Title: Holiday Revenge (4/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Pike/Archer, Kirk/McCoy
Summary: Sequel to Goodbye, Holidays. Events turn ugly, for Kirk’s enemy has found the perfect way to pay Kirk back for his meddling.
Parts: 1 | 2 | 3

Part Four

Officers move about the precinct with purpose, their assignments in hand. Liu takes Archer aside (not into the coveted meeting room, sadly) and gives him the layman’s version of the briefing, to which halfway through said summarization Jonathan is struck by a horrible thought. He cries a name.

Liu halts mid-explanation. “What did you say?”

“My poor Porthos!” he exclaims again, aghast, and fumbles for his cell phone. “Left alone with nothing to eat or drink—”

“What?” the woman questions more sharply.

Jon punches in a number Chris had ordered him to memorize by heart. “—and nowhere to poop! Hello?” he says anxiously to the person answering the call. “Ms. Riley? Ms. Riley, it’s Jonathan Archer from next door. I said Archer, Christopher Pike’s—” He catches a major slip of information, correcting in haste, “Sheriff Archer.”

Liu looks disbelieving that he interrupted her generous offer to debrief him to call a neighbor about a pet.

With Jonathan sufficiently identified to Ms. Riley’s liking, Ms. Riley is quite occupied with the fact that Pike skipped the last homeowner’s association meeting and furthermore, Sheriff, to the detriment of the neighborhood, he once again refused to run for Association President. Everybody loves Chris, she insists in her quavering elderly voice. He is so organized, friendly, and fair-minded. He would absolutely make a wonderful President!

Archer makes a rash promise to convince Pike of this fact, which effectively gives him the opportunity to tell the lady why he called her in the first place. She says she is happy to tend to Porthos in his absence, agreeing that it is quite atrocious to force Jimmy’s adorable little beagle pup to endure a day of solitude.

Keenly aware of Liu’s impatience to return to the topic at hand, Jon doesn’t have the time to correct Ms. Riley that Porthos is not Jim’s, hurrying the conversation along. “The spare house key’s in a little frog by the gnome in the flowerbed,” he whispers, hand curved around his mouth and the phone. “Porthos gets one bowl of kibble and two bacon treats if he does a number two in the yard.”

Liu firms up her mouth and taps a foot on the floor.

When Jon hangs up, he loudly declares Pike’s neighbor to be a life-saver. He will never throw out her brick-like fruit cakes again or decline an invitation to one of her infamously boring tea parties.

Liu says, “Archer, enough. Do you want to know the next steps or not?”

Jonathan counters, “You clearly don’t have pets.”

“Your pet problem would be taken care of if you sent Kirk home. I thought I was clear in my orders.”

Jon fights back a grimace. “Jim doesn’t listen well to orders. I would know.”

All at once, the captain’s shoulders come down a fraction. “As would I. Kirk’s son is… unique,” she says, which in Archer’s opinion is about the kindest description for Kirk’s recalcitrance he has ever heard. “I have no clue how Pike handles him. My husband and I thought our eldest’s rebellious streak was a headache. Then Chris shared stories of what his son considers acts of rebellion.”

Jon grins. “Makes your kids look like saints, doesn’t it?”

“Comparatively,” she murmurs.

Jon follows her gaze across the bullpen to where Jim is sitting beside Phil, elbows braced against the desk, deep in conversation.

The captain’s voice turns somber. “Kirk has a good heart. Undoubtedly mischievous but exceptionally smart, loyal, and kind where it counts. I know Chris takes no credit for that, but I’ve seen what becomes of children who have no one to nurture those qualities. They are lost in every way.” She sighs softly, crossing her arms over her chest. “If we fail to recover Pike, I believe Jim would survive it—because that is the strength a parent gives to a child by loving them. However that doesn’t mean we should accept failure.” She faces him again. “Which is why I am willing to bring you into this case, officially speaking, Sheriff.”

“You are?” he asks dumbly.

“I’m not certain I like you. You’re egotistical and, frankly, so annoying that I want to kick your ass back across the county line. But you do have one redeeming quality.”

That brings a smile to his face. He teases, “Only one?”

“Actually it’s half of one,” the woman deadpans. “I was rounding up out of pity.”

Archer clasps his hand together. “Now I have to know what it is, Captain!”

Her mouth curves. “You care about Jim.”

Jon had a dozen different witty quips ready for rebuttal—and subsequently forgets every single one. “What!” He blusters, “You’re crazy!”

Across the room, Kirk’s head comes up like a dog catching a scent.

Archer lowers his voice. “Never in a million years,” he whispers furiously at Liu. “James T. Kirk is the bane of my existence!”

Liu steps up to the challenge, quite literally, enunciating so that only a fool would dare misunderstand her. “Then send him home.”

Jim pops up behind Archer’s shoulder. “Hey, is something going on?”

Jon curses at Liu in his head. “Nope,” he lies, turning to the exact reason Liu has managed to outwit him in a verbal sparring match. “Nada. We were just discussing lunch plans. I vote hotdogs.”

Jim stares at Jon for a moment then wants to know, “What happened in the briefing?”

Liu smiles as she takes a step back. “The sheriff will explain everything, Mr. Kirk. He was listening so attentively, I know he didn’t miss a detail.”

