Always Mercy

by CaramelCoffeeBean44

Jim finds himself face to face with his future self, who travelled back in time to present him with a choice: stop the Tarsus IV massacre or let history run its course. But when they return to Tarsus IV, it is not to take revenge on Kodos, and Jim learns some hard truths about his future.

Author's Note: I'm not kidding when I say I wrote and edited this entire thing in three and a half days, so let that be a warning. I'm painfully aware that the plot doesn't make much sense (especially the time travel part), but I had fun writing it, and maybe someone out there likes it :) I just thought I might as well upload it now that it's finished. Just please be warned that you really shouldn't question the logic in this story, or anything, really. Also, English isn't my first language, so please bear with me

()()()

The entire ship shook, and Jim lost balance, blindly reaching for the backrest of the captain' chair to steady himself. He was staring into the vast big void that had suddenly appeared in front of them – a small hole in the universe that angrily ate up time and space, distorting reality. All around him, his crew stared in awe, uncomprehending. Uhura's slowly took of her headset, Sulu let his hands sink, Bones, who stood behind Jim, was for once speechless.

Jim briefly closed his eyes. So, this was not how he'd imagined spending his day.

They'd been floating in space for the last 22 hours, having completed their latest mission of collecting data on an uninhabited planet – it had turned out to be very inhabited, and Jim, of course, had ended up being poisoned and had spent the night writhing in his bed, waiting for the antidote to come into effect. Needless to say, it had been somewhat of a rough night, and Jim wasn't exactly in the mood for another thing going wrong.

Well, with his bad luck, he was just be asking for it, wasn't he?

He'd been in the machinery, joking with Scotty, purely for the purpose of escaping Bones' watchful eyes. Officially, Bones had begrudgingly cleared him for work again after Jim had mastered all of his tests – one of which was crossing the room without collapsing, which he'd been great at –, but Bones had still kept finding excuses to keep him in MedBay, and Jim had soon been fed up with it.

So, when he'd snuck out of MedBay in an unnoticed moment, he hadn't exactly expected to be nearly thrown down the stairs when the Enterprise had suddenly shook violently. He'd clung onto the banister with one hand, shielding his head with his free arm from the tools that had come flying his way, clattering loudly onto the floor around him.

Then, the ship had suddenly stopped shaking, and everything had been completely silent for a second. Jim, his chest rising and falling quickly, had looked up at Scotty. "You okay?" he'd called up to him.

Scotty, dishevelled, had slowly turned to him, holding his hands up. "Whatever that was, it wasn't my fault. I swear."

Jim had opened his mouth to reply something, when the Enterprise had suddenly starting moving again. Jim's eyes had widened in alarm. He hadn't given any orders to move, and it hadn't been the normal way the Enterprise moved through space – smooth, familiar. The ground had vibrated underneath Jim's boots, and somewhere over them, metal had creaked.

"Eh, what is going on?" Scotty had asked, looking around with a concerned look on his face.

Five minutes later, Jim had reached the bridge and found himself staring down a hole in the universe.

"Somebody care to explain what death trap I'm staring at this time?" Bones growled, breaking the silence that had settled on the bridge.

"It's like a-" Sulu began, but trailed off and apparently had no intention of finishing his sentence.

"What is that?" Jim muttered.

"Zat looks wery vrong," Chekov said, sinking his hands in his hair. "Nonono," he was muttering to himself, shaking his head. "Kepten, zat looks-"

"Is is a black hole?" Jim then asked incredulously, momentarily forgetting that the danger they were in – they were way too close to a black hole that had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, which couldn't be good. "Is that an actual black hole?"

Spock, seemingly unfazed except for a certain stiffness to his posture that gave away that he was as perplexed as the rest of them, looked at him, his hands behind his back. "It is very unlikely for a black hole to go unnoticed by our scans, and impossible for it to appear out of nowhere."

"Spock, is it a black hole or not?" Uhura asked.

Spock turned his head ever so slightly into her direction without taking his eyes off the void. "At this point, I am afraid I am unable to offer any other explanation."

"Oh, very helpful, hob-goblin," Bones said sarcastically. "Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"

Jim didn't know if he was should be scared for his life or excited that they were in the middle of a yet undiscovered phenomena – he was both – and stepped forward to check the data on the monitors, propping himself up on the console. His mind kicked into gear as his eyes flicked over the diagrams and numbers, already searching for an explanation.

"If zat is a black hole, ve are in great danger," Chekov said, turning around to them, wide-eyed. He pointed at the void. "If ze gravitational pull-"

"He's right. Jim, we need to get outta here," Bones said, trying to jerk Jim out of his thoughts.

Jim didn't react, knitting his eyebrows. None of the instruments seemed to pick up the right signals; they produced data that didn't make any sense. Jim had sat through quite a few lectures about black holes at the Starfleet Academy, had for once even done all the additional reading, but none of what he saw overlapped with what he knew.

"Jim," Bones said more urgently.

That was when Jim's eyes caught on a number, and his heart sank. So, that was definitely not supposed to happen, under no circumstances. He wiped the concern off his face and turned around to his crew, careful to hide the part of him that was panicking at not being able to provide an explanation. (Yet.) "Right. Whatever this is, we better get a-"

The Enterprise suddenly shook so violently Jim's elbow was smashed against the hard metal of the console, and, clenching his jaw against the pain exploding in his arm and swallowing back a groan, he held onto the console, trying not to lose his balance. The lights flickered and the horrible sound of creaking metal reverberated in his bones. The heavy smell of copper and burning plastic filled the air, making his lungs protest as he tried to breathe in.

He turned around.

"Sulu, now!" he screamed over the deafening noise, and Sulu nodded grimly, readying the Enterprise, and then – nothing happened.

The Enterprise didn't budge an inch.

"Parking brake?" Jim yelled over the noise.

"Not this time!" Sulu shook his head once, his eyes helplessly checking his monitors.

Jim's mind was going a hundred miles an hour as he looked around the bridge, desperately searching for a solution. He needed to get them away from the thing before it was too late. They had to act quick – if they wasted even few seconds, it might already be too late.

He grabbed the communicator from his belt. "Scotty?"

"I'm a bit busy down here, laddie-" Scotty was panting, probably running around in the machinery trying to make sure nothing blew up from the strain.

"Scotty, can you make the Enterprise go faster?" Jim asked, his eyes fixed on the black hole. It was getting bigger, like the mouth of a giant animal ready to swallow them.

"Eh, she's already giving everything she got, Captain," Scotty's voice croaked through the communicator.

Jim closed his eyes, pressing the communicator to his forehead, cursing under his breath.

Spock opened his mouth to say something, but it was drowned out by a sudden ear-splitting pang that seemed to rip apart the entire universe. Its echo skittered through space like thunder, so loud it shook Jim's bones and send sharp pain through his head. The lights went out and the bridge was plunged into darkness, and Jim grimaced as the pain spasmed through him, and only kept intensifying with each passing second.

The edges of his vision darkened, but he clung onto consciousness, panting, ignoring the incessant ringing in his head. Holding onto the console to steady himself, he looked around, only to see that his crew has passed out, lying on the ground, unmoving.

He turned around to the window.

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the complete and utter darkness outside, like all the stars and planets had just been wiped off the face of the universe.

()()()

Jim came to with panic flaring in his chest and the memory of the darkness etched into his mind. He absently registered sharp, stabbing pain in his elbow, but pushed it aside and blinked his eyes open, already easing himself up, his body immediately alert. A brutal headache was throbbing at his temples and crumbled his thoughts to pieces. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the wan light.

The realization took a second to seep into his mind, but when it did, Jim was suddenly wide awake.

He was not on the bridge of his beloved Enterprise.

Old instincts kicked in and he immediately scanned his surroundings for a threat, but there was no one nearby. The ground underneath him was hard and covered in a thin layer of sand that clung to his clothes. He straightened, keeping his bad arm close to his body to protect it. He'd figure out what was wrong with it once he'd figured out the more pressing question of where the hell he was.

When he became fully aware of his surroundings, his mind immediately stuttered to a halt, refusing to accept what he was seeing. It seemed as though he was in a large hole in the ground, with a circular space in the middle that was brighter than the rest, with almost blinding light streaming down a well-like structure. Not reached by the light was the outer circle, which was divided into squares by iron bars.

It was a prison. Not a prison of any civilized world, just a hole in the ground for people that were never supposed to ever get out again.

With a sinking feeling in his chest, and his senses on alert, Jim immediately scanned all the other squares for his crew, but saw no familiar faces. They weren't there, somehow, he'd ended here alone – which was only good if it meant that he was in danger and they were in safety. But he had still no idea what had happened, except that it had something to do with the black hole, and his mind was working overtime to figure it out.

It was only then that he noticed the brawl in the middle of the pit. Dull thuds echoed across the pit, growled words almost incomprehensible, sand was being stirred up. It took a moment for Jim to see what they were fighting over. Food.

Jim took a step back as though he'd been hit in the chest. The violent scene touched some long buried part of him, and he suddenly found himself tensing up against his will, his muscles taut. He couldn't help himself, not after having spent so much time on Tarsus IV fighting tooth and nails over food for the kids he had tried to save.

Not everyone participated in the fight, there were some people scattered in the shadows, most of them with cloths covering their faces, probably to protect them from breathing in the sand that was carried through the air by the unpredictable draughts. They were sitting on the floor, half cast in shadows, watching the scene as though it had happened before, unfazed by the violence.

A man in black clothes was sitting not too far away from Jim, almost blending in with the shadows. The line of his shoulders seemed wary. He was quietly observing the people, his arms resting on his elbows. His hood cast a shadow onto his face. There was something strangely familiar about him, but Jim couldn't put his finger on it.

And before he had a chance to figure out what it was, he suddenly sensed a body moving towards him and jerked around. A hand grabbed his upper arm, finger digging into his skin hard enough to leave bruises, and Jim's reflexed kicked in. He aimed for the assailants' face, but the stranger seemed to have anticipated his move and deflected, then put a hand on his chest and shoved him backwards against the stone wall, and all air was pressed out of Jim's lungs.

As shit, that hurt.

Coughing, Jim grabbed his phaser – he hadn't wanted to attract attention, but he was left with no choice – and aimed, his finger hovering over the trigger, when he suddenly found himself hesitating, not even knowing why. He could only see the man's chin, but there was something about the frame of his body that made Jim's thoughts tangle up. Something was…off.

The man, seemingly unimpressed by the phaser, threw a gaze over his shoulder, then fumbled with something on his wrist.

"Wrong time," he murmured. "Spock warned me that the black hole might throw us here."

Jim's mind screeched to a halt at the name Spock.

"Wait, what?" he asked.

"Gimme a second, alright? Geez."

Jim blinked.

"Ah, here we go," the man said, flashing him a smile, and before Jim could react, he had grabbed his arm.

"Wait, wow wow wow," Jim protested, trying to rip his hand away-

They were back on the bridge, in front of the turbolift, with everybody's back turned towards. Mere seconds seemed to have gone by since Jim had left the bridge. Uhura was helping Spock get to his feet, Chekov was slowly easing himself up on his elbows. Bones was rubbing his head, muttering under his breath. None of them seemed to have noticed he'd been gone.

"What the hell just happened?" Jim asked, stumbling back, grimacing at the skull-splitting pain at his temples. He swayed, his vision whitening for a second, and he gasped. It took a few long seconds to become bearable. Everything was a bit blurry, but he could make out enough to see the stranger standing just a seven feet away from him, and he raised his phaser. His hand was steady, not betraying the fact that he was having a bad case of double-vision.

At Jim's words, everyone had turned around, and the atmosphere shifted almost immediately.

"Uh, Kepten, who is zat?" Chekov asked, his eyes big. His hair was a mess, but he seemed unhurt.

Jim didn't look at him and instead considered the man with a hard gaze. "I don't know yet, but we're about to find out," he said, his voice hard. "Take off that hood."

The stranger had raised both of his hands, but more to show that he meant no harm than because he was intimidated by Jim's phaser. Now, in the bright light of the bridge, Jim could really see him for the first time. He was clad in black cargo pants and scuffed boots, a shirt, and a thin black jacket. He was slim, and about Jim's height.

"First, send everybody out except Uhura, Chekov, Spock and Bones," he demanded.

