0Title: Sticks and Stones (17/18)
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 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
A Riverside ‘verse fanmix is available for your enjoyment. It was intended to be a small, uncomplicated thing but alas my muse commandeered the project and now the mix is basically a picture book with a side of free music. You may learn some things you did not know about the characters; you may discover a hint or two about the future; or you may simply stare at the artwork and wonder why I don’t have a life outside of writing. Overall, I hope it pleases! I recommend you take a look at it after finishing Sticks and Stones. It can be found here or see the link at the end of the epilogue.
This last chapter & epilogue mark several events of great import:
– the end of what I now dub the Riversider ‘verse Trilogy, which in its entirety is over 300,000 words and the result of countless hours devoted to writing labor;
– my farewell to these beloved characters for an unknown period of time, whereupon I may ponder some of their other untold stories;
– the long-awaited ONE MILLION word count as a burgeoning writer of two years; and
– tears. Because I actually cried after I wrote the last line.
Before we begin, let me express my heartfelt gratitude to those of you who came along for the ride. Without you, the readers, I wouldn’t have had the courage to face the uphill battles that are part of writing and, more importantly, to keep telling Jim’s story. Thank you.
Part Sixteen
Khan’s house is ablaze. Jim, in the foyer with his jacket sleeve to his nose, coughs violently against a thick curtain of smoke. He hadn’t expected the house to catch fire so fast. Don’t bigger structures take longer to burn? Unless the insulation in the walls is like tinder, made of something such as cotton, it’s happening too fast. As he turns toward the front door, ready to flee into the flashing cop lights circling the gravel drive of the house, an unsettling sound skirts beneath the roar and crackle of the flames. Jim stills. Those few seconds of hesitation lend the fire an opportunity to drop a burning roof beam through the wide-set staircase. On instinct he jumps back and presses to a wall not yet touched by fire, knowing he cannot afford to linger and live.
The sound comes again, this time the unmistakable cry of a person.
His brain rejects the possibility at the same time his heart accepts it as true. He had checked the house carefully for others—upstairs first, downstairs second; no one is supposed to be trapped here, die here. Yet even as Jim thinks this, he cries out, “Where are you?”
Someone, coughing harshly, shouts, “Here! H-Here!“
But where? Sound has no direction in an inferno; it comes from everywhere.
A smoldering piece of fabric floats onto Jim’s arm. He slaps it away. The acrid taste in the back of his mouth is familiar; the heat against his skin more so. He could be in the diner again, the one he’s known since childhood, unable to move and barely able to stay conscious, while the world is consumed around him. He remembers, quite vividly, how Trelane had laughed as he walked away and left Jim to die. The nightmare was real then, and it is real now in a way Jim had forgotten he isn’t prepared to meet.
“HELP! HELP ME!“
The terror is real too, both Jim’s and the terror of the person trapped somewhere farther inside the house. With a last look at the door, in that moment, which is an almost welcoming escape route, Jim dives back into the hungry fire.
Nyota has never felt so helpless standing by herself; she turns to watch the police cars fly down the driveway. At the same time Spock and Leonard round the corner of the large house. Gaila is limp in the doctor’s arms. Immediately Nyota knows something awful has happened, something unplanned. The police car in the lead jerks to a stop, tires skidding and sending up a spray of gravel. Before it is even finished moving, a man leaps from the car and shoves his way into a crowd of people—house servants, a chauffeur, a gardener, and guards—standing at the edge of the drive.
“What is this?” he demands.
Uhura darts past him, already thinking of the police’s help, but he catches her arm. She hisses, “Let go, Khan!”
Khan takes a hold of her other arm and shakes her, baring his teeth. “Where is Kirk?” He doesn’t seem interested in her at all.
Jim will be happy to learn she kept her promise. Khan doubles over with a grunt and a grimace of pain. Uhura, free of his hold, sprints toward the sheriff who is climbing out of his car. “We need an ambulance!” she yells.
Komack’s eyes do fast sweep of her and the surroundings. Maybe it’s the tone of her voice, he doesn’t question why she would ask that. He simply leans down to jerk his radio receiver from its cradle and calls in an emergency code. Then Leonard is at the car, confirming Uhura’s gut instinct, and they can all see and smell the blood. Nyota puts her hand to her mouth after looking upon Gaila, and her heart begins to pound in a hard, crazy rhythm.
Leonard eases Gaila to the ground, telling Komack as he does so, “Gunshot victim. You need to get a chopper out here now. If we go by road, she dies.”
Komack is already on the radio again, relaying the message to have the Derby hospital send their helicopter. Khan, recovered from the blow to his genitals, strides into their small circle. “Arrest them!” he snaps.
Nyota has never seen Spock move so fast. Normally she thinks of him as a very calm person (which is a miracle given who the man is dating), but there is a frightening quality to his face when he latches onto the lapels of Khan’s expensive suit jacket like the man might run away. “Sheriff,” Spock states flatly, “you will arrest this man for kidnapping, attempted murder—” He lists other several charges she isn’t certain she has heard of before. But if Spock thinks they are legitimate, then they must be.