Jon laughs nervously as Liu returns to her office, and McCoy appears opposite of Kirk. “Well,” he begins, breaking into a cold sweat under their combined stare, “who would have thought a kidnapping investigation could be so boring.”

Jim’s gaze narrows, but before Jonathan can be called on the carpet for knowing approximately nothing about what angle Liu has the officers working on at the moment, Leonard jerks back without warning and removes a vibrating phone from his pants pocket.

“Crap,” the man says as he stares at its brightly lit screen. “I forgot.”

Kirk’s attention shifts to his boyfriend and the buzzing cell phone. “Who is Pain in My Ass?”

Leonard flushes. “Spock.”

That answer doesn’t appear to perturb Jim at all. “What did you forget?”

This time McCoy looks pained. He mumbles something. Jon leans in to hear better.

Jim’s eyes widen, for clearly he had heard McCoy. He perks up with interest. “Party? What party? Whose?”

Admittedly, Jon perks up too.

“Yours,” Leonard replies, clearly not thrilled about it. “A Welcome Home party.”

Hours of tension and worry melt from Jim’s face, replaced by a child-like delight. “Really, Bones? You planned a party… with Spock?”

“Well it wasn’t my idea.” Leonard’s tone sours. “I wasn’t planning to share you with anybody, but then Spock said I can’t keep you to myself, and suddenly people were coming in and out of my apartment, making it look like a damn cucaracha band had taken up residence there.” He scowls at the now-silent phone. “Stupid Spock. It’s his revenge for me punching him in the nose.”

Jim hooks an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders and draws him in, touching the edge of their temples together. “You’re amazing, Bones.”

“Yeah, well,” McCoy mutters, seeming embarrassed, “it was gonna be a surprise… except now isn’t the time for surprises.” He gently pushes Jim away. “I need to call Spock back, tell him the party is cancelled. He will let the others know.”

Unhappiness returns to Jim’s face. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys.”

Leonard reaches out, chucks Kirk under the chin. “Don’t apologize, kid. It’s not your fault.” He nods to Archer. “This will only take a minute.”

Watching Jim watch McCoy amble away, Jon wonders what comforting thing Pike would say. With reluctance he dismisses the urge to try himself. Jim doesn’t likely need or want comfort from him. No matter what Liu wants to insinuate, Jonathan is no replacement for Pike.

Lucky for Archer, Phil saves him from his awkward feelings by inviting Jim to the break room for a fresh cup of coffee. Jon waits until the pair is out of sight before he purposely wanders after McCoy.

Leonard has a consternated look; his eyebrows are drawn close together, his mouth pursed. Obviously the conversation is not going as expected. Jon shamelessly eavesdrops.

“…Wait a second, I’m not asking you to come here. Why are you so—” McCoy pauses. “No, I didn’t mean—Spock? Damn it. Spock! Hello?” He pulls the phone away from his ear.

Jon hears a dial tone. “That sounds like it went well.”

“That son of a bitch… It’s like he ignores everything I say on purpose!” Leonard shoves the phone back into his pocket. “Just because Jim’s having a crisis doesn’t mean he has to drop everything and run over here.”

Jon feels a tickle of amusement. “You mean like you did?”

Leonard rounds on him, temper lighting his eyes. “I’m Jim’s boyfriend! Spock isn’t!”

Jon is about to make some comment about a green-eyed monster, which is kind of literal in McCoy’s case at the moment, when Jim calls out from the edge of the bullpen, “Bones!” and holds up a cup of coffee for his boyfriend to see.

The sight of Jim douses Leonard’s temper like water on a campfire.

Jon watches McCoy stifle a sigh. “If Spock shows up, is that going to be a problem?” He is only asking because he is curious.

“Not for Jim,” comes the muttered response.

This is new, the sheriff muses.

…Or is it? Chris would know.

Leonard weaves through the grid of desks to reach that coffee Jim has thoughtfully brought back from the break room for him.