Jim sensed the shiver that ran through his crew at the sound of the voice as they realized something that had dawned on him minutes ago. Because, well, the voice wasn't just familiar. It was the voice that had given them orders for the last few years, the voice they'd heard over the communicators innumerable times. And they would recognize it anywhere.

"Not happening," Jim said, shaking his head. "I trust all of them with my life."

The stranger was unfazed. "I know that. But I also know that you've already figured out what's going on, and that means you know you need to send them out."

Jim didn't respond and kept his phaser aimed at the man, but the truth was, he did know since the moment the stranger had deflected his punch so effortlessly as though he'd anticipated it. His mind was fraying at the sheer idea of it, but he was cocky enough to believe that there was some logical explanation for it. He just hadn't figured it out yet.

"That's impossible."

"Send them away and I'll explain why it's not."

Jim hesitated for another moment, his jaw working. Then, he said, without taking his eyes off the stranger: "Please, all of you leave the bridge. I promise I'll explain everything later."

His crew obeyed without hesitation, and Jim was briefly seized by a warm feeling in his chest. They trusted him so much it was out of question to be offended by his order. Uhura, Bones, Chekov and Spock lingered behind. They were wary now; Chekov was fidgeting, Bones had crossed his arms and was gloomily looking between Jim and the stranger. They waited until the door of the turbolift had closed, then Jim turned to the stranger again.

"Take it off."

The man reached up and drew his hood back, revealing his face.

A collective gasp echoed in the room, all their faces showing varying degrees of shock. Uhura covered her mouth with her hand, Bones' eyes had grown huge, Spock had raised an eyebrow, and Chekov murmured something in Russian that Jim couldn't quite make out.

Jim's mind was reeling, barely able to process what he was seeing. But even while he was struggling to wrap his mind around it, he suddenly became keenly aware of the danger they were all in, and the warning of his instincts caused something in his chest to snap. He shifted, his whole body taut, his jaw clenched. He felt a part of him grow dark, holding the phaser steadily. He tried not to let his wariness mirror on his face, because he didn't want to alarm his crew. But unlike them, he knew exactly what the man in front of them was capable of.

He knew, because he was staring into his own blue eyes. It was like looking into a mirror, except that the picture was off, somehow. His hair was a bit darker and a bit longer, and there was a fine white scar under his eye. He was wearing Jim's boots, but they were worn down. The worst thing about his appearance was how battered he looked. Jim recognized a recently dislocated shoulder when he saw one, and he also knew how he held himself if he was favouring his ribs.

A quick gaze to Bones told him that the doctor had also noticed, so tuned in to Jim that he recognized the signs even in Jim's doppelganger. His eyebrows were knitted, his eyes lingering on the arm that the other Jim held close to his body.

"You can take that phaser down. I'm not gonna do anything, I promise," the other Jim said.

If there was one thing Jim knew, it was not to trust himself, but, not wanting his crew to sense how conflicted he was and not wanting them to know that there was a part of him even he knew better than to not fear, he lowered his phaser.

"Can someone please explain vhat is going on?" Chekov suddenly said, adding a Russian curse that was not as innocent as one might have expected, raising his hands to his head. His accent always grew thicker when he was agitated, and he seemed to have a hard time accepting what he was seeing, especially since he couldn't come up with a logical explanation for it.

The other Jim turned around to them, properly looking at the crew for the first time, and the sadness that briefly flickered over his face at the sight of them turned Jim's blood into ice. It was barely there and already gone, but if Jim was good at one thing, it was seeing through his own shit. The way the other Jim's gaze softened at the sight of them told him something he wished he didn't know, and the realization was like a punch to the stomach.

Because it could only mean one thing; that the other Jim hadn't seen them in a long time.

Sensing how his emotions threatened to overcome him, he shoved them aside and let his rational side take over. "How much time?" he asked, making him look at him again. He needed to know. Now. "How much time between me and you?"

Blue eyes met his. The other Jim was silent for some time. "Five years."

Jim lowered his phaser, all strength suddenly bleeding from his body. The world was spinning around him, but he forced himself to keep breathing. He was aware of his crew's gazes on him, determined not to let on just how much he wanted to flee into a dark room and curl up into a ball until the hurt that he saw hidden in the other Jim's eyes stopped haunting him. There a small white scar on the other Jim's face. It wasn't the scar itself that was to horrifying, it was seeing a museum of wounds that were yet to mar his skin.

"That's impossible," he said through clenched teeth.

He shook his head. "Listen, I can't explain the science, because I'm already risking too much being here, and Spock – the Spock from my timeline – will kill me if I do. But I'm telling the truth. I'm you, five years into the future."

He didn't try to calm Jim down, because he knew he could rely on him holding it together, at least until his crew wasn't around, wasn't watching him with wary eyes. There was no need for reassurance, Jim had spent his entire life refining the art of fake-it-till-you-make-it.

Jim decided to concentrate on the question he would get answers for. "What are you doing here? And what the hell was that prison?"

Bones' head perked up at the last question. They all seemed confused, and Jim knew he'd have to tell them at some point, but the last thing he wanted was to explain it. He had an inkling Bones would immediately drag him to MedBay to give him a full check-up if he knew Jim had somehow travelled through space.

The older Jim looked slightly rueful, running a hand through his hair. "You weren't supposed to be in that prison, I'm sorry. It's just, when there's a connection between two points of a timeline, the universe will sometimes try and even out the tension by finding a compromise – a point in time that is in the middle."

Jim put his phaser away, buying himself some time to recollect himself. What the future Jim was saying was that he would, within the next five years, end up in that prison. And the man he'd seen sitting there, that familiar frame, it had been himself, hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right moment. But the right moment for what? To escape? To join the fight?

Jim's mind was crumbling at the sheer impossibility of it.

"So, you're what, a time traveller? From the future?" Sulu asked.

"The theories are mathematically proven, but it was said to be impossible," Spock said.

"Well," the older Jim said, spreading his arm and flashing a smile, "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, no," Uhura said, massaging her temples. "No. That's impossible."

Bones huffed. "One Jim is bad enough," he said grumpily, "two is a catastrophe. With your combined bad luck, I'm surprised the ship hasn't spontaneously combusted already."

Jim watched the other Jim smile a soft, fleeting smile, and resisted the sudden urge to drag him into a dark room and ask him what the hell was going to happen to his crew in the future. He'd ask it later, once they were alone. Even though he feared the answer, given with what fondness the older Jim looked at all of them.

He'd lost too many kids on Tarsus IV, he couldn't lose anyone ever again.

"Why are you here?"

The other Jim's shoulders slumped ever so slightly at that question. He was bracing himself, as though he had expected that question. "That's why you I needed you to send all of your crew away except for them."

"Because they know about Tarsus IV?"

The other Jim didn't seem surprised that he'd figured it out and just nodded. His eyes were ablaze with sorrow, hurt, anger, rage; the mention of Tarsus always ripped open unhealed wounds. "It can't happen, Jim. The Tarsus incident. We can't let it happen."

Biles was rising in Jim's throat. Two times he started speaking, but broke off again. "It needs to happen," he finally said. "We need to live through it. Erasing it from world history would change too much."

There it was, the choice not to live through all that nightmare, and he had to turn it down. All that death and hunger and terror; he could protect his thirteen-year-old self from it. He could have a normal childhood. He didn't have to wake up from nightmares, covered in sweat, he didn't have to wince when someone dug their finger into the old would on his shoulder, he didn't have to remember all the kids he had lost. He didn't have to live with the fact that he had killed to stay alive.

Bones, the only person who came close to understanding the turmoil inside of Jim, had gone pale, worry radiating off of him in waves. Both Jim and the older Jim nearly winced when they felt it; both uncomfortable with Bones' concern. Some things apparently never changed, even five years into the future.

"Interfering with the past, if even possible, is considered to bear a high risk," Spock said, rising his eyebrow. He was clearly disapproving.

"But is zat ewen possible? How are you ewen going to do it?" Chekov asked. He had sat down on a chair. Now that he had gotten over the initial shock, his genius mind was already trying to figure out an explanation for it all.

"We go back further in time," the other Jim said, looking at his younger self. "We go back on Tarsus, and we kill Kodos before he can execute all those people."

"No," Jim said, quelling the emotions that tore at his composure. He was not going back on Tarsus. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Once he got off the planet, he ran and ran and ran without ever looking back. If he ever found himself in that wasteland again…

"I know-"

Jim wheeled around. "You know nothing. If you did, you wouldn't ask. It's been ten years for me," he said dangerously quiet. "And I still have nightmares about it. Do not ask me to ever set a foot on that planet ever again."

The face of the other Jim hardened. "Yeah, well, we are never going to get over it," he snapped.

Jim flinched, and the older Jim immediately shut his mouth, instantly regretting his words. He hadn't meant for his crew to hear it and was sorry that they had, but it was too late. Uhura had covered her mouth with her hand, silent shock in the way she looked between them.

Bones glared at the older Jim as though contemplating stabbing him with a hypospray just to make him shut up, to immobilize him, to stop him from ripping open old wounds. It was clear that he cared more about the present version than the future version.

The sight of it made Jim force his shoulders to relax, afraid Bones would snap and do something stupid. He could see they were all torn between him and his older self, obviously sensing the barely contained darkness that lingered around the older Jim, the one that he usually kept carefully tucked away. They were both afraid of him and trusted him with their life.

He was starting to lose his shit, but sternly told himself to keep it together. Bones, not fooled, had still shifted closer to him, one step away from stepping between the two Jim's.

"I have 44 hours until the black hole snaps and the universe puts everything back where it's supposed to be. We don't have long," the older Jim said urgently.

"It's not happening," Jim said, hiding the flicker of uncertainty in his chest. "Also, what good does it if we do it, anyways? Is this because of you? Because you don't want to live with-"

"It's not because of me," the older Jim cut him off. "Alright? This has nothing to do with us. You and me, we already survived it. It's already happened, and we survived. We found a crew and we managed to get on with our lives as best as we could."

It was the first time anyone understood what Jim he had made to get to this place. He was the first person to understand how hard it was to outrun one's demons, he was the first person to really know what he had been through. Jim had no idea how to feel about it. "Then what is it about?"

The older Jim hesitated, bracing himself. "Three years from now," he began, calmer, "a man called Talian will do what Kodos had done. He'll find old records and he'll be inspired by Kodos' theory on eugenics. He'll select five thousand people to be put to death, so that the others can survive. Starfleet will be too late, and history will repeat itself."

Bones seemed to notice something in Jim that alarmed him, because he suddenly stepped between them, and glared at the older Jim. "Listen, I'm a doctor, not a scientist, but why not just go to that planet and stop this Talian guy?"

The older Jim turned to Bones. "Because when it's been done before on Tarsus, it will always be done again. We have to get down the root of the trouble. Kodos, with his execution, has set off a chain reaction. He put dangerous ideas into the world. From that point on in time, it will happen again and again and again."

"But zat means ve vill change ze entire course of human history," Chekov chimed in, frowning.

The older Jim flashed him a smile. "That's the plan."

"Captain, I must strongly advise against-" Spock began.

"Spock warned me you were going to say that," the older Jim interrupted him, as though he had anticipated the remark.

Spock raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to go on.

"And he told me to tell you that it, and I quote, while it might not seem logical, such action is a necessary in the face of centuries to come."

Spock considered him silently, and Jim felt uneasy at the sight of it.

He mustered the older Jim, but realized with sudden dismay that he couldn't tell if he was lying or not. It was simply impossible to say. Damn him for refining the art of lying. He made a decision. "I think we should talk in private," he said.

"Absolutely not," Bones immediately grouched, turning around to Jim. "Damnit, Jim, if you think we'll let you alone with him-"

"It's okay, Bones. It's not exactly a good idea to kill my younger self, is it?" Jim asked. "Let's talk in my quarters. You all stay here."

"Jim, this is not a good idea!", Bones growled, grabbing Jim's upper arm. "If you think we'll leave you alone with-"

"Bones," Jim said warningly, "I can make this an order."

Bones was taken aback, his expression darkening. He huffed, then pushed Jim to the other side of the bridge, and Jim let him. He lowered his voice. "Jim, you have no idea what you've been through in those five years. But definitely nothing good considering shits hits the fan a lot around you. And we both know that you're no good without your crew, and he clearly hasn't been around us in some time, which means he's unpredictable, and dangerous, damnit."

