WANRING: has some violence in there (yay, violence!) but there's also some fluff towards the end (or is it pre-fluff…? I don't know, I'm still trying to figure out the hidden language of fanfiction. I'll get there—don't worry).

Chapter 14

He watches her sleep. As before, she was calm and content. Slowly, he reaches over and gently brushes his long, white fingers across her cheek. She frowns in her sleep and brings her forearm in front of her face; her sluggish movements making him smile. He hadn't released how much he had missed the prickly tempered woman until he had seen her again.

…

The next morning, he finds that they are working in the same lab.

Strange. What could she possibly contribute to their research?

She was, after all, just a slave, but she proves him wrong. She keeps up with their discussions easily and offers her own groundbreaking suggestions. Her fingers easily work the microscope and position the slides. She makes quick, efficient notes and conducts her own experiments. By the end of the day, they've helped to found cures for at least three fatal diseases.

But she doesn't stay close to him like he had thought she would.

She's wary and cautious, putting herself closer to the Vulcan than to him…but he doesn't mind. Much. Or, so he tells himself. Oh, well, it was nothing. It meant nothing. He hoped. Oh, how he hoped it meant nothing.

The rejection, small that it was, festered within his chest and grew from a small spark to a roaring flame. He couldn't stifle his anger when he saw her and the Vulcan talking casually in the hallway or her smirking easily at one of Spock's ridiculously flat comments. By the end of their shift, Khan would happily strangle the both of them.

Honestly, he didn't know how it had happened. They were walking towards the cafeteria to get dinner before going to their quarters. Spock had something—Khan wasn't sure what—and then his anger had exploded out of him. He had roughly shouldered past Meira, throwing her into a wall, as he lunged forward for the Vulcan's throat.

Roaring, Khan punched him in the face. Spock responded to kicking Khan's legs out from under him but he jumped gracefully to his feet seconds later and threw himself at the Vulcan, tackling him around his middle. The two crumbled to the ground and Khan hastily pinned the other's hands beneath his knees as he punched him over and over again in the face.

And then Spock was toppling him backwards and rising up to his feet, his fist jumping back to ready itself for a punch. Kirk came running around the corner, screaming angrily, and Meira scrambled away from the two writhing bodies.

"STOP! THAT'S AN ORDER!" Kirk yells but neither of them was listening.

…

In the end, it had taken three dozen security officers to pry them apart. Khan was sent promptly to the brig where he sulked for the rest of the, and Spock got time-out in his quarters until tomorrow's shift. Meira was no more distant than ever and Khan blamed his own rashness. For two more days, Khan would be confined to his quarters while the Vulcan was free to roam. It wasn't fair!

"I'm sorry," He finally grits out as Meira walks past his door to head to the Cafeteria for dinner. "I shouldn't have done that the other day."

"Why did you?" She stops and he frowns at her question, his eyes narrowing in frustration. He couldn't make himself form the words to express what it was he was feeling.

"I was angry." He said vaguely and she nods in understanding.

"Maybe a stress ball would be in order?" She suggests. "Or you could get, like, fifty thousand cats."

"Oh, yes, and be forever alone. Sound riveting." He yawns to emphasize his sarcasm and to his astonishment, she laughs at his joke. Any ill feelings he had harbored against the commander faded away instantly.

"Oh, yes. You can wear matching outfits and everything," She rolls her eyes and smiles, and he finds himself mirroring the action. "So, what do think is for dinner?"

He considers her question carefully before answering honestly: "It would most likely turn out to be some variation of meatloaf."

She wrinkles her nose at him in disgust, "In that case, I'm skipping."

"A wise plan and one that would probably save your life."

"Would you mind if I replicated something in our quarters, then? It may be the safer—and tastier—option."

"So long as you don't have any cats on you." He steps aside to allow her to enter.

She makes herself replicated rotisserie chicken, white rice, and a roll before moving out of the way and sitting at their small table, waiting for him to sit down with his meal (Chinese) before eating. They eat in comfortable silence.

"Are you angry at me?" Khan asks finally. "For scaring you yesterday?" He clarifies when she doesn't respond. She swallows the food in her mouth and shakes her head wordlessly.

"You didn't attack me," She shrugs. "I have no reason to be angry at you."

"But you no longer trust me," He states.

"You went off on that Vulcan," Khan is pleased about her choice of words. 'That Vulcan'. So, they weren't friends after all. "For nothing. He did nothing to you and tried to rip out his throat. It doesn't seem like a wise idea to stand too close for too long."

It was cruelly logical.

"I have no intentions of harming you." Khan says evenly. "Spock and I are enemies and will always be as such. I attacked him because I was angry at him."

"And if you get angry at me?"

"I am very good at controlling my actions."

"You slipped up earlier."

"I did." Khan admits and shame at losing control ignites his belly. "It may be the lack of physical stimulation. I will visit the ship's gym tomorrow, which should help immensely."

"You do that. It'll give me some more me time."

"'Me time'?" Khan raises an eyebrow at her and she deposits her dishes in the waste dispenser and then plops down onto her bed after snagging his pillow off of his. "And what, pray tell, is a 'me time'?"

"It's that the allotted amount of time I have to find a way to push your bed—and all of your belongings into the hallway—therefor claiming the entire room for myself. All I need is a flag and something to stab it into. Would you mind if I impaled your pillow or would that not be morally acceptable?"

A laugh escapes him despite his best efforts and his eyes glitter mischievously. "Try it, but be warned: the pillow shall be avenged."

"I accept your challenge." She tosses his pillow at his head and he catches it easily before it makes contact.

And then they're battling. Khan is careful to hold back on his strength and he hits her lightly with his pillow. She retaliates immediately. They go into a whirlwind of motion. Khan trips her and she sprawls onto his bed, quickly rolls off, and brings he pillow up by her head to ward off the oncoming attack, but Khan merely hits her lightly in the stomach. Giggling, she twists away, aiming a shot at his chest, which he lithely evades. Laughing, they size up the other and then jump back into action until feathers begin the fill the air. Khan traps her in a corner of the room and then proceeds to pour about half of the feathers still in his pillow case onto her head. She squeals and tries to get away but he blocks her easily with his body.

And then they're standing nose to nose. His blue eyes staring into her murky green. He takes a step back quickly and grins.

"Goodnight, Meira." He says. He pulls a spare pillow out from under his bed and then orders the lights off.

She doesn't move.