Then he shakes off his curiosity. There’s more than enough family drama happening already. Whatever bug has bitten McCoy has far less priority than Pike. Only once Chris is returned safe and sound can any of them begin to worry about the more mundane troubles in life like jealousy.

~~~

The second time around, without distracting thoughts or overly curious youngsters, Archer is able to give Liu his undivided attention. She seems to have forgiven him for his earlier lapse; that, and the fact that most of her staff have been sent out to scour the city for signs of Pike leaves the precinct eerily empty. Whatever the reason, the information she provides is more detailed.

They are in the middle of a discussion concerning the lack of fingerprints or fibers of any kind on the ransom note when Lt. Marcus gives Liu’s office door a perfunctory rap.

“Alex, this is Sheriff Jonathan Archer,” Liu introduces Jon. “Archer will be joining our auxiliary team.”

Auxiliary? thinks Jon. Not primary?

“We’ve met,” Marcus replies, but he offers Archer a nod of courtesy. “You asked to see me, Captain?”

“You know Pike better than any of us,” Liu says. “You also know the case he was working on. Try to retrace his footsteps. I also want witness accounts to corroborate his activity yesterday.”

Jon sees an opportunity to provide advice. “Security is cheaper than it used to be. You would be surprised at the number of shops that go in for a basic camera system these days. Grab a copy of the footage while you’re out there, even if it’s just Pike chatting up some old lady who loves dress hats. If we’re lucky, someone has a camera on the street. It could help pinpoint when his cruiser changed hands.”

Marcus just nods. He looks to Liu.

“One more thing before you go, Lieutenant,” the woman says. “The order to partner up stands. I won’t risk another officer on his own.”

Marcus’s eyelids drop to half-mast but the man makes no comment. Liu dismisses Marcus, and he leaves without further ado.

Jon wants to know, “Is he used to being un-partnered?”

Liu picks up a pen, turning it in a circle through her fingers. “Yes. That was part of the deal we had to make to… keep things fair between Marcus and Pike.”

“I thought Pike was a specialist. He said he occasionally partners with one of the greens to get them used to field work but he mainly works solo. Forgive my ignorance, but why would there be any comparison between a Lieutenant and specialist?”

“Because Pike’s rank is technically the equivalent to a Lieutenant.”

Jon sucks in a breath, releases it in a quiet whoosh. Chris had failed to mention that. “Well, I can see how that would cause some tension.”

Liu nods almost absently.

Studying her guarded expression, Jonathan guesses, “You have other concerns about Marcus.”

“I do,” she replies, not denying it, “but none that I can share with a consultant. Shall we pick up where we left off?”

Jon concedes the change of subject. It really isn’t his place to scrutinize Marcus’s job performance, and he can respect a boss who honors her employees’ privacy.

“We were talking about the note,” he says, and their conversation moves on to more urgent business.

~~~

Thirty minutes later, Jon finds Jim going all Rocky on a soda machine while his boyfriend looks on.

“Is there a reason you’re damaging property you don’t own?” he questions casually as he stops in the corridor intersection where Kirk and McCoy are.

“Jim needs to punch something,” Leonard explains. “I’m keeping watch. He agreed to stop when I said stop.”

Kirk ignores them both and paces a tight little circle that brings him back to face the machine. The merchandise inside audibly rattles after Kirk’s next right hook.

“This is healthy,” Jon notes sarcastically.

McCoy just looks at him. Jim punches the machine again. It spits out a Pepsi.

“Ooh, prize!” declares Archer, snatching it up. “Never mind. I’m in total agreement. Super idea!”

Leonard warns his boyfriend, “One more punch and then you have to stop.”

Kirk’s eyes blaze. Jon backs up as far as he can just in case the kid decides a flying leap-kick is only proper for his last assault. He wonders if the machine will empty out all its contents under such pressure. That would be amazing.

Jim begins to lift his arm for the attack—only to snort instead and, shockingly, drop his fist back to his side. He turns away, signaling that the show is over. Leonard comes forward and picks up one of Kirk’s hands. Jim stands there patiently while the man prods at his bruised knuckles.

“Nothing broken,” decides McCoy.

“I pulled my punches,” Jim mutters.

Jonathan stares at the dented machine. “Shit, if that was you pulling your punches, then you’re in the wrong career.”

Jim blinks at him. “I don’t have a career.”

“You will now, kiddo. Pike ever take you to a boxing ring?”

Leonard drops Jim’s hand, looking annoyed. “Jim isn’t fighting professionally.”

Jim adopts a curious expression. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll dump you!”

Jim tells Jon, “Sorry, professional boxing is a no-go.”

“All my joy in life,” Jon gripes, “gone.” Then he looks between Kirk and McCoy. “So, when’s the richer half of the cavalry arriving?”

Leonard colors in a way that Jon takes to mean he forgot to tell Jim about Spock’s impending arrival. With agonizing slowness, Jim’s boyfriend relays the news.

Jim stops rubbing at his knuckles, looking surprised. “Are you serious, Bones?”

“As a heart attack, Jim.”

A strange expression comes over Kirk’s face, then, part apprehension, part wonder. “Spock really is my friend.”

“He really is,” Leonard agrees, deflating slightly. “Why would you think he’s not?”

Kirk shrugs. “I piss him off a lot.”

“You piss me off even more, and I’m dating you.”

Jim grins sheepishly, running a hand over his hair. “Good point, Bones.” He reaches out and snags McCoy’s arm. “Let’s go up to the front and wait for him.”

In Jon’s opinion, McCoy looks like he would rather do anything but that. Archer clears his throat. “Maybe you could spare your paramour for a second? I would like to talk to him.”

Jim eyes Jon. “About what?”

Jon makes a comically pained face. “I need a medical opinion. You see, there’s this oozing boil on my—”

Jim has dropped Leonard’s hand and is halfway down the hall before the sentence is finished, fingers plugging up in his ears as he scurries away.

Jon high-fives himself.

Now it is Leonard’s turn to eye Jon warily, looking like he has discovered a fate worse than greeting Spock. “Sheriff, boils sound like a topic to discuss with your general practitioner.”

“Apparently I don’t have one of those.” At the combination of regret and resignation on McCoy’s face, Jon bursts out laughing. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he reassures the doctor as he chokes down his laughter, “I’m not signing up with you just yet.”

Leonard grimaces. “But your condition—”

He waves a hand. “Boils can wait for another day. I’m saving you from rolling out the red carpet for Spock.”

