Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek.
AN: Warning- This chapter hurt my heart (and head) to write. Descriptions of child abuse in second half. The first part of this, some of you may be after my head, too. *ducking.*
AN: Your reviews, etc, have been wonderful. Thank you!
Chapter 9
Uhura would be fascinated to see Jim caught off guard by a woman.
Since meeting Jim at the bar in Iowa, Uhura had often scorned Jim and his way of using women, which never cultivated any deep relationship. Until, she had told Spock, she'd been under his captainship and caught a glimpse of what Jim tried to hide- a vulnerability that he'd never admit to having.
A more definite crack in Jim's armor came as he recuperated from the radiation and blood transfusion after Dr. McCoy revived him with Kahn's blood. Spock did not need Uhura's observations to affirm his own- Jim Kirk shockingly shied away from women after his dance with death. Are you losing your touch, Jim? Uhura had asked him. After that, she teased Jim, in their familial sparring.
It appears Jim has met his match in Dr. Marcus. Spock had not held back his smirk because he had not expected anyone to leave Jim speechless.
As much as Dr. Marcus and Jim's kiss enveloped all the passion and hope two humans could possibly desire, the kiss more importantly initiated the task he'd given Dr. Marcus.
She succeeded. Jim's hands, still slightly tired from the fight, had been easily manipulated without his keen sense of awareness. The kiss was as much as a distraction as it was real. The only reason Dr. Marcus agreed to kiss Jim within the confines of the brig cell was to save his life, implications that it would be of traitorous constitution aside. Spock had given her the Klingon made cuffs as she passed him by the entrance to the brig. She'd hidden them behind her with both her hands until she had properly guided the moment.
The kiss broke, both Jim and Carol slightly breathless.
"You should go, now." Jim's face had turned gray. "I can't fight this anymore, Carol. I- "
He jerked his hands. "What the hell? What did you do?"
"I'm sorry, Jim," Carol whispered as she backed into Spock in her attempt to leave the brig.
"You cuffed me? Why?" Jim implored with broken astonishment.
"I'm sorry, Jim," she said a second time.
"Okay, okay. I think I understand. You needed to. Right?" His face distorted in confusion. "Wait. What the hell?" His second attempt to break the cuffs failed, and in his frustration he rammed his arms into the wall. "Dammit. Get these off me!"
Carol cupped a hand to her mouth in horror as Jim continued to self-inflict pain in his effort to escape.
"Jim, they will not come off. Sit down," Spock ordered. Jim flew at the wall in a direct hit to his hands, and Spock flinched at the damage Jim did to his body. They will be deeply bruised thereafter.
"Dr. Marcus, please leave the brig immediately."
"I understand, sir," Dr. Marcus said quietly, slipping around Spock, giving Jim a last look of longing and guilt.
"I. Will. Get. Them. Off." With each emboldened word Jim slammed himself into the wall, a desperate attempt. "I do not know who you are, but you cannot keep me in here!"
Spock waited until Dr. Marcus was at the outside edge of the window to speak with her again.
"Dr. Marcus, inform Dr. McCoy I will perform a mind meld with Jim," he ordered swiftly. "In the event I am unable to completely assist Jim in a mind meld, please inform security to break the connection two hours within proximity to Revlair. I do not know how long this will take. Dr. Marcus..."
"Yes, sir." She hesitated at her spot outside the window, giving a worried glance at Jim, who momentarily ceased beating himself against the sides of the brig and was instead scanning the left side of the brig cell, top to bottom. Jim is devising a way to escape. He is in slight physical distress. He will reach his peak in maximum physical strength within three hours.
"It was necessary to save him."
"I know, but I hate myself for doing that to him," she said. "I just want Jim back."
So do I.
Everything in her voice told Spock she still cared deeply for Jim. Spock wanted nothing more than to give him back to her for her sake, but mostly for Jim.
Dr. Marcus walked past and Jim rushed to the window. Neither Spock nor Dr. Marcus could ignore his tremendous rage when he slammed his chest and shoulder into the window to look at Carol Marcus. His eyes were not the brilliant blue so familiar to them but a frigid black deep with the onset of stage three of the drug.
A most disturbing side effect Dr. McCoy had failed to mention.