“You overstep yourself,” Khan says, amused, to Spock.
“Do you see that woman on the ground?” the lawyer lowers his voice to a deadly tone. “She is your fiancée, Mr. Singh, and she was handcuffed to a pipe in your house and guarded by two men who intended to dispose of her by your order.”
“You’re speaking nonsense, Mr. Spock,” Khan parries. “Gaila was in no danger when I left. You clearly accuse me based on your own prejudice.”
Nyota resists the urge to applaud when Spock punches the man in the nose. “Break it up!” Komack roars when Khan’s swings a retaliatory fist in Spock’s direction.
Khan takes several steps back, tugs on the cuffs of his jacket, and removes a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his bleeding nose. The look he sends Komack is piercing and authoritarian. “Kirk is here,” he surmises. “You will find him, Sheriff Komack, and you will arrest him for trespassing.” His eyes touch briefly upon Gaila’s prone figure. “Also, for shooting my fiancée.”
“You bastard!” Nyota drops the blanket she had taken from the backseat of the cop car to put under Gaila’s head and launches herself at him, ready to peel his face off with her fingernails. “Jim would never do that!”
Spock catches her and tells her softly, “He is a fool, Nyota, and everyone here knows it. Let him be… for now.” Spock addresses Komack then. “There are two men at the back of the house. You would be wise to take them into custody.”
“The reason?”
“Other than the one I gave a moment ago, I believe they are the vandals you have been searching for.”
Komack motions for three deputies loitering at the edge of the crowd to go and fetch the men. Nyota is disturbed that Khan shows no reaction to this, though he must realize his nefarious deeds are well on their way to being exposed. But she can give no more though to him and kneels beside Leonard.
“What can I do?” she begs.
Gaila moans and shudders.
“Keep her still,” Leonard says. He is preoccupied with staunching her wound.
She remembers Pavel then but when she looks up to mention that Pavel may be injured as well, she spots Chekov standing off to the side by a row of landscaped hedges; he watches the house intently. Nyota calls his name. Pavel comes over slowly, stiffly, and with a slight paleness to his features. Before she can tell him to sit down, he tells her, “There is smoke.”
Uhura swallows reflexively. Her eyes seek the outline of Khan’s house.
So Jim has really done it… but he isn’t out yet. Damn his stupid, blond head. If he dies, I will bring him back to life and kill him again! For Leonard’s sake, she doesn’t share that thought.
Gaila stirs, and Uhura strokes her cheek gently. “It’s okay, Gaila. Don’t move. We’re here.” She closes her eyes at the distant sound of a helicopter, feeling tears prick at the corner of her eyes. Thank God! Thank God the hospital responded so quickly.
“SHERIFF!” a deputy yells as he hurries back to their group, panting from his run. “Sheriff, fire! The house is on fire!”
Khan whirls around to look at his property with a surprised expression. Komack curses under his breath, grabs his receiver again and radios for the fire department. Within a minute, they can all see the orange glow of fire inside an upstairs window. Wisps of smoke leak out of various nooks and crannies and curl around the rooftop. They are blown away by the rush of air from the approaching helicopter as it makes a wide circle around the house, searching for a spot to land. They see the helicopter lower into the acres of trimmed lawn behind Khan’s house. The deputy, who had barely caught his breath, runs back to meet it.
Next to her, Leonard lifts his head. She is taken aback by how vivid green his eyes are. Leonard tracks the progress of the medical team emerging from the helicopter first then moves on to stare at the flames rising from the house. But he says nothing and returns his attention to the injured woman.
Nyota moves out of the way when Gaila is carefully loaded onto a gurney. Spock almost steps past her to follow the gurney—to follow Leonard, she suspects—but seems to change his mind. He faces Komack and admits, “Khan is correct. Jim is in the house.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” the sheriff mutters grimly. He puts a hand on Pavel’s shoulder and urges the young man to go to the hospital. Pavel shakes his head, clearly afraid, and Komack says something else to him. Head bowed in defeat, Chekov allows the sheriff to walk him to the helicopter.
Khan paces along an invisible line, hands tucked behind his back. The people who work for him huddle together between two police cars, obviously afraid to draw their employer’s attention. They recoil when Khan suddenly stops moving. “Let it burn,” he says harshly, as though this announcement needs to be made. “If James Kirk is inside, then let him burn with it! “
Nyota thinks he needs another kick, this time with the entirety of her strength behind it. Wait until they have to sew your balls back on! she fumes at him in her head.
Spock strips off his jacket and hands it to Uhura. At first she thinks he is going to have a brawl with Khan, but he strides past Singh like the man isn’t there. That’s when she realizes what it is he actually plans to do. “Spock!” she gasps.
Komack, returning from the departing helicopter, catches sight of the lawyer. To the deputy trotting beside him, he orders, “Stop that man!”
“Sir!” the deputy shouts at Spock. “Stop, sir!”
Komack reaches out and pops the deputy on the back of the head. “Words won’t work! Bring him back here!”
“But, Sheriff,” the wide-eyed deputy says in fright, “he cut down two men. They said he has crazy karate skills!”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Komack growls and starts after Spock himself.