“Oh,” McCoy says with more understanding. “Thanks. I guess.”

Jon sidles closer to the man. “Now, about this party you mentioned. Why didn’t Pike know?” Because if Pike had known, then Jon would have known and so clearly Pike did not know.

McCoy offers a half-shrug but his response is carefully worded. “It would have been useful information to impart to Mr. Pike at the appropriate time.”

Now Jonathan is dying to know more. “What does that mean?”

Leonard glances at him. “It means Chris might have needed a final push to let Jim go without regrets.”

“If Chris knew that Jim’s friends were ready and waiting to celebrate his return…” Jon whistles, impressed. “The choice would have been made without Chris agonizing over it, since there’s no way he can deny Jim any chance at happiness. Sneaky, McCoy, very sneaky,” Jon decides. “I like it.”

“I think it would have worked.”

Jon pats the young man’s shoulder. “You would make a great son-in-law.”

Leonard slides far away from him, now embarrassed. “I should catch up to Jim.”

Jon lets him go.

~~~

The grand affair of Spock’s arrival is made grander by the woman who precedes him into the precinct, a shopping bag swinging from her hand. Jon gets a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach the moment she flips her long ponytail and pinpoints him skulking in the background with uncanny accuracy. In the next moment she altogether ignores his presence and latches onto the surprised man in front of her.

“You didn’t call me,” the woman accuses Jim.

Jim doesn’t have a chance to reply because her hug likely takes the breath right out of him. When Jim does manage to speak, the squeak sounds suspiciously like can’t breathe!

Nyota Uhura releases Kirk and unceremoniously pushes him toward the brooding shadow behind her. Then she turns her attention to McCoy.

Leonard takes the proffered shopping bag.

“You look like shit,” Uhura states.

Leonard does look like shit, in Jon’s opinion—especially now that Kirk is fully immersed in a hug with Spock and might be snuffling into the notably silent man’s shoulder.

Leonard’s hand dives into the bag and comes back with crisp-looking white fabric. “What’s this?”

Nyota sighs. “Nothing in your closet looked suitable so Spock and I bought you better clothes. Since I know for a fact that Jim has even less fashion sense than you, there’s something for him to wear too.”

Jim lets go of Spock and turns around. “You bought me clothes?”

Spock’s gaze touches upon Kirk’s faded pajamas before moving on to McCoy’s rumpled, stained, psycho-surgeon appearance. “Clearly,” the somber man intones, “we made the correct choice.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my clothes!” McCoy snaps.

The snap startles Kirk, whose expression turns uncertain.

Nyota intervenes. “Leonard, there’s a reason I’m not touching you. You need a makeover—and a bath, pronto.” She snaps her fingers and points in Jon’s direction. “You there, Pointy Hat!”

Jon pats his head to make sure he isn’t wearing an honest-to-God pointy hat.

“Where’s the men’s locker room?” she demands.

Oh yes. Jon remembers Nyota Uhura very well. He had hoped never to see her again, if only because her presence gives him chills.

Jon steps forward, about to clear his throat, when he notices Kirk looking entirely too amused. He puffs up. Kirk is wrong. Jon has no plans whatsoever to embarrass himself by cowing to the scary female. “Miss Uhura,” he greets her as cordially as possible, “how nice to see you again—and outside a jail cell too.”

Why is McCoy smacking his forehead?

Uhura smiles. It’s not a comforting smile. “And I see you’re no less of a dick, Sheriff.”

“He’s forever a dick,” Jim states, crossing his arms over his chest. “But to be fair, I think that’s why my dad likes him.”

The casual observation floors Jon mainly because it comes from Kirk. As often as Jim proposes to have no clue why Pike is dating a backwoods goober like Jonathan, clearly Jim has given some thought to the matter. But why?

Spock shifts to flank Kirk. “Jim, regarding your father…”

Jim visibly deflates. “I don’t have answers yet, Spock.”

“I understand.” Spock pauses in a true show of regret. “My main concern is you.”

Suddenly McCoy is pushing between the two men; he grabs Kirk’s arm and steers his boyfriend away from their little group. “You know what,” the man calls over his shoulder, “Nyota’s idea has merit. Jim and I are gonna shower and change.”

A determined McCoy and baffled Kirk disappear through a swinging door.

Spock folds his hands behind his back. “Interesting.”

That’s what Jon is thinking.

“Boys,” Nyota remarks, shaking her head. Then she rounds on Jon and stabs a finger just under his collarbone. “You. Tell us everything.”

~~~

Jonathan is exhausted. He feels like a ping-pong ball moving from one battle of wits to the next, coming up the loser every time. Liu wants him over here but not over there until suddenly it is the opposite. Jim ignores him for the most part, then randomly demands his immediate attention. The creepy sensation of being stared at like a zoo animal is courtesy of Spock, who has not approached him alone but seems to be planning some kind of bloody coup. By the time Liu snags the collar of his jacket, no doubt intending to give him an earful about the Kirk and Gang commandeering her bullpen as if it’s their own personal blanket-fort, Archer has had more than enough of everything.

He yanks her hand off of him, emphasizing, “It’s not my fault.”

“I’m not running a daycare, Archer.”

