Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek

AN: Thank you for continuing along with this very self-indulgent story! ;) DLB48- thanks a million for your Beta skills. You have really gone above and beyond! Thanks to stars90 for the awesome tech assistance, and to Arijone for your input!

Chapter 11

Spock now held a frightening amount of knowledge in his hands about Jim. No one other than Bones knew any of that. And Bones never experienced any of it, just heard the flouting of a cadet. Spock actually felt what Jim had lived through.

The thought was utterly and completely frightening and made Jim think back to the Academy.

Bones and Jim thought of the perfect solution. They'd room together. Three days in and Bones flat out refused to continue rooming with him unless Jim sought help or talked with him about his childhood.

Jim, blowing his roommate's request out of proportion, stormed out then and there, half naked and shoeless, swearing up a storm at his new friend. Halfway down the hall, Bones pulled him back. Grabbing a couple bottles of whiskey, the two sat on the couch and drank. Thanks to Bones' patience, the tension eased but Jim did not open up.

A week later, the day after Jim instigated a fight at a bar, Bones found him self-destructing at the same place. Dragging the cadet home, he attempted to get through him again, failing once more. Bones called him an idiot, among other unsavory words, and Jim found the name-calling strangely endearing. Maybe he could trust him someday. But not yet.

The next week, Jim almost quit the Academy. He couldn't manage the whole roomie thing, not with his nightmares. He even packed. Bones, again, pulled him back.

Returning to their room they said nothing to each other the entire evening, night, and early morning. Then Jim cracked. Jim rushed out a series of words about Frank's abuse just as Bones was leaving for a medical simulation. Tarsus memories spilled from his now-numbed brain, feebly at first, and then through a torrent of sobs. Bones said nothing when Jim was done, only held him as Jim wept himself to sleep. They both missed classes the next four days, and it was Pike who came to them in concern.

Pike.

The name pierced Jim like a knife into his heart. Overwhelmed with his thoughts of Bones and Pike, Frank and Tarsus, and now Revlair, Jim became angry that he was in no position to help anyone.

Spock was meditating, or Jim would have rambled something about riding in his father's car with a Vulcan and listening to the Beastie Boys to get his mind off his current situation of helplessness, which he detested. But, no, the one who just learned more about his childhood drama was in a state of self-healing.

The more he thought about it, the more delusional he became. Spock, with whom he wanted this epic friendship. Spock, who basically hated his guts from the beginning. This same Spock now held the pieces of Jim's past which had formed his crazy-ass behavior. And there was more to come.

His breathing, uneven and choking, did not wake Spock up but it did sound great alarm to Bones who then entered the brig.

"Dammit, Jim," Bones muttered, kneeling beside him, tricorder ready. "The mind meld was supposed to help you, not reduce you to the tears of a little girl."

"Very funny," Jim croaked. "Can you check on Spock? I can't lift myself up."

"No, you can't. You have a dislocated shoulder, more ribs broken, a concussion, and a broken wrist. How the hell did that happen?" Bones hissed at him. "And I think the hobgoblin is fine, other than dealing with your atrocious memories."

"He only got as far as a crashing Corvette."

Bones groaned. "Spock needs to reduce the violent memories in your mind. He needed to get to Tarsus...wait...what the hell?"

Bones glared at him.

"What?"

"Your eyes. They're..they're...black."

"No, they're blue. Like my father's."

Yes, James, black.

James.

I don't have blue eyes anymore? They're black?

"I don't want black eyes."

I need my father's eyes. The blue ones.

"Don't worry about the eyes, kid," Bones pleaded. "Okay? We need to fix your shoulder. It's gonna hurt, especially since you're cuffed with hands behind you." Bones frowned as he said that.

Jim did not remember being cuffed.

Wait. Maybe he did.

She betrayed you, James.

The voice of his alter ego refused to stop.

She gave you a Judas kiss.

No, Carol could not have done that.

She saw your black eyes.

I have black eyes. They're not my father's. What is happening to me?

"Jim?"

James. That name beckoned to him so much it hurt. He wanted to tell Bones to stop calling him Jim, but Bones chose that moment to push his shoulder back in place.

"Dammit, Bones!" Jim roared.

His yell awoke Spock, who seemed surprised to see Bones.

"Don't be such an infant," Bones said. "I'd like to know how that happened in the first place, Spock. Jim's dislocated shoulder?"

Bones did not wait for Spock to answer but went on to command them both. "Jim, we need to bandage that wrist. Spock, help me sit him up."

Do not look at him, James. He knows about Frank. How he hit you, ruined your childhood.

"Jim, I need you to focus on me." Bones was concerned. Jim hated to be the cause of his worry.

All those beatings, James. The humiliation. Your mother's failure to protect you.

Wait. Someone did protect him. Who?