Jim wasn't surprised that Bones had noticed. He was susceptible to even the tiniest shifts in his expression, after spending year upon years by his side. He resisted the urge to shake off Bones' hand and tried to relax his muscles. He hated when Bones fussed over him.

"I know. That's why I need to keep me away from all of you. It's not safe around me." He made sure the other Jim had no chance to lip-read, turning away from him, even though the older Jim could probably guess what they were talking about. "Listen, I don't trust him – me – any more than you do. But I know he's here for a reason, Bones."

Bones raised an eyebrow. "In a fight between the two of you, I'm not sure you would win, Jim," he said matter-of-factly, ignoring Jim's wince when he so obviously pointed out Jim's weakness. "The poison is barely outta of your system. You're supposed to rest, Jim. You don't bounce back from something like that in twenty-four hours."

"I'll be fine, Bones," Jim reassured.

"Are you even listening-"

Jim interrupted him. "I know what it looks like when I hide certain injuries, Bones. I know exactly how I make up for the pain, how I move when I want to keep it at a bare minimum. He's doing exactly that."

"Yeah, but he also knows that you're doing it."

Jim hid his wince and tried to ooze confidence. "Bones, it'll be fine." He shook off Bones hand and walked back to his older self. "Let's talk."

()()()

"We're running out of time," the older Jim said as the door had closed behind them.

The lights perked up, but Jim, still light-sensitive to light after being poisoned, had put them at 50 percent. He didn't bother to change it now. Wan light streamed in through the large window; space seldom offered much illumination. Jim crossed his arms in front of his chest. To an outsider, both of them appeared unfazed and casual, but they couldn't fool each other. Jim saw the tenseness in his older self. Every one of his movements was carefully controlled. So were his.

"Yeah, about that," Jim began. "How about you start telling me the truth so that we don't lose even more time?"

The older Jim just smiled tiredly. "So you have already figured it out," he said, sitting down on the bed, his elbows on his knees. "Fine. It's not about killing Kodos. We can't kill him, that will change too much. I'm pretty sure Spock figured as much," he said a little ruefully. "I just needed our crew to believe that is what we are going to do, because trust me, both of us don't want them to know the truth."

"And what exactly is the truth?" Jim braced himself.

The older Jim held his gaze. "The truth is that seven years from now, we are going to lose everything."

The world tilted. In a sudden blind panic, Jim searched his face for any signs of lying, but there were none. He took a deep breath to get himself under control, ignoring the way the truth was pounding in his mind.

"And?" he asked.

The older Jim eyed his reaction carefully. "And we will stop pulling our punches. There'll be rage, so much rage, and we'll try our best not to lash out, but we will fail. We will leave Starfleet and we'll go into hiding for a very, very long time. And we will do things that we'll regret for the rest of our life, because after everything, after Frank and Tarsus, and then losing everything, we won't be able to bounce back from that for a very long time."

"How do you know that?" Jim asked. Pressure was building in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

"You'll find out, five years from now, when you're me. You can't know that yet."

"I deserve to know," Jim hissed.

"I'm already telling you too much," the older Jim said, shaking his head. He threw a quick glance at the device on his wrist before fixing his eyes on Jim again. "Listen, we can't prevent losing our crew. But we can prevent all the things we will do that we will regret."

Jim still wasn't convinced. "How?"

"We need to go back to Tarsus IV and track J.T. down. And then we'll teach our thirteen year old self what mercy is, because he's never experienced it in his life. Nobody has ever been merciful to us. All he knew back then is being abandoned, being abused and beaten up. We only ever learned about mercy when we joined Starfleet and we realized that the world was more than hatred, rage and survival. He'll have to learn how to forgive his enemies."

"I have not forgiven Kodos," Jim snapped.

"I have," the older Jim said in a hard tone.

Jim felt a wave of anger crash into him. "He killed all of the kids we tried to protect, how could you-"

"Because holding onto the rage leads us to exactly that," Jim shouted, his blue eyes ablaze. "It leads to all the things we'll regret having done."

Jim felt the rage drain from his body as quickly as it had appeared. All that was left behind was a heavy tiredness, and he took a deep breath before he spoke. "You might have forgotten, because it's been fifteen years for you, but I know that J.T. will never listen to us," he said, ruffling his hair. "He is fighting tooth and nails for his survival. He doesn't know love anymore. He's stripped down to his instincts, he's lost all that makes him human. He'll be unpredictable, dangerous, deadly. Even if he doesn't immediately kill us, he'll never trust us, and he certainly won't listen."

"We will have to make him listen," the older Jim said urgently. "That's why you are here," he added. "Because you haven't lost anything yet. You've had a very good four years, Jim. There haven't been any losses since Tarsus. That's why I came to you. He'll never listen to me, it'll take him one look to see that I-" Jim broke off.

"That you what?" Jim asked, warily. "What happens to our crew? What happens down the line?"

The older Jim gave a sad smile. "I can't tell you, you know that." He sighed. "He won't listen to me, because he can see the exact same things you see in me. But you can make him believe that things are going to be better, that they're going to be okay. That in the end, it was all worth fighting for."

When Jim didn't say anything, the older Jim went on, his jaw set. "We are going to hurt a lot of people, Jim. If we don't do this, we'll hate ourselves for the rest of our life."

Jim cursed all the decisions that had let him to this moment, including managing to get himself poisoned. If that hadn't happened, they would have already been on their next mission, and he wouldn't have been faced with this choice.

Because the truth was, he was starting to realize that he had to face his demons. If they didn't at least try, there was going to be more blood on his hands than there already was, and he was never going to recover from that. Already there were days when the guilt became too much.

He took a deep breath. "Okay. How do we even get back there?"

The other Jim visibly relaxed, knowing himself well enough to see that he'd made a decision. He held up his hand, showing wrist. "Spock helped me build this. It's like a controlling device for the black hole. Normally, it would just swallow us and spit us out somewhere – this device can make sure we end up exactly where we want to, as long as we're in the black hole's orbit and feed on its energy. But we don't have much time until it collapses. This is a once in a lifetime chance. We are never going to come close to a black hole ever again."

Jim closed his eyes, letting the resignation overwhelm him. The universe really did hate him.

()()()

Spock clearly had his reservations, but he apparently trusted Jim's judgement and remained silent when Jim told them that he'd agreed to the plan. Bones, on the other hand, was furious. When Jim had disappeared into his quarters to pack the necessary things, Bones had shown up just a minute later, completely ignoring the fact that Jim had told him he needed time alone to think. He was following Jim around as he packed, glaring at him.

"As your doctor, I have to tell you that you are in no condition to go anywhere right now, Jim. Let alone Tarsus. Jesus, Jim. Tarsus! Did that poison destroy your last braincells?"

Jim sighed. "I'll be fine," he said, checking his phaser.

Bones grabbed his shoulder. "Jim, you don't even know how long it'll take you to find him," he grouched. "You might spend days down there."

Jim shook his head. "We've got 43 hours, Bones. Not a minute more. Even if we fail, we'll be back in time. We can't time-travel to the moment of departure, time will pass parallelly," he said absent-mindedly. The bigger part of his mind was occupied with trying to figure out how he was not going to have a breakdown once his feet touched the surface of Tarsus IV. As of yet, he had not come up with any solution. Not that Bones' hovering did any good. All Jim needed right now was a second to himself, to steel himself for the worst 43 hours of his life, but Bones kept trying to reason with him. Jim's patience was running thin.

"Jim, for god's sake, look at me! This is Tarsus we are talking about! Last time that kid died on you on that mission you had nightmares for months! I'm not letting you go through that again!"

Jim exhaled, trying to keep his anger at bay. He was already close to losing his shit, and the last thing he needed was Bones not letting him breathe. He looked at the doctor. "Bones, trust me, there is no part of me that wants to do this. But I've got no choice. He explained everything. It needs to be done, and I need to go with him."

Bones crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What if one of you gets injured? How are you going to get back? Jim, this is insane damnit, even for your standards! And you're not even fully recovered, there's still traces of the poison in your system!"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Bones, there's barely-"

"Lights, 100%," Bones ordered before Jim could stop him and Jim winced, squeezing his eyes shut as his skull was split in half by hot, searing pain.

"What the hell, Bones? Lights, 50%," he ordered, blinking rapidly.

"Oh, so you are still light-sensitive," Bones said dryly.

Jim groaned, pawing at his eyes. His eyes were watering. "Seriously, Bones?"

"Dead serious," the doctor gruffed. "Jim, we both know you don't have an ounce of self-preservation in you."

Jim waited until his vision wasn't blurred and stumbled to his backpack, shoving a jacket into it, trying not to let on that his eyes were still stinging like hell.

"Jim-"

Whether it was the throbbing pain in his head or the remnants of the poison that wore him down, something in Jim snapped like a rubber band that had been stretched too far. He spun around. "Jesus, Bones, you need to fucking back off!"

Bones took a step back, and Jim immediately regretted lashing out, hating the look of dismay on Bones's face. He fought the anger down, took a deep breath and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry. Bones, I know you're concerned. But I really have no choice in this. And I promise I'll be fine." He gave a strained smile. "I always bounce back, Bones. I always survive, so stop worrying."

He didn't wait for Bones to give an answer, grabbed his backpack and headed towards the door, knowing that Bones was going to follow him.

He did. "Jim, you are not cleared for a mission."

"Good thing this isn't a mission," Jim said, confidently striding through the corridors.

"Oh, good that you mention that," Bones said grimly. "Because in case it hasn't occurred to you, this goes against all regulations, Jim. You can't just make a decision like that on your own. It will change the course of history, hell, we don't even know what's going to happen-"

Jim stopped, looking at Bones, who fell silent. "Bones-," he began, when Bones' frown suddenly morphed into an alarmed expression, and the doctor poked him with his index finger.

"Damnit, Jim, I know there's something you're not telling me."

Jim kept down a wince, cursing himself for believing that Bones wouldn't figure it out. "Bones, I'll explain everything. I promise. But right now, you have to trust me that I'm doing the right thing."

Bones shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Jim started walking again. They were running out of time. "I won't be alone. And you know if there's one person who knows how to survive on Tarsus, it's me and him."

Bones caught up with him. "Except each of you is ready to sacrifice yourselves if necessary. There is a reason why we never let you go down without any of us. You need someone to talk sense into you, damnit."

Jim felt a small smile tug as his lips. "Bones, I'm pretty sure my future self will not be too happy about me sacrificing himself."

"I think your future self does not care an ounce more than you do," Bones growled. "You're two suicidal morons."

They stepped into the turbo lift. They had agreed to leave in the privacy of the transporter room. The door closed.

Jim readjusted his backpack. It was heavier than he liked it to be. Considering that his heart was pounding in his chest from simply walking, carrying it was going to be hell. He looked at his hands. "Bones, the last thing I want is to die on Tarsus after everything I've done to make sure I survive," he said quietly.

Bones opened his mouth to respond, but the doors of the turbolift opened and Jim quickly stepped into the room, relieved to escape Bones' worry.

Chekov, Spock, Scotty (who had been filled in in the meantime and seemed both equally terrified, fascinated and confused) and Uhura turned around. The other Jim already stood in the middle of the room, waiting. Jim hadn't exactly felt comfortable with having him around his crew, but judging from the way he had looked at them, he knew he wasn't going to do them any harm. It was a relief that even five years down the line, his crew still meant everything to him.

Chekov stepped forward. "Kepten, ve are still inside the black hole. You – I mean, ze other you – told us that as long as ve stay in here, you can return. But you have to make it back in time. Once ze black hole collapses, ve vill not have a lot of time to leave."

Jim nodded. He looked at his crew, letting his fondness of them fill his heart. He would need some faces to remember once he was back down there, in his own personal hell. Trying his best not to let on how much dread he felt at the mere idea of finding himself caught in this nightmare again, he busied himself.

"Good. Keep an eye on the data. Scotty, make sure the Enterprise is ready to fly. We'll need to act fast. We'll need to get away from the black hole as fast as possible." He caught Spock's gaze. "Spock, you're in command until I'm back."

Uhura held him back when he turned to the other Jim. "Captain, please be careful." Her brown eyes showed determination and worry.

"I will," he promised.

She let go of him and he stepped next to his future self. "Ready?"

The other Jim nodded, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Ready."

And the last thing he saw before shrill pain surged through his head were the worried gazes of his crew.