"Oh my God," whispered Dr. Marcus. As she touched the area of the window close to his face, Jim's eyes followed the movement of her fingers and he frowned slightly when she paused. "Jim," she pleaded.
"You bitch," came Jim's snarled whisper at her. "I will find you. You will regret this." He kicked the window, and then turned his back to her as swiftly as he had rushed to the window.
"Now, what?" Jim shouted at Spock. "Got a woman to do your dirty work, and you plan on keeping me in here?" Jim still strained to get his hands out of the cuffs. "I will find a way out."
"Jim," said Spock.
"Don't call me that."
"It's imperative that you cooperate, or- "
"Or, what? We fight?"
"I do not wish to fight you, Jim."
"You're Vulcan, so you should know the outcome. You figure it out. What will a fight lead to?"
"It is now more probable that you shall win," commented Spock. This Jim displayed sarcasm, as his Jim did.
"Yet, you stand here, debating it."
"Jim- "
"Don't call me that." Jim shouted. "I don't want to hear that name." He cringed and backed up a step.
Spock, seeing how Jim was affected, said it again. "Jim."
"Stop it," Jim's chest heaved.
"Why does the name bother you?
"I...it...just leave me alone." Jim's voice cracked. His coal-colored eyes wavered.
"Jim, please sit down." Spock spoke softly as Jim's hesitation gave him a small but increased probability Jim would not be provoked to violence.
"I can't...I don't want..." Jim stopped his mental struggle and the crease in his brow relaxed. "No. No, you listen."
Jim defied Spock's logic and stepped towards him, the same hatred in Jim's eyes Spock had seen in sickbay returning. No more recognition. No more struggle. No more Jim. The man before him was a disturbed and violent human- the threat to the Enterprise Spock must impede. This man had the glittering, black eyes of destruction. This man was also the friend Spock carried an overwhelming, unmatched need to restore.
"Let me out, or we will fight and you will die."
The Vulcan would be tough to fight, no doubt, based on the fact he was strong, logical, and trained in advanced hand-to-hand combat techniques.
Logic will not outlast my strength.
The Vulcan had been efficient in the removal of the blonde-haired woman from the cell after she'd cuffed him.
I will find her.
He rid himself of his rage for a moment to adjust to his surroundings, finding the vents particular intriguing if he had to use them. Since this was a starship, they'd lead to a variety of interesting places, and James had an intuition he knew exactly where the hangar was through this series of vents.
It will be a tight fit. But nothing James could not handle after tearing covers off with his cuffed hands.
The cuffs.
Those were a different story. Having his hands captured in such a way had developed an overwhelming desire in him to hurt the responsible party. And then find the release trigger for his hands' prison.
You will die.
The Vulcan had surely instigated it. Yes, he will die. The woman, she would pay in some other way. Terror, perhaps. A slow, taunting teasing.
The more James contemplated, the greater satisfaction he had for what was to come.
I will enjoy this fight.
James' feet practically lifted in anticipation, having felt the rush at the Vulcan's waiting for him to make the first move. It would be the logical choice for the Vulcan and James would allow it. I will still win. He gave the Vulcan another moment, to feed his confidence. Then, a few seconds before he rushed at the Vulcan, a mocking smile came to James' lips. At that, the Vulcan's countenance became severely troubled.
He purposely slid on his feet at the last possible instant to knock the Vulcan onto the ground and avoid any arm swings and punches. Unexpected or not, the Vulcan hit the floor hard. James shifted his legs to put the Vulcan's neck in a lock and squeezed.
The Vulcan stunned him.
The jolt was sharp and angered him all the more. Why were they after him, anyways? He did not know them. Nonetheless, he wanted nothing more than to continue in a physical tirade. He could not stop himself.
He attacked the Vulcan with fervor, restricting his oxygen and crushing his throat. Hearing him gasp amused him. The panic set in the Vulcan's eyes as James moved himself to a half-sitting position to see the Vulcan suffer.
Did you see what he did?
You never loved her!
Words and images he vaguely remembered rushed to his consciousness. He and The Vulcan. Only the Vulcan was murderously choking him instead.
Spock? Was that the Vulcan's name?
The Vulcan lifted a shaking hand and before James could move out of the way, he was stunned repeatedly, four times total. It was enough to loosen the fierce grip on his enemy's neck and be promptly flipped onto his stomach.
