I know that it has been about a year since I last updated, and I very much apologize. Thanks so so much for those of you who have been patient and supportive during my hiatus. I am finishing up a Master's degree and in the process of applying for PhD programs, so my life has been nothing but academic writing and studying lately. However, with a small break in between the summer and fall semester, I found a little bit of time for creative writing. I am sorry that this chapter is short, but please enjoy. Also, a quick disclaimer that there is a brief moment of self-harm.

Thanks again! You are all the best! :)

Khan had built this escape pod to be superior to any other. It could travel for long stretches without the need to refuel, since it ran on a mixture of fuel and star power. And though he had built the pod under the threatening orders of Marcus, he felt a sense of pride and satisfaction that it was able to benefit him and his loved one rather than Starfleet. It was a twisted, heart-breaking irony, but a small victory for Khan all the same. For months, Carol and he had been travelling in a direction that other ships would be wary to go - a direction devoid of fuelling stations - in the hopes that they could reach a place Starfleet would not be able to reach, that Starfleet would not even think possible to reach. And there he and Carol could begin their new life, could become powerful enough to right the universe's wrongs. There, he and Carol could leave the painful scars of the past to sink into the recesses of their broken hearts, never forgotten but not so raw.

That a Starfleet ship had successfully pursued them was a bitter shock to Khan and he was irritated, consternated, and incredibly concerned. A sour taste akin to bile curled in the back of his throat as his nightmare echoed in the corners of his mind. For a second, he was paralyzed with stifling insecurity and goosebumps erupted on his pale, porcelain skin. But now was not the time for him to dwell on his consternation. He had to act. He had to prove himself. He had to protect all that he had left of joy in his life. His heart burst in his muscular chest – burst with need, desire, love, passion, anger, dread, worry.

Then there was a boom that emitted in the distance and yet was so power that it rattled at the escape pod – the Starfleet ship was firing at them. Khan peered into the distance to see an orange flame quickly growing and heading straight for the pod. Very advanced, very efficient, very fast weaponry. Carol gasped and her strong blue eyes widened in a mixture of wonder and anxiety as she saw the rapidly growing flame. She opened her mouth to say something but, before she could form any words, Khan was throwing his firm chest across hers and pushing her down onto the floor with a crash, shielding her as best as he possibly could as the advanced weapon hurtled past them, clearly fired by an inexperienced marksman. Though the weapon did not hit them, it still whistled by at terrifying speed, sending the pod dancing a wild waltz up and down, side to side, and filling the room with the disgustingly hot and sticky scent of burning materials. Khan could feel Carol's body heaving with nausea as the pod continued to jiggle and spin spastically.

What to do? What to do? What to do? We are not safe, Carol. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. Must do. Must do. Must do. Do what? Through the sweat, the heat, the stubborn lock of dark hair that stuck to his forehead and fell into his right eye - through the blur of the spinning universe outside the windows of the pod – through the cacophony of noise and terror and sickening stress – through it all, Khan looked down at Carol. She was his stability, his family, his passion, and her womb harboured more stability, family, and passion. A plan formed in his mind, a surefire plan. He would not lose. He would be a protector. He would be a victor. He would be powerful. Yes, he knew what he had to do and there was absolutely no time to waste – Starfleet would inevitably continue to fire at them. With one last glance into Carol's frightened, wide, beautiful blue eyes, Khan kissed her with a forceful, possessive passion and then he was up, his long legs carrying him in wide strides to the far end of the pod.

"Stay right there on the floor. Do not move!" he barked in a gruff, terrifying voice. Carol was so overcome with nausea at the spinning of the pod that she could not do anything but obey.

Then Khan was bent down and rummaging through a cupboard, throwing utensils onto the floor with careless and harsh abandon. A sigh of satisfaction indicated that he had found something he wanted and, as quick as Carol could blink, there was a blade in his hand and a syringe at the ready by his left thigh. Suddenly, he was slicing into the perfect, porcelain skin along his arm, grunting at the pain but with his face serious and determined. Blood leaked from the fresh wound, and Khan dropped the red-stained knife to catch the drops in the syringe before his arm re-healed itself.

Another boom rang through the air and shook at the small pod, this time much closer, so close in fact that the pod was lit in a wash of orange fire for a few seconds and Carol's vision was blinded with nothing but flames, flames, flames. When the orange light faded, Khan was standing over top her, the blood-filled syringe firm in his hand. He was whispering, "You trust me and I will not fail you in doing this," and the syringe was coming down towards the flesh of her blooming stomach.