()()()

It took more than few seconds for Jim to realize he was kneeling on the ground. He groaned as the throbbing in his head intensified once more before slowly subsiding, then blinked his eyes open. He was in the middle of a field, the grass underneath his knees wet from the rain. The sky was grey and clouded, an empty, oppressing vastness.

Jim had been prepared for the sense of dread that now settled in his bones, but the sheer hopelessness, rage, anger, grief, and hurt that ripped him apart once it fully dawned on his body and mind that he was really back on Tarsus was unprecedented. Shivers ran down his spine and his hands were shaking. For what felt like an eternity, he was unable to move, and he just sat on his heels, taking everything in, forcing himself to keep breathing, even while pure panic made him want to run.

Then, a hand was offered to him and Jim looked up.

He saw his own conflicting emotions mirrored on his older self. It was all there. Everything. All the nuances of his trauma, the darkness, the guilt. There was no reason to hide it when it was just the two of them. He nodded, breathless, somehow, and grabbed the hand, getting to his feet. He shouldered his backpack.

It was a wasteland. Burnt grass underneath their boots, dying crops on the fields around them.

"When is this?" he asked, his voice rough. It sounded as though he hadn't spoken in days.

His older self frowned. "Towards the end," he said, darkly. "About two weeks before the Starfleet's arrival. It's the only time I remember where exactly we were. We were far north back then, far away from the capital."

Jim remembered it as though it had been yesterday. They'd spent nearly two months running, mile after mile after mile. He'd taken turns carrying the younger kids. He still felt their fingers digging into his shoulders, still vividly remembered the alertness in his heart as they ran across the wasteland, the soldiers breathing down their neck. He'd spent days upon days relentlessly urging them forward, finding hiding spots, spending all his nights keeping guards and barely ever sleeping. Two weeks before they'd been saved by Starfleet, he'd already been running on nothing but pure determination, because hope had failed him long ago.

"I don't even know what we'll say to him once we find him," Jim said, shaking his head, trying to get rid of the memories that kept resurfacing – he'd expected that, if there was one thing that could trigger him, it was being back on Tarsus.

"Me neither," his older self said, and started walking. "But we'll figure it out." He was already clutching his knife, the line of his shoulders hard.

Neither of them was thirteen anymore, but even for them, it was dangerous down here.

They walked in silence, both of them alert and wary, spinning around with every sound, wincing when the birds flew too low. The dark shadows of Jim's past kept reaching for him, but he kept the memories at bay, knowing they couldn't afford that sort of weakness right now. Repressing the hell out of it was going to bite him back eventually. He knew he was going to pay the price later, when he was back on the Enterprise, and his body and mind gave in, but he managed to put up walls against his hurt, shielding his mind from the memories. But, he still shuddered when the breeze carried the earthy smell of decay, bringing along scenes that he had long forgotten. The vividness of it tore his mind apart.

"You picked a bad time," he broke the silence. It had started raining. "Two weeks before it was all over, we were at our worst. We just lost two kids, Amelia and Jon in one night. The last thing he had on mind his mercy."

"It's never a good time," the other Jim, shrugging gloomily, drawing up his hood to protect himself from the downpour. "Before that, we lost Ian to the soldiers. And before that, we had to leave Isaac behind because he'd broken his foot in three places and we couldn't carry him and Kevin at the same time with our injured foot. It kept buckling, remember? We pushed through it, but…"

Jim closed his eyes. It was all hitting too close to home. The wound hadn't ever closed, and now it was being ripped open again. He wasn't sure it was ever going to heal now. His mind was still revolting against everything he was seeing, almost spiralling out of control in blank panic. "The soldiers were too close. Yeah." He opened his mouth to add something, when a sudden cry echoed across the valley.

They didn't hesitate. Before they even knew what they were doing, both of them were running across the muddy ground, their boots splashing into puddles, rain blurring their view. Jim had grabbed his phaser, his older self his knife. Suddenly, the ground broke off and Jim slid down a muddy slope, landing hard on his shoulder, turning over two times before he regained control. He got on his feet, swaying, his clothes soaked and clinging to his body.

There were two soldiers towering over a little boy of maybe eleven years. He was stick thin, clad in ripped clothing, caked with mud. He held a knife clutched in his hand, but from the way his left arm was limply hanging by his side, Jim could tell he didn't stand a chance. Not with a broken arm.

Jim snarled, slamming into one of the soldiers and knocking the gun from his hands. They landed in the mud, and Jim lost no time, grabbing the soldiers' collar and slamming his fist into the man's face. He broke his nose and blood came pouring out, but the soldier kneeled Jim in the stomach and Jim gasped, momentarily paralyzed. The man grabbed his jacket and turned them around so he was on top, throwing punches at Jim. Pain exploded in Jim's face, his lips splitting open. He tasted blood. Cold water seeped through his jacket. He slammed his elbow into the man's face, grunting, pushing him off of him and getting to his feet.

His phaser had been knocked out of his hand, but he couldn't spot it in all that dirt and dead grass. He looked around frantically. He saw something moving out of the corner of his eyes, but reacted belatedly. Sharp pain surged through his arm, shooting up through his shoulder and into his fingers. Blindly, Jim wheeled around, holding his bad arm protectively to his torso, and hit the man's neck with his flat hand. The man coughed, gasping for breath, and Jim kicked his chest. The soldier's knees buckled and he landed int the mud, and Jim kicked his head. The body went limp.

Warm blood was soaking through his jacket, but Jim barely registered it. He whirled around to the boy, but it was too late. The small body lay limp on the ground, a knife right in his heart. Jim stumbled to him, cradling his arm, falling to his knees beside the boy.

"No. No no no," he kept saying. "No."

He checked the boy's pulse, even though he knew there was no chance he'd survived. With a hollowness spreading in his chest, he closed his eyes. Memories came rushing in, so many memories of all the times he'd watched the light fade in one of the kids. Too many deaths, almost impossible to remember them all.

He felt a comforting darkness reach for him; and for a second, he wanted nothing more letting it turn him into the boy he'd been when he'd been here the first time. A survivor, not a hero. Stripped down to his instincts. A boy like a knife, sharpened by the horror he lived through.

But he couldn't let it happen. With effort, he forced himself to remember the faces of his crew, his family, who cared about him and who waited for his return. Tarsus IV was over. It was just a nightmares he was visiting. He couldn't let it turn him into a monster again.

Jim opened his eyes. He slowly got onto his feet, picking up the phaser that had fallen down just a few feet away from him. The other Jim was wiping the mud from his cheek. He looked beyond tired.

"We tried," he said.

"It wasn't enough," Jim just said, then, breathing through his nose, pushed the guilt away. It felt like a second chance, being here on Tarsus again, as though the universe had given him a chance to save all the lives he hadn't been able to save back then. But it wasn't. He didn't need a second chance. He'd tried his best the first time around, he'd given it all he had until there had been nothing left to give.

The older Jim watched him carefully.

Jim touched the gash on his arm. His hand came away bloody. "Let's go. We can't waste any more time." It felt wrong leaving the boy's corpse out on the open, but they had no time for a burial. Besides, they couldn't risk another fight, and surely, they would send up back-up units if the soldiers didn't answer their calls.

His older self nodded, and Jim shouldered his backpack. They turned north, walking through the rain.

"Bones will have a fit if he sees that," the older Jim said, nodding at Jim's arm, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.

Jim, despite everything, found himself smiling, shaking his head. "He'll give me so much shit for it."

"He will," the older Jim said with a sudden fondness, his eyes fixed at a point on the horizon, seeing a memory Jim hadn't yet lived through.

()()()

It just wouldn't stop raining, and Jim was completely soaked. He'd wrapped a cloth around his arm to stop the bleeding, but he was beginning to suspect that the blade had been poisoned, because his entire arm was aching and the wound kept throbbing violently, radiating heat. He remembered some of the soldier carrying poisoned knifes with them in case – all it took was one tiny cut. If the older Jim noticed how stiffly he was holding his arm, he didn't bring it up.

An hour ago, Jim had recognized a path his thirteen-year-old self had taken through a stony valley and they were following it now, climbing between slippery rocks, sometimes squeezing their way through narrow crevices. Jim, though unable to shake off his uneasiness, felt a little safer here, where they weren't as exposed. It was also nearly impossible to be followed, as their boots didn't leave trails in the mud.

Jim followed his older self through a crevice. "So, uh, a question," he broke the silence.

"You know I can't tell you anything about the future," the older Jim said over his shoulder.

"Bull-shit," Jim said. "You know, I think you actually can." He caught up with him. "You just don't want to."

His older self raised an eyebrow at him.

"My question is-" Jim began.

The older Jim shook his head, a warning in his eyes.

Jim stepped in front of him, so close their noses were inches apart. "What did it feel like," he asked in a low voice, "when you lost our crew?"

The older Jim stopped dead in his tracks. He swallowed, but held Jim's hard gaze unflinchingly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar," Jim said. His jaw was clenched. "Don't you think I saw the grief in your eyes when you told me I was going to lose my crew? I'm you. I know what suppressed grief looks like when we try really, really hard to hide it. You are grieving. For them."

"I just haven't seen them in a long time," the older man said, tiredness weighing down his voice.

"No, that's not it," Jim said, shaking his head. "The truth is, sometimes within the next five years, not in seven years, I'm going to lose my crew, and I'll be consumed with rage. You are able to tell me that's going to happen, because you've been through it. We're here because you watched them die and you stopped pulling your punches. "

The older Jim considered him for a long moment, then shook his head. "We're not doing this."

Fortunately for Jim, he knew exactly how to push his buttons. "So, tell me," he pressed on, "how did it feel, when you failed to save them? How did it feel, when you knew you were alone again, and you realized that you didn't deserve any of it after all? To have a family like this? To be a Starfleet captain?"

The other Jim closed his eyes. "Shut. Your. Mouth."

"You lost our family, again, the people that meant something to us, the only people-" A violent blow to his nose shut him up. He stumbled back, holding his hand to his nose, feeling the sticky blood trickling down, supressing a groan.

The other Jim came after him, and Jim dodged another punch, when he was suddenly grabbed his collar and thrust against a large rock. Jim nearly lost balance, but when the other Jim came after him, he rolled to the side, dodging the blow, getting on his feet again, blocking another hard blow with his upper arm. He slammed his elbow in his doppelganger's face, using his momentary daze to come after him, but the other Jim had seen it coming and ducked away just in time. He aimed at kick at his knee, and pain exploded in his foot.

He stumbled back and wiped the blood from his face. "I was right," he said darkly, panting. "It was you. You failed. You lost them."

"They're alive," the older Jim exclaimed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized what he had said. He shut his mouth, and the rage in his eyes suddenly morphed into disbelief. He straightened, shaking his head. Then something akin to amusement flickered over his face. "I can't believe that worked on me. Jesus, I can't believe I didn't see through it." He shook the hand he'd punched Jim with. The skin of his knuckles had cracked open.

Jim knew the fight was over, reading the older Jim's body language, but he couldn't bring his body to relax. He wiped the blood from his nose. "Well," he said with a crooked smile, "it's been some time since we've provoked Spock into and beating the shit out of us to make him relinquish the control over the ship."

The other Jim huffed in disbelief. "We felt those punches for a whole week."

Jim grimaced. "I think you broke my nose."

"You deserved it," the other Jim said.

"So, are you gonna tell me what happened?" Jim asked, shouldering his backpack. "Because it feels really, really weird to punch my own face and I'm never doing that again."

The other Jim was rolling his bad shoulder, wincing in pain. "Fine."

()()()

"A mission went wrong, as they have a tendency of doing," the older Jim began slowly. His face darkened at the memory. "It wasn't a normal, official mission. We weren't following official orders. A few years into your future, something bad is going to happen. And as a reaction, we were given orders by section 31."

Jim's heart sank. He'd worked for them before, unbeknownst to his crew. Bones would have a fit if he ever found out.

"We all knew it was going to be a dangerous mission, but you know them." Jim smiled ruefully. "They are too stubborn and loyal to ever leave my side, no matter the danger. So, we were given orders to waylay a Romulan starship. We were supposed to contact them, ask them to surrender, and bring them to Earth for trial." He paused, looking down on his scarred hands. "When we arrived, a whole fleet was waiting for us. We stood no chance. They forced me to go on their ship, alone, and…and I watched the Enterprise and its entire crew get blown to pieces."

