[FIC] Paradigm Shift (Or 5 Times Jim Kirk exceeded Lieutenant Uhura's Expectations)
Title: Paradigm Shift (Or 5 Times Jim Kirk exceeded Lieutenant Uhura's Expectations)
Author: Lilas
Characters/Pairing: Kirk, Spock, Uhura, McCoy; Spock/Uhura, pre-Kirk/Spock
Rating: R
Warning: This goes from crack to attempted non-con/torture.
Summary: Despite general opinion to the contrary, hating Jim Kirk came very easily to a lot of people.
A/N: I have been sitting on this fic for nearly a year now, and in celebration of ST:XI's one year anniversary, I figured it was time to post it. This is my first fic in this fandom (besides a short drabble to a fanart) so please forgive any horrible errors. Not beta'd, so please let me know if you see any glaring errors!
C&C is much appreciated!
***
I.
Despite general opinion to the contrary, hating Jim Kirk came very easily to a lot of people. It could be a combination of many factors: his shameless flirting, his hello-let's-fuck-see-you-later attitude, his intelligence, his good looks, the fact that on the outside he was perfect in every single way; and, to most, the outside, the show, the façade, was the only thing anyone ever saw. It was a good front, a defense mechanism that he'd created and developed and perfected to protect himself from a world that didn't understand him, that didn't love him, that didn't need him. For a long time, Nyota Uhura was privy only to the charming, brash, violent persona. For a long time, she was one of those people - the hate him or love him kind.
But she hadn't spent her life learning to read the subtle differences of various languages for nothing, and the body was, as far as she was concerned, just another language to be read and deciphered. And James T. Kirk was a lesson in the art of reading and interpreting the various nuances of a body that had been trained to be unreadable.
She'd be damned if she'd actually admit it to anyone but herself - not that it's any big secret to either Kirk or anyone else who had known the two of them from their academy years - but she had never had any faith in her future Captain. From the moment she had met him in that bar, drunk and stinking of dirt and old blood, she'd thought she'd had him figured out. And for three years, he hadn't disappointed her expectations of him. She'd never in her life wanted someone to fail as much as she'd wanted him to.
She'd never hated anyone as much as she did him.
The events that nearly destroyed Earth, the Federation, and herself, did nothing to change her opinion. Every time she had seen Kirk in action, he had been nothing other than what she had seen him be before: cocky, over confident, and impulsive. She had seen him mutiny against Spock who had been holding on to his sanity by a thread after the destruction of his planet and the death of his mother, and she had seen him snip that thread without a care in the world and assume a command that was borderline illegitimate.
She'd given nothing but the unbiased truth when the admiralty had questioned her on the events that had transpired, but to her ears her voice had dripped with scathing and bitter resentment. When she'd learned they were promoting him to captaincy of the Enterprise, she'd nearly had a fit until she realized that Starfleet had had no other option considering the massive loss they'd suffered at Nero's hands and the lack of experienced crewmembers left alive and ready to assume command of a Constitution class starship. And, loathe as she was to admit it, Kirk had proven himself competent enough to handle command, regardless of whether she approved of how he'd obtained it.
After her initial bout of anger, she'd decided to put the whole thing out of her mind (as much as it was possible to do so in a campus constantly buzzing with rumors) and instead focused on completing her courses and finding an assignment that would give her the same thrill she had felt as communication officer aboard the Enterprise - the experience had given her a taste of what she was truly capable of handling and she had always been an ambitious person. But it was unlikely she'd find a way to fast track her career as Kirk had. So it had been nothing short of a surprise when the man in question had shown up at her room, face set and determined under the dark colorations of bruises that still marred it days after the events, and offered her exactly what she’d wanted.
For half a second she'd thought about turning him down and telling him to go fuck himself, that she'd find her way to a command position that didn't include him; but, in that split second she'd seen something shift in his eyes, emotions so foreign when she looked at him but so familiar every time she'd looked in a mirror, that it had been impossible to ignore it. Fear, uncertainty, hope despite the knowledge that the chances of being accepted were slim. And for a moment, she had seen not James Tiberius Kirk, but Jim, complete with the weight of the hope of billions of people which had suddenly been thrust upon his shoulders from one day to the next.
And just as soon as she'd blinked in the face of that emotion, it was gone, replaced by the same twinkling in bright blue eyes she'd been privy to the last three years. But it was enough that she had seen it, that she had seen him.
So she said yes.
II.
She'd never been as livid as she was now, sweat prickling her eyes and breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she ran through the forest as fast as her legs would take her. She could see Ensign O'hara duck under a branch in front of her and hear the sound of heavy breathing that indicated the rest of the landing party following close behind her. She knew that their only chance was to lose their pursuers long enough for Mr. Scott to get a lock on them but she doubted they'd get their chance. She could faintly hear Mr. Thomson speaking into the communicator over the sound of her breathing, arguing with someone on the Enterprise about something.
Suddenly her foot snagged on something (a root, her brain supplied) and the next thing she knew she was on the ground, hands and knees burning just as something whizzed past her head. She heard her name being called and turned her head in time to see the swirl of the transporter beam materialize five people just as the throng of hostiles bore down on their position. She had just enough time to recognize the gold tone of the Captain's hair and uniform before her world dissolved around her and rematerialized into the transport room of the Enterprise.
Before she could move, hands were on her, picking her up and dragging her off the platform just in time for the next set of people to be beamed back aboard. She watched as Jim Kirk quickly took in the scene around him, blue eyes sharp and deadly for a second before the veil of smug satisfaction she was so well acquainted with slid back into place. With a quick flash of teeth and a hand wave, he bounced off the platform, patting McCoy on the shoulder as the doctor rushed into the room, expression set in distaste as he took in the state of the party and their various cuts and bruises. She frowned, slow burning anger and leftover adrenaline still swirling in the pit of her stomach as she watched him leave the room, throwing a careless “Mr. Scott, please inform the Bridge that all personnel are accounted for and to set course to the nearest Starfleet base for supplies,” behind his shoulder.
