Mindful - Chapter Two
The night couldn't go by fast enough.
As soon as Jim reached his quarters, he began stripping off clothes. Garments the colors of sun and space lay strewn in a wobbly line to his and Spock's shared bathroom. This was one moment he really wished that they didn't have adjoining rooms.
He punched in the settings for shower (a rare treat)…and stood with his face beneath burning water that licked hot trails down his body.
He made little effort to actually clean himself, he just leant against the cool surface of the shower wall and closed his eyes.
It had only been a few days since his rescue. And he'd spent a few nights in sick bay at Bones' insistence. But physically, he was fine.
God, could you imagine if they'd gotten a hold of Spock instead of him? They'd never have made it past the mental shields that the Vulcan had spent his entire life building. But Jim…Jim was weak.
A heavy sigh filled the small space. It was getting so humid that it was hard to breathe, but he loved the way that the moisture stuck to his skin and the heat wrapped around his body. He rubbed his fingers together…they had begun to prune.
For the first time since the mission started, Jim desperately missed Earth. For the first time, he longingly ached to see the sunrise. There was something so holy in the way that the golden rays would spill over the land and peek around the buildings.
Even in the darkest days of his youth, there was something so promising about the sunrise. It was a new day, a new chance to start over, to make things better, to change the future.
Though sorrow lasts for the night, joy comes in the morning.
But here there is no morning.
What do you do when there is no morning?
Through the steamy haze, Jim could hear a soft whoosh. Spock was in his room. How long had he been in the shower? Apparently long enough.
He turned to shut off the water, standing cold in the space, savoring the way the drops tugged at his eyelashes as they fell to the shower floor.
Finally he stepped out, gathered up what clothes were in the bathroom and tossed them into his room. He toweled himself off, brushed his teeth at warp speed, and disappeared into his room to put on a pair of boxers. The door's lock clicked behind him, and he was relieved to hear it.
Looking around, the space suddenly felt so small. And in the room, his thoughts and fears grew louder, like weeds being watered by the silence. The last thing he wanted was to go to sleep, but weariness arrived anyway.
Barely even dried off, clothes still on the floor, Jim peeled back the covers and got into bed. "Lights, five percent," he said aloud, his own voice sounding foreign.
It was his first night back in his real bed. Everything seemed so surreal.
As he felt sleep wrap it's arms around him, he fought it, waking with a start a couple of times, before it managed to pull him under.
"You can't fight it," he heard, but not aloud… he heard it in his mind. "Don't be afraid," the voice said with an edge. "We won't hurt you…" But it was lying, because a heavy throbbing pressure rotated around his head.
"We just want to know the answers."
He fell for it. How the hell could he fall for it? It's a trap, was the last thing he thought before he felt the presence pushing into his mind.
Spock. Where's Spock?
He couldn't move. They'd drugged him. And as soon as he had the thought, Spock appeared in his mind so clearly that it startled him. The bright lights of the bridge molded around his features, there wasn't a piece of jet black hair out of place, his hands were folded neatly behind his back. And for that heartbeat of a moment, Jim believed Spock was really there.
But when he reached for his friend, Spock dematerialized into darkness.
Lost. He was lost. And it stung of abandonment, it hurt like an open wound. "Spock!"
"Pain is familiar to you isn't it?"
His world spun. It changed at lightning speed. Backgrounds washing away like watercolors, and players coming and going like actors on stage. It was nauseating. "When you tell us, we will stop." Tell you what? he thought.
It was like drowning. It was like being held underwater and clawing at consciousness. He wanted to open his eyes, to move his body, to scream and shake and fight, but he couldn't.
Scenes of his childhood flew past like flipped pages of a picture book. He became dizzy and disoriented. He reached out to whatever painful event was unfolding, to try and make it stay. "Be careful what you wish for."
The whirlwind screeched to a halt and Jim was on the ground, on his knees, bleeding. He knew the scene, he wanted out. "Tell us about the fourth quadrant of the Tellus galaxy."
His brain couldn't put the pieces together of what they were asking...of who the hell they were, of where the hell he was. All he could see was one of the most painful moments of his life, playing out in HD real-time.
Time backed up, Jim prematurely sighed of relief, and then the scene played.
Jim heard his best friend Daniel screaming in the yard across from the school lot. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him, and once he got close enough, he could see Tay wailing on Daniel. Tay's body was a blur of blue and black fabric as his arm snapped back, loaded and repeatedly came down on Daniel.
Reaching the scene, Jim barely managed to pull the older boy off his best friend before a cold metal rod smacked the back of his head and everything went black.