But what happens next is a blur: just as Spock’s foot falls upon the brick pathway leading to the front door, the house explodes into a massive ball of fire. Half of the roof caves in with a deafening crash. Everyone flings up an arm to shield their faces from flying debris.
Uhura is running before she even thinks about running because Jim—Jim’s in that house! and, sweet Jesus, she doesn’t want him to die. He’s been her best friend for forever and a day; he was the only person who could make her laugh after her father died and the only boy who challenged her to a foot race during school recess. He still brings her cookies when she’s moody. To lose Jim now is unthinkable when he has been a permanent fixture in her life for so long.
Spock won’t be the only one going into that burning wreck. He’ll have to fight her to be the first one!
But as she rushes headlong up the brick path, easily dodging Komack’s attempt to stop her, the front door splinters with a sharp crack and black smoke pours from the new opening. Out of the thick, roiling cloud a man emerges, dragging another man. They gracelessly tumble down the brick steps into a heap.
Nyota doesn’t hesitate. She falls to her knees beside them and rolls a hacking Jim over onto his back and kisses his filthy, black-streaked face.
“Ack, air!, holy, ack-ack, fuck, did you, ugh, Nyota?” What Jim is trying to say is incomprehensible.
“Jimmy!” she crows and hugs him.
He sucks in several more breaths. When he is able to speak properly, he complains, “Ew, Uhura, you kissed me!”
She gives his cheek another big, smacking kiss.
Jim struggles to push her away, having seen the man hovering over them. “Spock!”
Nyota’s sense surfaces at last and she lets him go. Spock immediately drags Jim upright and takes his turn at cradling the man. Like her, Spock, she guesses, had been terrified of never seeing Jim again when the part of the house blew up and collapsed. Whatever he feels, he doesn’t seem to mind sullying his clothes with the dirty, sweaty mess that is Jim Kirk.
A groan interrupts the reunion, and the second man—the one Jim had hauled out of the house—slowly uncoils from his fetal position. Uhura recognizes him under the bruises and black coating and sits back on her heels in surprise. Until now, she had not given any thought to where Frank Rand had been.
The full circle of karma is amazing, she thinks.
Someone shouts at them to get off their asses and away from the fire. Spock helps Jim stand and steadies him. Uhura, standing up without aid, sighs and grabs Frank by the back of his shirt. “Get up,” she says.
“Can’t,” he responds.
“You’re not dead, so get up!” After he climbs to his feet and wobbles like a newborn calf, Uhura tugs on his arm. “I don’t want to die of smoke inhalation. Hurry up!”
Frank hobbles beside her to the nearest unmoving person, who happens to be Khan, and partly collapses against him. Khan shoves Rand away with a look of disgust. To their right, Komack asks Jim something, and Jim nods. Khan, seeing the interaction between the sheriff and the man he undoubtedly wishes was dead, narrows his eyes.
“You show concern for the criminal who set fire to my house?” Khan questions, and straightens into an intimidating presence. “Sheriff, I suggest you remember the duties of your job.”
Komack turns to Khan, the look on his face belligerent (apparently he doesn’t like to be criticized for his compassion). Rand however, half-bent at the waist as if he can’t decide to sit down or faint, does the worst thing possible: he wheezes, “I saw him do it.”
Jim stiffens. Khan looks triumphant.
Komack swallows down a cutting comment. “Frank,” he says carefully, “are you sure?”
Rand glares everyone. “‘Course I’m fucking sure! I was in the fucking bathroom when he used his cigarette lighter on a curtain! Saw him in the mirror—son of a bitch.”
Jim opens his mouth, but Spock interrupts with “Rand is a known assailant of Mr. Kirk. His word means nothing.”
“Why the fuck do you think I would lie about that!” Rand yells.
The sheriff sighs. “I’m afraid, Mr. Spock, in this case I can’t dismiss the allegation. Jim…”
Jim moves away from Spock. “Don’t sweat it, Sheriff. I won’t resist.”
Khan looks too pleased. Komack hesitates, a hand on the pouch that contains his handcuffs, but does not pull them out. “Get in,” he says instead, pointing at his police car.
Jim wordlessly obeys. Spock follows him.
Uhura turns on Rand and kicks his leg. “He saved your life, you stupid bastard!”
“So?” Frank says, stumbling to a safe distance from her and spitting to the side. “Guess that makes us even.”
Khan watches Kirk put himself into the backseat of Komack’s car before giving them his attention. “I would be careful of what you say, Miss Uhura,” he advises. “Your circle of friends seems to be greatly diminished after the events of today.”
Damn but he’s so cold. Why didn’t she see what kind of man he was long ago, before he began hurting the people she loved? “Don’t talk to me again, Khan. In fact, stay away from me and my friends—including Gaila.”
The man laughs soundlessly. “A pity about her,” he purrs. “Such a waste of a lovely woman. In time, I might have actually wanted her.”
Uhura believes she is well within her rights when she decks him.
It is the day after Mr. Khan Noonien Singh’s house burnt to the ground. The town of Riverside is shocked. There are rumors it wasn’t an accident.