"Jim, look at me," Bones said.

He didn't, so focused on that voice.

Spock was too late.

He tried, though? Right?

Spock and Bones finished manhandling him to an upright position. Jim's head went slack, and Spock gently pushed it back up.

Jim could not avoid Spock's eyes then.

"Did you protect me from Frank?" Jim cringed as he heard himself but he truly wanted to remember. "Did you?"

"Indeed, I did," answered Spock.

Jim tucked away that information.

Bones inspected Jim's wrist more closely. "Dammit, Jim, what did you do to your wrist? It's worse than I thought."

"Punch the brig? Try to get out of these handcuffs? Get hit by Frank?" Jim muttered. "I'm just throwing logical ideas here."

"I can't get a decent wrap on this with the cuffs on. It's impossible to help you at all. I also can't bandage your ribs unless your shirt is off. I can't get your shirt off unless Spock releases the cuffs."

"Don't do it," said Jim sternly. "I'll deal with the ribs. And the hand."

Foolishness, James. Do not let them know how close you are to losing control.

"Jim," asked Spock, "is there a specific reason you suggest we do not release the cuffs?"

"How far away from Revlair are we?" Jim asked instead of answering Spock. His first officer's gaze held his usual intelligence while a flicker of suspicion gleamed at Jim.

Yes, that is right, James, do not mention this. See how suspicious he is?

"Two hours. It's imperative we transport you to the shuttlecraft, captain," said Spock.

Yes. Out of the brig.

"I'd prefer to see to your injuries. Fixing a shoulder is not enough. You're weak, your lungs are compromised, and you have a fever. You can't face Kodos with more injuries, Jim."

Jim looked from Bones to Spock.

"Jim's eyes reveal the drug is in his system. The mind meld will not guarantee he will not resort to violence. I cannot yet release his hands."

"I don't care if Jim's eyes are a dingy gray, midnight black, or goddamn pink! I need to help him."

"Dr. McCoy, I agree you need to help him but the situation does not allow for the normal medical assistance you provide."

"Obviously," Bones spat out and proceeded to wrap Jim's wrist the best he could despite Jim's protest.

"Bones, it's alright," Jim sighed. "I can handle it. The pain isn't so bad."

It really was starting to get better. That meant the drug's effect was still in his blood.

To give him power over whomever was in his way.

"I'm done," Bones muttered. "Not that it'll do any good."

"Dr. McCoy, have you made progress with an antidote?" Spock asked.

James pressed his lips together as Spock and Bones heaved him to his feet. He brushed their hands away and attempted to stand upright.

Not too bad. Not bad at all. He focused on his breath, regaining his independence after lying on the bench for hours.

"The drug attacking his system has decided to attach itself to his cells in such a way that the cells feed off of each other. My theory is that an equally-powerful targeted anti-proton radiation pulse or therapy will kill the drug in every damn cell with rapid succession. I just need a method to deliver it that his body will accept without killing him with the cure."

No, do not let them get closer to the antidote, James. You must stop them. Or Revlair will be lost.

"Revlair," muttered James. He flexed his fingers within their entrapment. The wrist was only slightly tender. He eyed the doctor and the Vulcan, distracted in their discussion. He eyed the brig door.

Eight paces and he'd be free. Except for the cuffs. And the Vulcan had the PADD, which James knew held the release button. He was slightly handicapped, with his injuries and cuffs now. But still held the strength to get him out of the situation. If the Vulcan would move just..slightly...

He rammed his cuffed hands into the doctor's jaw first but then received a quick hit in the face from the Vulcan. James shook his head to clear the dizziness but found himself face to face with the Vulcan's phaser.

It was an illogical move from the Vulcan and James did not know how to react. Indeed, the phaser was set to kill.

"This is what we will do," the Vulcan said evenly. He held out the PADD to James. "You will take what you need off this ship but you will not harm anyone in exchange for me not killing you now."

James regarded the Vulcan. He could not explain his hesitancy when all he truly wanted was to satisfy a longing- to cause pain. To alleviate his own distress. And this Vulcan, who turned the tables on James, was the most fun to fight, the most dangerous on the ship.

James paused to think how he knew that. He could not answer.

The Vulcan had not finished with his order. "You also will allow me to accompany you and help you with your mission. I will not let harm come to you." He lowered the phaser and put it in his belt. The PADD was still extended for James' use.

I will not let harm come to you.

Another time, another place, James had heard that said before. Remembrance chipped away at the dark surface. A light flickered, relieving James of a single piece of the haunting obscurity.

He is Spock. He shielded me from Frank.

This would make things easier and maybe not as satisfying, but he did not want to die- yet. He worried. What about the others, the doctor, whoever else was on the ship? What would they wish to do with him if he obeyed rather than show his strength? He wished to step back from the Vulcan- Spock- because he was slightly ashamed his anxiety would show.