“I said it’s not my fault!” he snaps back.

Liu opens her mouth, then closes it. Though she obviously isn’t happy, her tone regains some professionalism. “Sheriff, you said it yourself—time is a critical factor in a kidnapping. Kirk and his friends are a distraction.”

He lifts his hands, palms out. “What do you want me to do, Captain?”

She stays quiet momentarily before shaking her head at something. “Just… keep them quiet. Occupied.”

He lets his frustration show. “You asked me to consult, but now I’m a glorified babysitter? Hell no. I want schematics of this building. I want access to your database. I want every damned report that has crossed your hands this morning.”

“Ditto,” comes a hard voice at Archer’s back.

Jon closes his eyes and counts to three. He turns around. “No.”

Kirk steps forward, fists clenched, intentions clear.

A “Jim” from Spock has the unusual effect of making Kirk pull back.

“Jim,” Liu reasons, seeming unsurprised by Kirk’s anger, “you’re asking the impossible. You are a civilian. Archer, at least, has the distinction of a career in law enforcement. He has the clearance.” Her gaze cuts to Jon. Maybe, it says.

Damn, but asking Liu to trust him is harder than Archer anticipated. He vows to win her over somehow. First, however, he needs to do something about that determined look in Pike’s son’s eyes.

“We’re not proposing to leave you out of the investigation, but there is a line concerning your involvement which you need to respect.” When a muscle ticks in Jim’s jaw, Jon adds quickly, “Do you think your father would tell you any different?”

Surprise flashes across Kirk’s face. Jim admits, as though it pains him to do so, “He would say the same thing.”

“Then—”

“But whether coming from him or you or the president of the country, I don’t care,” Jim insists. “I have to do something.”

Pike would say Jim sounds just like a younger version of Jon. Jon wouldn’t deny it. He had hated waiting on the sidelines while the others were in the thick of some crisis; he still does, to some degree. It had been hard-earned, the wisdom of knowing when his greatest contribution would be to let someone else take on the responsibility of saving the day.

“I get it, kiddo, believe me. Even by keeping your head down for a while, I promise that’s doing something. It may make you feel like shit, but it means we don’t have to worry about your safety on top of worrying about your dad.” He moves forward to clasp Jim’s shoulder. “If there’s a task you can help with, we’ll let you know. But for now…” He draws a quick breath. “I think it’s time you went home.”

Jim opens his mouth to protest.

Jon says plaintively, “Please, Jim.”

Kirk presses his mouth flat. Leonard touches the man’s arm.

Spock shares an opinion. “Jim, perhaps leaving the precinct will provide us the opportunity to ruminate on how to assist in your father’s recovery.”

Jim’s head snaps around to Spock. He stares at the dark-haired man intently for some seconds before murmuring the word, “Opportunity…”

Leonard passes a hand over his eyes. “I agree with Spock,” he says, like that is something to regret.

Oddly enough, Jim’s shoulders relax. “Okay,” he tells Archer and Liu. “You win. I’m going home.”

Why does Jon have the funny feeling Kirk is handing him this victory for a reason other than his apparent cooperation?

Liu signals someone. Carlos and another younger officer trot into view. “Please escort Mr. Kirk and his companions.” She informs Jim, “We have already set up surveillance at your house.”

Jon clarifies, “She means don’t plan to walk around in your underwear for a while. There will be officers inside as well as outside, and people to monitor your phone.” He glances at Liu. She nods tacit permission to continue. “Which is nothing compared to how the FBI will set up when they arrive.”

“Big Brother is watching you,” says McCoy in all his sarcastic glory.

“Always,” Jon confirms.

Jim’s response is more flippant. “Cool, whatever.” He addresses his friends. “Let’s go.”

Jon hurries after their troupe, catching Jim before Kirk reaches the double-set doors leading to the hallway. Paranoid still, he reminds the man in his most no-nonsense-allowed voice, “Once you’re home, stay there. I will join you later. …And, Kirk? I don’t want to see you outside that house. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, Sheriff,” Jim retorts, twisting his arm out of Jon’s grasp. “I promise you won’t see me.” He pushes through the doors, Spock on his heels.

McCoy lingers a moment. “Sorry,” he tells Jon before following in his boyfriend’s wake.