“Robert Wesley,” a voice says menacingly, “you had better get my son out of jail!”
The mayor had loosened his tie the moment he spied Winona Kirk come through the double glass doors of the Sheriff’s Department. Despite the lack of a constricting presence around his throat, Wesley still has trouble communicating to the upset woman exactly how sorry he is Jim has been in a jail cell for the second day in a row. For his part, Komack is hiding in his office pretending to be very busy. The other occupants of the department watch the unfurling drama with undisguised fascination.
Blue eyes flashing, Winona breaches into the mayor’s personal space until their faces are mere inches apart. “He’s done nothing wrong, Mr. Mayor.”
Bob visibly flinches at the use of his title. “Please, Win,” he urges and lowers his voice after spying the stare of a man who looks suspiciously like a reporter, “can’t we discuss this… elsewhere?”
“We. Can. NOT!” Each word is emphasized by a finger jabbed into Bob’s chest. Winona’s glare has cowed lesser men. “Let me see him!”
The mayor sighs heavily. “Winona, he set a house on fire… after he broke into it. That’s not ‘nothing’. In fact, it’s a lot of trouble I’m not certain he can get out of.” …Should he mention that he and Komack are on pins and needles waiting for word otherwise? Because, truly, they don’t want to send Jim to prison. That was a risk of the plan Bob never liked.
Winona brushes past him as if she hasn’t heard a word. “SHERIFF!” the woman bellows.
The door to the Sheriff’s office remains stubbornly closed.
Winona grabs the arm of the nearest person with a shiny badge. “You,” she orders, “tell that man he has ten seconds to get his drawers on straight and face me, or he’ll have to arrest Mrs. Winona Kirk of Riverside for disorderly conduct in a public station!”
“Yes, ma’am!” the young deputy says too eagerly, hurrying off to do her bidding.
“Oh, Winona,” Bob murmurs to her back with great fondness. “And you always say you don’t know where Jimmy gets his temper!”
The person Winona Kirk is riled about, namely her incarcerated son James Kirk, blinks sleepily as he rouses from a nap. Mindlessly, he rolls his weight to his opposite hip. Yet he doesn’t lift his head from its current spot in someone’s lap. Fingers gently comb through his hair.
“Are you comfortable?” Spock questions.
“Mmm,” Jim murmurs. All of his past experiences sleeping in a jail cell haven’t been nearly this pleasant. Then again, he hadn’t been partnered with someone who did not mind being his pillow. At that thought, his eyes fully open. “Why are you still here?”
Spock’s fingers drift down to Jim’s ear; a thumb caresses the delicate curve of its outer shell. “I am under arrest,” his boyfriend answers mildly.
Jim sighs in memory. “Only you would volunteer to be arrested, Spock.” He adds, “I’d have been fine, you know, by myself.” He lifts a hand and lazily indicates his surroundings. “This is my special cell. Komack keeps it vacant if I’m not in it.”
“It is unkempt,” the lawyer remarks with faint disgust, inspecting the dirt on his hands he had picked up from the walls or the floor. “…An oversight, I am certain, on Sheriff Komack’s part.”
Jim draws his knees into his chest, wincing at the stiffness in his legs from lying in one position for too long. He discovers Spock’s jacket draped over his torso and pulls it off, concerned. “Aren’t you cold?”
“I believe you are in need of the extra material more than I.”
“Put it on,” Jim insists. “I’m fine now.”
“No.”
Jim sits up. “No is not an option. Look, your hands are turning blue!”
Not even a muscle twitches in Spock’s face as he stares at the wall opposite their bench and stays stubbornly silent in light of the truth that his hands are, in fact, freezing.
Jim, wishing Bones was around to make the argument more elegant with dire, gruesome illnesses which result from excessive loss of body heat, grabs Spock’s wrist and tries to shove his boyfriend’s arm through the arm sleeve of the suit jacket. In the back of his mind, he wants to know where his own jacket—his father’s leather jacket—is and that is safe. It hadn’t been returned to him after the strip-and-search for weapons.
Spock does not struggle against him, but the moment Jim lets go of his arm to slide the coat onto the man’s back, Spock quickly removes it from his person and replaces it around Jim’s shoulders. Jim holds his eyes, letting Spock see that they are about to engage in a very physical tussle unless a compromise can be met. Spock does not balk from his intimidating Kirkian stare.
Jim is fully prepared to act (with deviousness, if necessary) when the slam of a heavy door, perfectly timed, steals his attention.
“JIMMY!” a voice shrieks down the narrow, poorly lit hallway of the cellblock.
At that familiar sound, Jim’s eyes widen to the size of quarters. “Uh-oh.”
“JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK!”
He doesn’t know why she is shouting his full name, like he is hiding. His mother knows exactly which cell he is in; she’s been to the station to bale him out more than once since his preteens—until, that is, he grew wise enough to call Gary first.
Which, what the heck? Hadn’t he used his one phone call to tell Gary where he was? Jim clearly remembers Mitchell groaning at the news and saying, “Aw damn, Jim, I thought you’d grown out of this phase. Or were you just waiting until I came back to town to return to your old ways?”
