Everything was ready to go, packaged up as tightly as he could manage without the benefit of having his stronger first officer to help him haul it. Pike had only glanced once across his quarters, many fond memories there. He had a small package to help with those memories tucked into his packs, something that had been difficult to acquire without
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His steps were loud in the silence of the room, only the faint sound from the biobed reading out Kirk's life in the form of statics. Pike imagined to McCoy those sounds were music, speaking to him words that only a doctor would truly understand and only a sadist would enjoy. At least, only in this universe. He well imagined that in the other it would be quite a different story.
Kirk resembled a waif, an animal, but Pike would not underestimate him. An animal cornered such as this was far more likely to lash out without warning. "Kirk."
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Let Pike think he'd been beaten. That there wasn't anything left of James T. Kirk in this shell he barely recognized as his own.
"Pike," he drawled, his voice dry as the buzz of the field he'd tried to force his hand through, back when he'd had enough strength to fight being put in the brig. It hurt, deep in his throat, just like everything else did.
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"Has he been taking good care of you?" His voice and expression remained neutral, but he knew just what McCoy was capable of. It was almost like a scent in the room left behind, an electrical feeling just at the edge of the consciousness.
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Kirk recognized that electricity, too. It was the only thing he'd had to relieve the grey monotony of his own thoughts and the four moving walls.
"Guess that's your call," he spat, throat grinding. McCoy was a fucking freak but he mostly did what he said and said what he did. And there wasn't much room in him right now for hatred that didn't belong to Pike. He glared at the man with the hazy intensity of a man too far gone to remember he has anything left to lose. "This what you ordered?"
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"You wouldn't have been in the brig at all if you hadn't tried to off me," He also decided to inform him, "so you have only yourself to thank for your current predicament."
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It was only when Pike met his eyes again, and Kirk congratulated himself in remaining still, in meeting them, that he realized he had not made a move while Pike looked away. And that told him more than he wanted to know about himself. He had no hope that he could overpower the man. But the fact he hadn't tried, hadn't instinctively taken that slim window of false opportunity, said something. Perhaps he hadn't broken. But he was bent.
He'd recover. He'd try again. He had to.
"What do you want?"
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"I came only to give you a few words," Pike's smirk threatened to make itself known. There was, and always would be, a thrill in knowing that someone was divested of everything but their will to survive. That was also a very powerful idea, and it seemed Kirk was tapping into it. "You may want to be far more grateful to McCoy in the future, for what he's done," If Kirk was going to survive under Uhura's reign long enough to get to a decent physical condition, he would find refuge in sickbay. It would, if Pike was accurate, not the most pleasant refuge but it would be one from a quick death under Uhura's blade.
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He'd seen men in the brig. Hell, he'd tortured them at Pike's command for less than he himself had done. That he was alive at all was an unlooked-for advantage Kirk didn't intend to squander but it didn't make any sense.
He was so tired.
"What difference it make to you what I think of that pervert? What are you doing, Pike?"
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He struck out, fingers wrapping around Kirk's throat. His other hand gripped the edge of the biobed. As it was connected to the ship's systems, the probes were there within. He made sure no one outside of the room would see the readings on the bed change.
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His eyes slid to Pike's, defiant and stupidly brave, like a dog trained not to know what a death grip feels like, lest it never get in the ring again.
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He moved his other hand as he loosened his grip, just enough to allow Kirk to continue to stay conscious, and grasped the dagger at his side. The sound of dagger leaving sheath was barely a breath on the air, and he turned it so that the point rested just above Kirk's thigh where the flesh beneath was most sensitive. "He doesn't require this to take his pleasure, nor does anyone else." The point of the dagger moved to center itself above Kirk's groin, just enough pressure behind it to be felt.
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He hadn't touched him in any way a doctor wouldn't.
But now the focus had shifted, everything tipping and sliding down to the point of Pike's blade, the blood rushing underneath, just what he intended sparking in Kirk's brain like fireworks as he forced out a hard-won breath in one word.
"No."
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