full_of_wrath | captivity

When Kirk finally sleeps, he dreams about Khan's fingers, the blood smeared on them, the taste of them in his mouth.

He spends his waking hours throwing all his attention into the ship, but he has Spock search for assistants who worked for the three Admirals. It's about two days before he gets back down to the brig.

The problem is, he no longer believes it's safe to hand Khan off. And like hell he's going to give Khan away to be murdered--if anyone is going to kill him, it's going to be Kirk. And Kirk, in Pike's honor, has already decided that isn't going to happen.

It's put him in a sticky position, and he stands outside the glass and just watches Khan.

"Come for another round, Captain?"

He asks, voice so slow and tranquil he sounds nearly drugged. He's sitting on the ground, cross legged, hands on his knees in a position of meditation.

"Or do you have news for me?"

It's both, if Kirk is honest with himself.

"I don't make a habit of sharing information with prisoners."

He'd meant to come down here to talk, but now that he's here, and aware of how outmatched he is...well, now he just wants to beat his fists on Khan's unyielding body again.

"Then by all means."

Standing upright, gesturing for him to enter, a little more tired looking than before.

"You would tell me if their status had changed? If harm had come to them?"

He steps through, still expecting Khan to grab him the second he does.

"Yeah. I would." From one Captain to another. "But if anything happened to them, you'd know, because the ship would be in flames."

He watches him warily, trying to assess whether that's true or not, and folds his hands behind his back again.

"Is it better or worse if I cry out?"

"It's better if you don't act."

He's surprised at himself for how easily the answer comes--there's nothing even snide in it, just brusque honesty.

When he hits him this time, he's not even angry.

He folds his hands away carefully, again, squaring his stance a little better so he doesn't end up on the floor again. That knee to the chin wasn't fun, even for him.

He works on centering his breathing, vacating his body.

Without rage, Kirk doesn't hit as hard, but his stamina is incredible when he's focused on controlling himself. This is the most bizarre way of letting off steam he's found, and he's tried a few.

It's like last time. The way he'd buckled and slid down the wall, this time he's suddenly gone from standing, unflinching, to sitting at his feet, with one last blow to the face. Words, he finds, are just as far away, and his vision is white.

Kirk will go on like he had last time: until he physically can't. Now that he knows Khan can heal so quickly he's even less concerned about how he hits, but thankfully he isn't angry and so doesn't resort to heavy blows like kneeing or elbowing.

Instead he grabs Khan by the throat, just holding him steady while he punches him a few last, frantic times in the face.

The corner of his fist catches him badly in the eye, and suddenly there are tears on his face, swelling where there wasn't before. He rattles in his grip like a ragdoll, shaken by the throat.

As before, when Kirk is shaking and out of breath he lowers himself onto the bed and shakes out his bruised hands.

"Damn. You've got a really hard head, what did they feed you back then?"

"Standard rations. I don't imagine bone density has actually altered that much."

He whispers, sliding back to put himself against the wall, knees to his chest, lowering his head onto them.

The adrenaline begins to recede, replaced by a pleasant sense of release...until he sees Khan. Then, there's guilt.

"Sorry. Won't happen again."

He mutters, because this is so far out of acceptable officer behavior he imagines Pike spinning in his grave.

"Since this is now the third time around, you'll forgive me if I don't share your optimism."

He says, rubbing gingerly at his eye. It's already back to normal, the only sign of what happened is the hair in his face.

"It doesn't matter. I've been hurt far worse, for much more trivial reasons."

"It's not optimism. It's a decision."

Kirk retorts, every inch of him stubborn and determined. You can't call him professional but he is, right now, a Starfleet Captain and not just the captain of the Enterprise, which he tends to treat as if it's its own world.

"Do you need a medic?"

"Not as badly as you do. Come here."

Nodding at Kirk's hands, as he lifts his thumb to his mouth. He bites the edge of it quickly, right down to bleeding.

Kirk has had much, much worse before but he doesn't really want to go to the med bay for this. He has to be forced into going when he's half-dead. He moves carefully over to Khan and sits in front of him.

"That's generous of you."

"Their lives depend on your working well, Kirk. I'll heal you, I'll submit to you, whatever you need to make that happen. You have me completely, Joaquim is unthawed and flying them away to settle safely, I'll do anything."

Including dart his thumb into Kirk's mouth now, to take care of those hands of his. His voice is pitched deliberately even, taking most of the implication out of what he's saying, but he wants the statement just on the edge of being uncomfortable.

Kirk isn't unthawing anybody right now, and he looks sharply at Khan. And then he sucks blood from him until Khan's wound heals a few seconds later.

"You aren't required to put up with this. You never were. If the only reason you were was because you thought it was part of some bargain, that wasn't my intention."

"Then please don't hit me in the head again."

He offers, hand dropping down into his lap.

"I can survive it but it isn't enjoyable."

"I already told you I wouldn't."

Kirk gets up, annoyed at himself.

"Tell me something, if you weren't going to be locked up for what you did, and if your crew was given back to you...what would you do here? You're three hundred years from everything you knew."

"Create a settlement."

He says, instantly.

"Find an M-class planet and touch down. All that we had ever intended to do, when we set the ship adrift, was awaken far enough away from and long enough removed from the past that we might have a chance to begin afresh, away from the Federation. We had set a course into deep space."

He considers that seriously in silence for a moment.

"What changed? I mean you had a job. You had plenty of work to do, back then. When did you decide to just pack it in?"

captivity

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