Winona seemingly appears out of thin air in front of the bars of the jail cell. Jim, seeing her expression, hunches his shoulders in anticipation of a scolding. He is taken by surprise when, instead of asking him why he had set somebody’s house on fire, her face crumples into quiet tears. Alarmed, Jim abandons the bench to grasp the cell’s bars. Spock’s coat falls to the floor, forgotten.
“Mom?” he asks, heart in his throat.
Oh, oh God. He hasn’t heard from Bones. What if… Jim is grateful to have something to cling to. He presses his forehead against the cold iron, whispering tremulously, “Gaila?”
Winona’s hands find his, cover them. “I’m sorry, Jimmy,” she says through her tears. “It’s not that. I haven’t heard—oh, darn it!” She wipes angrily at her face. “It’s no use getting upset,” she chastises herself. After a brief moment, Winona steps closer to her son. “Jim, they refuse to let you go! Do they even have proof? Of course not!” Her eyes move past Jim to the man standing silently at his back. “What can we do?”
“Wait,” Spock replies softly.
Jim suddenly understands her fear, and it relieves his own. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m not going to jail.”
She bangs a fist against the bars in frustration. “But you are in a jail!”
He grins.
She stares at him then, and slowly her expression changes. “What don’t I know?” his mother asks ominously.
Jim works very hard to look innocence. “Know?” he echoes.
Her fingers tighten over his. “James Tiberius, exactly why are you in this cell?”
“Uh…”
“They said you burned Khan’s house down!”
“Um…”
“Jimmy, you didn’t! You were taking a nap when I left the Q’s!”
“Pike did it!” he blurts out. Then he bangs his head against the bars in the disbelief that that just came out of his mouth.
His mother, too, apparently cannot believe it. “What!”
“I meant,” he explains, “Pike thought of it. I may… have… actually committed the crime.”
Boy is he glad to be separated from his mother by solid iron and a sturdy lock. When she shakes the bars like she wants them gone, Jim prudently puts distance between them.
“I did not raise you to be an arsonist!”
Jim tries to hush her. “Mom, Mom, okay, calm down—hey, I haven’t confessed yet!” He wonders if any of the deputies are listening in. “Don’t do it for me, all right?”
“My son is a criminal!” She sounds horrified. Funny, Jim thinks, how she’s never acted this way during the other times he has been under arrest. Of course, she had told him on the day of his last arrest if he ever did anything that made her truly ashamed of him, he would see the business end of her shotgun. The threat actually scared him sufficiently that he decided being a law-abiding citizen was better than being dead and buried in Winona Kirk’s backyard.
He waits until her fit of anger shows signs of abating. “Your son is just doing what’s best to catch a real criminal.”
“By sullying your own morals?” she demands.
Jim shoots a help me out here look at Spock. The man shakes his head slightly as if to say do I look stupid?
“Jim!” Winona snaps. “You said Christopher Pike asked you do this… this thing.”
At least she listened to his warning about eavesdroppers.
“Where is Pike?” his mother wants to know. She probably feels the need to beat him up, which Jim decides would be fun to watch.
Of course, he should probably answer her and assuage some of her fear. “If all is going according to plan,” Jim explains mysteriously, “Pike and his fed-buddies are knee-deep in the ruins of Khan’s house.”
On the third day of his extended visit to La Casa de Jail, Jim is lounging on his bench listening to his stomach growl. Over the rumble, he hears the returning footsteps of his boyfriend, who had gone to change clothes and shave, courtesy of a friendly deputy escort.
“Hey, Spock,” Jim says without taking his gaze from a long, zigzag of a crack in the ceiling. “Do you think the sheriff will bring us beer?”
“No, he definitely won’t,” the sheriff replies.
Jim falls off the bench in surprise and rubs at the side of his head sheepishly. “Oh hey there, Mr. Sheriff!” He looks past Komack expectantly. “Please don’t tell me you moved Spock to another cell.”
The older man sighs. “Common sense told me to separate the pair of you from the beginning but Mr. Spock assured me you would behave.”
Jim grimaces. “I’m being blue-balled until further notice.”
Komack mirrors Jim’s grimace for an entirely different reason. “That is not information I need to know, Jim.”
“If you’re not here to talk about my abysmal sex life, then why visit at all?” Jim asks. He brushes off dirt from his pants as he stands up.
Without a word, Komack slips a key into the cell’s lock and opens the door.
Jim, startled again, simply stares. He asks almost hopefully, “What about…?”
“Come and see” is the offer.
Jim cautiously ventures into the hallway. When Komack walks away, Jim follows him. The heavy door at the end of the cellblock is opened by a grinning deputy. Beside the deputy is a clean-looking Spock. “Jim,” Spock greets him, eyes tired but unexpectedly full of relief. In that moment, Jim’s hope brightens and lifts his spirits.
Their small group leaves the section of the department dedicated to hosting drunks and criminals; and Jim has never been happier to say goodbye to his cell. They step into the main center of the station at the same time a familiar voice rises in argument. Khan Noonien Singh, surrounded by three serious-faced men in suits, is told not to resist arrest. Someone puts his hands behind his back and handcuffs them together.