She let McCoy fuss over her and drag her off to the infirmary to take a better look at her ankle and fought not to snap at him. She squelched down the boiling rage as time ticked by and the alpha shift switched over to the beta shift and still Spock hadn't come to see her. It had been three months since the Enterprise had officially begun her maiden voyage and she could feel the distance between Spock and herself growing with each passing moment. Where before he had stood near her work station, hands loosely curled around her chair, body hunched over her shoulder to read a communiqué, he now stood behind the Captain's chair, hands loosely folded behind his back, eyes boring down into the Captain's with an intensity she had never felt from him.
She was losing him to James Kirk, and the knowledge burned her alive.
Anger still pooling in the pit of her stomach, she hobbled her way out of the infirmary to report back to the bridge. She hit the turbo lift controls harder than strictly necessary, glaring at the white walls surrounding her. She had kissed Spock here a few months ago. She had kissed him, and cried for him, and asked him what he needed of her and been told all he needed was for everyone to keep doing their job, to keep going despite their loss, despite his loss. She closed her eyes and took in a deep, calming breath and opened them in time for the doors to show her the familiar sight of a bridge at peace.
She straightened her shoulders and walked past the other officers to stand in front of her Captain.
“Lieutenant Uhura reporting back for duty, sir.”
She stared straight ahead, hands clasped behind her back as she felt Kirk's eyes look her up and down - checking for any visible injuries she knew, but it still felt like the first time he had looked at her, blue eyes smoldering and looking for a fuck or a fight, whichever proved easiest - and relaxed marginally when he stopped and nodded.
“Welcome back, Lieutenant.”
She moved her gaze to lock onto his and nodded her acknowledgment, refusing to look at Spock's empty station as she made her way to her post. She spent most of her shift focused solely on the tasks at hand, refusing to think about Spock and Kirk and any combination thereof. She was better than this petty, jealous person that was trying to take over her mind. She knew she was still important to Spock or else he would have said something, and it was important for a Captain and his First Officer to develop a sense of trust and understanding that could be relied upon in times of emergencies. It didn't mean it was anything more than camaraderie. And if it was, it certainly didn't mean she had to like it.
The Captain's firm “Lieutenant Uhura” snapped her out of her inner musings. She swirled her chair around to face him, watching as a the glint in his eyes and the knowing smile on his face slowly morphed his features from Captain Kirk to James Kirk, and she wondered at her ability to tell even this much from this person who was sometimes almost as difficult to read as his First Officer. She saw him hesitate for an almost imperceptible moment before hardening his resolve.
“Please go inform Mr. Spock that I request his presence on the Bridge at his earliest convenience. He is otherwise occupied at the moment meditating and I very much doubt he will be disposed to answer a hail,” he continued when he knew he had her attention.
She watched his fingers tapping his arm rest as his eyes looked over his right shoulder, the latter set in a minor uncomfortable hunch. She'd never seen this particular body language from him, but she'd seen it more times than she could count on others who'd ceded a point in an argument but had only resolved their will to win the war. And suddenly she could read the meaning behind his words: Go talk this out with him, but don't expect me to go down without a fight.
She blinked in surprise, both at the fact that she was apparently battling Jim Kirk for Spock's affection, and that the man was not only fighting fair, but seemingly willing to sacrifice his own advantage in order to keep his bridge from turning into the next battle ground for the Cold War. With no other option, she nodded and made her way to the lift without looking back at the bridge and the fact that Sulu and Chekov were most likely exchanging looks over the whole affair. As the door closed, the slow knot of anger and hatred slowly unwound and she found herself smiling in satisfaction.
Even if she did end up losing Spock, she couldn't claim she hadn't had a fighting chance.
III.
Lieutenant Nyota Uhura had most definitely not signed up for this kind of shit. As much as she was aware that the Enterprise's exploratory Prime Directive would lead to some strange happenings, this had long passed strange and was now bordering on downright wrong-awful-brain-melting territory. From the corner of her eyes she could see Lieutenant Sulu gaping, sword drawn but held loosely in his hands while behind him the two security officers shifted nervously from one foot to another, unsure what to do.
A small, indignant noise drew her attention back to where the Captain stood, brown eyes still blinking and trying to take in the ridiculous sight in front of her. In the middle of the ceremonial platform and hidden beneath the gold tunic of the Captain's shirt were a pair of bright blue eyes set in a tiny, furry face, white whiskers and the telltale sign of a tail twitching in irritation. The cat - Captain, cat, catty-Captain? - meowed again and gracefully stepped out of the clothes surrounding it, shaking its body and licking its front paw. Uhura felt her eye twitch at the typical Jim Kirk move which clearly expressed his distaste that his crew needed so much time to get over the fact their Captain had been turned into a fucking cat.
She had half a mind to tell him to put a sock in it. Instead she found her brain had disconnected from her mouth as she turned to Sulu and told him to alert the Enterprise that they requested Doctor McCoy's presence on the planet to assess the Captain's condition, as it seemed unwise to scramble the Captain's particles some more before getting the all clear from the good Doctor. She could swear there was approval in those blue eyes as the cat took a break from grooming itself to look at her. She felt her eye twitch again.
The relative peace of the situation lasted until McCoy arrived, accompanied by Spock, and the cat - Captain - bristled and all but fled the scene as soon as the doctor's hand twitched in the direction of his medkit. Before anyone could so much as open their mouths, Spock had reached out with Vulcan speed and precision and lifted the blond tabby by the scruff of his neck and held him at arm's length as it began hissing and spitting, blue eyes now burning with cold, unchecked fury as claws withdrew looking for flesh to mutilate.
“Damn it, Jim,” McCoy cried out once the cat had finally stopped squirming and hung limply in the air by its neck. “I'm a doctor, not a veterinarian!”
For some reason, Uhura could see an image of the Captain, arms crossed over his chest and face set in a pout, superimposed over the cat. She blinked the image away and stared at her Captain's clear indignation at being manhandled - or was it cathandled? - as Spock turned around and began questioning their hosts as to the nature of the ritual and how long they could expect their Captain to remain as a feline. She took in the swishing of the tail, the slow rise of the fur, and the twitching of the ears as the priest exclaimed that it was of the highest honor for the Captain to have been turned into a Gurgro and that the crew had nothing to fear as the transformations only lasted a couple of days. Of course, taking into account the biological differences between Humans and Crootuns, Spock calculated that there was a seven-point-nine percentage chance the Captain would remain feline for up to a week.
