Caught like the fly in the spider's web, Kirk jerked awake with a heavy gasp. There was no moment of drifting between nightmare and waking, just a sudden blaze of white-hot that seared his retinas and forced him into opening his eyes and trying to breath in tainted air. Shadow-light-shadow turned his blurry vision into a sea of dark and color, like stained glass in the night
( ... )
The one named George was out cold behind them, and Nero beside him was flashing through emotions one after the other, hate despair joy calculation in breathless succession, hands tight on Kirk's throat. And James Kirk, what was the middle name--a strong sound, but he forgot its taste--James Kirk, eyes shut against the pain, was smiling up at them bright as summer.
I'm the only lucid one here. Shrill laughter prickled at the base of his tongue, panic that wanted a voice. He swallowed it.
Kirk's even white teeth were threaded green.
The last of his calm gave in a hot rush. Not the head, can't hit him in the head, orders--a hard flat blow to the ribs worked just as well. Nothing strong, but enough to have the wind out of him. Wipe that grin off his face.
He'd fallen for it before. Once. His mistake. Not this time.
"Don't..." The Standard for it snarled out between his teeth. "Don't fucking smile."
Another white-blossom of pain, this time at his ribs. It did exactly what Ayel wanted and his grin fell from his lips, air expelled in a rush of sound. Even more spots danced behind his eyelids, making concentration even harder then the moments before. Despite it, Kirk slowly picked up his head and dragged his tongue across the ragged-smooth edges of teeth, tasting green all over again.
His head lifted, defiant despite the pain, and stared at Ayel. It took several moments longer than he ever wanted it to to actually figure out that he knew that face staring at him. A face that might have been handsome if it wasn't plastered to the skull of a Romulan he wanted to kill all over again and it wasn't twisted in pure hatred. So, maybe it wasn't such a surprise when a breathless laugh made his lips part and stop the heaves of the chest in gulping air that made him dizzy. Someone else I killed, back from the dead. How fucking magical.
So it seemed Romulans were as warm as Vulcans. Kirk could only vaguely remember that, remember hands locked around his throat, burning hot and stealing his breath away. He turned his head, just enough to stare at their interlaced hands, staring at his bent-back wrist.
It should have hurt more then it did.
He had a feeling that wasn't going to be a problem in a moment.
Words spilled from his mouth without any connection to his brain, "So, does Ugly over there... even use lube before he fucks ya? Or does he do it dry?"
His mouth fell open. He heard his jaw click, heard it snap shut on a snarl. He clenched tighter and realized he was seeing green.
"You," he growled, and it was all he could say for a moment. Something was wrong with Kirk's hand, or with his grip. His mouth was dry, suddenly.
The outermost finger, the smallest one. It was reed-thin and delicate and it twitched, just slightly, when he stroked it, hooking over it with his own.
Ayel twisted down hard and it gave with a crackle.
"You'll find out," he promised through grit teeth.
Words died and choked in Kirk's throat at the pain. His fingers twitched violently in the heavy grasp and he bit back a cry of pain literally. His teeth dug hard into the soft flesh of his lower lip, eyes squeezing shut. He wouldn't give this fucker the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
After several moments, shaking very slightly, his head lifted. The defiance was still there, dark and burning. Not going to give in. One very solid thought in a very not solid world.
It would be so easy to do it again, just to get that scream. It was there, right there under the skin--he saw Kirk swallow it, and he wanted it and it would have it, one way or another.
No. He wasn't a monster. Not yet. Romulus hadn't done it. Kelvin hadn't done it. Not even that place had broken him down.
Ayel blinked and tilted Kirk's palm, adjusting his grip to trap the ring finger. He did have strong hands. Cool and sleek and dry--he was hurting, that was obvious in the way his eyes screwed shut, his teeth dragging red lines from his lower lip. But his hands were dry; Kirk was fearless or a bit feverish for a human, or both. It was probably both. That stuff brought evil dreams, awake or asleep.
Ayel leaned in and lowered his voice. "We don't have to do this." Not quite realizing he was even doing it, he stroked Kirk's palm as he slowly brought the ring finger back. Enough pressure to threaten, but only just. "Give me the codes."
The flavor of liquid iron on the air was sharp, sudden. It reached Nero in the shade behind the lights, cut through him with the force of Kirk's self-imposed silence. His hands appeared before him and he glanced past them. He could see Ayel, hear the low pitch in his voice as he curled over the bound man, and he cocked his head to the side. His ear was bleeding, a light trickle of warmth and green down his face and jacket. As he focused, he knew it, as surely as this was a memory of Ayel. Ael.
He stepped into the light, a shadow across Ayel's back, and watched with careful, calculating eyes. "The codes," he repeated, his voice free from meandering thought. The fuchsia lights were hot and loud, he would fall into them again if this did not end.
Oh, definitely both. The sedatives were causing reactions in his system that his medical file screamed about, and well, even this, he refused to be afraid. His lips parted as he panted, knowing what was coming. Maybe in the end he'd have all of his fingers broken. Maybe they would stop. Probably wouldn't.
