Re: Shifting colors.mirror_brightlySeptember 28 2009, 03:43:02 UTC
"Have you ever seen a subspace alternating wave?" Nero asked, his expression kind as he twisted between Kirk and the light. His eyes narrowed slightly and he pulled back, yellow spilling over his shoulder as he did so. “No...no of course you haven't.” Nero let out a low hiss and the fingers of his right hand gripped the grating beside Kirk's head, leaned his weight above the human. “We could barely handle them, could barely work...” his voice dipped and his smile arched across his face. “Consider this an education.”
His left hand lifted and he cast aside the bent comb. His fingers drifted across the handles that extended, twisted at odd angles and slow curves, from the jar of pigment. His fingers ticked through them, the gentle sound of glass and metal swirled between them, until he came to a comb near the other side of the jar. He pulled it out with careful consideration-the tines were long, curved. It was made up of a piece of the Narada, a titanium chip from a deck panel...one of the original ones. Yes, this was it. The light was
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 30 2009, 17:24:37 UTC
They were achingly similar, for a moment. One pain-blind, the other drug-blind. Time slowed, stopped entirely. What was occurring outside was distant and unknown. So far away.
He was warm, something to cling to in the darkness behind his eyelids. Just as his friend always had, Kirk felt himself being pulled against the other's warm body, shielded against the green. He thought about the dream, all over again.
"Promise me you won't stop fighting 'til you see me holding you.
"...Until you're holding me. I can stop fighting then?"
"When you see me, when you feel me, you can let go and let me take care of you."
Bones was here. He had seen him. He could feel him in his arms. Bones had come.
To his drugged mind, it made perfect sense. So, he gave up. Kirk collapsed against that warmth, letting his eyes stay closed, as the last of the fight went out of him.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 30 2009, 18:55:42 UTC
There was nothing but their breathing, just faintly out of time, slightly out of step with the world and with each other, slick and difficult with pain--that was true, that made sense...He was drifting somewhere, not outside his body but through it somehow, to where they touched.
Had to keep him warm, take care of him. That was so true it hurt--never looked after himself. Someone had to.
Bones had to. He understood. He did. It was right there and so clear. I love you.
He just held on, waiting in case there were tears or screaming or a lashing out of hands and feet. Couldn't let him hurt himself. Any more than he already had.
But that was all, just I love you, plain and bright as he settled close, relaxed and uncoiled, calm at last.
Had to keep him warm. He was stubborn about that kind of thing--that was true enough, too, that was the same--mulish? Yes, mulish about...Little stuff. Physicals and paperwork (you could not get him to do something he did not want to do) and whatall. Plain stubborn. And loving and his
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 30 2009, 19:08:57 UTC
There were tendrils in his mind, picking through memories, tossing aside what wasn't needed, incorporating what was. The very flavor of Bones' words, that liquor-thick peach-sweet accent that Bones got only when he was truly worried (or sex sedated). The kiss to his forehead, testing as doctors might have hundreds of years ago. That was Bones. All Bones.
Not a seriously injured Romulan with no control over his mind-gift.
I'll be okay. You're here. You can fix anything. After all, you fixed me.
His fingers, the ones that weren't swollen and ugly colors, came up and pressed against the wound. Bones was hurt. Couldn't let Bones die in his arms. Bones, you're hurt, need to get you somewhere safe... Why wasn't here safe? Something just nudged at his mind, telling him it wasn't.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 30 2009, 19:42:48 UTC
Anything, yeah. He could fix anything. Had fixed the--no, no one fixed the ship, she fixed herself, but she did better with him there.
Sure. He could fix it. Just needed time.
Bones was hurt. He was hurt, they were hurting, so much.
He had to get...Something had happened, one more bad thing in a long line of bad things. And too soon, too soon the guards would be here. That image didn't make it. There weren't faces for that feeling in here (where was here? outside of where it usually was, a place that wasn't all his) because...Jim...had never seen it. Just a kind of seasick dread that made Ayel truly horrified of green, made green strange to him for the first time in his life.
The feeling was red, too, and black and empty.
He was being prodded, gently, stroked with love and fear and cold careful fingers that tried to knit hope against the hole in his skin.
Somewhere safe? He knew it would hurt if he laughed. He tried to anyway. Oh, yes au'e, hurry.Yes. If he could just find his feet. Where had they gone
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 30 2009, 20:05:26 UTC
Kirk might have never have seen the inside of the prison-hell before, but he was getting flickers of it now. Feelings, feelings that had texture and taste and imagery, coursed through him and urged him right on. Affecting each other, two enemies, drawn into the same dream-nightmare.
Help me up. Run.