Jim's world tilted in front of him and he swayed, but steadied himself.

"What I didn't know," Jim said, eyeing him carefully, "was that Spock had beamed them down on a nearby planet in time. They were safe, all of them, none of them was harmed. But I thought I saw them die and I – I took revenge. I blew up their entire ship. I killed all of them. I escaped with a small ship, and against protocol, I didn't return to Starfleet. I thought they were dead, that I'd lost them all. Because no one knew where I was and no one could risk me and my actions being traced back to section 31, and no one even knew if I was alive, I spent a whole year thinking I lost them, when in reality, section 31 forced all of them to keep silent and stay under the radar until the political situation had calmed down." He paused. "At some point, Starfleet did find out I was alive, but they kept it a secret from them. I've never seen Bones angrier than the moment he found out."

"So you haven't seen them since?"

"When I finally figured out what had happened, I had just spent an entire year being angry at the Romulans for killing my friends. I walked into the section 31 office with that very same anger, because they'd kept it a secret. I was ready to tear them all apart, all the officials, all those people who left me in the dark for so long. But I didn't. I resigned as a Captain, and I disappeared for another two months. I couldn't face any of them again. Not after what I'd done."

He waited until Jim had made his way up a steep slope. "Of course, they found me, in the end. You know them." Again, a flicker of fondness in his eyes. "They still believed in me as a captain. When I said I'd resigned, they accepted my decision, but told me they'd be ready once I decided to return. Pike somehow convinced Starfleet to allow me to return, if I ever changed my mind." He smiled ruefully. "Probably nagged at them for so long that they were just fed up. My crew, I haven't seen them since. Bones keeps tracking me down, and the others use every chance to message me, invite me to their birthdays, their weddings, but I haven't been on a ship ever since."

Jim readjusted the makeshift bandage on his arm. With every one of his heartbeats, his arm was pricked by thousands of hot needles. "Then how did you get here?"

"Section 31, again. When it was discovered that black holes could work as wormholes, I was given special permission to do this mission. Section 31 knows how dangerous you and I can be, and it knows that we are the only ones who can stop ourselves. We started a war, when all we were supposed to do was talk to them. They blew up our ship first, but what I did made any other diplomatic exchanges impossible for the next few years. Spock is the only one who knows about this, because he helped build the controlling device. I am also, under no circumstance, supposed to tell you any of this."

"Noted," Jim said. After everything section 31 had done, he couldn't care less about following their order. He wiped the blood from his hands. The wound still hadn't closed, and his breathing had begun to be a bit more laboured. He was almost a hundred percent sure he'd been poisoned, again, but the poison seemed to be so slow acting he would be able to push through a few more hours. "And now you think you don't deserve to ever be a Captain again."

The older Jim winced, and Jim knew he'd hit the bullseye. He was very aware of how guilt-ridden he was, thank you very much.

Jim caught up with him. "Listen. If I've learned one thing from the past four years, it's that we're no good without them. You are not supposed to be alone, Jim. This is what you become when you go too long without them."

"It's better to stay away. You, of all people, know why."

Jim sighed. "My first instinct when I saw you standing next to my crew," he said, "was to protect them from you. You've noticed that, don't act like you didn't."

"I'd never hurt them," the older Jim said, and it was the truth. "You know I would sacrifice my life for every single one of them without hesitation."

"It's not about that. It's about how dangerous we are if they're not around is to keep us in line, to give us a reason to keep going, to believe that there's something good in this world after everything that's happened down here."

The other Jim clenched his jaw, avoiding his gaze. His body was tensed, but his emotions were carefully tucked away. It was ridiculous how even when it was just the two of them, even they saw right through each other, they couldn't stop hiding their emotions. It was like second nature.

"Promise me that you'll go back to them."

The other Jim readjusted his backpack. "If this works, I'll never have killed all those Romulans. The story will be different."

"That doesn't matter, because you'll still know it happened, you'll still blame yourself for even being capable of it in the first place. And as long as you feel like you don't deserve it, you'll push them away."

"The only thing you ever had to get over was Tarsus. This is bigger than this," the other Jim said sharply. "If you had gone through what I went through, you'd understand that it's not that easy."

"I never-"

Suddenly, the other Jim stilled. "Wait, I remem-"

But it was too late.

Next Jim knew, the world shattered to pieces around him. A deafening boom nearly ripped his eardrums apart, and then, a wave of heat hauled him in the air. He landed on the ground, hard, rolled, ash clogging his nose and rubbing his throat raw. He coughed, and the sudden pain in his ribs was so strong he gasped, grimacing and squeezing his eyes shut. His finger clutched the burnt shirt on his torso, bunching up the fabric.

He waited until the coughing fit was over, spit out the blood in his mouth, then moved before the pain in his body could paralyze him again, and eased himself up on his knees. Ash fell from his shoulders – his backpack had shielded him from the explosion, and now there wasn't much left of it. His nerves were screaming at him, the pain reignited by his movement, and Jim bit back a choked sound. He got one foot under him, then pushed himself to standing. He was swaying, one arm protectively around his torso.

That had probably cost him a couple of cracked ribs. He knew he wasn't supposed to put any pressure on them, wasn't supposed to run around or else he might cause serious damage inside his body – that had happened once, and it had not felt very great – but he had no choice.

Aw, damnit, Bones was going to kill him.

He forced himself to breathe deeply, wincing at the stabbing pain in his torso but still sucking air into his lungs. Pneumonia or a collapsed lung was the last thing he could afford right now.

He waited for his eyes to focus and looked around. It had been one single explosion, but its radius was huge. Stones and rocks had been torn apart, and fine dust mingled with the smoke from the explosion. Not far from him, Jim saw his older self pushing himself to his feet. He seemed mostly unharmed, except for the way he was clutching his shoulder and gritting his teeth. So, the dislocation had been recent.

And then, Jim's breath caught in his throat.

Through the smoke and dust, he saw the silhouette of a boy. He was wearing a worn-out, ripped jacket, cargo pants, combat boots. He seemed to hesitate, then slowly drew nearer, the gravel crunching under his soles.

Deafening silence fell over the valley.

Jim saw his older self freeze up just like he had.

Then, the boy stopped, and the wind carried away the dust.

Jim, for the first time, understood why the Star trek officials had been so horrified when they had laid eyes on him.

A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his wrist, another one around his knee. Both were blood-soaked. He was bleeding from a deep cut on his eyebrow, but didn't bother wiping it off, as though he hadn't even noticed it. Under his jacket, he was painfully thin, his body held together by nothing but sheer determination. He looked like had hadn't eaten, let alone slept in two weeks, the skin under his eyes dark purple.

And he was still upright. He was still clutching his knife, he was still ready to leap at them the second they made a move. His body was ready to snap, ready to take them down. The gaze with which he mustered the two of them was cold and calculating.

From the way he bared his teeth, Jim knew there were kids somewhere hidden behind him that he needed to protect. He'd made them find cover somewhere while he'd returned, checking so see whether there were soldiers who had walked into the mines, soldiers from which he could steal food, weapons, clothes, anything to help them survive.

Jim held up his palm, the other arm still around his torso. He could barely straighten, and knew that his thirteen-year-old self had deducted his injury within a second, but knew it was futile to waste energy to hide it. "We are not going to hurt you. I promise."

"I don't believe in fucking promises anymore," the boy snarled. "Starfleet promised to protect us. They never came."

Jim was the only person besides his older self able to emphasize with the boy's hurt, sorrow, rage, and hopelessness. He was one of nine eyewitnesses. He was one of nine people who had witnessed the massacre, and who had lived through its aftermath. But his younger self, reduced to his mere survival instincts, didn't need his empathy. Didn't care. Whatever wasn't helping his survival, he'd let go long ago.

"J.T.," Jim began, using the name he had used on Tarsus, "we-"

"Who are you? How the fuck do you know my name?" the boy suddenly hissed. Behind his eyes, cogs were turning. His face betrayed nothing, but Jim saw that he was startled – neither of them wore a soldier's uniform, but they were too healthy and unharmed to belong here.

The older Jim, wary, held his hands up. "We can explain, but you'll need us to get out of here first. The soldier's always know when one of their mines went off."

J.T. tightener his grip around his knife. "I don't fucking know any of you. Why are you talking to me like you know me?"

"Because we do," Jim heard himself say. He took a few tentative steps forward, ignoring the warning that flashed in J.T.'s eyes. He took a deep breath. "Because we're both you. Ten and fifteen years from now."

The mask on J.T.'s face slipped for just a second to reveal the disbelief, confusion, and hurt underneath. He hadn't been able to make out Jim's face, but now the dust had settled, and he found himself staring at all-too-familiar features. Then, the hardness returned, and he shook his head once. "That's not possible."

"It shouldn't be, but it is," the older Jim said. "And you're smart enough to know that we're telling the truth, because there's simply no other explanation for it."

J.T. lowered his knife ever so slightly, shaking his head. "No. No," he said, but he couldn't deny the truth when it was standing right in front of him. Then, something flashed in his eyes. "But that means I survive."

Jim's heart cracked open and he closed his eyes, momentarily swaying. He remembered thinking every minute of the day that he was going to die. He remembered only surviving for his kids. He tried for a smile, but knew his eyes betrayed his sadness. "You don't just survive, J.T. You save eight kids." Damn paradoxes, J.T. deserved to know.

J.T.'s arm hung by his side, the grip around his knife loose. He seemed to sway.

"You're going to be one of the Tarsus Nine, the only eye witnesses to survive the massacre."

"I'm going to make it?" His voice was carefully controlled, but still betrayed everything.

Jim nodded, and the relief that briefly softened the hard lines in J.T.'s face filled his chest with warmth and relief. All this time, J.T. had thought he was going to die on this planet. Seeing that he still had at least twenty more years seemed to give him the sort of strength that only came with hope.

Only very reluctantly, J.T. brought them to the hideout where the kids sat, huddled together. They had found a small cave in the wasteland that shielded them from the rain. There were two boys and a girl. The moment Jim saw them, his heart fractured into tiny little pieces and he lingered at the mouth of the cave, making sure his face was cast in shadows so neither the kids nor J.T. could catch sight of the grief in his eyes. He waited until he had himself under control again, then followed them inside.

There was Celine, who was going to die of pneumonia sometime within the next few days, and Leon with the infected wound on his foot. And there was Kevin, staring back at them defiantly, the only one of the three kids to make it out alive.

Jim kept his face carefully devoid of emotion, painfully aware of J.T.'s gaze on him. If he saw as much as a glimpse of emotion, he'd figure out within seconds what it meant, and he'd go feral.

J.T. stood between them and the kids, making sure that none of them came too close for his liking. A warning lay in his eyes. There was no way he was fully trusting them. His face only briefly softened when he kneeled down in front of the three children. He grabbed Kevin's hand, which clutched a rusty knife, and forced him to lower it. "Kev, they're friends. It's okay."

Kevin didn't put his knife away, but relaxed. He trusted J.T.'s judgement. Still, he kept eyeing them warily.

"The explosion probably caught the soldier's attention, so we need to keep moving. Let's go, come on," J.T. said, grabbing Leon's arm and hauling him up. The kid was swaying, clearly feverish. J.T. gave him a piggyback, and the boy wrapped his arms around his neck, clearly trying to make himself as light as possible. J.T. still faltered a little under his weight.

Jim would have offered to carry Leon, but knew it was useless to ask. J.T. wouldn't allow them anywhere near his kids, so he just helplessly watched as J.T. straightened with steely determination, He jerked his head towards the mouth of the cave. "Kev, Celine, stay close."

They left the cave again, making their way through a passage between the rocks. The rain had gotten stronger and the rocks were slippery. Jim's boots slipped more than once, and each time sharp pain shot through his side, but he pushed onwards relentlessly. It was only a matter of time until the soldiers would arrive, alarmed to their presence by the explosion.

J.T., keeping watch of their surroundings, readjusted his grip on Leon. "Now tell me why the fuck you came back. There's gotta be a really fucking good reason why you'd ever set foot on this planet ever again."

Jim exchanged a gaze with his older self, when suddenly, a stone was set loose somewhere above them and all six of them froze up.

In one swift movement, J.T. set Leon down on the ground, pushed him behind him and grabbed his knife, his stance immediately menacing. Jim had grabbed his phaser, aiming at the point the sound had come from, his older self mirroring his movement. Kevin's knife flashed in the wan light.

