Chapter 17

Khan is out the door long before he usually is. The hallways are deserted and he walks through them unbothered. His feet take him to the gym and then he's running lap after lap around the room. His lungs take in the necessary amount of oxygen and for the first time in his life, Khan wishes he were a human so that he could feel his energy drain away to nothing and have exhaustion sweep him off his feet. He wants to feel his lungs catch fire and burn as he struggles to catch his breath and feel his feet wobble uncertainly beneath him as exhaustion beckons him into the blissful nothingness of sleep.

But he is not human.

For hours he runs but he feels no less tired than when he had first entered the room. The only thing that changed was a slightly quickening heart rate…but now that he had stopped it was rapidly slowing down to its normal rate. Clenching and unclenching his fists, Khan drives himself back into a wild sprint around the room. He just had to move. He had to move and forget memory. The memory of the explosions when he had thought every last person he had loved was murdered…and he had been powerless to stop it.

Him! Powerless!

But it had happened. Like a fool, he had allowed that manipulative Vulcan to trick him…but they were alive. Or so Star Fleet claims…and who knew if they were telling the truth? Marcus was just as manipulative as he, just as cruel. Savage.

And yet, the older man had escaped punishment and just like his days of slavery to the old admiral, Khan was the one who had once again drawn the short straw.

Don't think about that. Run. Run faster. Faster! He increased his speed as he tried desperately to outrun the metallic screams of his people as he clings desperately to the hope that somehow, Spock wasn't as cruel as he.

Somehow, they were alive.

Safe.

If only for a while.

More hours drag by until, finally, the exertion steals his strength. Panting, Khan doubles over to catch his breath before walking slowly back down the empty halls to his room.

He showers with his mind on autopilot before collapsing soundlessly onto his bed. Across from him, Meira sleeps, oblivious to the turmoil ripping him apart. She breathes evenly in and out and Khan watches the movement silently. He rests his head on the cook of his arm, his blue eyes intently staring at his slumbering companion.

He didn't know when slumber had come to claim him. He merely knew that he was trapped in another one of his nightmares.

The hull screaming as it was ripped open by the unforgiving teeth like buildings of San Francisco. He had ran, blinded by rage and sorrow, his vision turning red as he fled for his life, the vow for revenge burning hot in his heart. Their faces, all 72 of them, flashing in his mind…never to be seen again. Agony, unrelenting agony ripping apart his soul as he was strapped down. Gallons of blood were stolen from his veins as they fought so hard to save their precious little Captain, but no one giving a thought to the innocent lives his second in command had just ended…

SMACK!

Something hits him hard on the head, jarring him awake. Heart pounding, his sharp eyes scan the room for the culprit only to see Meira frowning at him sleepily.

"What?" He demands.

"Stop screaming. It's just a dream."

Screaming?! He had not been…oh, what did it matter?

Snorting, indignantly, Khan turns on his side and faces away from her eyes—eyes that see too much.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks for a minute.

He sighs and screws his eyes shut tightly. He would not dignify her question with a response. No! No he didn't want to talk about it! He didn't want to feel these emotions let alone admit that they were there or how they came to be!

"Khan?" Her voice is soft in the darkness, a gently light beaconing him to safety in a chaotic and dangerous world. "Are you alright?" Genuine concern paints her voice, a stark contrast to the cruel indifference of so many others. It was…comforting.

Somehow.

"What?" His voice comes out as a rage filled roar, far louder and more raw than he had intended. He felt rather than saw her flinch visible and the room descended into silence once more.

The minutes tick by with both of them scarcely breathing as Meira waits for Khan to calm.

He speaks first: "I'm sorry."

He shouldn't have yelled. Shouldn't have allowed his emotions to get the best of him. He was, after all, better—superior. Yelling changed nothing. Raging against the unfairness of the situation would hardly make it better, and taking it out on Meira—someone who hadn't even been there when the event had occurred—was unfair.

"I've handled worse." Her forgiveness was a healing balm to his tortured spirit and he felt the suffocating weight of guilt, and shame, and worry lift off his shoulders a little. "You should have seen what happened in the lightning storm four years ago. Trust me, I prefer your bark to that bite."