Finally, Jon is without Jim. Somehow that makes him worry more.

~~~

Archer exits the break room with his fourth, fifth or possibly twentieth cup of coffee of the day. He is immediately bombarded by a group of aggravated people led by their captain Gretchen Liu.

Liu demands, “Why is she still here, Archer?”

Jon almost drops his coffee. He sprints for the bullpen.

In Pike’s chair with ankles crossed on the edge of Pike’s desk sits Uhura. She drags a nail file across one of her fingertips, saying upon his arrival, “There you are.”

This must be what a heart-attack feels like. “You didn’t leave with Kirk!”

How did he have miss that small yet utterly crucial detail?

“Why thank you, Captain Obvious,” Nyota retorts.

Jon’s hands are trembling. He clutches his coffee cup more tightly. “Uhura… explain.”

She continues to shape her nails.

One of Liu’s officers hurries across the bullpen, disheveled and slightly out of breath. “Captain Liu!”

Jon realizes only then that Liu and her entourage are standing behind him.

“Report, Moreau,” Liu orders.

“The tail lost them, Captain.”

Liu’s expression turns grim.

“Lost…?” Jon echoes. He explodes in a panic after that sinks in, “You lost Kirk?!” Somebody call an ambulance because he really is having a heart-attack. This can’t be happening.

“This is why you shouldn’t rely on amateurs,” Uhura remarks slyly. “Spock has rich-boy hobbies. Racing cars is one of them. Those three are long gone by now.”

Jon discards his coffee on a nearby desk and drags both hands through his hair. The reality hits him hard. He lost Pike, and now he has lost Pike’s son. Shit. Why didn’t he drive Kirk to the house himself? “Where did they go?”

“Where did Mr. Pike go?” Nyota counters.

In other words, that is precisely where Jim plans to be. Kirk will pursue any lead if it takes him to his father.

Jon is such a fool. He should have known standard protocol wouldn’t satisfy Jim; that, like Jon himself, Jim would not be content to wait for others to take on this mission. He should have handcuffed Kirk to his side if only to keep him from pulling a stunt exactly like this.

By the look on Liu’s face, she is experiencing the same regrets. But her tone is no less a leader’s when she tells Uhura, “I cannot sanction interference with my operation, however pure the intentions.”

Uhura returns the stare fearlessly. “It’s our operation now, Captain.”

Liu considers the young woman briefly before focusing on Jon, perhaps recognizing that Nyota Uhura has a backbone made of the same unbendable steel that she does. Liu warns him, “If we catch Kirk, we will contain him by any means necessary.”

Jon bristles at that. “He’s a kid, not a threat.”

She gives him a strange look. “Then he’s your kid now, Archer—and your responsibility.”

“What?” he says, shocked. “Me?”

“Just as Pike would want it,” the woman finishes before pivoting on her heel and striding away.

Jon gapes at her back.

Does she know?

Tapping her nail file against Pike’s desk to gain his attention, Nyota says too sweetly, “Welcome to Team Kirk, Sheriff Archer.” Her sweetness dies. “Rule Number One: if you let Jim get arrested, I’ll tear your balls off. McCoy will punch you. Spock will ruin you financially. Sulu’s forms of revenge are rather mysterious but generally effective, and while our dear little Pavel Chekov may look angelic, he is viciously protective in a way that will give you nightmares.”

Jon flaps his arms like a helpless little bird. “You forgot Scott.”

She goes back to filing her nails. “No I didn’t. There’s simply no way to explain what Monty will do without making you paranoid for life.”

“Oh.” Is he actually feeling grateful to be spared that? What is wrong with him?

I am a county sheriff, he reminds himself and girds his loins, so to speak.

Uhura’s cell phone beeps, and she snaps upright from her languid position, swiping a finger across its screen. “Ooh,” the young woman murmurs after a moment, “Pavel and Hikaru have arrived.”

Jon looks around, unnerved. How many heart attacks can a person have in one day? “Where?”

Her look reads, You’re so dumb for a cop. “The Sheriff’s Department.”

Jon thinks he whimpers. He does sway on his feet. Truly, what is happening? Maybe he has lost his mind. “Why—” he falters. “Why are they there?”

Uhura stands up and brushes past him, whispering conspiratorially, “To catch a mole.”

Jon stands still for a long time, thinking about that. Then he runs a hand over his hair one last time.

“These punks,” he mutters. “They’re going to be the death of me.” Or, at the very least, the death of his career.

He shouldn’t feel proud but he does. He didn’t lie to Liu. Kirk has been the bane of his existence for many years. Now Jon has a chance to see that mad genius at work up-close.

Any sane person would run screaming for the hills. Jon is simultaneously scared and thrilled.

Since the feeling is nonsensical, he dismisses it and moves with determination towards the meeting room where Liu had taken up residence once again. Whether Pike’s boss likes him or not, it has suddenly become imperative that he joins the primary team.

~~~

The way Pike sees it, he has two options: join Kor and betray his own principles, or join Kor and betray Kor. It doesn’t seem like much of a choice. As an officer of the law, Christopher Pike holds his principles in very high regard. But as a father… As a father, would he regret not taking revenge on Nero when the opportunity presented itself? Absolutely.

The internal battle is nasty but brief with the only way to end it being to think of Jim. He remembers when his newly adopted son had inquired, “Why a cop?”, and how he answered. Jim had been indignant to hear, “So I’m not tempted to break the law like a certain someone caught peeping in people’s windows. Peeping, Jimmy, really?”

Had Jim taken that as a promise from Pike to act as the moral compass when Jim couldn’t determine what was right versus wrong? Chris has always liked to think so.

“You have had enough time,” Kor announces. “Your decision, Detective.”

Pike leans back in his chair. “First, tell me how you plan to take out Nero.”

Kor’s face hardens. “Do you think I am a fool?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Chris replies, “Then I don’t have anything to say.”

“There are other ways to persuade you.”

Kor speaks in another language, then, which seems to translate to help our guest remember his manners. Chris doesn’t have time to jerk his head back before the first set of knuckles crashes into the side of his face.

But Kor doesn’t seem to be interested in bloodshed in that moment, for after a few brutal punches and kicks, Kor stops his men. Pike drags himself back to his overturned chair. Refusing to break so easily, he rights it and takes a seat again.