He could do that. Bones needed help. For Bones, he could keep fighting. Just a little longer. He had to force his legs to work, to get them underneath him so that he could balance. One good arm stayed wrapped around his friend, pulling them both up with strength he didn't know he had left in him. Scabs broke open and bled again, and the world tilted at a 90 degree angle.
Kirk was forced to lean against the crates, his entire body shaking as he struggled to keep their combined weight up. Come on, baby... I need you to stand for me. Can't keep us both up. His hand shifted, slippery with blood.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everOctober 2 2009, 02:07:10 UTC
When he was finally upright again, wrapped in arms he trusted, movement in the side of his vision made Ayel turn his head.
Someone running.
(That was Ikeil--the alarms screaming behind them, around them, so loud the stones trembled, so loud his skull bled--Ikeil had turned wrong, slid and slammed into the wall, and taken off down a dark side tunnel that did not scream.
Ikeil hadn't met up with them. Wouldn't be meeting them. Had to forget, name him later, write him down and keep him close, but not now. Had to run.)
Can't keep us both up. The captain was being ridiculous again. Always taking on so much for him.
Ayel's trust was absolute. Affection sneaked out in other ways, other words, but the meaning was the same.
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticOctober 2 2009, 02:25:55 UTC
There was something deeper then affection that was coming from Kirk in a steady stream, mixed in with worry, fear, and pain. It was simple-not-simple love. He was going to get them home. Had to get them home. They had to... had to...
The thought trailed off, unable to find purchase in his mind. They leaned on each other to keep moving. Need to stop.. your bleeding... The reek of that blood screamed in his mind, staining his hand.
Need to... get home. Home. That was right. Home. Where ever home was, they had to get there. Home. Home was a silver swan in the darkness of the waters.
Stay with me, baby. Stay with me. Don't die. Don't die. Don't die...
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everOctober 2 2009, 07:13:59 UTC
Don't die. The chill of it needled down his spine. Bleeding. Was all that his? It hurt so much. They both hurt. But it was buried under this other feeling, warm and sure, deeper than bones, his Bones, theirs now.
This way! Come, heis'he...follow me. Out was this way, just ahead. Never back, only forward. Had to keep moving.
(No time, out of time, the ship was waiting for them, dragged here somehow, somewhere on the surface, banked in blinding cold white, cheap hateful struts bristling all around her like needles in a pincushion. They can't get inside, she's too clever, but they've been trying for years.)
That was home. So close. Still so far.
We can make it. Don't stop now, not for anything, not even for the pain. We'll make it; I'm with you.
They twisted through the corridors and the last one spit them out.
No snow. No ice. Nothing. Black metal and the reek of copper--his blood?--and bits of blinding yellow rolling from the ceiling.
Not Kansas anymore. That was too bewildering, too foreign, something was very wrong here.
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticOctober 2 2009, 12:47:00 UTC
Together, only together, could they make it. Supporting each other, each lost in his own fantasy-dream brought around by their body's way of dealing with something more then it could handle. The common thread of protect-save-hope was all that kept them moving despite the fact that their bodies said otherwise.
Scared? That false bravado came into play in his voice. Hey, don't be scared. You got me and I got you, we can fucking do anything. It was almost instinct just to play up on such a thing, to keep them both calm. There was so much blood, fresh and hot covering Bones, drying and brown-black covering Kirk flecked in red as tattoos broke open again.
Just keep moving. Need to find... find... What did they have to find? Something safe... It took forever to actually think of it. Shuttle. Where the thought came from he wasn't sure, because he was utterly lost. Bones seemed to know where he was going... came... must
( ... )
His left hand lifted and he cast aside the bent comb. His fingers drifted across the handles that extended, twisted at odd angles and slow curves, from the jar of pigment. His fingers ticked through them, the gentle sound of glass and metal swirled between them, until he came to a comb near the other side of the jar. He pulled it out with careful consideration-the tines were long, curved. It was made up of a piece of the Narada, a titanium chip from a deck panel...one of the original ones. Yes, this was it. The light was ( ... )
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He was warm, something to cling to in the darkness behind his eyelids. Just as his friend always had, Kirk felt himself being pulled against the other's warm body, shielded against the green. He thought about the dream, all over again.
"Promise me you won't stop fighting 'til you see me holding you.
"...Until you're holding me. I can stop fighting then?"
"When you see me, when you feel me, you can let go and let me take care of you."
Bones was here. He had seen him. He could feel him in his arms. Bones had come.
To his drugged mind, it made perfect sense. So, he gave up. Kirk collapsed against that warmth, letting his eyes stay closed, as the last of the fight went out of him.
I love you.
Words he had never been able to speak aloud.