Khan tells the room at large, ominously, “You make a grave mistake. Release me, and I will be lenient.”
“There is no mistake, Mr. Singh,” one of the strangers remarks too casually. “Only you had access to the safe. You said this yourself, and therefore we must assume its contents belong to you.”
“It is not mine! It was planted—”
The man shakes his head one of his companions and murmurs, “Does he think we’re fools?“
“—by your own government! You Americans have done this to me!”
Another suited man spies Komack. “Sheriff, we need use of your facilities until the evidence can be safely transported to headquarters.”
“By all means,” Komack says with a wave of his hand. “We’re glad to serve our country.”
“FBI?” Jim asks.
“CIA. Some very sensitive government material was discovered inside Khan’s safe while we were investigating an arson charge.” Komack scratches lightly at his chin. “I don’t have the clearance to know what it is, of course, but it seems like he’s in the business of selling secrets… not that it matters if it’s true or not. It gives the government legitimate reason to investigate Khan’s other properties, financial records, overseas business deals—anything they want. Can you imagine what they might find now that their foot is in the door?”
Komack’s half-smirk makes Jim slightly dizzy.
As Khan is being led to somewhere unpleasant (maybe Jim’s cell can be Khan’s cell too, Jim thinks with glee), he spots Jim and his face darkens and clears of expression at the same time. “Jim Kirk,” he says too softly. A CIA agent orders Khan to move along because it’s time they had a very nice chat. Khan ignores the order and locks onto Jim’s eyes, pinning him with an unreadable stare. “Kirk,” he repeats, then nothing else.
So, it was you. You did this. The unspoken words hang between them.
Jim doesn’t confess under that dark gaze, but then again he and Khan both know he doesn’t need to.
“Jim, my boy!” Out of nowhere, once Khan has been led away to some back room, Bob hustles around Komack to take Jim by the arm. Jim is dragged to an un-crowded spot on the floor. He slings his arm around Jim’s shoulders and says, “Smile!”
Lights flash. Jim blinks rapidly, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “What’s going on?”
“We’re putting you on the front page of the town newspaper.”
“Oh.” Jim pauses. “But why?”
“You and your friends caught the men who have been terrorizing our shop owners!” Bob says cheerfully.
More lights flash. Jim tries to back away but the mayor anchors him in place. A man asks for a minute or two to adjust the settings on his camera. In the interlude, Bob turns to Jim and accuses, “You’re not smiling.”
“I just got out of jail, I stink, and Komack’s lackeys forgot to bring me breakfast.” He glares at the closest deputy. “Also, I don’t want to be on the front page of anything, Bob.”
The older man’s expression sobers. “Listen, Jim. I can understand how you feel, but it’s either we make you into the town hero, or leave a gap the size of Kentucky in our story that Khan might be able to use against us. We have to endear you to the people of Riverside so they won’t ask questions—like for instance,” he leans in slightly to say, “what if Rand isn’t making it up that you set the fire? And if you set the fire, to what purpose?”
“So it’s all a game,” Jim mutters.
“It has to be. Fight fire with fire!” the man beside him quotes, then flushes. “Er, no pun intended.”
“Mayor Wesley!” someone shouts. “Can we have a comment?”
“I have only one,” the mayor responds immediately, pausing to make certain people are paying attention. “Riverside owes a debt to James T. Kirk. Because of his heroic actions, our townspeople can walk the streets safely and our businesses can reopen their doors without fear of violation.” He smiles at Kirk and shakes his hand without asking. “Thank you, Jim!”
Afterward, when Jim is able to escape the media’s attention, he tells Bob that he doesn’t want to take the credit for something he didn’t do alone.
“I already asked Mr. Spock what he wished to be said on his behalf and he advised me that he had no pressing need to be affiliated with the capture of the criminals. I can’t say I blame him,” Bob continues on, overriding Jim’s protest. “He’s got to keep his nose clean of questionable actions for his future’s sake. You have a bit of a wild and unorthodox history, Jim, so people wouldn’t put it past you to break a law or two in the name of justice. But a man who bases his career on the laws of our country? That’s ground to tread carefully.” Wesley looks in Spock’s direction, who is speaking to Komack. “Your partner would make a damn fine District Attorney some day. If he stayed here, we’d be lucky to have him.”
Jim sways a little when Bob releases him, feeling vaguely as if he has bulldozed with too much information at once. Then, deciding politics are something to agonize over on another day, he stows away his opinion on the subject and seeks out Spock, more than ready to go home. No one has brought him news of Bones or Gaila and the more he tries not to think about it, the more worries crowd into his head.
He has almost reached Spock when someone catches his arm. “Kirk,” a young man—a deputy with a likable personality—says, “phone call for you.”
A call to that station? Oh.
Jim picks up the phone, saying, “Shit, Gary, I tell you I’m in jail and you can’t even be bothered to come say hello, I’m not bailing you out this time?”
“Jim.“
His heart skips a beat. “Bones?”