Uhura winced as one of the cat's paws twitched nervously, ready to bring out the claws should the need arise. She saw Spock look down and raise an eyebrow in query as the Captain let out an annoyed sounding mewl. She couldn't help but be assaulted once more by an image of Jim as he had been on the bridge a few days ago, standing next to Spock's station with a frown marring his face and forcing his arms to remain loose and relaxed at his side. He had been the very picture of suppressed annoyance as his First Officer had refused to concede the validity of one of the Captain's moves in one of their nightly chess games.
“I believe the Captain would like to be put down, Commander,” she found herself saying without any input from her brain, eyes still locked on the decidedly pissed off cat.
As Vulcan, cat, humans and Crootuns all turned to look at her with varying degrees of incredulity, she found herself taking an involuntary step backwards. The cat - Captain, goddamnit - let out a happy sounding meow and extended one of its paws toward her while trying and failing to look up at its First Officer in a clear sign of agreement. The Crootuns suddenly clapped their hands very loudly and squealed with excitement over the fact that apparently Uhura could understand the Gurgro language; and really, who was she to tell them that no, really, she was just reading the cat's body language and not actually understanding the meowing?
Not that it made any difference when, faster than she'd thought possible, the Crootun priest had snagged the cat out of Spock's hand and dumped it in her arms. She winced as the cat's claws dug into her shoulder in an attempt to find some kind of purchase at the sudden change and she automatically brought her hands up to keep it from falling. She stood there awkwardly, one hand supporting the cat's hind paws and butt while its front paws tensely clutched at her, and she could feel the blush creeping all over her face - and if she didn't know any better, she could swear the twitching whiskers were the Captain's equivalent to what she was feeling. She watched mutely as Spock picked up where the Captain had left off in the negotiations and finished exchanging pleasantries with the Crootuns before informing them that Starfleet would be in touch shortly to finalize the treaty for the planet's inclusion into the Federation. And with that, they were given the all clear by Bones and beamed back aboard the Enterprise.
Uhura failed to remember the awkward position she was in until Spock stood in front of her, both hands stretched out and waiting to relieve her of her burden. The cat made a gruff sounding noise, twisted around, and practically leaped from her arms into Spock's, the unhappy sounds still vibrating from deep within its throat. Spock looked down at the cat with raised eyebrows and then glanced over at Uhura, the question clear in his eyes.
“He's just being melodramatic about it,” she shrugged before she could think about what she was saying. “You know how Kirk is, always claiming he's fine when he's as far from it as one can be without reaching Warp speed.”
The cat gave a startled hiss and the Vulcan looked down at it with a pensive face. “It would seem you are correct, Lieutenant. Fascinating.” Uhura could feel her blush spreading over her face again as Spock looked back up at her. “Perhaps it would be best if you were to take guardianship of the Captain while he is in his current state as I believe you are the only one currently able to decipher what he wishes to communicate.”
Which was how Uhura found herself once again with an armful of kitty-Captain clawing at her red uniform. For better or worse it seemed as if she'd get to spend some quality time with her Captain.
She just hoped he didn't throw up furballs all over her shoes.
IV.
The tension that permeated the bridge vibrated with an intensity that, if she hadn't know any better, Lieutenant Uhura thought would burn them all alive. She watched with fierce concentration as line after line of gibberish scrolled past her eyes, all of it encoded text from the transmissions of the ships that surrounded them. Her fingers automatically moved across her console with lightning speed as she worked to decode the messages and give them an insight into what the starships were planning next. She could hear Kirk yelling behind her, ordering Scotty to boost the power to the shields and demanding to know where the hell were his weapons.
The vessels had come out of nowhere, hidden by the electromagnetic interference of a moon the relative size of Venus that orbited a previously unknown planet in the Andorian system. The Enterprise had dropped out of warp speed and the Captain had been engaged in an argument with Spock and Doctor McCoy on the relative stupidity of going down on the planet himself - an argument that was quickly becoming standard operating procedure - when the Enterprise had been shaken violently and sparks from overloaded circuitry began to rain down on the unsuspecting officers. Kirk had let out a startled shout as he was nearly knocked off his feet before he'd scrambled back to his command chair, all signs of pleasantries gone from his face.
“Spock, status report!” he’d shouted over the blaring sirens.
“Three hostiles bearing down on our position, weapons drawn and locked onto us, Captain,” the First Officer had replied from his station, face betraying nothing.
“Lieutenant Uhura, open a channel to enemy ships,” Kirk had barked out. “Scotty, I want damage report. Sulu, get ready for evasive maneuvers.”
Uhura had let out a swift “Yes, Captain” before a video link had flickered into existence and she’d watched as the Captain stood up from the command chair and rolled the tension off his shoulders, cracking his back and standing up straighter, chest puffed out and hands relaxed at his side; picture perfect of a Captain who had the situation under control.
“This is Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise, identify yourself.” The bridge was silent, breath held as they waited a beat. “I repeat,” the Captain said again when the hail wasn't returned, “This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation starship USS Enterprise. Identify yourselves or we will be forced to take offensive action.”
“Captain,” Spock said into the silence, “I am reading an increase in energy level from the ships.”
“Fuck!” Kirk cursed out. “Uhura, cut the channel. Scotty, I need shields and weapons boosted to maximum efficiency.” Kirk shouted out as he’d sat down on the command chair and activated ship wide communications. “Attention all personnel, this is a red alert. Prepare for battle engagement.” Cutting the transmission, he’d turned to Doctor McCoy with an unreadable expression in his eyes. “You might want to get back to your turf, Bones, before the lifts get disabled.”
“Goddamn it, Jim,” the doctor had cursed, sweat prickling his forehead as adrenaline had begun to pump through his veins. “Do you really need to remind me of shit like that?” He was gone before anyone could reply.
Cursing her momentary distraction, Uhura had refocused her attention back to her screen and begun to recalibrate the sensors, searching for any signals being emitted by the attacking ships. It stood to reason that they had to be communicating in some way, and if so she'd be damned if she couldn't hack into their system to learn what they were up to. She paid half a mind to the Captain as he’d begun shouting orders down to engineering as the ship rocked again.
“Sulu, defensive maneuvers. Chekov, why aren't our weapons affecting them?” The ship rocked again. She could practically hear the Captain's teeth gritting in anger. In the midst of it Uhura let a feral smile spread over her face as she finally found what she'd been looking for.