The Vulcan leaned over James, pressing his weight on his torso and hands. With a fresh vehemence, James thrust his head back. It met Spock's head with a crack.
James shoved his deadweight enemy off his back.
The head pain was excruciating. Spock came out of the wave of stars pounding him.
Jim dislocated his left shoulder and was halfway done bringing his arms from the back of his body to the front. He will capable of more brutality than before when he succeeds.
Spock raised himself to his feet and barreled towards Jim, making contact as soon as Jim pulled his cuffs into his chest. They crashed against the window of the brig. Jim's hands whipped at Spock but he swerved enough to miss the hit. Jim was thrown to the wall as Spock thrust one arm into the area Jim would be most vulnerable- his dislocated shoulder.
Under Spock's hand, Jim's body reacted to the pain in a way his Jim would- with shock and determination. Despite Jim's trembling, Spock would not be dissuaded, not even by the torment in his friend's dark eyes. Spock assaulted the painful shoulder with as much force as possible.
Jim's face has achieved a shade of white. His pain tolerance has decreased by 45% as I apply force to his shoulder. He will no longer be in control. It is time. Spock applied the nerve pinch on the same side of Jim's injury even as Jim gave a feeble attempt to push Spock away with his cuffed hands.
As Jim's eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness, Spock caught him before he hit the floor and laid him on the bench with careful precision. The shoulder will have to wait, although Dr. McCoy will surely have my head. The cuffs still enabled, Spock knelt, sorrowful to perform a mind meld on an unwilling party. For that was, in essence, what Jim was. Unwilling.
As he came into Jim's mind, Sam was guarding Jim. Sitting in the darkness beside a wide-eyed, fearful six-year old Jim, Spock could make out through the cracks of the closet door a young but still-older brother redirecting the rage of the boys' Uncle Frank. Spock saw the short tuffs of Jim's breath carve the air. It was bitterly cold, as if the temperature system within the entire building had malfunctioned. Jim's lips were hued with blue and he shivered in his lightly-layered clothed body. Spock touched Jim's ice-cold hands he had folded at his knees. The boy looked up at Spock with familiar vibrant blue eyes.
Fear. An overwhelming fear.
Spock looked at the hands he touched. Scratches, contusions, burns. Jim inched away from Spock.
"This happens every night," whispered Jim. "Sam. Frank. Sam, he tries to protect me."
The door scraped open bringing with it the brightness of the adjacent room. It revealed the blood-shot eyes of Jimmy, the worn-out gaze of Sam, and a passed out Frank on the couch. Several bottles lay empty on the floor, another held limply in Frank's hand dangling off the couch.
"Jimmy," said Sam.
"Sam? Did he hurt you?"
"Naw, not too bad. Come on, little bro. You have a little time to eat before he wakes up." Sam pulled Jim up from the floor the closet. As Jim stepped into the light of the room Spock saw what covered Jim's hands had not failed to litter the boy's arms and legs as well.
"Good-bye," Jimmy said to Spock. "Don't come back. It's not safe here."
Jimmy closed the door behind him, an irrepressible darkness settling in Spock's soul.
For a moment, Spock could not keep his emotions in check and his hand pounded the wall. Seeing Jim so little, so scared, yet so brave angered him. Spock heard a shout, and he opened the door himself.
"You get back here, you little..." Uncle Frank spun a now eight-year old Jimmy around by a yank on his shirt. "You are a no-good little brat." The adult hand smacked Jimmy to the floor. Blood came from the boy's ear. Spock did not think as he rushed over to Jim's side.
Uncle Frank kicked at Jimmy, but Spock surrounded the little boy with his body to get the brunt of the abuse.
"I will not let harm come to you today," Spock whispered.
Time after time Jim's uncle beat Spock with his boots. When he stopped, Spock could not move- every inch of his body ached. It was his head which felt like a million, shattered pieces.
"I'm sorry," said Jimmy, tears coming down his face. "You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have done that. Sam went home with friends after school today. He does that almost every day now."
Jimmy rubbed away his tears. "He'll pass out again, and then I'm going to my favorite spot to stay the night."
You don't spend the night here?
"I can't sleep when Frank's in the house. Not without Sam," Jimmy sobbed. "I want my mom. I hate that she left. I just want my mom!"