When his eyes opened, he registered stifling pain radiating through his head and body. He was on the frozen february ground being kicked repeatedly, staring up through blood at Jake. He gasped for air, but breathed in dirt instead. "Stop! You're going to kill him!" he heard Daniel yelp despite Tay's grasp on his neck.
Beating up Daniel…was a trap. It's a trap he thought.
"Kill him?" Jake stopped. "I'm not going to kill him. He needs to be alive if he's going to watch," Jake said, hauling Jim up by his straw blonde hair and kicking the back of his knees until he knelt, facing Tay and Daniel.
"Watch what?" Jim croaked, his stomach churning with dread.
"Watch me kill your best friend," Jake nodded to Tay. And in an instant, Tay pulled out a knife and shoved it into Daniel's side.
In shock, the thirteen year old brought his hands to the knife handle that jutted out of his body, and slumped to the ground, eyes blown wide. "You took what I love, so I took what you love," Jake said, releasing Jim's head with a shove, but the words didn't register.
"Noooo!" Jim screamed, tumbling over the ground to get to Daniel. Tay backed away and Jim hovered over the only person he'd ever cared about other than his brother. "No, no, no, no Daniel. Hang in there, you're going to be okay," he sobbed, cradling Daniel. Tay and Jake had disappeared.
Bright red blood stuck to Daniel's chapped lips, his expression was filled with sadness...not fear.
He gulped for air, and reached his hand out to cover Jim's. "It's okay Jim," he gasped. "It's okay."
Jim rocked him gently in his arms, "no Daniel, it's not. Please…please don't leave me. I can't do this without you. I need you Daniel, I need you..." the tears burned on his cheeks as the icy winter air hit his face.
"Tell us what we want to know, and maybe history won't repeat itself."
Suddenly, the freckled brown haired boy who was dying morphed…into a man…the soft familiar leather of his caramel colored jacket became a crisp blue Starfleet regulation shirt. "Jim," Spock whispered, tilting his head towards his captain. "It's okay," Spock said, as green liquid trickled from his mouth and slid down the porcelain skin of his face.
Kirk's entire consciousness shook and attempted to recoil from what he was seeing. Everything was so real. He could feel Spock's weight in his arms, he could smell the familiar incense that often filled Spock's quarters and hear the pain in his friends voice. He could even taste the dirt on his tongue mixed with the copper of his blood and the salt of his tears from having his face beaten into the ground.
He scrambled backward, he wanted out, this wasn't real.
"They will die. They will all die. But we will allow you to live. To live and to suffer."
As soon as Jim reached his quarters, he began stripping off clothes. Garments the colors of sun and space lay strewn in a wobbly line to his and Spock's shared bathroom. This was one moment he really wished that they didn't have adjoining rooms.
He punched in the settings for shower (a rare treat)…and stood with his face beneath burning water that licked hot trails down his body.
He made little effort to actually clean himself, he just leant against the cool surface of the shower wall and closed his eyes.
It had only been a few days since his rescue. And he'd spent a few nights in sick bay at Bones' insistence. But physically, he was fine.
God, could you imagine if they'd gotten a hold of Spock instead of him? They'd never have made it past the mental shields that the Vulcan had spent his entire life building. But Jim…Jim was weak.
A heavy sigh filled the small space. It was getting so humid that it was hard to breathe, but he loved the way that the moisture stuck to his skin and the heat wrapped around his body. He rubbed his fingers together…they had begun to prune.
For the first time since the mission started, Jim desperately missed Earth. For the first time, he longingly ached to see the sunrise. There was something so holy in the way that the golden rays would spill over the land and peek around the buildings.
Even in the darkest days of his youth, there was something so promising about the sunrise. It was a new day, a new chance to start over, to make things better, to change the future.
Though sorrow lasts for the night, joy comes in the morning.
But here there is no morning.
What do you do when there is no morning?
Through the steamy haze, Jim could hear a soft whoosh. Spock was in his room. How long had he been in the shower? Apparently long enough.
He turned to shut off the water, standing cold in the space, savoring the way the drops tugged at his eyelashes as they fell to the shower floor.
Finally he stepped out, gathered up what clothes were in the bathroom and tossed them into his room. He toweled himself off, brushed his teeth at warp speed, and disappeared into his room to put on a pair of boxers. The door's lock clicked behind him, and he was relieved to hear it.
Looking around, the space suddenly felt so small. And in the room, his thoughts and fears grew louder, like weeds being watered by the silence. The last thing he wanted was to go to sleep, but weariness arrived anyway.
Barely even dried off, clothes still on the floor, Jim peeled back the covers and got into bed. "Lights, five percent," he said aloud, his own voice sounding foreign.
It was his first night back in his real bed. Everything seemed so surreal.
As he felt sleep wrap it's arms around him, he fought it, waking with a start a couple of times, before it managed to pull him under.