Reply
Had to keep him warm, take care of him. That was so true it hurt--never looked after himself. Someone had to.
Bones had to. He understood. He did. It was right there and so clear. I love you.
He just held on, waiting in case there were tears or screaming or a lashing out of hands and feet. Couldn't let him hurt himself. Any more than he already had.
But that was all, just I love you, plain and bright as he settled close, relaxed and uncoiled, calm at last.
Had to keep him warm. He was stubborn about that kind of thing--that was true enough, too, that was the same--mulish? Yes, mulish about...Little stuff. Physicals and paperwork (you could not get him to do something he did not want to do) and whatall. Plain stubborn. And loving and his ( ... )
Reply
Not a seriously injured Romulan with no control over his mind-gift.
I'll be okay. You're here. You can fix anything. After all, you fixed me.
His fingers, the ones that weren't swollen and ugly colors, came up and pressed against the wound. Bones was hurt. Couldn't let Bones die in his arms. Bones, you're hurt, need to get you somewhere safe... Why wasn't here safe? Something just nudged at his mind, telling him it wasn't.
Reply
Sure. He could fix it. Just needed time.
Bones was hurt. He was hurt, they were hurting, so much.
He had to get...Something had happened, one more bad thing in a long line of bad things. And too soon, too soon the guards would be here. That image didn't make it. There weren't faces for that feeling in here (where was here? outside of where it usually was, a place that wasn't all his) because...Jim...had never seen it. Just a kind of seasick dread that made Ayel truly horrified of green, made green strange to him for the first time in his life.
The feeling was red, too, and black and empty.
He was being prodded, gently, stroked with love and fear and cold careful fingers that tried to knit hope against the hole in his skin.
Somewhere safe? He knew it would hurt if he laughed. He tried to anyway. Oh, yes au'e, hurry.Yes. If he could just find his feet. Where had they gone ( ... )
Reply
Help me up. Run.
He could do that. Bones needed help. For Bones, he could keep fighting. Just a little longer. He had to force his legs to work, to get them underneath him so that he could balance. One good arm stayed wrapped around his friend, pulling them both up with strength he didn't know he had left in him. Scabs broke open and bled again, and the world tilted at a 90 degree angle.
Kirk was forced to lean against the crates, his entire body shaking as he struggled to keep their combined weight up. Come on, baby... I need you to stand for me. Can't keep us both up. His hand shifted, slippery with blood.
Reply
Someone running.
(That was Ikeil--the alarms screaming behind them, around them, so loud the stones trembled, so loud his skull bled--Ikeil had turned wrong, slid and slammed into the wall, and taken off down a dark side tunnel that did not scream.
Ikeil hadn't met up with them. Wouldn't be meeting them. Had to forget, name him later, write him down and keep him close, but not now. Had to run.)
Can't keep us both up. The captain was being ridiculous again. Always taking on so much for him.
Ayel's trust was absolute. Affection sneaked out in other ways, other words, but the meaning was the same.
Hell, I'm a grown man; I can stand. Lean on me.
They were getting out of here.
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The thought trailed off, unable to find purchase in his mind. They leaned on each other to keep moving. Need to stop.. your bleeding... The reek of that blood screamed in his mind, staining his hand.
Need to... get home. Home. That was right. Home. Where ever home was, they had to get there. Home. Home was a silver swan in the darkness of the waters.
Stay with me, baby. Stay with me. Don't die. Don't die. Don't die...
Reply
This way! Come, heis'he...follow me. Out was this way, just ahead. Never back, only forward. Had to keep moving.
(No time, out of time, the ship was waiting for them, dragged here somehow, somewhere on the surface, banked in blinding cold white, cheap hateful struts bristling all around her like needles in a pincushion. They can't get inside, she's too clever, but they've been trying for years.)
That was home. So close. Still so far.
We can make it. Don't stop now, not for anything, not even for the pain. We'll make it; I'm with you.
They twisted through the corridors and the last one spit them out.
No snow. No ice. Nothing. Black metal and the reek of copper--his blood?--and bits of blinding yellow rolling from the ceiling.
Not Kansas anymore. That was too bewildering, too foreign, something was very wrong here. ( ... )
Reply
Scared? That false bravado came into play in his voice. Hey, don't be scared. You got me and I got you, we can fucking do anything. It was almost instinct just to play up on such a thing, to keep them both calm. There was so much blood, fresh and hot covering Bones, drying and brown-black covering Kirk flecked in red as tattoos broke open again.
Just keep moving. Need to find... find... What did they have to find? Something safe... It took forever to actually think of it. Shuttle. Where the thought came from he wasn't sure, because he was utterly lost. Bones seemed to know where he was going... came... must ( ... )
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