When Jim was fourteen, help finally came.
(About six months too late)
The shovel is too heavy in his hands, the dirt too tightly packed for this sort of thing, the air too cold, the wind too harsh. And still, nothing is going to stop him from doing this, not even if Kodos himself shows up will he stop. Not with everything he's been through already.
He puts all of his energy into the task, working alone despite various offers of assistance. The job is his, though, and his alone, the same way the blame is his and his alone.
His movements are stiff and jerking, almost violent, as he digs. He keeps digging until the hole is as deep as he was tall, and only then does he start on making it wide enough. It is the only way he could actually do it - one step at a time. If he thinks about his task as a whole, he just might fall apart at the seams.
Every so often, someone comes to check on him, not even bothering to try and hide it with a false pretense. They are all clearly worried about him, but Jim resolutely insists that he is fine, continuing to dig despite his fatigue. Eventually, Michael shows up. Again.
"Jim, I get that you want to do this on your own, I do, but you've got to take a break sometime. If you keep going on like this, you're going to collapse from exhaustion!"
"You don't get it, Michael! I can't stop! Not if I want to be able to keep myself from falling apart..." After his confession, Jim straightens up and returns his focus to his task, not daring to allow his mind to wander any farther.
He is so intensely focused on continuing to dig that he almost doesn't notice when Michael jumps into the hole with him. "Wh-what are you doing?"
"Did you really think I'd just let you keep going all on your own? I'm your friend, Jimmy, and I'm here to help. What kind of a friend would I be if I just let you do this by yourself? You're not alone, you know."
Jim sighs, knowing resistance would be futile. "I have to do this," he starts.
"Alone. I know, I know. But would Jeff really have wanted you to work yourself to death? I don't think so."
The look on Michael's face is so earnest and concerned that Jim can't bring himself to refuse the help. A part of him even knows that soldiering on alone would not have ended well.
The two work in silence, and, though Jim hates to admit it, having Michael help speeds up the process immeasurably. The pair are done before dusk and, despite Michael's suggestion, Jim insists that they proceed right away. It is better to get it all done and make sure no animals decide to call the hole their home during the night.
Everyone over the age of ten is allowed to go, and before Jim even opens his mouth to ask, Tom and Emma volunteer to watch the littler ones. They gather in the small clearing that Jim occupied all morning as well as most of the afternoon. The group are unusually quiet, although they all know why.
When everyone was there, no one really knows what to do. Everyone is afraid to break the silence and ruin the moment. Quite a few people, Jim notes, keep shooting glances at him, as though they expect him to start.
Actually, now that he thinks about it, almost all of them are doing it. How is he supposed to do this? How is he supposed to know what to say? Swallowing his feelings of doubt, Jim clears his throat and tries to find the right words. "Jeff... Jeff was..." After a couple more tries, Jim closes his mouth and swallows thickly, all eyes on him as though he holds the answers. "Jeff was one of the nicest guys I have ever met," he finally starts, feeling entirely too cliché in his word choice. "He never hesitated, even for a moment, when it came to helping someone else. There were a few nights when he gave all of his food to others who were still hungry, and then tried to hid it from me. He always gave me the best advice, even when I was too proud to ask for it. What I guess I'm trying to say is... he will be missed."
Jim is the last one to head back to what the kids had so fondly dubbed "the secret base." He always goes last, making sure that no one follows them and finds their hideout.
Really, he probably should have seen the guards coming. He probably would have, too, if his mind hadn't been on Jeff and everything else that went down in the past six months.
When they grab him, he lets out a yell that warns the others of the trouble and has them running back to hiding. On reflex, he lashes out with hands and feet, trying to inflict enough damage on his assailants that he can possibly escape. Unfortunately, these men are at least twice his size, and well-fed on top of that, and they manage to restrain him with minimal effort.
The one on his left is limping as they leave, though, so Jim counts that as a point for himself.
If he weren't being held up by the guards, Jim would have curled up on himself as his stomach clenches in hunger. He refuses to say a word, though, not a cry of pain nor an admission of defeat. He doesn't know how long he was kept in that damn cell, it could have been minutes or hours or days or weeks for all he knew, before the guards came for him again.