“Hey.” McCoy sounds hoarse. “Sorry I’m late.”
“No, no,” Jim tells him in a rush, “you’re fine! I mean, I was worried about…is—how—?” Suddenly he’s stumbling over words and cannot breathe correctly.
Leonard says one phrase, and Jim sags without warning. Hands catch him before he topples over and support him. Grateful, Jim leans into Spock’s chest, unaware that he is shaking. “Really?”
“Yes,” Bones says.
He hears more than agreement in that one word. “It’s not all good news, is it?”
“No.” There is a pause; other voices in the background filter through the phone line, muffled. McCoy returns, saying, “Jim, I have to go. Are you coming here? …Damn, I forgot. You’re not still in jail, are you?”
“No,” he answers quickly, “it worked. Khan’s where he belongs.”
“Good,” the man says fiercely. “Call the hospital before you leave town and have them page me. I want to talk to you about Gaila first.”
To prepare him, Jim realizes. He can only agree, “Okay, Bones, I’ll call.”
When the dial tone is a monotonous drone through the receiver, Spock removes it from Jim’s two-handed grip and replaces the phone in its cradle. Jim turns in his boyfriend’s arms and lays his forehead against Spock’s collarbone.
“She’s not dead,” he says so quietly Spock has to lean in to hear the words.
Spock asks, equally quiet, “What else?”
“I don’t know,” Jim answers honestly, “but I won’t let it matter. Gaila’s alive.”
Just when Jim thinks he is never going to be able to leave the station, Robert Wesley announces, “It’s been a long few days. Everyone, go home!”
Beside him, Komack looks peeved that the mayor is taking command of his staff. Bob, not paying attention at all, idly pats the man’s shoulder. “You too, Sheriff. Don’t think we haven’t noticed you sneaking drinks in your office.”
“Brandy is medicinal,” Komack growls. “Ask that McCoy fellow. He prescribed it as a cure-all.” The way Komack eyes Jim probably means that Bones told the sheriff it was a cure-all for a man with a middle initial which stands for Trouble.
One of the government agents steps into the main room and hails Komack. Grim expression growing grimmer, Komack turns and trudges away to answer the summons. The mayor, once the sheriff is not around to protest, begins a doling out handshakes and congenial thanks to the tired law officers. When he reaches Jim and Spock’s corner of the station, where they had been told to stay until Komack officially approved their release, Bob pats Jim’s shoulder like he had Komack’s.
“You’ve done good, Jim, and though many people won’t know the true magnitude of the debt we owe you, I always will. Thank you, on behalf of us all.” Perhaps seeing Jim’s embarrassed expression, he adds, “Now that you’re a champion of the people, maybe you can get rid of those damn Klingons.”
Jim scowls. Spock considers first Jim’s murderous expression then Bob’s pleased one. “I have not heard of these… Klingons,” the lawyer says somewhat apprehensively, as wise men are wont to be when dating Jim.
Jim crosses his arms. “Motorcycle gang,” he says offhandedly, like it doesn’t matter. His body language indicates otherwise.
“Jim’s had a few run-ins with them before,” Wesley tacks on. “They’re a local nuisance. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed their graffiti. Always trying to claim more territory.” Bob shakes his head sadly. “I don’t know who they think they’re trying to take it from.”
Jim can no longer contain his emotions. “Those two-bit pieces of—” He spies a female deputy looking in his direction. “—bullcrap! They think they’re God’s gift to motorcycles—freaking Road Warriors, ha! I’ve seen a one-armed man steer a moped better than one of those pansies!”
Bob stage-whispers, “During a race at a dirt-bike rally, one of them overtook Jim in the final round and put our boy in second. He’s never gotten over it.”
“He cheated!”
“Yes, well,” Bob mumbles and peers down with great interest at his watch, no doubt realizing he has kicked over an ant hill. “Have to run now! Mayorly things to do.” He backs away, leaving a furious Jim clenching and unclenching his fist beside a bemused Spock.
Komack, having caught the tail end of their conversation, wanders over and says pointedly, “Get out before I have to lock Kirk up again.”
Jim stalks for the door.
“Keep an eye on him,” Spock is advised.
“I cannot comprehend that one lost race would affect Jim so deeply,” Spock muses. “Why has he not mentioned these Klingons before?”
“They’re his enemy for life,” Komack says darkly. “And I don’t have time to deal with any more of Kirk’s enemies. Khan’s invoked his right to a lawyer . So unless you’re representing him—”
Spock’s eyes flash dangerously.
“—I suggest you take your boyfriend home and avoid any biker bars on the way.”
Jim steps out of the Sheriff’s Department a free man. His bad mood evaporates his first breath of fresh air, and he forgives Bob for bringing up the one name he can’t stand to hear. He slaps a hand onto Spock’s shoulder and says effervescently, “Congratulations on your own new arrest record, Spock!”
Spock removes Jim’s hand and pulls his car keys out of an evidence bag. “I am a lawyer, Jim, who would set a poor example if he was to be arrested for any reason.”
“But…” Jim says, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.