Spock pulled Jim close, an embrace he would gladly give a distraught child. The boy curled in close until his crying ceased.
"I'm sorry," Jim said. "I shouldn't be crying. We need to go."
Spock followed young Jim up the stairs to his bedroom, where Jim took a backpack from under his bed. Posters of starships flooded a single wall, including one of the Kelvin. "That was my dad's ship. He died saving my mom's life." Jim frowned. "You knew that, though, right? Everyone knows that. Anyways, we use the window in my room to get out of the house."
Why, Spock saw no logic in it, for no tree grew outside for climbing down neither did any other structure exist within close proximity to aid in their escape. Child-Jim was curiously just as dangerously illogical as he was when captain.
As Jim climbed out, it was clear to Spock the boy freehanded the entire way down the old farmhouse. Spock followed in the same manner. From then on, Jim did not speak until they had walked, limping, a few miles to reach a library and study complex adjacent to the school in Riverside.
Jim broke in through a side door using his own PADD with ease.
Fascinating.
More fascinating was the lack of sleep Jim got in the extensive library. "I don't sleep much," shrugged the eight year old. "It's better to keep my mind busy." And, indeed, Jim's mind took in as much information within the midnight hours at the library. It rivaled what Spock had as a Vulcan child educated in logic. Jim worked, also, on his PADD, and as Spock raised an eyebrow in question when he saw different equations completed years ahead for a human eight year old, Jim flustered his response. "Um, just getting ahead in school."
Hours later, both slept uncomfortably on chairs in a partially abandoned room.
"Spock, we have to leave. Security." Jim lightly shook his arm.
Leaving the library unrested and sore from Frank's rage the day before, Spock and Jim stepped immediately back in the farmhouse, upstairs in Jim's room.
A door slammed, and Spock heard Frank yelling up the stairs about policeman.
Jim breathed heavily as he sat on his bed, pressing his ribs. He looked older now, maybe ten, and too resigned to the battle forthcoming. "You better go. This won't be pretty."
Spock turned to the bedroom door as Frank stormed in.
"You think you're so smart, telling those cops about me." Frank yelled, pulling Jim up by his arm. The flinch young Jim gave struck Spock as something so innate to child-Jim that Spock's stomach churned.
"I didn't, they jus..."
"Shut up!" Frank pushed Jim on the rug, and reached to tear the Kelvin poster off the wall. "You're a no good liar, and I don't know why my sister had to leave you here with me. You're brother didn't give me much trouble, but you..." Frank slapped him across the face, causing Jim to lie prostrate on his rug. "They notice you at school, because you're too smart for your own good," Frank said sarcastically. "They want James T. Kirk to be tip-top shape for whatever they want you to perform in. Like a dog."
Frank sneered and spit on the boy. He left Jim trembling on the floor.
"Jim," said Spock softly, going to him. He picked the young boy up and placed him on the bed. Jim refused to look at him.
"Really, I don't know why you are staying. Everything hurts around here." Jim whispered. His blue eyes filled but no tears fell. "Sam left me, Spock. He just left."
Spock sighed and looked at the empty spot on the wall where the Kelvin poster once occupied. He walked to where it lay in pieces and picked them up.
"It's no use," said Jim. "I put it up, he takes it down. I don't know why I bother."
Spock held those pieces of Jim's life in his hand for a moment, thinking of all he learned about his friend.
"Spock, my mom's here."
Spock looked up in surprise. Jim had a somber smile, and looked approximately another year older. Eleven. "I have a plan."
When James T. Kirk has a plan, one must watch out.
Winona Kirk was in the kitchen, not cooking, not listening, not doing anything but staring out the window above the sink. Jim had set the table and waited in his chair for his mother. When Spock heard Frank's car in the driveway, he glanced at Jim, whose face whitened.
"I thought Uncle Frank was out for the evening."
"No, it's his house, you know Jimmy," his mother muttered. She turned, a fake bright smile on her face. "Now, tell me about school."
Jim nervously began to talk about chess club, but Frank rushed in, pushing Spock aside and not even acknowledging Winona.
"I was almost arrested today at work," he fired at Jim. Spock's chest tightened with fear. Jim stood so fast from his seat his chair toppled.