Her pun makes his lips twitch slightly in response.

"And what happened?" He asked, his voice thick with unshed tears.

And she told him. He listened as she described the event, her voice calm and low. The tone of her voice helped him relax and the story was a welcome distraction.

"Do you miss them?" Khan asks when she finishes. "Do you miss your family?"

"Yeah." Now it was her turn to be sad. "But it's not so bad."

"Why?" Desperation drives him to ask. What was it that helped? That made the pain fade at least a little bit?

"Because. We have the stars. We used to look them every night and point out this one or that. We said…if we ever got separated…we'd just look up at the stars every night and…we'd be together again. We wouldn't be so alone because we would all be seeing the same thing and have hope."

"Hope." Khan repeats the word.

Hope was for fools—for the weak. Hope was an elusive ideal that never failed to fail him. He had hoped to save his family but twelve had been killed in cryostatis under Marcus' order. He had hoped to escape Star Fleet, and here he was, right under their oppressive thumb once more.

Hope.

Hope was nothing. Hope was the mirage of water in the desert that vanished just as you got close enough to put you sun cracked hand into the nonexistent liquid. It was real enough to be felt but never came to fruition.

…But he could try it once more. He could hope to be reunited with his family and pray that this time he would be proven wrong…that they would see one another again despite the odds.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yes." His words are barely louder than a breath of air but he can feel her nod. "Why do care? Why do you care if I am upset?"

"Because I'd prefer to have a heads up if you're about to throw your bedframe across the room and in my general direction." She states simply and again he finds himself smiling.

"You've got nothing to worry about: I was planning on throwing sink across the room."

"I think it's time I changed roommates," she complains jokingly and Khan laughs.

"A wise endeavor," He concedes. "But a useless one."

"Because of the lack of space?" She yawns.

"And the fact that we are currently working together." Khan adds as he rolls back over, catching her in his intense gaze.

"Right. There's that, too." She shifts slightly.

"If you throw that pillow, the event with the shower shall be repeated." Khan warns. "And this time, shall be far more severe." He can feel her pause as she considered her options before relaxing once more. "A wise choice," Khan praises.

"Don't make me hurt you."

"I highly doubt that you could."

She narrows her eyes suspiciously: "Is that a challenge, old man?"

"Do you want it to be?" Khan tilts his head to side as he watches her.

"Go back to sleep," She sighs and closes his eyes.

"Or you'll what? Ground me?" He taunts. The pillow hits him in the head. Minutes later, he's dragging her fully clothed back under the icy spray of the sonic shower and then locking her back outside.

"Next time, I'm burning your things." She shivers violently outside the door.

"And yet, I'm perfectly dry under my warm blankets…"

"Let me back in!"

"Let me back in…" He prompts. "And what do you say?"

"I'm not saying it." She kicks the door irritably but Khan knows that she won't be able to enter the room until he allows her.

"Do it. I won't laugh. Promise." He taunts.

"No."

"Aw, come now. It's only two words. I have faith in you, little one." He crossed his arms behind his head and propts his feet up on his pillow as he stares at the ceiling.

"Is that a short joke?!" She pounds loudly on the door but still it doesn't yield. "Khan! This isn't funny!"

He had been right when he had bought her at that market all that time ago: she was amusing, a welcoming distraction from the monotony of every day life.

"In all fairness, I did warn you." He arches his back, stretching out his muscles before relaxing contently into the hard, standard-issue mattress.

"Jerk."

"This is going to be a long night for you. Apologize, and you can come back in."

"You're the one who needs to apologize!"

They argue like this for a while before she finally gives in. Triumphantly, Khan hops back to his feet and allows her in. Meira, who hates physical contact, gives him a tight hug around his middle. He yelp in surprise as the icy water soaks through to his clothing and he pushes her away, careful not to harm her.

"Revenge sucks, yeah?" She asks as she grabs a new change of clothes and darts into the bathroom before he can retaliate.

Alright, fine. You can win this round.

But the next one is mine.

I hoped you liked it. Please review.