Sticks and Stones (13/?)

Date:

4

Title: Sticks and Stones (13/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: Sequel to Many Bells Down; Riverside ‘verse AU. Khan is hell-bent on destroying everything and everyone James Kirk cares about until Jim surrenders the most important person of all—himself.
Previous Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12


This fic will be finished before my birthday in early May. So about another month? Also, I am taking song suggestions for a fanmix of the Riverside ‘verse. Please PM me (or email, if you prefer) if there is a song you think would fit any of the characters, storyline, etc! Now onto the fic.

Part Twelve

“Jim!”

The man in question moans and refuses to open his eyes. Were he to give any indication he might be alive… As if hearing those morose thoughts, something pointy and sharp pokes his shoulder.

“Is he dead?”

“Get back, you crazy soda cracker,” a Bones-voice snarls. “Give the man some breathing room! Jim—Jim, can you hear me?”

Of course Jim can hear him; Bones is practically shouting in his ear. But he is afraid to acknowledge that he still exists lest circumstances worsen. Not that Jim thinks his life could become any more insane or dire, unless Lady Q was to run him through with her deceased husband’s rapier, as she so unsuccessfully attempted to do during her last lunge. “Worse” is always a distinct possibility in the presence of the Q.

A new voice joins Bones’. “Oh, Jimmy,” it says, “I’m so sorry.”

He is incapable of ignoring that regretful tone. He opens his eyes to look at his mother.

“Are you all right?” she asks upon seeing him awake and aware.

Jim touches his forehead, surprised when his fingers don’t come away bloody. “Um, yes?” He had thought for certain he would be bleeding. Maybe he wasn’t clobbered that hard?

Leonard helps Jim sit up and Spock shifts behind him to prop his upper torso, though Jim doesn’t feel he is so injured he might fall over again. Still, the warmth of Spock’s presence at his back is a familiar comfort. This is when Jim realizes Bones is lecturing the two women presently hovering in the background, both of whom look exceedingly like contrite children.

“—already has a head injury and I’ll be damned if I let you two compound his trauma!”

“Bones…” Jim tries to interrupt but is steadfastly ignored by the doctor.

“Look at what your histrionics did!” Leonard scowls at Lady Q. Jim suspects his boyfriend might not be brave enough to direct his scowl at Winona Kirk.

Bones.”

“Now drop those blasted weapons before somebody else dies!”

Jim sighs. “I’m not dead.”

Leonard turns his glare to Jim. “It was a damned near thing, Jim!”

“I wouldn’t be lucky enough to die,” Jim says mournfully as he inspects a scraped elbow. “But it would be nice if everyone agreed not to attack me. I’m beginning to think there is a bull’s eye on my back I can’t see.”

Lady Q is all indignation. “How ludicrous! You were not attacked, James. Had you sense enough not to insinuate yourself into the middle of my war, you would not have become a casualty of it.”

Leonard’s mutter sounds like truer words never spoken. Jim kicks the man’s shin (by accident, of course) and immediately turns his gaze to his mother because, of the two women, she has the most common sense. He hopes he comes across as shocked and wounded when he accuses, “You hit me.”

Her eyes drop to Sulu’s katana guiltily. “I didn’t mean to, baby.”

Jim rubs at the bridge of his nose where her head had smacked him when he tried to disarm her of her weapon. He whines to Bones, “Is it broken?”

Without ceremony, the doctor reaches over, thumps the side of his sore nose and declares, “Course it ain’t, kid. Don’t be such a baby.”

“But you just said they could have—”

“Just because I’m mad at them doesn’t mean I sympathize with you. Of all the fool things to do, Jim, getting between two women with swords—”

Jim sinks into Spock, who obligingly wraps one long arm around Jim’s middle, and protests, “You’re the one who said I had to break up the fight.”

Leonard sputters. “I meant talk ’em down!”

“Since when does talking accomplish anything with her?” He flicks his eyes pointedly in Lady Q’s direction. Taking Leonard’s silence as an admission of defeat, Jim adds cheerfully, “Besides, they stopped fighting, right?”

Leonard stares at him for a long moment. “Is this a new tactic?”

“Is what a new tactic?”

“Getting yourself hurt so everybody’ll focus on you instead of each other?”

“Was I doing that?” He smiles.

Leonard’s expression is more exasperated than amused. He uses Jim’s shoulder as a leverage to climb to his feet and Jim mock-complains about how much weight Bones has put on. Jim himself is summarily reeled into a standing position by Winona, who is determined to apologize for head-butting him with a bone-crushing hug. When she pulls away, he grins at her and whispers, “You were awesome, Mom.”