"I didn't do any-"
"There's no way anyone would arrest me unless you blamed them for your..accidents." Frank sneered, not noticing the way Winona had now tuned into the conversation.
"Frank, what are you talking about?"
"Your son," said Frank, turning to her, "is a klutz and tattles to his teachers it's my fault."
"Jimmy?" Winona's eyes held questions for both her brother and son.
"I didn't, mom," Jim answered quietly. He shook his head. "I don't say anything when I get hurt. They just see it."
"You little liar," Frank yelled. He went to Jim in a rage and fired a fist in his face, knocking Jim unconscious to the floor.
Winona, shocked at the horror of it all, fainted.
Within seconds, Spock and Jim were in a garage. It was dark and a tarp covered what would be a vehicle.
"Mom is off planet again. As soon as she left, I heard Frank talking to a guy about buying this." Jim tugged at the tarp angrily. After a minute of struggling and glaring at the tarp and even Spock at times, Jim unveiled a corvette. The car glistened its redness in the dark.
It is special to child-Jim. That much Spock knew, as he judged the adoration on the boy's face.
Jim's fingers caressed the hood and he squinted at some fairly invisible spot. He took a cloth from his pocket and rubbed the car carefully.
"Now's the time, Spock. He wants to sell this, my father's damn car!" Jim shouted the phrase at the end. It hurt Spock's ears.
Jim popped the garage door open. The mid-morning sunlight hit both their weary faces.
"Get in, Spock," ordered Jim, in a familiarly commanding voice. Spock could not hold his surprise when Jim sat behind the wheel. "You can't stop me, you know. This already happened. It's a memory. You don't want to stop me, Spock. You'll see."
Jim started the antique, revving the engine. "This means war," he said and gunned it out of the garage.
As they drove the dry country roads, Spock felt everything this boy Jimmy was experiencing within his heart and mind. Power over Frank, for one. Exhilarating freedom. And yes, fear.
Those feelings grew as Jim let the top of the car go off in the wind and yelled with the music. At eleven, Jim had just reached the height where he could assume two-thirds the proper control of the car and he did so surprisingly well.
"Don't mind me, Spock. It's a reckoning. It was coming," Jim told Spock. The siren and voice of the robocop did not deter Jim.
"Citizen, pull over." It was an order no boy should have ignored. But, of course, child-Jim refused to listen.
Had the situation not seemed so grim, Spock would have found Jim's logic fascinating. Jim did pull over, but kept going, crashing a barrier. Jim gave him a small grin.
"When we get closer, jump." The car accelerated and Spock saw, finally, where Jim was taking them.
A quarry. Jim was driving them to the only known quarry in Iowa. It was half a mile deep, and by the speed Jim had just initiated, their chance of surviving a jump while the car propelled forward was impossibly low.
No. This is not what Jim is doing.
It was not fascinating- it was a horrific part of Jim's past. Stupid. Honorable in an illogical way. Completely shaping the man he knew today.
They were closer, too close, and Jim shift the gear and jumped. Spock found himself now merely a spectator beside the robocop.
Eleven year old Jim gripped the dust with sheer will, defining then the course of his life as his father's car crashed into the quarry. He showed no fear as he clung for survival at the edge of the cliff. He pulled himself up, rebellion surfacing in every inch of Jim's posture.
His stoicism comes from knowing he defeated Frank, and in a way that only Jim Kirk could.
"Is there a problem, officer?"
Confident. Leaps before looking.
"Citizen, what is your name?"
A wind swept past Spock, lifting more dust and wisps of Jim's hair.
A reckoning.
"My name is James Tiberius Kirk."
"James Tiberius Kirk."
The mind meld broke as Spock heard Jim breathe his own name and two security guards surrounded them.
"Sir," said one guard. "We are two hours within Revlair."
"Lights to 30%." The meld had taken a toll on Spock, reviving his emotional awareness to a place he'd not expected, rivaling what he felt with Vulcan's destruction as well as witnessing Jim's death.
Jim. He would be feeling the effects as well, and if he would be with Spock in the present or still under the influence of the drug, only time would tell. While Jim's blinking eyes were adjusting, Spock determined the blackness of his eyes had decreased 33% Feeling such great fatigue, Spock could not process any other detail and called for McCoy.