"You can't fight it," he heard, but not aloud… he heard it in his mind. "Don't be afraid," the voice said with an edge. "We won't hurt you…" But it was lying, because a heavy throbbing pressure rotated around his head.
"We just want to know the answers."
He fell for it. How the hell could he fall for it? It's a trap, was the last thing he thought before he felt the presence pushing into his mind.
Spock. Where's Spock?
He couldn't move. They'd drugged him. And as soon as he had the thought, Spock appeared in his mind so clearly that it startled him. The bright lights of the bridge molded around his features, there wasn't a piece of jet black hair out of place, his hands were folded neatly behind his back. And for that heartbeat of a moment, Jim believed Spock was really there.
But when he reached for his friend, Spock dematerialized into darkness.
Lost. He was lost. And it stung of abandonment, it hurt like an open wound. "Spock!"
"Pain is familiar to you isn't it?"
His world spun. It changed at lightning speed. Backgrounds washing away like watercolors, and players coming and going like actors on stage. It was nauseating. "When you tell us, we will stop." Tell you what? he thought.
It was like drowning. It was like being held underwater and clawing at consciousness. He wanted to open his eyes, to move his body, to scream and shake and fight, but he couldn't.
Scenes of his childhood flew past like flipped pages of a picture book. He became dizzy and disoriented. He reached out to whatever painful event was unfolding, to try and make it stay. "Be careful what you wish for."
The whirlwind screeched to a halt and Jim was on the ground, on his knees, bleeding. He knew the scene, he wanted out. "Tell us about the fourth quadrant of the Tellus galaxy."
His brain couldn't put the pieces together of what they were asking...of who the hell they were, of where the hell he was. All he could see was one of the most painful moments of his life, playing out in HD real-time.
Time backed up, Jim prematurely sighed of relief, and then the scene played.
Jim heard his best friend Daniel screaming in the yard across from the school lot. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him, and once he got close enough, he could see Tay wailing on Daniel. Tay's body was a blur of blue and black fabric as his arm snapped back, loaded and repeatedly came down on Daniel.
Reaching the scene, Jim barely managed to pull the older boy off his best friend before a cold metal rod smacked the back of his head and everything went black.
When his eyes opened, he registered stifling pain radiating through his head and body. He was on the frozen february ground being kicked repeatedly, staring up through blood at Jake. He gasped for air, but breathed in dirt instead. "Stop! You're going to kill him!" he heard Daniel yelp despite Tay's grasp on his neck.
Beating up Daniel…was a trap. It's a trap he thought.
"Kill him?" Jake stopped. "I'm not going to kill him. He needs to be alive if he's going to watch," Jake said, hauling Jim up by his straw blonde hair and kicking the back of his knees until he knelt, facing Tay and Daniel.
"Watch what?" Jim croaked, his stomach churning with dread.
"Watch me kill your best friend," Jake nodded to Tay. And in an instant, Tay pulled out a knife and shoved it into Daniel's side.
In shock, the thirteen year old brought his hands to the knife handle that jutted out of his body, and slumped to the ground, eyes blown wide. "You took what I love, so I took what you love," Jake said, releasing Jim's head with a shove, but the words didn't register.
"Noooo!" Jim screamed, tumbling over the ground to get to Daniel. Tay backed away and Jim hovered over the only person he'd ever cared about other than his brother. "No, no, no, no Daniel. Hang in there, you're going to be okay," he sobbed, cradling Daniel. Tay and Jake had disappeared.
Bright red blood stuck to Daniel's chapped lips, his expression was filled with sadness...not fear.
He gulped for air, and reached his hand out to cover Jim's. "It's okay Jim," he gasped. "It's okay."
Jim rocked him gently in his arms, "no Daniel, it's not. Please…please don't leave me. I can't do this without you. I need you Daniel, I need you..." the tears burned on his cheeks as the icy winter air hit his face.
"Tell us what we want to know, and maybe history won't repeat itself."
Suddenly, the freckled brown haired boy who was dying morphed…into a man…the soft familiar leather of his caramel colored jacket became a crisp blue Starfleet regulation shirt. "Jim," Spock whispered, tilting his head towards his captain. "It's okay," Spock said, as green liquid trickled from his mouth and slid down the porcelain skin of his face.
Kirk's entire consciousness shook and attempted to recoil from what he was seeing. Everything was so real. He could feel Spock's weight in his arms, he could smell the familiar incense that often filled Spock's quarters and hear the pain in his friends voice. He could even taste the dirt on his tongue mixed with the copper of his blood and the salt of his tears from having his face beaten into the ground.
He scrambled backward, he wanted out, this wasn't real.
"They will die. They will all die. But we will allow you to live. To live and to suffer."
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