The world had reduced down to what he was staring at - their hands touching, linked together. Now it was a waiting game, waiting for the snap, waiting for the pain that would follow.
Then, another voice.
Kirk slowly turned his head, blue eyes lifting and focusing on Nero. They looked so different, the two Romulans... but they were blurring together in light and shadow. All pink and orange and black... "Does... Do... you give Ayel... the reach around?" The easiest thought of all. Bones would have recognized it where no one else would have. The mask, the mask that fooled so many, and here had been turned into a protective shield for his mind.
Kirk's eyes were liquid, swimming behind glass and shade. Nero watched him with a keen interest and cocked his head to the side as time slipped beside him.
"Hllue thlem."
The words were stable but weary when Nero heard them. He wasn't sure if they fell from his lips that way, or if the lights had drained them of meaning. His hand grazed Ayel as he turned away, his fingers sliding across the man's shoulder with phantom pressure.
Nero was staring at the back wall, eyes unfocused and lids draped as heavily as the coat across his shoulders. He felt the snap against his back, the twist and crack of fragile bone. His coat smelled green...his fingers and legs were cold, wet, and the hissing of the vents had a phantom catch. He couldn't hear as he stared at the blackness, withdrawn beyond the fuchsia. Beneath it.
It was Eihva's birthing day.
He clutched his fingers and he could feel her femur in his hand, the cold crawl of her flesh across the back of his arm, dripping from his coat. His fury swirled incoherently with sorrow and he scowled, twisting his head to listen over his shoulder.
The difficult language was beyond him, for now. So for now, he stared at Ayel. His eyes swept the delicate tattoos, up to pointed ears, down slanted eyebrows to dark and hating eyes. His father had passed out from what he thought he knew, unknowningly to Kirk going to a place beyond this death and darkness. Kirk had never liked 'rank, name, serial number' though of course he knew it, had it beaten into his skull.
There were other things he preferred to do to be stubborn as fuck and not given the enemy what they wanted, particularly when he had to protect someone else's life in the process.
So he met Ayel's eyes, "Why are you so... hypocritical, huh?" He asked, voice thick with dryness and drugs.
The word struck deep, but it never showed on his face. Kirk didn't understand. Couldn't. Not until Earth burned, boiled inward on its core and vanished.
And now it wouldn't happen. Decalithium was rare, even in his own time, and processing it was entirely beyond him. Thaliij--their geochemist, brilliant and large as life with a laugh like a landslide--he had barely been able to keep the mixture stable, even with the self-evolving pattern matrix Ayel had written into the stasis fields.
And Thaliij was gone. There would be no more red matter. But Kirk didn't know--didn't realize that when Nero said crew, he meant the whole crew. Everyone.
He would probably laugh if he did know it.
"Why--" Ayel gritted, his mouth was so dry, it made no sense, "why so stubborn, James?" That finger between his was bloodless from the pressure. "Tell me. The code."
Fire stabbed down his hand as he turned bone backward with a crisp snap. His vision burned white and he sucked in a breath, jolted, confused.
Kirk's throat jumped, choking on a cry that threatened to ring out. His vision flared white, bright and hot, and settled into agony in his hand. His breath came out in fast pants, his mind screaming, tiny tears at the corners of his eyes that he refused to shed. The sedative was being burned off at a fantastic rate with adrenaline to speed up the whole process.
"You--" It came out as a ragged sound through gritted teeth. He had lived with worse pain. He could deal with it. He had to. Had to survive. "You hate-- Federation... for failing." Every word felt like a drop of blood falling from his lips until he realized he had bit so hard into his own lip it was indeed bleeding, trickling down his chest, splashing bright on the wound on his chest.
"Could s-.. save Romulus..." That much he knew. He knew from Prime's memories grieflovelosshurtguiltfailure. "Inste..ad... here. Too caught in... hatred, revenge. No more honor."
Reply
I'm the only lucid one here. Shrill laughter prickled at the base of his tongue, panic that wanted a voice. He swallowed it.
Kirk's even white teeth were threaded green.
The last of his calm gave in a hot rush. Not the head, can't hit him in the head, orders--a hard flat blow to the ribs worked just as well. Nothing strong, but enough to have the wind out of him. Wipe that grin off his face.
He'd fallen for it before. Once. His mistake. Not this time.
"Don't..." The Standard for it snarled out between his teeth. "Don't fucking smile."
Reply
His head lifted, defiant despite the pain, and stared at Ayel. It took several moments longer than he ever wanted it to to actually figure out that he knew that face staring at him. A face that might have been handsome if it wasn't plastered to the skull of a Romulan he wanted to kill all over again and it wasn't twisted in pure hatred. So, maybe it wasn't such a surprise when a breathless laugh made his lips part and stop the heaves of the chest in gulping air that made him dizzy. Someone else I killed, back from the dead. How fucking magical.