It doesn't really matter, though. All that matters is that he is being dragged down the dark, labyrinthine hallways, headed towards some mystery location. When they finally stop, Jim notes that they are once more in Kodos's grand hall, and Jim counts eight other people in the room with him - people, not soldiers, there is a difference - and then he hears that voice, cutting through the quiet din of the weak struggles of those captured, that voice which keeps him from sleeping, which haunts him even when he is awake.
"The revolution is successful. But continued survival depends on drastic measures. Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered, signed Kodos, Governor of Tarsus IV."
The words are said with such condescension and enmity that Jim can barely stand it. As the guards shify suspiciously, he begins to realize what the bastard is planning.
As the guards raise their guns, the ornate doors at the front of the room burst open and men and women in uniforms that are quite familiar to Jim swarm into the room, phasers drawn, causing the scene to fall into chaos.
By the time everything is sorted out, Kodos has somehow escaped, but the Starfleet officers have all of his men clustered in one corner of the room, disarmed and under constant guard, while the group of nine survivors huddle together in another corner, some trying to explain to the officers what was happening, exactly.
An officer with long blond hair in a gold uniform is handing the food out, her voice soft as she warns against eating too quickly, or too much.
Jim hasn't touched the piece of bread that was handed to him; he just stares at it for a moment before slipping it into his pocket; he has to bring it back to share with the others.
He starts moving toward the exit, doing his best to not be seen, when he hears a man in a blue shirt speaking into a communicator. "- Just a goddamn kid! What the hell was that bastard thinking, sentencing a fucking kid to face a firing squad?"
Jim manages to start walking again, heading towards the door once more when he sees a red uniform in his way. He looks up slowly to meet the eyes of a brown haired man with a cautious expression on his face. "Hey, kid, where are you going?"
Really, Jim doesn't have anything against this man; it's Starfleet that he hates. Still, he can't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I'm leaving, because wherever Starfleet goes, there's trouble, and I have better things to do than sit around here doing nothing." His gaze flickers to the door, wondering if he can trust these people enough to tell them that there are more starving children on this stupid rock.
"Look," the man says, a concerned and sincere expression now taking over his face, "it's dangerous out there. I can't just go around letting kids wander around this colony when food is so scarce. You could get hurt out there. Now, how about you tell me where we can find your parents? I'm sure they're worried about you."
Jim snorts and answers derisively, "One's dead, and the other is back on Earth, last I heard, but that was before this place went to hell, so she could be anywhere by now."
The ensign looks confused. "If your parents aren't on the colony, where are you so eager to get to?"
"Why should I tell you?" Somehow, Jim feels safer after retreating behind his mask of insolence and defiance. "You're just another idiot from Starfleet! All you guys ever do is make everything worse!"
He makes a valiant effort to storm off, he really does, but the ensign is quick to grab him by the shoulders, holding him in place. "Look, I am under strict orders not to let anyone out of this room unsupervised. So, unless you have a damn good reason to leave, you're staying here with me."
Jim huffs indignantly. It figures, really. All Starfleet ever does is show up too late and get in the way of things that actually need to happen. Why should now be any different, really?
Jim sighs as they finally reachthe clearing. He ignores the uniformed men and women behind him, moving to the secret entrance of the cave and tapping out the equally secret knock. Really, the younger kids had had too much fun with it all.
As soon as the makeshift door opens, the kids come swarming out to engulf Jim in a massive hug before he can even get one word in. It is Michael who finally notices their unexpected guests, and he quickly steps forward protectively. "Who the hell are you guys?"
"It's okay, Michael," Jim reassures. "These guys are Starfleet. They say they're here to get us off this rock." Okay, so there is still a lot of bitterness and incredulity in his voice, but it isn't his fault that every interaction with Starfleet he has ever had results in someone's untimely death. He is allowed to hold a grudge.
Still, there is no way in hell he is going to reject an offer to get everyone fed and off of Tarsus IV.
(Really, this chapter is just an expression of my Secret Love Affair with page-breaks.) Tell me what you thought?