And then, hell broke loose.

Six soldiers jumped down into the passage, and J.T. snarled.

Jim shot, but missed, and a hard blow to his wrist knocked the phaser out of his hand. It skidded over the wet rocks and out of reach. Jim barely had time to react before a fist nearly broke his nose. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a knife flashing silvery, and the ducked away at the last moment; the blade slicing through his clothes. Fire erupted in his torso, his ribs protesting violently against his movement.

Jim wrapped his arm around his torso, backing away, trying to catch his breath.

The assailant to draw closer, and Jim grabbed his wrist when he struck out with his knife, and slammed him into the rock next to them, gasping when it put strain on his broken ribs. The grip around the knife loosened, and Jim kicked it out of reach, then came after the man, slamming his elbows in his face, then his fist, then another blow, until the man staggered back, dazed. Jim blocked his blow, grabbed his head, and hit it against the stone. The soldier became limp.

Panting, Jim doubled over, the pain culminating to almost unbearable levels. J.T. was standing in front of the kids, fighting against three soldiers at once, snarling at them, fighting with tooth and nails, while his older self was fighting against the other two. Both of them were losing.

Jim shielded his mind against the pain, picked up the soldier's knife from the ground and came to J.T.'s aid, and for a while, it looked like the stood a chance. It was a dirty, brutal fight, knives and fists, kicks and punches, hard blows, sharp blades. But J.T.'s wiry body was malnourished, his foot injured, his wrist nearly useless. Jim could barely get enough air into his lungs without setting off a blaze of pain, and his hand was slippery with the blood that soaked his sleeve. Soon, they were all backed up against the wall of the passage, the children huddled behind them, their strength bleeding out of them.

And then, suddenly, J.T. froze up, his head jerking up, his gaze cutting to somewhere above them. Jim followed his gaze, and through the pouring rain, he could see a sniper, his gun propped up on the rock. Celine suddenly gave a small cry, and they whirled around.

Jim's heart sank. The red light of the sniper was on Kevin's forehead.

There was no way they could protect him, not with the angle. And if any of them moved, Kevin would die.

All three of them immediately ceased fighting, reluctantly backing up.

"Surrender, or the kid will die," one of the soldiers said, raising his voice to be heard over the thrumming rain.

J.T. talked without turning around to Kevin. "Don't move," he said quietly. Kevin huffed reluctantly.

"Drop your weapons," the soldier ordered.

J.T. shifted his cold gaze to the soldier, who almost seemed to shudder. All of them had drawn their guns now – it had been too risky to use them in such a narrow space, but not anymore.

"J.T.," Jim warned.

"They'll kill us if we surrender," J.T. hissed.

"Kodos wants you alive," the soldier said. "We have orders to bring you to the capital."

"So that he can personally witness our deaths?" J.T. growled.

"Surrender yourself," the soldier repeated.

And they had no choice.

()()()

They walked them across the valley until they reached a road. There, they were manhandled into a transporter, each of them with their hands bound and a cloth over their mouths, making it impossible to talk. The air was thick with the smell of dried blood, mud, and the smoke that still clung to their clothes. The road was uneven and every bump went straight to Jim's ribs, setting of an explosion of pain, wearing down the shields Jim had build against his screaming nerves.

He registered it only absent-mindedly. His mind was whirring. When he'd been on Tarsus all those years ago, he'd never stood face to face with Kodos. He'd held out until the end, until Starfleet had arrived, the soldiers never once getting a hold of him. It was only because they had set off the bombs that J.T. had been caught.

He met his older self's gaze and saw his own unease mirrored in them. They'd changed the course of history. What if J.T. got killed? What if they all got killed? There were so many lives Jim had saved, and so many he hadn't. The paradox was going to rip the universe apart. None of them yet understood enough about time travel to be able to image the consequences.

But at the same time, an old forgotten feeling reawakened in Jim's chest. His thirst for revenge. When he'd finally escaped Tarsus all those years ago, he would have given everything to face Kodos one more time and make him pay for everything he had done. For destroying his life, for killing the ones he loved, for leaving him marred for years to come. Over time, he'd bottled up that feeling, knowing he'd never have the chance to ever face Kodos ever again. It was pointless to hold onto the rage.

But now, what if he got a chance? What if he found himself face to face with Kodos, and he had the chance to finally do what his thirteen-year-old self had longed for? What if there was the tiniest chance that he could get his hands on a weapon? What if the universe gave him just one, one single moment and he had to make a choice?

With a shiver, Jim realized that he might pull the trigger.

The older Jim shook his head warningly, and Jim realized that he knew exactly what was crossing his mind. If there was one thing they knew about, it was rage, and revenge.

But they also knew about mercy.

Mercy.

Jim suddenly remembered the word. They had come here to teach J.T. what mercy was. And now Jim himself wasn't sure about mercy. Maybe some people didn't deserve it. Maybe there was a line somewhere, and Kodos was on the other side. Jim wondered where the line was drawn. One thousand people? Three thousand people? How many people did one have to kill to be on the other side of the line?

How many Romulans was he going to kill in the future? How many Romulans were going to be on that ship?

Jim had never forgiven Kodos for what he had done. It wasn't possible. But he had learned where to put the rage. He knew he was supposed to hold it tight, hold until it burned his hand, without ever letting go, because if he did, other had to feel the pain that he felt, and he had no right to put anyone else through what he had gone through.

This wasn't about Kodos, this was about him. This was about him starting a war at some point in the future because he hadn't learnt how to choose kindness when he was a thirteen-year-old boy who had just watched the world be burned to ashes. Because that boy hadn't chosen mercy.

But mercy, it was the most important thing in the universe.

Jim looked at J.T., who had positioned himself between the kids and the soldier, watching him gloomily, ready to jump up and lash out if the soldier came anywhere near them.

It was easy to be kind when you're loved, when you know that there's goodness in the world. It was not when every day, the things you love are taken away from you.

J.T. was never going to show mercy.

()()()

They were brought into a large hall and lead across the marble floor. A man was talking to two soldiers at the other end of the hall, his back turned to them. His hair was grey and he was clad in black clothes, a cloak on his shoulders.

Then, he turned around and a hollowness spread in Jim, followed by exploding black, hot anger.

It was Kodos, alive. The last time Jim had seen him, he'd delivered his speech, before giving the order to shoot at the people gathered on the market place. Old memories resurfaced and blurred together with the present; gunshots were ringing in Jim's eyes, cries were piercing through the air. For a moment, he wasn't sure if his mind would be able to bear it, but he build a wall against all the painful memories, protecting himself against the terror they brought.

J.T., for whom it had been mere months, was livid. The moment his gaze fell on Kodos, his entire body tensed up. Jim saw a knife flash out of the corner of his eye – they hadn't searched J.T.'s boot –, but before he was able to throw it, one of the soldier's had brought his gun down on J.T.'s injured wrist. The crack of bones echoed through the hall and J.T. hissed, letting go of the knife, pressing his wrist to his chest. The knife clattered to the ground.

J.T. immediately shot forward, but the soldier behind him grabbed his arms, and then, with one practiced movement, dislocated J.T.'s shoulder. J.T. gasped in pain, his grey-blue eyes wide, and the soldier forced him down on his knees. J.T. didn't put up a fight, cradling his shoulder, panting from the pain.

"They told me you were defiant, but I didn't expect you to be stupid," Kodos said, looking down at him.

J.T. returned his gaze with a burning hatred ablaze in his eyes.

Kodos stepped in front of them, his hands behind his back, just the way Jim remembered him standing on the platform, delivering his speech, surrounded by his guards. It was as though he had stepped right out of Jim's nightmares. Jim was almost surprised how well his mind had remembered all the details. The silver streaks in his hair, the sharp chin, the coal-black dead eyes.

His mind was reeling, and the thirteen-year-old boy inside of him froze up in terror.

Kodos considered Jim and his older self. "The soldiers who found you were unable to identify the two of you. There are no records of you in our database." The mere sound of his voice sent shivers down Jim's spine. His stomach turned violently as though someone had punched him in the gut.

The older Jim took a step forward, carefully composed. "We're here to deliver a message."

Kodos just raised an eyebrow.

"It's over. Starfleet will arrive soon, and your reign of terror will come to an end."

The lines on Kodos' face shifted, a twisted sort of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Starfleet doesn't care. Their supply ship never arrived on time. And now that I've taken matters into my own hand, there's nothing left for them do to. They're too late. My revolution has been successful."

"You will pay for what you did," J.T. said in a low voice that was strained from pain. "I will kill you with my own hands."

When Kodos looked at J.T., there was the tiniest flash of – was it fear? Jim couldn't tell for sure. None of the people in the hall ever doubted J.T. wouldn't follow through with his threat, including Jim. The guards shifted a little closer to Kodos, and the guard behind J.T. cocked his gun, aiming right at J.T.'s head.

Kodos tilted his head, considering him a few heartbeats before speaking. "You're an interesting boy, James Tiberius. I'm starting to regret putting you on that list. I chose for you to die because of your allergies, didn't I?" he said. "There's steely determination in you that I can't help but admire. The way you've been disrupting my plan, how you kept hiding all those children from me all this time…it makes me wonder whether I was right in deciding you needed to die."

"You'll certainly wish you'd killed me when I'll hold you at gunpoint," J.T. growled.

Kodos was unfazed. "You won't get a chance to. Because despite the fact that I can't help but respect how you managed to survive, you're too dangerous. You're a threat to the wellbeing of our society. You're too defiant for your own good. You will have to die." He turned around to face the three children, determination settling on his features. "And you, I'm afraid, will have to go with him. The order needs to be restored."

"Don't fucking touch them!" J.T. growled, getting to his feet, ignoring the gun that was held against his temple. The guard grabbed his arm and held him back, and J.T. didn't even flinch, even though the pain in his shoulder must have been unbearable. "Touch them and I'll promise I'll hunt you down and rip every fucking one of your bones out of your body."

Kodos' face flickered with sudden anger, and Jim knew it was time to step in and draw the attention to him. "It's over," he said, taking a step forward. "You'll stand trial for what you've done. Don't take any more lives."

J.T. wheeled around to him, pure venom radiating off of him. "He will not stand trial. He doesn't deserve that. He'll pay with his life for what he's done."

Kodos looked at Jim. "Starfleet is weak. They will not risk interfering. There's no reason-"

The doors of the hall burst open, and everything happened too fast to process. Starfleet officers came storming in, their phasers pointed at Kodos and his men, who drew their guns and opened fire. Screams pierced the air, commandoes were barked. Jim's guard let go of him, and Jim saw a shadow moving impossibly quickly out of the corner of his eye – J.T. had used that moment of distraction to slam his elbow in the guard's face behind him, who had let go of his gun. It clattered to the ground and J.T. made a dive for it.

No.

Jim came after him, but a body slammed into him from the side and he hit the ground, his ribs crying out in pain. He rolled twice but immediately turned around, kicking the guard who was already trying to get back on his feet, and, catching his chin, send him stumbling backwards. Panting and cradling his ribs, Jim sprang up and turned around, trying to find J.T. in the mass of bodies. It wasn't safe to shoot, so Starfleet had chosen hand-to-hand combat.

Unable to fully straighten with his broken ribs, he pivoted, trying to make out J.T. before it was too late. Then, he finally caught sight of him – he had grabbed the gun and was now scrambling to his feet, limping after Kodos, who was being escorted towards a door at the end of the hall.

Jim broke into a run, dodging a few fights, and body-slammed J.T. to the ground. His ribs made him pay for the sudden impact and he groaned from the pain spasming through his toros, coughing, fighting for air. J.T. didn't hesitate. Even with his dislocated shoulder, he was still an excellent fighter. He kneeled Jim in the stomach, throwing him off of him with unexpected strength given his malnourished body, but when he reached for the phaser, Jim brought the heel of his boots down on J.T.'s wrist and J.T. cried out in pain.

He spun around to Jim, betrayal and disbelief flashing over his face. "What the fuck are you doing? He killed our family!" he hissed.

Darkness was wavering at the edges of Jim's vision. The blood from his shoulder wound was smeared all over the marble floor, and his arm was entirely numb. The hot needles had spread to his shoulder. "He'll stand trial, J.T. Even he deserves a decent trial," he wheezed. God, Bones was going to kill him. He was in for it.