Her grin matches his.

Lady Q, apparently, is not pleased to see the Kirks looking so smug. “I demand a rematch!”

Winona narrows her eyes, and Jim instinctively wraps her up in his arms again—a gesture which is more imprisoning than it is meant to be pleasant. He mouths over her shoulder to Spock, “Can you handle that one?”

Spock straightens to his full height (which is quite impressive) and sounds his most gentlemanly when he begins to coax the flustered Lady Q indoors. Jim isn’t quite sure what the lawyer says that entices Lady Q to lower her rapier but in another minute she is ambling through a crowd of staring Q spectators latched upon Spock’s arm and seemingly content with the world.

Only later, as Jim is stuffed into a velvet blue doublet that buttons up to his chin and a pair of musty leather pants, does he realize Spock blithely sacrificed his boyfriend’s dignity in exchange for Lady Q’s white flag of surrender. Spock had said to the old woman something along the lines of “Fighting for favor is unnecessary when Jim shall always be an honorary Q, Madame. Jim accepts his duty to you, as I accept my duty to him. Allow him to make reparations for this misunderstanding in a manner more salutary for all.”

Playing escort to Lady Q is not salutary, Jim decides in another two hours. It’s not even a sane thing to do. Yet somehow he finds himself on a promenade with one very cheerful, very talkative Lady Q as he holds a white frilly umbrella over their heads while they take a turn through a section of exotic gardens upon the campus grounds. When she is finally ready to return to her rooms—another hour after that—she says to Jim as they pause under a trellis of roses and ivy vines, “You realize, of course, I would never have harmed your mother, James. She may not be as dear to me as your father was but I do admire her strong character. Also, she birthed you, for which she shall always have my utmost respect. Do not take our tiff to heart, dearest.”

Jim, with toes miserably pinched in his Captain’s boots and brain weary of the repetition of the word ‘forthwith’, can only nod dumbly. He will never mention he believes his mother would have won the duel had he not intervened and been smacked in face by Winona (on accident) and then immediately clonked on the head by the hilt of Lady Q’s rapier (which had to have been on purpose since the old woman had yelled “Tally ho, all ye traitors must die!”).

Lady Q pinches his cheek. “What a discerning young man you are! Come. We shall journey to the salon forthwith and discuss intellectual arts over biscuits and tea.”

Jim tugs at the constraining collar of his doublet. “I really should change…”

“Oh no!” she cries. “I was promised by Mr. Spock we would have the entire day to spend in flagrante delicto. He is so generous, your Mr. Spock. One would not think a man of such standing as he would allow his lover to be seen in another’s company unattended… though his second paramour will help wile away the time while you are absent.” She smiles to herself. “The culture is fascinating, is it not, when a man has multiple wives to fill his household.”

Jim’s face is flaming by the time she stops talking. “I—I’m not Spock’s—” Harem boy? He chokes on the thought.

“Ah, you must be a very misbehaving wife.” Her eyes twinkle mischievously as she guides him through the archway. “Shall we be naughty together, James?”

He can’t shake off her clinging grip. “Uh, speaking of… duties, I think I have a curfew.”

“But you haven’t let me tell you the details of my plan!”

“I’m a good wife,” he squeaks. “No plans please!”

Lady Q lets go of him, looking crestfallen. Even the fan in her hand seems to droop in dejection. Jim means to back away and run for his life but her sad expression is more effective than her crazy one. Like a fly diving headfirst into a spider’s trap, he sighs and asks, “Okay, what is it?”

Her fan whips back into action, and she shuffle-bounces into his personal space until they are nose-to-nose. “It is a marvelous idea, my boy! First, we shall need a chariot of inordinate size, a person with experience in triathlon events—do you suppose the good Captain Pike has sufficiently recovered his wits to be of aid?—and, oh, I do believe I know where to find a soothsayer at such a strange hour…”

Jim raises a hand to stem her excited chatter. “Wait, I need to know…”

Lady Q pauses to listen.

“What are the odds of me dying?”

Her entire countenance brightens like a sun. “If you are well-trained in the gladiatorial arts, I anticipate you shall have an equally fair chance at life or death!”

The twinge in his stomach must be due to the prunes he was forced to consume, he thinks. “And if I’m not well-trained?”

Lady Q turns toward an entrance to the compound, her voluminous skirts swishing softly against the stone path as she walks. Jim is expected to follow.

“Then the lion may very well eat you, my dear.”

“She wants you to what?

“Fight a lion,” Jim repeats as he wrenches at a tiny button almost invisible against his white shirt. “We already picked out a spear.”