Kor simply shakes his head. “You may be more than I bargained for, Christopher Pike.”

Chris spits blood out of his mouth. “Oh, and who did you bargain with? The devil?”

All of a sudden, Kor looks entirely too amused. “The devil has a name. One you might know.”

Chris pauses in the act of wiping his mouth to consider the man. What new game is this?

Kor locks his hands behind his back and lifts his head slightly. He does a slow circuit through the circle of his men, finally coming back to stand before Pike. “I think, perhaps,” he says, “I have some information which will interest you.”

Chris plays dumb. “I’m only interested in Nero.”

Kor leans forward. “Liar.”

“I could say the same of you.”

Kor pulls back with a suppressed chuckle. “I am not an illogical man, Detective Pike. Like you, I only accept fact when evidence is presented.” He heads for the door with the ominous pronouncement, “Therefore you will have your evidence soon enough, and you will know what I say is true.”

Half of the men in the room follow Kor out. The other half remain. With Kor gone, one of them spits by Chris’s foot.

Chris raises an eyebrow at him.

The men don’t approach him, don’t talk to him, not without orders. Kor’s hold over them is strong, indeed. Chris doesn’t know if that will turn in his favor or not. Nonetheless, he is content to sit, mouth and ribs aching, for the time being unmolested.

Because of the earlier wait in the darkness, he has become a poor judge of time. He thinks an hour—maybe two—passes before someone returns to the room. It isn’t Kor, but the one of the dark-skinned men who flanked him. He says something in that fast, rolling language Chris cannot understand. Another man joins him at the door. They disappear for a time. One comes back with a plastic cup in hand.

Pike stares greedily at the water, but when it is handed to him he doesn’t drink. The man, rolling his eyes in disgust, jerks the cup out of Pike’s hand and dumps the water on the floor.

Chris closes his eyes in resignation.

The next time the errand boy—for that is what the fellow seems to be—returns, he has a sealed bottle of water, which he pitches at Pike’s head. Chris catches it easily enough and studies it. Would he be able to tell if a syringe of drugs had penetrated the cap? Probably not. But since the man made the effort to give Pike something he could trust, the odds were more favorable that the water isn’t contaminated.

He decides to drink it. The coolness of the water is like a balm, all too quickly gone. So occupied is Pike in shaking the last drops out of the bottle, the door opens and closes without him paying much attention to it.

A sharp intake of breath resounds along with a name. Chris’s name.

Chris glances up—and the empty water bottle slips from his fingers. He jumps up on instinct. Rough hands shove him back into place.

The man in the doorway steps forward, palms turned outward. He says something in that foreign language, not smoothly but accurate enough to be understood. Then he says, “Chris, sit down.”

Too stunned to think, Chris does what he is told.

The man moves fully into the room, the overhead lights banishing any doubt that he is none other than the person the familiar figures proposes him to be: Alexander Marcus.

“Alex,” Chris says, feeling like something has just broken inside him, something that when broken brings a physical nausea and a keen heartsickness along with it. “I… don’t understand. What’s going on?”

Kor’s men had backed off when Marcus had spoken. Now Marcus tells them in English, “Give us a minute.”

The nausea intensifies at the reaction of Kor’s men. No threats, no hesitation. Silently they file out of the room.

Chris gasps for air. Why is his vision swimming? He launches out of the chair, intent on finding somewhere private to throw up. Marcus catches his arm and restrains him before Chris can even think to recoil.

“Don’t,” the man begins. “Don’t look at me like that.”

It takes serious effort to free his arm and fight the nausea at the same time. A part of Chris acknowledges that his reactions are simply born of shock. He isn’t hallucinating from drinking the water as he wants to believe because this cramped feeling in his chest, this sickness and pain… They are all too real.

Marcus takes a step back. “Don’t look so betrayed.” His tone is inexplicably cold. “I did this for you.”

“For… me?” A disbelieving laugh erupts from Pike. “Me?” he repeats. “You’re involved in my—” He can barely say the word. “—kidnapping to help me? Tell me, Alex—tell me how I’m supposed to believe that.” That his request has a desperate quality to it shames him.

“Chris…”

Chris begs, “Tell me what’s going on. Tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Christopher.”

“Tell me!” he screams suddenly.

Marcus’s countenance tightens. “It’s what it looks like,” he says.

The admission knocks Chris sideways. He is dizzy. As he staggers back, his fingers close helplessly on the air, seeking anything for support. Marcus is smart enough not to touch him. Eventually he locates the chair and sits down in one clumsy effort, mind still reeling.

After a stretch of deafening silence, Chris runs a hand over his face. “We used to… used to joke that Koloth had ears everywhere. That was why we couldn’t catch him.” The magnitude of what Chris is saying hits him like another punch, causing his eyes to water. “It wasn’t a joke.”

A muscle slides in Marcus’s jaw as the man looks away. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Chris grips one knee, daring to look up. “Then explain it to me. Explain why you—you of all people—are a—” He can’t say it.

“A dirty cop,” Marcus supplies, his smile tiny and mirthless. “I made a choice, Chris. Honor or justice.”