Spock folds his jacket across his arm. “Komack understands this. I also told him, if he felt confused, I knew several people who would gladly ‘un-confuse’ him. I have been assured no paperwork was filed.”
Jim trails, gaping, after Spock to the Silver BMW sitting in the parking lot. “Wait! You said what? And it worked?” Jim smacks a palm against the roof of the car to catch Spock’s attention as the man unlocks the doors. “Then how come you spent three days in jail with me?”
Spock tilts his head like his lover is a curious creature to be studied. “I thought you might need the company.”
Spock is more exhausted than he looks, that much Jim can tell. So Jim does what any decent boyfriend would and coaxes the man to bed once they arrive at an empty apartment, which is closer to the highway than Spock’s house.
“I would rather come with you to Derby,” Spock argues.
Jim kneads the tight muscles of Spock’s shoulders. “I know you didn’t sleep while we were downtown. Take a shower, rest. If, once I’m at the hospital, I think you need to be there, I will call you.”
“Jim,” Spock begins but his voice is heavy with weariness. No other words come.
“You’ve done plenty,” Jim murmurs, brushing his mouth against Spock’s. “Please?”
Spock relaxes marginally against him. “You require rest as well.”
“Let my physician handle that” is his mischievous reply. He maneuvers Spock onto the couch. “I’m going to take a quick shower before I leave. Need anything?”
“No.”
He gives Spock fifteen minutes of fighting sleep before the man passes out. Twenty minutes later, after Jim has had a hot shower and changed into fresh clothes, he tosses an afghan over his sleeping boyfriend and goes to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Then he calls Bones. After listening to what the doctor has to say, and slumping over the kitchen counter, he gently hangs up and puts his head in his hands. It is some minutes before Jim picks up the car keys from the coffee table and heads to Derby Hospital.
“Shit, you look terrible,” Jim announces.
Leonard, clearly as sleep-deprived as Spock, if not more, turns away from a coffee machine with a cup in hand to look at Kirk standing with one foot inside the doctors’ lounge. “How’d you get in here?” His voice is roughened from a lack of sleep.
Jim lets the swinging door close on its own and crosses the room. “I know my way around. Bones…”
The doctor takes a last gulp of his coffee and pitches the empty cup into a trashcan. “C’mon, I’ll take you to her.”
He grabs Leonard’s arm, stalling him. For a second or two, they say nothing and merely read the long hours of separation in each other’s faces. Then Jim slips in close and wraps his arms around McCoy. Leonard holds him in a grip which is equally tight.
“Thank you, Bones. Thank you for saving her.”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“Because of the way you said it on the phone—’she’s going to be okay, Jim’. You would never make that promise unless you knew for a fact it was true—and the only way that would happen is if you personally took care of her.”
“They didn’t have anyone on site with the experience to handle the damage when we arrived. She was already crashing and couldn’t wait…” he confessed. “I bullshitted about my paperwork already being processed and since several of ’em knew me and had seen me with Khan, they didn’t think it prudent to argue about an available surgeon when a woman was dyin’. Thank God, too,” the man finishes with feeling.
Jim kisses Leonard for all he is worth. “I love you, Bones. I’ve really never loved you more. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“What I want,” McCoy says slowly and tiredly, “is to go back in time and tell myself to get rid of that gun. Gaila isn’t dead, Jim, because we preserved her life but there are things that will never be the same for her again.”
“I know,” Jim says, swallowing against raw sadness. “But she has family. We’ll help her through it.”
Leonard takes his hand and squeezes his fingers. “Want to see her? She might be awake.”
Jim nods and lets himself be led from the lounge to the ICU wing of the hospital.
Nyota steps out of a darkened room at the same moment Jim and Leonard turn the corner of the hallway. When she sees Jim, she drops the empty plastic container in her hands and starts to cry. Jim hugs her to his chest and lets her grieve. Leonard gives them a moment together, walking away to a nurses’ station.
“Oh, Jim,” Nyota sobs, “what did we do?”
He keeps rubbing her back but bites down hard on his lip for control, having asked himself the same question over and over since the moment he held his friend in his arms while she bled to death. “Ssh,” he tells Nyota instead. “It’s okay.”
Eventually her crying wanes. Pulling out a wad of tissues from her pants pocket, Uhura wipes at her face and offers Jim one. He takes it and wipes his eyes. Sighing, she stoops down to pick up the plastic bucket. WIth a fleeting look at Gaila’s room, Nyota turns back to Jim. “I’ll get some ice,” she says, a silent offer to let Jim see his ex-girlfriend alone.
Jim allows her to pass. Immediately Leonard is at his side again, and Jim feels less lost.
“She just had another dose of morphine, so don’t expect much.”
“If I can hold her hand,” Jim whispers, “that will be enough.”
“You know I never wanted children,” Gaila sighs to Jim later when she is semi-conscious, but she cries anyway.
Related Posts:
- Sticks and Stones (18/18) – from April 19, 2012
- Emotional Much? – from April 17, 2012
- Sticks and Stones (16/17) – from April 13, 2012
- Sticks and Stones (15/17) – from April 11, 2012
- Sticks and Stones (14/?) – from April 9, 2012