“Captain, I've found their communication frequency, but, as expected, it's heavily encrypted,” she reported, swishing her chair halfway towards the command chair so she could look at her Captain.
She found him sitting at the edge of his seat, hands flying over the controls of his chair. “Decipher them, Lieutenant. Let's find out what they're planning,” he’d ordered, voice low and borderline mischievous.
Uhura started at the tone of voice and turned her chair to fully face her Captain. The last time she'd heard that tone had been a lifetime ago in a smoky and dirty bar where a washed out pretty face has asked for her name and tried to buy her a drink. She shouldn't have been surprised to find out Kirk still had that kid in him, just waiting and itching for a fight, but after all these months serving with him she'd managed to forget where he'd come from, how she'd met him, what his flight or fight response was like when faced with impossible odds. She watched wonderingly as his hands never stopped typing at the controls and she wondered what exactly he had access to from there.
Shoving the thought aside, she’d turned back to her console and let her training take over. She might not be a hacker of the James Kirk caliber, but she'd yet to meet an encryption she couldn't break and she sure as hell wasn't going to break her winning streak now. She grit her teeth as the ship rocked again and ignored the sparks that began to rain all around them as the Captain began cursing out his chief engineer and pilot. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead and running down her neck to pool onto the back of her uniform as her hands continued to fly over her console. She could almost see the pattern, almost make out the variances in the language as it teased and danced away from her.
And then she saw it, the pattern of the code, and she latched on to it and let her brain reboot as she stared as what had been previously strings of gibberish suddenly resolved themselves into a language she could comprehend and interpret back to her Captain. Just as she was about to turn around and announce her success she noticed a flashing sign at her console and snapped her head around to watch as the Captain shot her a quick grin and a wink before ordering Sulu to break a hard left and fire photon canons into the ships' starboard sides. She watched as small chain reactions rocked the ships and left a trail of damage to the hulls and what was probably critical systems.
She turned back to her station in time to see a hail coming from one of the enemy ships just as the Captain ordered another volley of rounds aimed at the space the ships were maneuvering into, reading their intent within the broken communication transmissions. With a quick “Captain,” she fed the video link onto the view screen and watched as the Captain rose from his chair and issued the ultimatum for surrender or destruction. She silently observed as the Captain negotiated the terms of the surrender and contacted Starfleet for backup and further orders on how to proceed.
At his command, Uhura cut off the link and found her eyes fixed on the blinking red apple on the right top corner of her screen that had never been there before. She wasn't a programmer, nor was she part of the chain of command, so her knowledge of what could be accessed from the command chair was limited, but she was fairly certain that it hadn't been designed to get into other stations within the bridge in real time, replaying the information as they read it. And as it'd suddenly appeared, the apple vanished and she looked up to stare at James Kirk as he winked at her again and tapped a few more keys on the chair as he sprawled back into his seat. All that was missing was an apple in his hand and she'd be back to being that girl that hated him and wanted him to fail.
But the only apple now had been the one blinking on her screen and she smiled and nodded at her Captain.
V.
She stared straight ahead, brown eyes hard and defiant as she refused to give their captors the satisfaction of hearing her scream. She could feel the blood running down her arm and chest where the knife had nicked her skin while cutting off her uniform. She could feel the rough texture of the cords rubbing against her wrists in counterpoint to the rough hands roaming over her bare chest, and she forced her breathing to remain calm and unaffected. Her warm, sticky blood ran down one side of her face as it pulsed freely from the gash she'd earned when she'd tried to bite the bastard's hand off, and the resulting headache pounded in time to her heart. She gritted her teeth when she felt hands squeezing her breast, ghosting over a nipple, hot breath against her neck telling her they would make her beg like a whore.
In front of her, she saw Jim Kirk struggling in his bonds, hands bound together as they bore the weight of his hanging body, feet barely touching the ground. He was shirtless, rivulets of blood marring his chest from the flogging he'd endured a few hours ago. She watched as he snarled like a caged animal at their captors, taunting them, calling them cowards, worthless pieces of shit, ordering them to leave her alone. She heard the harsh laughter from the leader as harsher hands made their way down her body and forced her legs apart.
“The codes, Captain, and all this stops,” the man said softly as he clutched Kirk's bloodied and bruised face in a hard grip.
She saw Jim's bloodied spit land on the leader's face and heard the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh and bone cracking under pressure. She watched as Jim turned his face back towards the leader, spitting the accumulated blood in his mouth onto the ground and lips splitting into a devilish grin to show equally bloodied teeth. If he could, she knew he'd be giving the man the finger.
“James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise, alpha-seven-nine-omega-lambda-zero.” Name, rank, and serial number.
She watched as the leader punched him in the gut and Kirk wheezed as the air was violently expelled from his lungs. She saw as the man walked around her Captain and struck him in the back, right where she knew the unprotected kidney resided, right where he could cause the greatest amount of damage. She could see Jim grit his teeth and wondered if the shock had settled into his bones yet or if he was riding so high on adrenaline that he couldn't even feel anything anymore. She waited patiently for an opening, praying for Spock's determination, for Chekov's ingenuity, and for Sulu's fast thinking. She felt the hands grab the back of her hair and tilt her head up at the same time the leader did the same to Kirk and she bit down hard on the lips that closed over hers, stinking breath and dirty blood invading her mouth.
She felt her head snap forward and then sideways as the hand roughly let her go and back handed her. She heard the sound of a low dangerous growl just as an explosion suddenly rocked the building and the room was plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the filtered window high above them. She felt her guard take a hesitant step back and finally saw the opportunity she'd been waiting for. She kicked him as hard as she could in the shin and again in his balls as he fell forward with a surprised cry; then, as viciously as she could, she kicked him in the head over and over again until she thought she would throw up from the stench of the blood. From the other side of the room she could hear flesh hitting flesh but the lack of light made it impossible to tell if it was Jim kicking the bastard or the other way around.