Jim moves his fingers away as Leonard takes over fighting with the stubborn button, wins, and then moves on to unbutton the rest of Jim’s shirt. Leonard says as he works, “Have you ever wondered if this place might actually be an asylum?”

Jim blinks. “I thought it was. Like a place for all Q so they don’t have to deal with the world.”

“I meant an insane asylum,” Leonard explains dryly. “So the world doesn’t have to deal with them, rather than the other way around.”

Jim thinks on that for a moment. “If that’s true, then we might have a problem.”

“Oh?”

“Scotty comes here during his college breaks to work. Does that make him an addition to the nuthouse?” Jim catches Leonard’s hand as it drops away and rubs the man’s knuckles with his thumb. “Bones.”

His boyfriend frowns at him. “What?”

“I need you to talk to Spock for me.”

“I thought we were discussin’ Scotty.”

“Another problem for another day. Please?”

Leonard looks interested. “What’s he done?”

Jim hedges, “Lady Q was rambling, you know, which she does a lot, like that time with the fleet of ships she wanted to purchase on my behalf—”

“Jim,” Leonard says impatiently, “get to your point.”

“I think she likes Spock too much.” He winces. That didn’t come out right. “I mean, she listens to him—which is something she never does when I say ‘no’ or ‘that’s crazy’ or ‘I don’t wear costumes’. If he has the kind of influence over her that we don’t, shouldn’t he… ask her to help us?”

“With Khan.” Leonard’s mouth thins even as he says the name.

Jim runs a hand through his hair. “Yes. No. Not just Khan. He’s a big part of what’s wrong, but I meant with other things too. The Q, their group—they have money. Money is power. If Riverside was backed by that kind of power, men like Khan wouldn’t risk targeting us. The Q supposedly have a no-interference policy but when hasn’t Lady Q been involved in our business? I can’t figure her out—and I want a straight answer for once, not a riddle.”

Leonard settles a hand on his shoulder. “You always want the impossible, Jim. But why can’t you ask Spock to tackle the crazy world of the Q yourself?”

“I could,” Jim admits, “but I thought it would give you an excuse to speak to him.”

There are a few seconds of silence. Leonard doesn’t remove his hand from Jim’s shoulder and, instead, tightens his grip in a show of understanding. He says too lightly, “You noticed.”

“Yes.” Jim adds, “He forgives you and you know that—but I don’t think you believe it quite yet, Bones.”

Leonard slumps slightly. “I’ve seen Spock mad. Hell, I didn’t think he could get any madder than the moment the judge denied my petition for custody of Joanna based on superficial evidence. But this is… more personal than that, I think. Jim,” he says sorrowfully, “I didn’t mean to mess things up so badly.”

Jim leans in, purposefully tilts McCoy’s face up, and touches his mouth to Leonard’s for brief moment before pulling away. “Next time you won’t. We’ll keep no secrets from each other.”

Leonard doesn’t look as relieved as Jim had hoped he would be. “Secrets are a part of human nature.”

“There’s a difference between private thoughts and secrets. Why should there be something you’re afraid to tell us?”

“Are you saying you tell me everything?”

“I’m saying we’ll do better in the future, you and Spock and I. I don’t want to lose what we have because some asshole likes to play games, Bones. If we give up on us, it shouldn’t be because Khan wants it or because Pike thinks he knows best. I won’t live a life orchestrated by others. It has to be on my own terms, made from my mistakes and whatever risks I choose to take.”

Leonard tugs him close again and rests their foreheads together. “I’m not as brave as you are, Jim,” he murmurs. “I hide when things get tough—” His chuckle is a forced low rumble between them. “—like coming to Riverside. Shoulda known somebody like you’d find me.”

“‘Course you are brave, Bones,” Jim argues gently. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have agreed to help Pike, or defied Khan, or put up with all of the crazy shit that happens to me on a regular basis.”

Leonard’s laughter is more genuine this time. “You do attract trouble, Jim.”

“I thought I explained that to you when we first met: I don’t find trouble—it finds me.”

“You just keep on believing that, darlin’.”

Leonard kisses him, and Jim cannot be troubled to disagree.

Leaning against the stone balustrade of the terrace adjacent his bedroom, Jim is wondering how he and his family can sneak out of the Q compound without being caught when a flurry of activity captures Jim’s attention. In the distance, a Q in a livery outfit scurries through the open walkway separating a large courtyard into two identical halves, only halting to have a rapid-fire discussion with three other Q before he continues in haste to wherever his destination may be.