The last word shivers down Pike’s spine. “Justice?” he repeats slowly, after a moment experiencing the sudden clarity that comes with fitting a puzzle piece into place. There is only one reason—or person—more important to Alex than anyone else. “Carol,” he guesses. “You did this for Carol, didn’t you?”

The hardening of the man’s gaze is answer enough.

“What did Koloth—” Marcus nods in confirmation of Pike’s next guess. “—promise you?”

“A promise is worth shit. Koloth gave me what I needed.” Darkness passes over Marcus’s face. “He gave me the bastard who hit my little girl.”

Chris swallows hard. Just by looking into the other man’s eyes he can guess what that really means. Chris had been deeply worried about Alex when Alex had rejoined the force, but he hadn’t questioned why Alex’s obsession over his daughter’s accident had suddenly died out. Chris had simply been grateful to have his longtime friend and mentor returned, as all their colleagues had.

Now he knows he was willingly blind to the truth. Alex hadn’t healed. He had been sated. The perp is dead. Alex, by Chris’s measure, was the one to kill him.

Knowing full well what Pike must be thinking, Marcus only folds his arms across his chest. He doesn’t seem to care how he is judged.

Chris doesn’t want to judge him. He lowers his head.

“In return,” Marcus continues as though there had been no lapse in their conversation, “I owed Koloth.”

“You helped him rise to power.” Chris stares at his hands. “It’s been five years. Hasn’t the debt been paid?”

He hears more than sees Marcus cross over to him. Then in front of him, Marcus kneels, giving Chris no choice but to meet his gaze.

“The debt has been paid a hundred fold. I don’t do this because I want to, Christopher. I don’t have a choice. Once in the game…”

“There’s no getting out,” Chris finishes quietly, heartbroken. “I don’t believe that, Alex. You can stop.”

Marcus nods. “I want to. I plan to. That’s why you are here.”

Chris doesn’t understand.

“Help me,” his friend asks of him. “Help me end this. Kor and Nero, we can take them out if we work together. Two birds with one stone, Chris. A clean slate for me—and justice for you.”

“I won’t deny that I want justice,” Chris replies, “but I don’t know that I want it this way.”

“As long as the perp who hurt your kid rots in hell, what does it matter?” Marcus doesn’t give Chris time to answer. He squeezes Pike’s kneecap, the gesture of comfort so familiar that Pike’s eyes sting again.

“Trust me,” Marcus continues on, calm and collected in the same way he normally is while directing an operation. “You don’t have to forgive, only trust.”

Chris is saved from answering by the scrape of the metal door being pushed open.

Marcus quickly comes to his feet, folding his arms over his chest and once again adopting a mask of indifference Chris has never seen on him before. He turns partly away, saying as if only curious, “Where have you been?”

Kor, flanked by the usual two, strolls into Chris’s prison. “Ah, Lt. Marcus. I am always reminded of my Brother Koloth’s wisdom when I see you.” Kor’s gaze flicks to Pike’s face. What Kor sees there, Chris can’t begin to guess. “I trust your little reunion was productive.”

“He’s in,” Marcus says, startling Pike and causing Kor to laugh.

“So the Detective finds my truth of great interest after all! Very, very good.” Kor signals to his men as if that is all he needed to hear. One of them tosses a set of fresh clothes at Pike’s feet. “Word has reached Nero of our detective’s kidnapping. Since he knows he isn’t the responsible party, he will make discrete inquires to find out who has the prize. We must prepare.”

Marcus looks nonplussed. “There’s no ‘we’, Kor. You wanted bait so I gave it to you. My part is done.”

Something malicious swims through Kor’s gaze at the dismissal, setting Chris on edge. But he isn’t able to warn Alex to be careful.

Then again, watching Marcus, Chris realizes his mentor must know Kor very well—just as he would have come to know Koloth, former leader of this gang. Alex has been part of their organization for five years.

Chris clamps down on his reaction to that thought and focuses on studying the pair of adversaries before him. An hour ago he would have trusted Marcus in any fight, would have believed the man was doing all that could be done to aid in Chris’s rescue. How quickly illusions can be shattered. In reality, Kor set Marcus the task of finding a way to Nero, and Marcus knew he had the perfect solution.

Chris pieces the rest of it together now with almost clinical detachment.

His new case had belonged to Marcus. The ruse to catch Pike was contrived by someone who knew of Pike’s obsession to catch Nero. Marcus confirmed it when they met for lunch, and then he sent Pike on his way, knowing where and when Chris would go that day. A perfect setup—and a great risk too, since there was always the possibility that Chris could have immediately told Kor to go to hell.

Trust him?

Chris picks up the clothes from the floor and stands up, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

He will never trust Alex again.

“Since I’m in,” he says, “I should contribute to the plan.”

“Oh?” Kor questions, his anger turned aside briefly by curiosity. “And what will you contribute besides the obvious?”

Chris smiles grimly. “A diversion, one that Lt. Marcus can take part in.”

Marcus presses his mouth into a thin line.

Kor says, “I like the sound of that. Tell me more.”

Pike moves forward, pausing long enough to clasp Marcus’s forearm in a reassuring manner as he replies, “Gladly.”

Next Part

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• Holiday Revenge (9/12) – from January 3, 2017

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