She needed to get free now and help her Captain; there was no telling how long it would take the rescue party to find them, and Jim might not have that time. She began to work her wrists back and forth, ignoring the way they chaffed and burned as the cord wore away at her skin and left it bleeding raw. Blood on top of blood. She growled in frustration as her bonds refused to budge, eyes as wide as she could get them and staring at the opposite side of the cell, trying to make sense of the noises and vague shadows she could see moving and swinging. She heard the distinctive sound of a neck breaking and tensed in the chair, holding her breath. She waited a beat, and renewed her frantic attempts at getting loose, panic mounting with each silent moment.
“Captain? Captain!” She could feel the blood of her chaffed skin making her hands slippery. “Jim! Answer me, goddamn it!” A small noise, almost like a groan, sounded from the shadowed area, but she still couldn't tell who it came from. “Jim, you need to answer me,” she pleaded. “Jim. Jim!” The small noise sounded again and this time Uhura stopped struggling. She could have sworn...
“... Uhura?”
“Oh thank God,” Nyota murmured before pulling one hand up in an effort to loosen the rope. “Jim, can you tell me what happened?” She needed to keep him talking.
“What?”
God, his voice was so soft. “Jim...” she started but stopped. She took a deep breath and cemented her resolve. “Captain Kirk,” she shouted in the strictest voice she could manage.
She waited a beat and prayed. “Lieutenant,” she heard him say, voice a little stronger. “What...?” He trailed off and Uhura pushed down her panic. “What's our status?”
Nyota felt a smile ghost over her lips. “It would appear rescue might be on its way sir,” she replied back, giving one hard final tug on her bonds and almost shouted in giddiness when one hand slipped free. She quickly set to work on getting the other wrist free, more than ready to get to the other side of the room and relieve Kirk's arms from the incredible pressure they'd endured.
She was about to say something else, get him talking again, when the door suddenly burst open and she felt her body tense as bright artificial light flooded the room.
“I found them!”
Uhura blinked her eyes against the light at the voice and felt her face split into an actual smile as she was finally able to recognize Sulu as he ran towards her just as Spock and McCoy stepped inside. She must be quite the picture if the sudden horror that marred the faces of two of their three rescuers was anything to go by.
“I'm fine,” she cried out as she watched Sulu taking off his gold shirt as he made his way toward her. “The Captain-” she choked out, staring past Sulu and into the still darkened side of the room.
She watched as Spock and McCoy turned to where she was looking and sighed in relief when Spock practically ran and skidded to where she could vaguely make out James Kirk's hanging form.
“Goddamn it, Jim,” McCoy cried out as Spock circled his arms around Kirk's waist, bent down at the knees and slowly lifted the Captain upwards, unhooking his hands from the claw like hook that had held him hanging. She heard a small moan of pain just as she felt the cord on her other wrist slacken and pull at chaffed and bleeding skin.
“Spock?” Uhura felt the tension drain from her frame at the sound of the voice. “What...?”
“Do not try to speak, Jim,” Spock replied as he slowly sat down and lay Kirk against his chest for support. “You are safe now.”
“Oh,” Jim replied. Uhura could imagine the frown on his face as his voice turned pensive. “Right... In that case, do you mind if I...?”
“I will be there when you wake,” Spock assured him.
She could hear McCoy mumble and curse silently as he ran a tricoder over Kirk's prone body, Spock a silent figure as he held Kirk against his chest. She was distracted from the scene by Sulu who gently touched her arm to gain her attention.
“Let's get the worst of the wounds bandaged and you can have my shirt,” he murmured as he took out some field dressings from his belt.
She nodded numbly and let him treat her as her eyes returned to stare at the trio huddled on the other side of the room. She could feel her adrenaline drain out and shock settle into her bones, making everything hurt as tremors shook her body. She felt soft and careful hands wipe down her arms, chest and forehead and manipulate her arms to slip something blissfully warm over them. She snapped out of it when her vision disappeared for half a second as the black shirt was slipped over her head and she turned to look Sulu straight in the face, a grateful smile spreading over her lips.
“We have to get out of here. I've done all I can in this hell hole,” McCoy grumbled as he rose up to his feet. She watched silently as Spock gently gathered the unconscious form of their Captain into his arms and stood up as gracefully and easily as if he were unburdened. McCoy scoffed. “I'd tell you to be careful with him, but I feel like that'd be a moot point.”
“You are learning, Doctor,” Spock replied back, voice smooth and unperturbed at the indignant squack that left McCoy's lips.
Uhura followed as Sulu took point, Spock in front of her while McCoy took their six. She could feel the Doctor's body heat as he walked as close to her as he could, ready to catch or assist her should she so much as stumble. She kept her eyes on the uneven ground, taking in the various puddles of blood painting the walls of the tunnels of their prison red as they twisted and turned until she could feel her head swimming, lost in the passageways and the invisible corpses. In front of her, she could hear soft, pained moans as Kirk was jostled about despite Spock's carefulness and felt pangs of guilt and hatred wrap around her heart with every sound. If only she could go back and smash their captors' faces in some more...
She was so distracted she failed to notice the change in light until bright sunlight suddenly blinded her as they emerged from the underground passageway and she was forced to stop for a moment, eyes shut tightly in pain. She instantly felt McCoy's hand at her elbow guiding her forward and just as she opened her eyes to take in the sight of the green canopy around them, the swirls of the transporter beam surrounded her and she found herself back on the Enterprise; she found herself back home. She felt McCoy's hand guide her off the pad and toward the stretcher. He helped her onto it just as Spock deposited Kirk's unconscious form on the other stretcher, and before she could even thank him he was already ordering the nurses around as they ran out of the room.
She allowed hands to push her down and closed her eyes against the passing lights and winding path to the lift and the infirmary. She was thankful as Nurse Chapel pulled closed the privacy curtain around the isolated corner of the wing, sealing the two of them into a world of their own. As soon she was out of sight, Uhura felt her stomach churn and before she could even signal Chapel, she was throwing up - god bless nurses and their reflexes as a basin appeared right as she leaned over the railing. She lay exhausted on the bed as Chapel ran the tricoder over her and redressed her wounds, only using her head or shrugging her shoulders as means to answer the various medical questions. Finally she was allowed to dress herself in one of the medical gowns and slip under the covers for some much needed rest.
The next time she opened her eyes - minutes? hours later? - she could hear McCoy's exasperated voice from the other side of her curtain but he was either too far (unlikely) or she was too fuzzy (probably) to understand him. She blinked against the glare of the lights and shifted to crack her back and nearly cried out in pain when something that wasn't supposed to twitch did. As it was she must have made some kind of noise because the curtain was roughly shoved aside to reveal an annoyed McCoy who immediately picked up her arm to examine the IV line she hadn't even noticed was attached to her hand.