Instead, the urgency of a mission at the back of his mind cultivated his decision. James turned around so his cuffed hands could grasp the PADD. He twisted his head and arms so he could look at the screen, once glancing at Spock to see if he changed his mind. He had not. Holding it with his unhurt hand, he pressed a code he knew automatically, and the cuffs were released and dropped to the ground. James rubbed his wrists, the one wrapped giving him the most pain. Spock stepped aside, and waited.

James walked out of the brig, Spock moving directly behind him. It was strange, having the person you had just wished to kill now honor your desire to flee the ship.

The doctor, rubbing his jaw, fumed at Spock when James came out of the brig unattended. "Spock, do you really think this is wise? You're playing with fire, hobgloblin."

"Dr. McCoy, Jim remembers me helping him in his memories. The mind meld has assisted in a way I did not think possible. However, I am willing to take the chance with our captain." Spock replied as he walked almost in step with James. "Continue your research."

Captain? James was not their captain. This..Spock..seemed up for the task. He swept away from brig and the doctor, knowing he was going somewhere on this ship, but not understanding where his feet were taking him.

"Spock," thundered the doctor. "Keep my buddy, safe, will ya?"

James stiffened. Buddy. Why would the man think he was his buddy?

James had no one. Well, except for Spock, who had taken a beating for him.

Frank. The name was on the tip of James' tongue, but he refused to speak it. Truthfully, the inner battle was dividing his attention from his urge for violence and this other urge- a mission. If he kept quiet, the possibility he would keep up his end of the bargain with Spock was greater.

"Jim," said Spock quietly. "You have nothing to fear from the doctor.

That name- Jim. It unsettled him. He glared at the Vulcan. Yes, he was back to thinking of Spock as the Vulcan because he said that distressing name. The Vulcan's eyes registered his mistake.

"James?"

He got it right, and James nodded as he got on the lift. They were going to Engineering.

Someone was there who knew what James needed to take on the shuttlecraft.

He walked up the stairs, listening to the sounds of the deck, and finally he heard the engineer. He was with two others, and all showed disbelief at seeing James.

"Captain? Oh my God," the woman exclaimed. "What is wrong with your eyes?" She showed no fear and rushed towards James but Spock held his hand up.

"I like the look on you, Captain," grinned the other man.

There they go again with the Captain bit.

"Uhura, Sulu, Mr. Scott. James is experiencing a slight discoloration to his eyes but do not be alarmed. He will not hurt you as we reached a plan of mutual satisfaction," Spock explained. "Please allow him to get what he needs."

"Well, laddie, I canna believe you're here. I just finished the wee tale about Revlair." Mr. Scott said. "I suppose ya be needin' the supplies? Come on, then, the lot of ya. With the captain's wrist, I dinnae think he can lift everythin'." He led the group and James frowned at his implication that he could not perform to his usual standards. Mr. Scott looked back at him and grinned. "Ruffled your feathers, did I, James?"

"Commander, the situation on Revlair is troubling. It may upset the captain in his current condition," said the woman- Uhura was it?

He did not care what anyone said at the moment. He just wanted to be left alone. Alone. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was tired and- maybe hungry.

Didn't Mr. Scott have sandwiches?

They got to the storage hidden under piece of flooring. Spock did not look too pleased at Mr. Scott's explanation.

"It never was fixed, uh, after, well..anyways. It never was fixed and the captain here needed a wee bit o' secrecy, but I dinnae believe 'tis so secret now, is it?" Mr. Scott shrugged, taking a thin piece of metal and began lifting a corner. He struggled so James walked over and took it from him, promptly lifting the corner and flooring piece with one try, bad wrist and all, before anyone else stepped in to help. He then sat on the edge and jumped down, disappearing into a fairly dark section underneath.

"Mr. Spock, James will be be needin' ya to lift up some supplies." Mr. Scott went to the replicator, popping out sandwiches. "Usually, we finish visits, not all like this one of course, with a wee bit of food. Real food. Keenzer, help me out, will ya. 'Tis more of a way to get the captain to eat," he whispered. "I suppose now all that makes sense, Dr. McCoy's naggin' at Jimmy to get food in him."

James lifted a supply bag, its heaviness pulling at his ribs and his wrist screaming in protest, but he pushed it up to the top in as rough as a manner as he could. He was mad, having heard Mr. Scott and seen Spock lift his eyebrows. It frustrated James to know they discussed his well-being. They had no right. He bit back another wave of pain and went back to work looking for the right supply bag.

"Watch out for ya head, cap'n," yelled Mr. Scott. "He always forgets how tall he is- "

The sound of a cranium hitting a pipe cut through.

