconsiders his plan. But the first officer's eyes open wearily in acknowledgement, and Kirk is committed.
The captain takes a deep breath and lowers his voice to a whisper. "I need you to pick a fight with Bones."
He knows it sounds insane. He has been doing everything in his limited power to keep his first officer and his CMO from killing each other, and Spock knows it. The Vulcan's dark eyes widen with surprise. His incredulous expression speaks volumes, though he only utters a single word. "Captain?"
Idea-images are flashing through Kirk's mind so quickly that he has trouble articulating them. The more fuss McCoy makes, the less closely Kirk himself will be studied. Spock, with his greater Vulcan strength, might be able to overpower one of the guards if he is given the element of surprise.
Kirk rephrases his request, irrationally frustrated that the Vulcan cannot just follow his reasoning. "After they take me out of the cell, pick a fight with Bones."
Puzzled, Spock glances at the doctor. Kirk senses his silent question and shakes his head. Bones will only complain about the risk and demand explanations Kirk does not have time to give. Besides, he will play his part best if he has no idea what Kirk is going to do.
The Vulcan is clearly uncomfortable with the idea of intentionally starting a fight with the unsuspecting, volatile doctor. "Captain…Jim—"
"Just do it, Spock," Kirk interrupts quietly, cringing at the volume of Spock's voice. "As soon as I'm down the hall. When the guard comes to break it up, do that pinch thing, take his phaser, and get out of the cell. Wait for me as long as you can."
Spock looks away, his face faintly furrowed with indecision and anxiety. He gingerly flexes the mangled knuckles of his right hand. Jim understands. He is afraid that he will be unable to control his own temper if he provokes McCoy. For his part, Kirk is painfully aware of what he is asking of his first officer. If he loses control, the consequences could be fatal for McCoy and psychologically devastating for the Vulcan. The risk is appalling, but Kirk doesn't have a choice. He needs the diversion. Spock needs the phaser.
"She—they—have a communicator, Spock!" the captain adds desperately, "One of ours. I think I can get it, but I need your help."
"A communicator?"
The intonation of the question reveals he has made the connection between communicator and escape. Kirk nods, his eyes glued to the Vulcan's grimy face. Spock glances at McCoy, unconsciously flexing his injured hand again. He straightens slightly before looking back at Kirk. His face reluctantly smoothes into an expression close to its usual calm as he musters the last of his strength.
"I am uncertain that particular technique will be effective against Janusians," he observes quietly, in a passable imitation of his usual dispassionate monotone. Kirk can hear still an undercurrent of brittleness in his voice that belies the effort behind the words.
"With any luck, it'll only be one Janusian," Kirk replies. Spock raises an eyebrow. Kirk manages a half-smile at the familiar expression. "Whatever happens, Spock, don't go with them!"
The Vulcan nods his understanding. With a guilty glance at Bones, Kirk settles back against the wall and arranges his features. The far door slams, causing them both to flinch. McCoy wakes with a jolt at the sound. The doctor rubs a hand blearily across his face before turning his attention down to Chekov.
Kirk does not look up as the cell door creaks open. Spock's eyes warily follow as the Janusians step over the threshold. They ignore the pathetic figure slumped beside the door. He is insignificant stripped of his three bars and Command gold.
Shadows bob weirdly across the floor as one of them gestures at the Vulcan. Spock does not move. The Janusian steps towards him with a slight snarl—
An imploring hand seizes the gray-skinned ankle. "Please."
His voice is little more than an abject whisper. The Janusian glances at his comrades before trying to shake the hand off with obvious disgust. Kirk clings to it gamely, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Please…I've had enough…."
McCoy looks up from Chekov in surprise. The captain ignores him for the benefit of the three pairs of crimson eyes now studying his every move. He has to sell the act or they are all going to die in this hellhole. "Please…I've had enough….I can't take any more—"
"What the hell are you doing?!"Bones cries, cutting off Kirk's pleas. "They aren't here for you!"
Kirk remains deaf to his friend's protest. "Please…take me to her. I've had enough."
He can hear the Janusians muttering to each other softly above him. Shadows bob across the floor as they look from him to McCoy and back again. Kirk cannot understand their words, but there is no mistaking the interest in their voices. He can sense he is close to having them convinced.