“Welcome back, Lieutenant,” he greeted her, turning around to pick up a hypo from the tray next to her. She watched him silently as he injected something into the line and the pain that had been mounting in her body slowly disappeared to be replaced by the cool sensation of pain medication. “How's that? Better?”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
“Don't mention it.” She didn't reply back as he went about checking her over while making the occasional notes in his Doctor's log. After a few minutes, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, nodding once in a pleased sort of manner. “Well then,” he finally said, “since you're awake and as healthy as can be expected, I'll let your fans know you're allowed to have visitors,” he continued in a tone of voice that clearly indicated this should be viewed as an early Christmas present.
Despite herself, Nyota smiled as McCoy gave her shoulder a light squeeze and walked back to the other side of sickbay where she could make out Spock seated by another bed. She couldn't see the occupant from where she was, but she didn't need to be a genius to know it was Kirk; and if Spock's face was anything to go by, the Captain had yet to regain consciousness. She watched the Vulcan silently, observing him as she rarely had the opportunity. Although his face was as blank as ever, she could see the tension in his shoulders and the tight lines around his mouth; clear signs that expressed his stress and unhappiness and which she had never seen until recently.
And they made her want to strangle Kirk for putting them there.
But she if she was honest with herself, these weren't the only emotions that had begun to slip past Spock's carefully constructed mask. More and more he had begun to show his exasperation and mirth at Kirk's antics, and had begun to encourage Kirk's deranged sense of humor by not only enabling him but actively participating in the jokes. More and more she could see glimpses of the Human buried deep inside the Vulcan and it made something in her chest tighten and twist with both joy and sadness; joy that he was allowing his human half to blossom, and sadness that she hadn't been the one to finally bring down his barriers.
She sighed and looked down at her hands as they twisted around the sheets in her lap. She waited for the flash of jealous hurt that usually accompanied these thoughts and was surprised when all she felt was a kind of numb peace settle over her. It had been months, nearly a year since her silent battle against Kirk for Spock's affection had begun, and she had known for some time now that she was going to lose. And that had hurt.
But as she looked up and saw Spock watching her silently from across the room, she found that she could be happy for him, that she could be happy for Jim; that she was happy for them. And that, more than anything, was what prompted her to smile and nod to Spock, who suddenly seemed to have a giant weight lifted from his shoulders as he clasped one his hands to Kirk's and he returned her gesture.
Yes, she thought, she could be the love him kind.
Author: Lilas
Characters/Pairing: Kirk, Spock, Uhura, McCoy; Spock/Uhura, pre-Kirk/Spock
Rating: R
Warning: This goes from crack to attempted non-con/torture.
Summary: Despite general opinion to the contrary, hating Jim Kirk came very easily to a lot of people.
A/N: I have been sitting on this fic for nearly a year now, and in celebration of ST:XI's one year anniversary, I figured it was time to post it. This is my first fic in this fandom (besides a short drabble to a fanart) so please forgive any horrible errors. Not beta'd, so please let me know if you see any glaring errors!
C&C is much appreciated!
***
I.
Despite general opinion to the contrary, hating Jim Kirk came very easily to a lot of people. It could be a combination of many factors: his shameless flirting, his hello-let's-fuck-see-you-later attitude, his intelligence, his good looks, the fact that on the outside he was perfect in every single way; and, to most, the outside, the show, the façade, was the only thing anyone ever saw. It was a good front, a defense mechanism that he'd created and developed and perfected to protect himself from a world that didn't understand him, that didn't love him, that didn't need him. For a long time, Nyota Uhura was privy only to the charming, brash, violent persona. For a long time, she was one of those people - the hate him or love him kind.
But she hadn't spent her life learning to read the subtle differences of various languages for nothing, and the body was, as far as she was concerned, just another language to be read and deciphered. And James T. Kirk was a lesson in the art of reading and interpreting the various nuances of a body that had been trained to be unreadable.
She'd be damned if she'd actually admit it to anyone but herself - not that it's any big secret to either Kirk or anyone else who had known the two of them from their academy years - but she had never had any faith in her future Captain. From the moment she had met him in that bar, drunk and stinking of dirt and old blood, she'd thought she'd had him figured out. And for three years, he hadn't disappointed her expectations of him. She'd never in her life wanted someone to fail as much as she'd wanted him to.
She'd never hated anyone as much as she did him.
The events that nearly destroyed Earth, the Federation, and herself, did nothing to change her opinion. Every time she had seen Kirk in action, he had been nothing other than what she had seen him be before: cocky, over confident, and impulsive. She had seen him mutiny against Spock who had been holding on to his sanity by a thread after the destruction of his planet and the death of his mother, and she had seen him snip that thread without a care in the world and assume a command that was borderline illegitimate.
She'd given nothing but the unbiased truth when the admiralty had questioned her on the events that had transpired, but to her ears her voice had dripped with scathing and bitter resentment. When she'd learned they were promoting him to captaincy of the Enterprise, she'd nearly had a fit until she realized that Starfleet had had no other option considering the massive loss they'd suffered at Nero's hands and the lack of experienced crewmembers left alive and ready to assume command of a Constitution class starship. And, loathe as she was to admit it, Kirk had proven himself competent enough to handle command, regardless of whether she approved of how he'd obtained it.
After her initial bout of anger, she'd decided to put the whole thing out of her mind (as much as it was possible to do so in a campus constantly buzzing with rumors) and instead focused on completing her courses and finding an assignment that would give her the same thrill she had felt as communication officer aboard the Enterprise - the experience had given her a taste of what she was truly capable of handling and she had always been an ambitious person. But it was unlikely she'd find a way to fast track her career as Kirk had. So it had been nothing short of a surprise when the man in question had shown up at her room, face set and determined under the dark colorations of bruises that still marred it days after the events, and offered her exactly what she’d wanted.