"Son of a Bitch!" James came up glaring and rubbing his head.

"Sorry, laddie, I guess I dinnae remind ya in time."

Spock did not look happy again but took the next supply bag from James just as he was about to slam it down.

Then came boots and coats. For five people. He was done, with Scott's help this time, putting the floor back.

He still could not trust his voice but looked at Spock, who calculated. "Uhura, I do believe you will be coming with Mr. Sulu, James, and myself. The fifth person is?"

James had yet to get the fifth person. But, first, he wanted that sandwich...for old time's sake?

Mr. Scott seemed to read his mind and handed him a sandwich, but James did not take it. He remembered a particular device in one of the bags. He knelt, unzipping the bag and lifted the device out. It was blinking with an alert.

This PADD never blinked with an alert unless it gave a simultaneous alert on a personal device of his. And he had no idea where the other personal device was or how he knew that.

He looked up at Mr. Scott, slightly panicked. Should he know about this?

"Oh, this may be a wee bit of problem. They gave that to ya. It's yours," said Mr. Scott. "So, I don't know the code. Only ya do, James. And, by the way, I like your dark-eyed look. Very gothic."

Warily, James' hands brushed the screen. He could not remember. He held his head with his other hand, eyes pressed closed. Think. Think. Think.

No. I cannot remember. He got up and banged his head once on the wall. What is the code?

"James, if I can be of assistance?"

It was Spock. Oh, no. He wanted to pry.

The alert on his locked device beckoned. It would be best if he complied, so he nodded reluctantly. Would he find only what was needed, or would Spock glean more information than James wanted him to know. He closed his eyes and breathed in as Spock's hand went to his face. The mind meld took more than one minute. James was certain Spock had met with some difficulty, as the darkness there kept James from computing swiftly and properly.

"I have it," Spock said, and James gave him the PADD. Spock lowered it just enough so James could see the code. As he read it, James found himself very confused.

What? DrCarolMarcusIloveyou?

With an eyebrow raised Spock handed the PADD over to James without a word.

James' hand shook as he grabbed it and he cleared his throat. That was embarrassing.

Tearing through those thoughts, James got to the crux of the alert. A message, delivered by a Jared Vager to his PADD at 1000 hours.

James opened the message to reveal a list titled and created by Section 31. A list of eighteen names, dates, and particular orders listed beside each name glared at him. His throat and eyes burned, and his chest ached like no other time he remembered.

The list. It was a mess of information.

Eighteen names. Only one he recognized.

His own.

He hated being helpless.

He should remember these other names. He knew he should. He felt it in his soul, as he read each name, that his heart was being ripped out.

He handed the PADD to Mr. Scott, question in his eyes.

"I canna tell ya what this is aboot, cap'n," Mr. Scott said sadly. "Not a wee thing aboot Revlair here, laddie. Except for the name of our prisoner on board, Jared Vager. Half of these are Tarsus names we'd all know. Ye would know that, if ya were even a wee bit of yourself. And," Mr. Scott continued with a sigh," this PADD was given to ya by that agent for Revlair use, not for information aboot Tarsus."

"Mr. Scott," said Spock, "please hand me the PADD."

James jerked up and grabbed it out of Mr. Scott's hand before he gave it to Spock. He shook his head. Let me deal with my own demons.

"James," ordered Spock.

The darkness in James' mind reignited when Spock moved closer. Stay away.

"Woah. Commander, did you just see.." Mr. Sulu exclaimed.

"Yes, indeed, I did. James, the intensity of the blackness in your eyes has increased." Spock did not move away but stood a hair's breadth away. Too close. "I will not let harm come to you, James. Give me the PADD."

He heard Spock, but as he tried to decipher the message this Jared Vager gave him, he found himself feeling strangely disconnected. Spock pried James' fingers from the device, sending a jolt through James. The jolt was not from the Vulcan's touch, but from the return of an internal rage.

He was grateful to Spock who delved into that memory to protect him from Frank. He had not had that friend before- someone who would take his beating. And now Spock appeared concerned for his welfare- again. Spock studied the message James could not make sense of, the Vulcan's eyes fluttering up to connect with James every few seconds and back again in concentration.

James was inundated by the information systematically filtering through him from the message and he processed it the best he could, which was poorly.

Meanwhile, he still tried to suppress his rage.

Until Jared Vager's name paired with a word on the edge of his thoughts.

Traitor.

He could have been the one.

James finally remembered something.

Jared Vager is a prisoner because he drugged me. He is provoking me with this knowledge, knowing I cannot understand it all. How had he survived?

Maybe James had not messed up getting caught. Maybe it had not been his fault the other children had been found. Worse, maybe it had not even been an accident.

Had it been Memphis?

Memphis.

Spock could have the PADD. James had something better to do.