J.T. got to his feet and Jim did the same, warily, swaying.

The younger ones body was quivering with rage. "He killed four thousand people! He killed children! Don't fucking tell me he deserves to live!"

Jim was ready to leap at him the moment he started towards Kodos. "J.T., killing Kodos won't bring any of your children back to life! The blood will be on your hands for the rest of your life!"

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized he had said the wrong thing, because J.T.'s expression darkened.

"There is no rest of my life," J.T. growled. "Don't you get it? The only reason why I'm still alive are the children. I stayed alive for them. When I kill Kodos, I've fulfilled by duty. I protected them from him. I don't care what comes afterwards. There's nothing left for me after this. My family is dead."

"That's not true, J.T." Jim panted. "Please, believe me. Things are going to get better."

But J.T.'s gaze was hard and unforgiving. "Do you seriously think I haven't seen all the scars on your bodies? Or how none of you have ever been able to outrun this? You're still haunted by Tarsus. I will never shake it off. I'll never get over it. Don't fucking dare to give me hope when there's none."

"J.T.-"

When J.T. turned around, Jim was ready. He leaped at him, when J.T. raised his gun at him, and pulled the trigger..

A gunshot ripped through the air.

"I'm sorry," J.T. said, his voice devoid of emotion. "But I've dreamt of this moment every night for the last three months. I've sworn seven dying children that I was going to put an end to this. And unlike Starfleet, I've never broken any promises."

The pain didn't set in for a long moment. Jim knew the symptoms of his body going into shock all too well, but there was nothing he could do. His feet buckled and he fell on his knees. Blood came gushing out of the wound on his torso, soaking his black undershirt. Jim pressed his hand onto it, wincing as he touched the wound, forcing himself to apply even more pressure. J.T. had aimed well – he hadn't hit any organs, but Jim was losing blood rapidly. If Starfleet managed to get him into MedBay in time, he would be alright.

But there was no way his feet could carry him anymore.

Helplessly, his ears ringing and pain rolling through his entire body in waves, tugging at his consciousness, Jim watched J.T. take out the two guards that had ushered Kodos towards the door. Kodos didn't put up much of a fight. J.T. dragged him back, into the centre of the hall, not too far away from Jim, and shattered his knee. Kodos sank to the ground, and J.T. had him at gunpoint.

Swallowing back a groan, Jim looked around for his older self. He was in a fight with three guards, blood running down from a wound on his head. He hadn't even noticed what was happening. Two members of Starfleet were carrying Celine and Leon out of the hall, dragging Kevin with them, who kept trying to escape their grip, his eyes on J.T. Except for him, none of them seemed to take notice of what was happening at the end of the hall, and no one was listening to him.

"J.T., don't," Jim breathed. The blood was oozing out alarmingly fast.

J.T.'s hand was steady. His eyes never left Kodos. "There's no such thing as mercy for men like him."

Jim's entire body was growing colder with each second. "J.T….you're not a killer. You've killed…because it's what you had to do to survive. This is different," he said through gritted teeth. It was getting harder to breathe. "This is cold-blooded murder."

J.T. scoffed. "I don't fucking care what it is. I just want him dead. I want this to be over."

"It is over," Jim said, keeping down a groan. He was hunched over. "Look around you, it's over. You're safe. Your kids are safe…You made it."

J.T., for the first time, hesitated. He met Jim's gaze, and the sliver of uncertainty gave Jim hope.

"I've sworn the kids nothing like this will ever happen again."

"It won't," Jim said. "He'll stand trial. He will be…locked up for the rest of his life. The kids have nothing to fear anymore." He shifted, trying his best to take the pressure off his ribs, but only managed to set off an explosion of pain, white-hot knives piercing his torso. "Listen, J.T. Ten years from now, an Star fleet officer…named Pike will track you down and dare you to finish Starfleet Academy in four years. You will succeed, and you'll become Captain of a ship. And you will save so many lives…you will help so many people. And you'll find a family that cares about you. That is your future. All you have to do is lower that gun."

J.T.'s face was troubled. "Our father was a Starfleet Captain."

Jim smiled, warmth flooding his chest at the stories he'd heard. "I know. He saved so many lives, J.T. We will too."

Then, everything happened fast. J.T. slowly lowered his gun, and a voice behind him cried out his name, a hand grabbed his shoulder, and then, a blinding pain in his head –

And they were back on the Enterprise.

Before Jim hadn't even fully recovered, he heard the blaring sirens. Behind him, his older self was fighting for air, slowly easing himself up on his elbow, groaning. Jim's body was barely cooperating anymore, but sudden adrenaline flooded his veins and managed to get on his feet, staggering slightly. He was losing too much blood. He had fifteen, maybe twenty minutes before he'd collapse right where he was standing.

He spotted Bones at the other side of the room, who had whirled around to them.

"Bones," he said, a little breathlessly, forcing his feet to carry him across the room.

Immediate relief radiated off of the doctor and he was beside his friend in a few steps. "Thank god, Jim, we were starting to worry," Bones growled. "Really took your damn time." Jim had no idea how long they'd been gone, but judging from the worry on Bones' face, it had been a close case. "Hey, wow, easy there." He grabbed onto Jim's arm to steady him, his brown eyes immediately alert. "Jim-"

"I'm fine, Bones," Jim said, shaking him off, making sure his jacket was covering the wound on his torso. They were running out of time, and he sure as hell was not going to sit around in MedBay while everyone around him risked their lives. Even though his body was hurting. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

Bones helped the other Jim to his feet, still frowning at Jim, his gaze lingering alarmingly long on Jim's arm. "It's the black hole. The damn gravitational pull is too strong for the Enterprise. The damn hob-goblin won't admit we're doomed, but if you ask me, we're all gonna be floating out there in dead space if no one comes up with a good plan in the next five minutes."

Jim turned around to his older self, dark shadows lingering at the edges of his vision. "How many more minutes do you have?"

The older Jim gave a rueful smile. "Barely five. If I don't return to my time soon, I'll be stuck here forever, and the universe sure as hell doesn't tolerate paradoxes." For a moment, it seemed as though he wanted to say something about the injuries, but didn't. Jim was grateful for it. "I have to leave. I'm sorry. I just came here to drop you off." He looked at Bones, then back at him.

Jim nodded, swallowing, reading his older self's mind. "I'll save them. I promise, I'll save them."

The older Jim cracked a wistful smile. "You better, I'll need them in the future."

"And they need their Captain," Jim said.

The older Jim hesitated, then nodded, smiling sadly. "Maybe it's time for me to return. Somebody needs to keep them on their toes. They're probably bored to death without me." He straightened. "Goodbye, Jim. Let's hope you figure this out, I'd really appreciate if I don't just get wiped out of existence within the next five minutes."

"I'll try my best," Jim said, cocky as always.

And then, his older self vanished.

Jim lingered for a few seconds, his back to Bones, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. He was burning up. He wouldn't make it much longer. He braced himself before facing Bones, wiping his face clean of pain. When he limped towards the door, he tried not to favour his right side too much – Bones' trained eyes would pick it up easily.

As expected, the doctor was immediately by his side. "Jim? I don't like that look on your face. You being Tarsus was enough playing hero for today! You're not-"

"Don't worry, Bones, I'll get us outta here," Jim assured him. "I have a plan."

Bones just groaned – the four words coming out of Jim's mouth always meant shit would hit the fan. "Famous last words," he grumbled.

Every one of his steps sent ripples of pain through his body, and he was long past being able to block out the pain. With each second that ticked by, it was getting increasingly harder to form any coherent thought, to work through the haze in his mind. The door opened, and he limped out onto the corridor.

"Jesus, is that blood?" Bones suddenly asked from behind, alarmed.

Jim nearly flinched guiltily, but waved aside Bones' question. "Not now, Bones. It's nothing, just a small cut."

"Oh yeah? Then why did you have to wrap that cloth around it?" He grabbed Jim's arm, too fast for Jim's sluggish mind to process, and Jim hissed when he put pressure on the wound. He staggered out of reach. "Jesus, Jim, you're entire sleeve is soaked with blood!" Bones said breathlessly as his hand came away bloody. "If that's a small cut, I'm a goddamn fairy!" He grabbed Jim's shoulder.

Jim quickly shook off his hand. "I've had worse, Bones," he said, stoically keeping walking, dodging away when Bones reached for him again. "I need to get to engineering, we have about fifteen minutes before-"

"Jim!" Bones exclaimed, horrified, "that's gotta be a litre of your blood!"

"It's mostly not mine, Bones. I'll be fine." It was a blatant lie. Jim could barely take in his surroundings anymore.

"The hell you are!" Bones grouched. Out of nowhere, he had produced a tricorder, and Jim could have cursed himself for believing the doctor would give up that easily.

"Bones, get that thing out of my face!" Jim warned, swatting his hand away.

"The last time you told me you were fine you'd just been poisoned and were out cold for twenty-four-hours, so excuse me for not believing a damn thing that comes out of your mouth and cut the crap!", Bones growled, but gave up using his tricorder when Jim didn't stop walking. "Jesus, Jim, white paint has more colour than your face!"

The corridor suddenly split into two, and Jim realized with a sinking feeling that he couldn't remember which one would eventually lead him to engineering. There was an incessant ringing in his ears, and he closed his eyes for a second, feeling light-headed.

"Jim?" came Bones' voice from beside him, reaching him as though through water, more worried this time.

The world tilted around Jim, and he blindly reached for the wall to steady himself. "Bones. Which way to engineering?" The words came out clipped.

There was quiet horror in the way that Bones hesitated – Jim knew the Enterprise better than all of them combined. He had memorized the entire ship by heart. And if he couldn't remember right now, it meant that something had to be very wrong.

"Bones, which way?" Jim snapped, hating to have to use his Captain-tone but needing Bones to snap out of his paralysis.

"Left corridor," Bones said.

Jim just nodded, trying to save his energy, and pushed himself off the wall. He immediately tripped over his own feet, but Bones had already anticipated it and grabbed his good arm to steady him.

"I'll give you twenty minutes. Then I'll take you to MedBay, your hero complex be damned," Bones said gloomily. It was clear that he was absolutely serious.

Jim just felt relief. He didn't have any strength left to fight with the doctor, and with some luck (a lot of luck, who was he kidding), he could get them out of there in twenty minutes. With Bones' help, he made his way towards engineering, his heartbeat throbbing at his temples, and his bloody shirt clinging to his skin. Bones probably hadn't been so off with one litre of blood.

Then, the door to engineering suddenly appeared in front of him. Breathing heavily, Jim forced himself forward through the door, leaving a bloody handprint on the doorframe. "Scotty!" His voice echoed in the vast room.

A very stressed Scotty peered down from a metal bridge above them. "Captain, you're back! I wish I had better news, but she just doesn't have enough power to get us out of here!"

"Don't…," he began, but his sentence nearly ended in a groan and he had to press his lips together until he wave of pain had passed through him. He was panting by now, slightly hunched over. From the way Bones looked at him, he was even worse than he felt. He silently shook his head when Bones reached out to grab him again, and Bones, though very reluctant, backed up.

"Captain?" Scottie asked, probably having noticed that something was off about Jim.

"Don't worry…about me," Jim said, holding up his hand. He called upon all his willpower, and moved before another wave of pain could paralyze him. "I have a plan," he finally managed, and limped towards the stairs.

Through the haze of pain, he could hear Spock's voice coming through Scotty's communicator, but couldn't make out a single word.

"The Captain made it back. Nuh, he's here in engineering. Dr. McCoy too."

"Scotty, we're not yet…past the event horizon," Jim said, getting up the stairs as fast as he could. His feet felt impossibly heavy. "We just need to reactivate the back-up warp core."

Sheer and utter confusion mirrored on Scotty's face. "I have no idea what yer talking about." He turned to Bones, who followed Jim up the stairs. "Do you have any idea what he's talking about?" Before he had any chance to ask Keenser, Jim spoke again.

"The third…warp core…" Jim panted, grimacing when his heavy breathing made his broken ribs shift against each other in a way that definitely didn't feel right. "The one that was damaged when Khan…it was shut off when the whole thing was over, and sealed off, because no one knew if I damaged anything and it was safer just…shutting it off…"

"Hold on," Bones suddenly chimed in, "you're not suggesting-" He broke off, but one look at Jim told him that unfortunately, that was exactly what Jim was planning. He shook his head. "You are absolutely not going to get back in there, Jim!"