Jim is under orders (Bones’ orders, that is, as no one else could force Kirk into acquiescence as Bones can) to stay in his room until any of the following happens: one, his wounded side and his concussion heal; two, someone convinces Lady Q to give up on her quest for reintroducing ancient Roman attractions into the twenty-first century; or three, they find a means of escape back to civilization. Jim is working on the latter since he surmises neither of the former options will happen in the next day or so.

Two more Q appear along the walkway, headed in the same direction at the same hurried pace. Since Q don’t run (unless their Ladyship is about to start a war in the middle of their commune), Jim’s frightening imagination is left to supply a reason for this unusual event. He peeks over his shoulder—Bones is nowhere in sight—then decidedly swings his left leg over the balustrade and begins the tedious climb to the ground. He drops behind a row of prickly bushes (thankfully not in them, which has happened before and was quite an unpleasant affair) and skirts a wall until he is at the edge of the half-circle of the courtyard. As he is about to step onto the walkway, someone approaches and Jim quickly ducks into an oak’s long shadow. To be seen is tantamount to a beheading once Bone is alerted Jim is not where he is supposed to be, and Jim has no doubt those in Lady Q’s employ will tattle to his doctor.

As if the people are being conjured, another Q, this time female, crosses from the opposite side of the courtyard and joins the not-quite-running Q in his swift trek down the walkway. They greet each other with a few words and mirroring looks of trepidation. Jim is not above eavesdropping, particularly in an enemy’s den, so he strains to hear what he can of their conversation.

It goes something like this:

“—approached the gates without warning. We must prepare.”

“I dispatched Q to notify her Ladyship of the new arrival. Where has the… guest been taken?”

“To the antechamber of his late Lordship’s study in the Westling Hall.”

“Place guards along the entryways. He must be not allowed to roam freely until Her Ladyship comes to a decision.”

The grave implications of the quick and quiet discussion floats to Jim like leaves drifting on a breeze, causing him to shiver with sudden dread. The calf muscles in his legs contract on instinct, as though poised for flight. What kind of guest could possibly alarm the normally aloof Q?

Jim waits until the pair of Q are gone from sight before sneaking into the now-empty walkway. His brain searches for the mental map he thought he had of the compound but he is unable to recall the location of the Westling Hall. Maybe it is a name they use only among themselves? It doesn’t matter, though. The Q will be heading in the proper direction in droves and all Jim has to do is follow the obvious trail.

He is, unfortunately, not as furtive as he imagines himself to be. Though Jim is determined to find the source of the Q’s disturbance (either by luck, stealth, or wheedling), he does not account for the reaction of the Q upon finding him in their midst in a large, fully occupied hall. To say they freeze in place would not be an exaggeration. Jim pokes the nearest Q in the arm.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

The Q could be a statue, forever immortalized with a last look of surprise (and a hint of fear?) upon his face. He does not even twitch.

Then someone gasps, coming back to life, and as if a spell has been broken, everyone springs into action. Jim is grabbed by two broad-shouldered Q, one for each arm, and a female Q in a severally shapeless black dress whispers furiously, “Remove him! Quickly! He must not be seen!”

Jim protests being hauled backwards. He is ignored and summarily dragged into an empty room. But before the door shuts, he hears a voice he recognizes well, despite its imperiously cold tone.

“Where is the guest?”

A Q answers. “He awaits an audience, your Ladyship.” A hesitation. “Shall I escort you?”

“That will not be necessary, Q,” Lady Q says. “I do not fear this Khan Noonien Singh.”

Jim’s heart beats once, twice, and then he manages the words “Khan’s here?”

But the Q holding onto him do not speak; nor do they let him go. Jim takes this as confirmation and does the only thing he can think of. He sags in their grip until they mistakenly assume he has passed out or is terribly ill then slams his elbow into one Q’s jaw and sweeps the legs out from under the other Q. Neither Q catches Jim in time to stop him from jerking open the door to the room. He barrels into the hall, stops dead upon spying Lady Q paused in the middle of a guard detail of Q, and demands in a way Lady Q cannot claim not to understand, “I have the right to face my enemy!”

Lady Q waves away any extraneous Q standing between her and Jim who might intervene. “Ah, Captain Kirk. Doctor McCoy remarked earlier you were not well and would not be available this evening.”

Jim steps forward. “I want to talk to Khan.” And he does, though he might do more talking with his fists than his mouth. The bastard.

“And so you shall,” she answers serenely. “But, first, please allow me to impress upon Mr. Singh the gravity of his situation.”

“What are you talking about?”

Her smile is deceptively slight. “He is here to negotiate, of course. For his men.”