Reply
Reply
It should have hurt more then it did.
He had a feeling that wasn't going to be a problem in a moment.
Words spilled from his mouth without any connection to his brain, "So, does Ugly over there... even use lube before he fucks ya? Or does he do it dry?"
Reply
"You," he growled, and it was all he could say for a moment. Something was wrong with Kirk's hand, or with his grip. His mouth was dry, suddenly.
The outermost finger, the smallest one. It was reed-thin and delicate and it twitched, just slightly, when he stroked it, hooking over it with his own.
Ayel twisted down hard and it gave with a crackle.
"You'll find out," he promised through grit teeth.
Reply
After several moments, shaking very slightly, his head lifted. The defiance was still there, dark and burning. Not going to give in. One very solid thought in a very not solid world.
Reply
No. He wasn't a monster. Not yet. Romulus hadn't done it. Kelvin hadn't done it. Not even that place had broken him down.
Ayel blinked and tilted Kirk's palm, adjusting his grip to trap the ring finger. He did have strong hands. Cool and sleek and dry--he was hurting, that was obvious in the way his eyes screwed shut, his teeth dragging red lines from his lower lip. But his hands were dry; Kirk was fearless or a bit feverish for a human, or both. It was probably both. That stuff brought evil dreams, awake or asleep.
Ayel leaned in and lowered his voice. "We don't have to do this." Not quite realizing he was even doing it, he stroked Kirk's palm as he slowly brought the ring finger back. Enough pressure to threaten, but only just. "Give me the codes."
Reply
He stepped into the light, a shadow across Ayel's back, and watched with careful, calculating eyes. "The codes," he repeated, his voice free from meandering thought. The fuchsia lights were hot and loud, he would fall into them again if this did not end.
Reply
The world had reduced down to what he was staring at - their hands touching, linked together. Now it was a waiting game, waiting for the snap, waiting for the pain that would follow.
Then, another voice.
Kirk slowly turned his head, blue eyes lifting and focusing on Nero. They looked so different, the two Romulans... but they were blurring together in light and shadow. All pink and orange and black... "Does... Do... you give Ayel... the reach around?" The easiest thought of all. Bones would have recognized it where no one else would have. The mask, the mask that fooled so many, and here had been turned into a protective shield for his mind.
Reply
"Hllue thlem."
The words were stable but weary when Nero heard them. He wasn't sure if they fell from his lips that way, or if the lights had drained them of meaning. His hand grazed Ayel as he turned away, his fingers sliding across the man's shoulder with phantom pressure.
(Hllue thelm. - Break him.)
Reply
What did it take? Ayel gritted his teeth on a shout of frustration. He was in control here. He was.
His fingers were sore, and they shouldn't be, and Kirk just would not stop talking, but only about the wrong things.
"Hllue thlem." Nero's orders fell like lead, his touch hollow as mist.
Ayel frowned and hid it in a sneer, his hand clawing into Kirk's.
"Ie, rekkhai."
After all, their distinguished guest had nine fingers more.
For starters.
(Hllue thlem - break him; ie, rekkhai - Yes, sir.)
Reply
It was Eihva's birthing day.
He clutched his fingers and he could feel her femur in his hand, the cold crawl of her flesh across the back of his arm, dripping from his coat. His fury swirled incoherently with sorrow and he scowled, twisting his head to listen over his shoulder.
Reply
There were other things he preferred to do to be stubborn as fuck and not given the enemy what they wanted, particularly when he had to protect someone else's life in the process.
So he met Ayel's eyes, "Why are you so... hypocritical, huh?" He asked, voice thick with dryness and drugs.
Reply
And now it wouldn't happen. Decalithium was rare, even in his own time, and processing it was entirely beyond him. Thaliij--their geochemist, brilliant and large as life with a laugh like a landslide--he had barely been able to keep the mixture stable, even with the self-evolving pattern matrix Ayel had written into the stasis fields.
And Thaliij was gone. There would be no more red matter. But Kirk didn't know--didn't realize that when Nero said crew, he meant the whole crew. Everyone.
He would probably laugh if he did know it.
"Why--" Ayel gritted, his mouth was so dry, it made no sense, "why so stubborn, James?" That finger between his was bloodless from the pressure. "Tell me. The code."
Fire stabbed down his hand as he turned bone backward with a crisp snap. His vision burned white and he sucked in a breath, jolted, confused.
...Hypocrite.He wondered what Eivha would ( ... )
Reply
"You--" It came out as a ragged sound through gritted teeth. He had lived with worse pain. He could deal with it. He had to. Had to survive. "You hate-- Federation... for failing." Every word felt like a drop of blood falling from his lips until he realized he had bit so hard into his own lip it was indeed bleeding, trickling down his chest, splashing bright on the wound on his chest.
"Could s-.. save Romulus..." That much he knew. He knew from Prime's memories grieflovelosshurtguiltfailure. "Inste..ad... here. Too caught in... hatred, revenge. No more honor."
Reply
Leave a comment