"It's our only chance," Jim breathed, determination written all over his face.

"No!" Bones growled angrily, walking past him and blocking his way. "You went in there one time and died, that was enough!"

Jim gave him a cocky smile. "But I survived. And…I'm the only one who knows the shortest way to the warp core. We have ten minutes, Bones. Once we're past the event horizon…"

"You going to die, Jim!" Bones seemed horrified of the idea of letting Jim go back in there.

"You still…have Khan's blood, don't you?" He knew for a fact the doctor did. With Jim being that prone to injuries, it would be foolish not to.

Bones' face was ashen, his eyes livid. "Damnit, Jim, there's got to be another way!"

Spock's voice croaked through the communicator. "Mr Scott-"

Jim snatched the communicator from Scotty, one hand on the banister. He couldn't be sure he wouldn't collapse if he didn't hold onto something. "Spock, I'll reactivate the sealed of warp core. I'll get us out of here. Just…hang on."

And before Spock had any chance to protest, Jim made his way through engineering. The air was hot and damp, and the entire ship still shook. The smell of heated metal clogged his nostrils and made it even harder to get any oxygen in his lungs.

Bones immediately caught up to him. "Jim, you're not doing this, damnit. Not again."

Jim didn't look at him, needing to conserve every bit of energy. "Just wait until the door is sealed off. Then get me out. I promise…I'll make it back to the decontamination space."

"Laddie, yer-"

"Scotty, you know there's no other way," Jim said, his jaw set. He made his way down some stairs, leaving bloody handprints all over the banister, then turned left.

Scotty fell silent, which meant that even though he didn't like it, he had realized that it was their only chance.

Just when Jim had reached the sealed off warp core, darkness flooded his mind and he blindly reached for something to steady him, but rushed forward and grabbed him – his hand on the gunshot wound. Jim hissed as hot, searing pain spasmed through his body and instinctively moved away, staggering backwards.

When his eyes focused, he saw Bones' staring at his blood-stained hand and sensed him tensing up.

Jim knew he had less than a split second. Before Bones had a chance to process what had happened, Jim overrode the code, and the door opened.

"Jim!" Bones' cry pierced through the air, and hands reached out for him, but Jim had anticipated it and moved quickly, hauling himself into the decontamination room, and the door closed behind him just in time.

Bones pounded against the glass. "Jim, damnit, don't do it! Get your ass out of there or I'll stab you with so many hyposprays you won't leave MedBay for weeks!" His voice was muffled.

Jim tried catching his breath, in vain. "I promise…I'll be back," he said, his voice sounding calmer than he felt. The truth was, his body was seizing up with panic. Jesus, he'd died here not too long ago. That was enough trauma to paralyze anyone, but Jim forced himself to keep moving, forced himself not to think about it.

"You better…have the serum ready. I'd really appreciate not having to…die in here a second time," he said, then pressed the button, and slipped through the door.

It was like having a déja-vu. Except this time, there was a bullet buried in his flesh and a couple of his ribs were broken, grating against each other with every one of his movements and sending sharp pain through his torso as though he was being repeatedly stabbed. And, Jim was two seconds away from collapsing. Gritting his teeth, he made his way through the corridor, his own panting echoing in the narrow space.

His eyes were starting to water from the radiation and his skin felt hot, a burning sensation that only increased with each minute. He felt sick to his stomach, but couldn't tell if it was the bloodloss or the radiation.

When the corridor finally opened up into the vast space, Jim could barely keep himself on his feet. His knees kept buckling, but he blindly reached for things to hold onto, groaning with pain. He coughed up some blood again, but wiped it away with the back of his hand. He forced himself to take a deep breath despite the agony it caused, and hauled himself up on one of the metal poles. His muscles were protesting and he squeezed his eyes shut when another wave of pain seared through his body, like a thousand pinpricks all at once.

His heavy breathing was scraping his throat raw. He climbed up the pole, straightening, then reached for another pole and gave a muffled cry of pain as he pulled himself up. His mind was so delirious that it kept confusing the past and the present, and Jim caught himself thinking no time had passed at all, and Khan was still out there, trying to escape.

Every few seconds, his body threatened to give out on him, but Jim had promised Bones to return, and he was not going to break the promise, even if his bloody hands kept slipping and he kept losing orientation.

And then – it was a fucking miracle –, he finally made it to the warp core.

He held onto the metal, and, just how he'd done years ago, kicked against the warp core with all his body weight. The impact was jarring, reverberating in his cracked bones, but Jim gritted his teeth, doing it again, and again, and again. He swallowed his desperation down when the warp core barely moved an inch. His shoulders were aching from and pain was spasming through him like electric shocks, his fingers numb and slipping, but he didn't give up.

And then, just like all those years ago, the warp core suddenly came to life, and Jim was catapulted backwards, crashing into a pole on his way down, and all air was pushed from his lungs. He fell to the floor, hard, and didn't move for long seconds, curling up, groaning.

Only subconsciously, he felt the metal around him vibrating. It had worked. It had actually worked. If his entire body didn't hurt, he would let out a breathless laugh.

The relief was only brief, because Jim realized with a sinking feeling that he was in a worse condition than he'd wanted to admit to himself.

He coughed weakly, then slowly rolled to his side. Something was very wrong with his back, probably from the impact with the pole. When he tried to ease himself up on his elbows, the pain was so agonizing he was paralyzed for long seconds. He could barely see anymore; the world around him was both blurry and darkening. Bodily, he forced himself up, and his stomach flipped in response and the nausea was so bad his entire body was cramping up. He gagged, but nothing came, and he forced himself to breathe in, bracing himself in anticipation of his protesting ribs.

Dragging his left foot, he made his way towards the corridor. The skin on the back of his hands was blistering and burning as though it was being set on fire. Cursing internally, he pressed on, trying to move faster, but he kept stumbling. His chest felt so tight he couldn't get any air in.

It was a miracle that he reached the narrow corridor. As though through cotton, he heard Bones' voice. He was pounding against the glass.

"Jim, get your ass over here, damnit! Jim!"

Jim almost collapsed three times when he stumbled through the corridor, but eventually found himself the decontamination space, watching Bones' eyes grow wide with horror. The doctor immediately sprang into action at the sight of him, a team of medics behind him and a very worried Scotty beside him.

Jim gave him a weak smile, pressed the button to close the door behind him, and then collapsed right on the spot, darkness enveloping him.

()()()

When Jim slowly came to, he felt as though his body had been run over and badly put together again. His head was pounding, his mind sluggish, and there was angry pain in his back and in his side. His skin burned as though he was bathing in liquid fire. For a moment, he just lay there, putting up walls against the pain, while darkness tugged at his edges, almost taking him with him again.

"Jim?" Bones' voice reached him as though through cotton. It took a split second for the doctor to be by his side. Of course, he'd noticed that change in his breathing pattern.

Jim slowly cracked his eyes open, blinking against the light. It still stung in his eyes, but not as bad as before. He still wanted to close them again, but instead waited until they focused, then managed to meet Bones' gaze.

The doctor had dark circles under his eyes, looking like he hadn't slept in days – which he probably hadn't –, his hair sticking up in places. "Welcome back," he said quietly, relief written all over his face even though he was trying to hide it. He shook his head. "You absolute moron."

Jim smiled weakly at the insult. Despite how heavy his body felt, he tried to ease himself up, but groaned when a jolt of pain shot through his ribs, making him unable to breathe. He hissed, sinking back into the pillows. "Ow," he said weakly, clutching his side.

"Yeah, how about you don't move, idiot," Bones gruffed, glancing at one of the machines Jim was hooked up on, then looking back at him. "How're you feeling?"

"I've been better," Jim said, looking down on himself to assess the damage. There was a thick bandage around his midriff and his arm.

Bones sat down on the bed. "Doesn't surprise me. Four of your ribs are cracked, you have radiation burns all over your back, which, by the way, is also covered in bruises, and we found traces of poison in your system from the cut on your arm. And just when we thought it couldn't get any worse, we had to retrieve a bullet from your torso, which you neglected to tell me about." There was an edge of accusation in his tone.

Jim smiled ruefully. "Might have forgotten to mention that."

Bones just sighed. "You wanna tell me who shot you?"

"It wasn't my older self," Jim answered, knowing what the doctor was thinking. He'd distrusted him from the beginning, knowing better than to trust Jim's judgement when it came to himself.

Bones raised his eyebrow.

Jim didn't want to talk about what had happened, but knew he had to eventually, and now was as good a moment as any. He felt darkness settle in his chest, and briefly closed his eyes to brace himself, then looked at Bones. "It actually worked, Bones," he said. "We were on Tarsus."

Bones shifted uneasily, but didn't say anything, waiting for Jim to continue.

"Except we didn't kill Kodos. Actually, we stopped my younger self from killing him." His voice was raspy and weak, his throat raw as though he'd swallowed nails.

"You met J.T.?" Bones asked softly. It was the name they had given his younger self when they'd talked about him; the version of Jim he'd left behind on Tarsus. It was easier to see him as a separate person.

Jim nodded, and huffed. "I'm not surprised how everyone reacted back then when they laid eyes on me", he said, smiling sadly. "I looked kinda…rough."

"I can imagine," Bones said grimly. He checked the heartbeat monitor. Jim's heart was beating steadily. When he looked back at Jim, there was a frown on his face. "I checked the historical records earlier. Nothing changed."

Jim felt a pang of guilt for keeping everyone in the dark. "Oh yeah, about that," he said, his smile turning apologetic. "We, uh, never actually wanted to change the course of history in the first place. I think Spock figured as much, but he didn't say anything."

Bones rolled his eyes. "That damn hobgoblin," he muttered, but there was not heat behind his words. "So what was this all about, then?"

"I can't tell you the full story, Bones. Just that we succeeded. I think." There was no way to know for sure. It was just that when Jim thought about Kodos, there was a little more indifference mixed into the rage, the thirst for revenge a little less strong than before. And that had to be enough.

Bones seemed to want to object for a moment, but then saw the look in Jim's eyes, saw the darkness, and knew there was nothing he could do to change his mind. "Alright, you moron. Keep your secrets. Just tell me it was worth all your injuries. You had me pretty worried there."

Jim nodded. "It was," he smiled. He was desperate to change the topic. "How's the crew?"

Bones raised his eyebrow at his bad diversion, but indulged him. "They're all fine. A few bruises from being thrown around, but nothing major. They're asking about you."

Jim felt relief that nobody had been seriously hurt apart from him. "What'd you tell them?" he asked, trying to ignore the sudden weariness coursing through his body. The worry had given him energy, and know that he knew they were okay, his body was trying his best to tug him back into unconsciousness. Jim forced himself to keep it the darkness at bay just a little longer.

"They don't know about your mission. Spock covered for you. I told them you had an allergic reaction to some liquid when you were in engineering."

"Thank you."

Bones' face softened. "You still owe Uhura, Scotty, Chekov and Spock and explanation, though."

"I know," Jim said, not quite happy about it but knowing that Bones was right. They would never pry, never outright demand an explanation, but he knew they deserved to know what had happened. Curiosity was going to eat them up if he didn't tell them.

"But that can wait," the doctor said, standing up. "After all that, I'm not planning on letting you out of MedBay anytime soon, so don't even try."

Jim just rolled his eyes. "You know I'll be bored by tomorrow."

"You're gonna have to suck it up, kid. I'm not going to clear you until you're fully recovered." Bones turned around, then hesitated, and Jim tried not to wince at the sudden worry that radiated off of the doctor. "Jim…," he began, than sighed.

"It'll take me some time to work through it," Jim said quietly, looking at his hands, knowing exactly what the doctor was trying to say. "Being down there triggered some memories that I had buried long ago." He hated how tired his own voice sounded, hated the resignation in it. "But I'll be fine. I promise."

Bones regarded him. "I got a very good Bourbon whiskey hidden in my quarters. We'll open it once you're well enough to handle alcohol."

"Sounds good," Jim said with a tired smile.

Bones returned his smile – underneath all that gruff exterior, there was a gentle soul –, then shook his head in feigned exasperation. "I can't believe they let you be a Captain."

"Me neither," Jim said, grinning, cockiness all over him. "But everyone loves it."