His… men?

His men.

How could Jim have forgotten? The Q had not only rescued Jim and McCoy, they had apprehended Khan’s hired killers. What was it the Q in the hat had said that night? Something about neutralizing both parties.

Jim closes the rest of the distance between himself and Lady Q. “What’s your plan?” he wants to know, this time unafraid to ask.

“Do you trust me, James?”

His nod is curt.

“Then wait here until I call for you.” Lady Q’s eyes glitter in the bright lighting of the wide hallway. “And when I do call for you, come prepared to face your enemy with the knowledge that no man on this Earth can match you upon a battlefield. You are James Tiberius Kirk, son of George and Winona Kirk, brethren of the Q, and a fellow man of righteousness and justice. You are undefeatable.”

She should sound crazy. He should be crazy to believe her but something in her speech strikes a chord deep within him. Jim finds himself nodding in agreement (or perhaps in thanks), and Lady Q smiles at him. Then, with quiet, regal bearing, she turns and enters a room. Neither Jim nor the Q follow her.

It is often said that a man of famous origins, of strong will and of noble character can still be a fool. Though he may be certain of his own measure and he may feel ready to meet his enemies who would stand against him, this action only accounts for one side of a coin. He must also consider: how is the enemy prepared to face him?

Jim Kirk is simultaneously edgy with nerves and buoyed by the faith others place in him. A part of him longs to take Khan by surprise and demand his surrender single-handedly; another part of him wishes to be surrounded by friends and family, to show Khan that united Riverside cannot be so easily cowed into submission and assimilated into Khan’s petty games. Torn between warring desires, he paces a short path across the hallway before turning sharply on his heel and pacing in the opposite direction, only to repeat the motion.

He thinks of all the things he longs to say and, if briefly, imagines a moment where he places Khan under arrest and parades the tyrant before a sea of applauding reporters.

He does not wonder what might be happening between Lady Q and Khan at that very moment. And because he does not wonder, he is startled when a Q flies into the hall, wide-eyed and sweating and babbling of the prisoners’ escape! and traitors! and find her Ladyship! The two Q guarding the door through which Lady Q had disappeared silently communicate a sense of alarm in a matter of seconds before wrenching open the door and diving into the room without invitation. Jim, confused by what is happening, thinks of Khan (escape? but how when Khan is right here in Westling Hall?) and pelts toward the room, only to be shoved aside as a crowd of Q forms in front of the doorway. Voices ebb and flow, some hushed, others echoing commands to establish order. Jim tries ineffectually to worm his way through the chaos.

Then the cry comes and a Q shoves out of the room, past everyone and straight into Jim. His face is bloodless. When he wobbles, making a soundless noise, Jim grabs the man to keep him upright.

“What’s happened? Where’s Khan?” Jim demands.

“Her Ladyship—” The Q falters as another cry rises above the voices, the news already spreading. He clutches at Jim. Jim realizes then the man is staining his shirt with distinctive red handprints and he recoils, feeling his own blood drain from his head.

The Q shudders and finishes, keening, “Sir, she is dead! Khan has murdered the Lady Q!”

Next Part

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About KLMeri

Owner of SpaceTrio. Co-mod of McSpirk Holiday Fest. Fanfiction author of stories about Kirk, Spock, and McCoy.

4 Comments

    • writer_klmeri

      What I have done is an excellent topic for discussion. Sadly, were we to discuss it, I might spoil the rest of the story! Hang in there, WN. Death is only final until people stop falling into the Nexus. ;)

  1. dark_kaomi

    What. What. He did what?! That was the last thing I was expecting! Now Jim is really up shit creek. His best ally lies dead at his enemy’s feet. What the hell is he going to do now? I really enjoyed the portrayal of Jim in this. He was both stupid and smart, ridiculous and cunning, wily and straightforward. Very difficult to manage but you pulled it off. I am also pleased as punch to see Spock being the shining knight in white armor and Bones the loud savior. It’s nice knowing Jim has so many protectors.

    • writer_klmeri

      The Riverside ‘verse is known to lead you in one direction only to drop you off a cliff at the worst possible moment. My apologies. Also… What the hell is he going to do now? is an excellent question! We’ll just have to see. Thank you. I love that Jim is a man with many facets to his personality. I think he likes to pretend he is less smart than he is, not to mention to project an unassuming air of averageness – which we know ‘average’ is not a word to describe a Kirk in any Star Trek-related ‘verse! As for his protectors, he has many because he is a protector of many. It is nice to know that’s a two-way street when it comes down to it. Otherwise this story would be particularly sad, me thinks.

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