McCoy can sense it, too. The alarm in his voice grows into genuine panic. He scrambles to his feet. "Jim, stop! You can't--"
"Please!" Kirk nearly wails, allowing his voice to crack and hating himself for it. "Take me!"
He holds his breath, willing the Janusians to act. McCoy is saying something, but Kirk has ears only for the guards standing over him. Rough hands grasp his upper arm. Kirk relinquishes his grasp on the gray-skinned ankle as they wrench him up from the floor. Bones takes an anxious step closer to his friend. The smallest of the three guards levels a phaser at his chest menacingly.
McCoy looks frantically to Spock, who has been coolly observing the drama from his accustomed corner. "Do something!"
"Such as?" Spock's frigid retort is deliberately shot with the veiled contempt that drives McCoy wild. Only Kirk can hear the faint note of reluctance in his voice. McCoy's eyes narrow angrily as the Vulcan stands.
Another pair of hands seizes Kirk's other arm. He sags limply between the two guards, hanging his head. Bones tears his gaze from Spock and looks back towards Jim as the aliens haul Kirk towards the cell door.
"Put him down! Jim!" he protests. Spock's hand suddenly grasps his shoulder, preventing McCoy from going after Kirk.
"That is enough, Doctor!" the first officer snaps, an edge in his voice. Bones savagely shakes his hand off. Kirk catches a brief glimpse of McCoy rounding furiously on the Vulcan before the cell door slams shut behind them.
It is in Spock's hands now. Kirk tries to swallow his anxiety, praying the Vulcan can keep himself together long enough. God knows Bones is not going to make it easy.
They proceed onward, with two of the Janusians half-dragging, half-marching the captain, and the third bringing up the rear. Raised voices follow them, individual voices and words blurring together. They just reach the far door when McCoy's voice breaks through the echoing interference.
"GET YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF ME, YOU GREEN-BLOODED --!"
His shout is cut off abruptly, and followed by the unmistakable scuffles and yells of a fist fight.
The biggest Janusian steps through the door as if nothing has happened, dragging Kirk with him. The others follow. Kirk's stomach twists anxiously. One of the guards has to go. Lilith has to know the risk that Spock could easily kill one of the others if a fight broke out. Wonderfully agonizing as it would be for Kirk if his men killed each other, they were more valuable alive. She cannot use the dead as leverage against him. He grits his teeth, willing himself to stay relaxed. Surely she would have left orders to this effect…
One of the guards pinioning Kirk finally barks an order to the others. The smallest of the three makes a sound of annoyance and doubles back, unholstering his phaser as he stalks irritably in the direction of the cell. The other two guards drag Kirk inexorably onward, not needing to wait for their comrade while burdened with such a cooperative captive. A wave of silent relief washes over him as he hears the sound of the door behind them being wrenched open. He does not allow himself to think about what might happen if anything goes wrong.
Their destination is closer than the captain would have thought. Perhaps his perception was distorted by the claustrophobic hood from his last visit. An ornately decorated door opens before them, revealing a richly furnished room with blue-gray curtains. Kirk instantly recognizes the curvaceous figure silhouetted against windows glowing with the reddish light of sunset. The knot of anxiety in his stomach eases slightly. His gamble has paid off.
The guards awkwardly dump his passive body near the center of the room. The captain allows himself to sink weakly to the floor, his head hanging in feigned defeat. Lilith steps closer to him with a whisper of fabric and click-clack of feminine heels. Her cultivated air of detached interest has vanished, replaced with sinister excitement.
Kirk's heart begins to hammer nervously in his chest. Bloody highlights gleam from her lacquered nails as she reaches down to grasp his chin. His skin crawls at the touch. He does not resist as she tips his face upward and forces him to meet her predatory golden eyes.
He holds her gaze briefly before ruefully averting his eyes. A defeated man would not look into her eyes for long, and Kirk cannot risk blowing the charade. Lilith's firm grasp keeps his head from moving, though, as she carefully studies his face. Apparently she is pleased with what she finds. Lilith glances over his head at the two underlings standing slightly behind her prize.
A pink tongue moistens her generous lips before she speaks. "Leave us."
Damn it man, I'm a writer, not a reviewer! :-)
As usual, reviews will be rewarded with an e-tribble (a short preview of the next chapter)! And I SWEAR it will not take nearly as long to get Chapter 12 up!