For half a second she'd thought about turning him down and telling him to go fuck himself, that she'd find her way to a command position that didn't include him; but, in that split second she'd seen something shift in his eyes, emotions so foreign when she looked at him but so familiar every time she'd looked in a mirror, that it had been impossible to ignore it. Fear, uncertainty, hope despite the knowledge that the chances of being accepted were slim. And for a moment, she had seen not James Tiberius Kirk, but Jim, complete with the weight of the hope of billions of people which had suddenly been thrust upon his shoulders from one day to the next.
And just as soon as she'd blinked in the face of that emotion, it was gone, replaced by the same twinkling in bright blue eyes she'd been privy to the last three years. But it was enough that she had seen it, that she had seen him.
So she said yes.
II.
She'd never been as livid as she was now, sweat prickling her eyes and breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she ran through the forest as fast as her legs would take her. She could see Ensign O'hara duck under a branch in front of her and hear the sound of heavy breathing that indicated the rest of the landing party following close behind her. She knew that their only chance was to lose their pursuers long enough for Mr. Scott to get a lock on them but she doubted they'd get their chance. She could faintly hear Mr. Thomson speaking into the communicator over the sound of her breathing, arguing with someone on the Enterprise about something.
Suddenly her foot snagged on something (a root, her brain supplied) and the next thing she knew she was on the ground, hands and knees burning just as something whizzed past her head. She heard her name being called and turned her head in time to see the swirl of the transporter beam materialize five people just as the throng of hostiles bore down on their position. She had just enough time to recognize the gold tone of the Captain's hair and uniform before her world dissolved around her and rematerialized into the transport room of the Enterprise.
Before she could move, hands were on her, picking her up and dragging her off the platform just in time for the next set of people to be beamed back aboard. She watched as Jim Kirk quickly took in the scene around him, blue eyes sharp and deadly for a second before the veil of smug satisfaction she was so well acquainted with slid back into place. With a quick flash of teeth and a hand wave, he bounced off the platform, patting McCoy on the shoulder as the doctor rushed into the room, expression set in distaste as he took in the state of the party and their various cuts and bruises. She frowned, slow burning anger and leftover adrenaline still swirling in the pit of her stomach as she watched him leave the room, throwing a careless “Mr. Scott, please inform the Bridge that all personnel are accounted for and to set course to the nearest Starfleet base for supplies,” behind his shoulder.
She let McCoy fuss over her and drag her off to the infirmary to take a better look at her ankle and fought not to snap at him. She squelched down the boiling rage as time ticked by and the alpha shift switched over to the beta shift and still Spock hadn't come to see her. It had been three months since the Enterprise had officially begun her maiden voyage and she could feel the distance between Spock and herself growing with each passing moment. Where before he had stood near her work station, hands loosely curled around her chair, body hunched over her shoulder to read a communiqué, he now stood behind the Captain's chair, hands loosely folded behind his back, eyes boring down into the Captain's with an intensity she had never felt from him.
She was losing him to James Kirk, and the knowledge burned her alive.
Anger still pooling in the pit of her stomach, she hobbled her way out of the infirmary to report back to the bridge. She hit the turbo lift controls harder than strictly necessary, glaring at the white walls surrounding her. She had kissed Spock here a few months ago. She had kissed him, and cried for him, and asked him what he needed of her and been told all he needed was for everyone to keep doing their job, to keep going despite their loss, despite his loss. She closed her eyes and took in a deep, calming breath and opened them in time for the doors to show her the familiar sight of a bridge at peace.
She straightened her shoulders and walked past the other officers to stand in front of her Captain.
“Lieutenant Uhura reporting back for duty, sir.”
She stared straight ahead, hands clasped behind her back as she felt Kirk's eyes look her up and down - checking for any visible injuries she knew, but it still felt like the first time he had looked at her, blue eyes smoldering and looking for a fuck or a fight, whichever proved easiest - and relaxed marginally when he stopped and nodded.
“Welcome back, Lieutenant.”
She moved her gaze to lock onto his and nodded her acknowledgment, refusing to look at Spock's empty station as she made her way to her post. She spent most of her shift focused solely on the tasks at hand, refusing to think about Spock and Kirk and any combination thereof. She was better than this petty, jealous person that was trying to take over her mind. She knew she was still important to Spock or else he would have said something, and it was important for a Captain and his First Officer to develop a sense of trust and understanding that could be relied upon in times of emergencies. It didn't mean it was anything more than camaraderie. And if it was, it certainly didn't mean she had to like it.
The Captain's firm “Lieutenant Uhura” snapped her out of her inner musings. She swirled her chair around to face him, watching as a the glint in his eyes and the knowing smile on his face slowly morphed his features from Captain Kirk to James Kirk, and she wondered at her ability to tell even this much from this person who was sometimes almost as difficult to read as his First Officer. She saw him hesitate for an almost imperceptible moment before hardening his resolve.
“Please go inform Mr. Spock that I request his presence on the Bridge at his earliest convenience. He is otherwise occupied at the moment meditating and I very much doubt he will be disposed to answer a hail,” he continued when he knew he had her attention.
She watched his fingers tapping his arm rest as his eyes looked over his right shoulder, the latter set in a minor uncomfortable hunch. She'd never seen this particular body language from him, but she'd seen it more times than she could count on others who'd ceded a point in an argument but had only resolved their will to win the war. And suddenly she could read the meaning behind his words: Go talk this out with him, but don't expect me to go down without a fight.
She blinked in surprise, both at the fact that she was apparently battling Jim Kirk for Spock's affection, and that the man was not only fighting fair, but seemingly willing to sacrifice his own advantage in order to keep his bridge from turning into the next battle ground for the Cold War. With no other option, she nodded and made her way to the lift without looking back at the bridge and the fact that Sulu and Chekov were most likely exchanging looks over the whole affair. As the door closed, the slow knot of anger and hatred slowly unwound and she found herself smiling in satisfaction.
Even if she did end up losing Spock, she couldn't claim she hadn't had a fighting chance.
III.
Lieutenant Nyota Uhura had most definitely not signed up for this kind of shit. As much as she was aware that the Enterprise's exploratory Prime Directive would lead to some strange happenings, this had long passed strange and was now bordering on downright wrong-awful-brain-melting territory. From the corner of her eyes she could see Lieutenant Sulu gaping, sword drawn but held loosely in his hands while behind him the two security officers shifted nervously from one foot to another, unsure what to do.
A small, indignant noise drew her attention back to where the Captain stood, brown eyes still blinking and trying to take in the ridiculous sight in front of her. In the middle of the ceremonial platform and hidden beneath the gold tunic of the Captain's shirt were a pair of bright blue eyes set in a tiny, furry face, white whiskers and the telltale sign of a tail twitching in irritation. The cat - Captain, cat, catty-Captain? - meowed again and gracefully stepped out of the clothes surrounding it, shaking its body and licking its front paw. Uhura felt her eye twitch at the typical Jim Kirk move which clearly expressed his distaste that his crew needed so much time to get over the fact their Captain had been turned into a fucking cat.
She had half a mind to tell him to put a sock in it. Instead she found her brain had disconnected from her mouth as she turned to Sulu and told him to alert the Enterprise that they requested Doctor McCoy's presence on the planet to assess the Captain's condition, as it seemed unwise to scramble the Captain's particles some more before getting the all clear from the good Doctor. She could swear there was approval in those blue eyes as the cat took a break from grooming itself to look at her. She felt her eye twitch again.
The relative peace of the situation lasted until McCoy arrived, accompanied by Spock, and the cat - Captain - bristled and all but fled the scene as soon as the doctor's hand twitched in the direction of his medkit. Before anyone could so much as open their mouths, Spock had reached out with Vulcan speed and precision and lifted the blond tabby by the scruff of his neck and held him at arm's length as it began hissing and spitting, blue eyes now burning with cold, unchecked fury as claws withdrew looking for flesh to mutilate.
“Damn it, Jim,” McCoy cried out once the cat had finally stopped squirming and hung limply in the air by its neck. “I'm a doctor, not a veterinarian!”
For some reason, Uhura could see an image of the Captain, arms crossed over his chest and face set in a pout, superimposed over the cat. She blinked the image away and stared at her Captain's clear indignation at being manhandled - or was it cathandled? - as Spock turned around and began questioning their hosts as to the nature of the ritual and how long they could expect their Captain to remain as a feline. She took in the swishing of the tail, the slow rise of the fur, and the twitching of the ears as the priest exclaimed that it was of the highest honor for the Captain to have been turned into a Gurgro and that the crew had nothing to fear as the transformations only lasted a couple of days. Of course, taking into account the biological differences between Humans and Crootuns, Spock calculated that there was a seven-point-nine percentage chance the Captain would remain feline for up to a week.
Uhura winced as one of the cat's paws twitched nervously, ready to bring out the claws should the need arise. She saw Spock look down and raise an eyebrow in query as the Captain let out an annoyed sounding mewl. She couldn't help but be assaulted once more by an image of Jim as he had been on the bridge a few days ago, standing next to Spock's station with a frown marring his face and forcing his arms to remain loose and relaxed at his side. He had been the very picture of suppressed annoyance as his First Officer had refused to concede the validity of one of the Captain's moves in one of their nightly chess games.
“I believe the Captain would like to be put down, Commander,” she found herself saying without any input from her brain, eyes still locked on the decidedly pissed off cat.
As Vulcan, cat, humans and Crootuns all turned to look at her with varying degrees of incredulity, she found herself taking an involuntary step backwards. The cat - Captain, goddamnit - let out a happy sounding meow and extended one of its paws toward her while trying and failing to look up at its First Officer in a clear sign of agreement. The Crootuns suddenly clapped their hands very loudly and squealed with excitement over the fact that apparently Uhura could understand the Gurgro language; and really, who was she to tell them that no, really, she was just reading the cat's body language and not actually understanding the meowing?
Not that it made any difference when, faster than she'd thought possible, the Crootun priest had snagged the cat out of Spock's hand and dumped it in her arms. She winced as the cat's claws dug into her shoulder in an attempt to find some kind of purchase at the sudden change and she automatically brought her hands up to keep it from falling. She stood there awkwardly, one hand supporting the cat's hind paws and butt while its front paws tensely clutched at her, and she could feel the blush creeping all over her face - and if she didn't know any better, she could swear the twitching whiskers were the Captain's equivalent to what she was feeling. She watched mutely as Spock picked up where the Captain had left off in the negotiations and finished exchanging pleasantries with the Crootuns before informing them that Starfleet would be in touch shortly to finalize the treaty for the planet's inclusion into the Federation. And with that, they were given the all clear by Bones and beamed back aboard the Enterprise.
Uhura failed to remember the awkward position she was in until Spock stood in front of her, both hands stretched out and waiting to relieve her of her burden. The cat made a gruff sounding noise, twisted around, and practically leaped from her arms into Spock's, the unhappy sounds still vibrating from deep within its throat. Spock looked down at the cat with raised eyebrows and then glanced over at Uhura, the question clear in his eyes.
“He's just being melodramatic about it,” she shrugged before she could think about what she was saying. “You know how Kirk is, always claiming he's fine when he's as far from it as one can be without reaching Warp speed.”
The cat gave a startled hiss and the Vulcan looked down at it with a pensive face. “It would seem you are correct, Lieutenant. Fascinating.” Uhura could feel her blush spreading over her face again as Spock looked back up at her. “Perhaps it would be best if you were to take guardianship of the Captain while he is in his current state as I believe you are the only one currently able to decipher what he wishes to communicate.”
Which was how Uhura found herself once again with an armful of kitty-Captain clawing at her red uniform. For better or worse it seemed as if she'd get to spend some quality time with her Captain.
She just hoped he didn't throw up furballs all over her shoes.
IV.
The tension that permeated the bridge vibrated with an intensity that, if she hadn't know any better, Lieutenant Uhura thought would burn them all alive. She watched with fierce concentration as line after line of gibberish scrolled past her eyes, all of it encoded text from the transmissions of the ships that surrounded them. Her fingers automatically moved across her console with lightning speed as she worked to decode the messages and give them an insight into what the starships were planning next. She could hear Kirk yelling behind her, ordering Scotty to boost the power to the shields and demanding to know where the hell were his weapons.
The vessels had come out of nowhere, hidden by the electromagnetic interference of a moon the relative size of Venus that orbited a previously unknown planet in the Andorian system. The Enterprise had dropped out of warp speed and the Captain had been engaged in an argument with Spock and Doctor McCoy on the relative stupidity of going down on the planet himself - an argument that was quickly becoming standard operating procedure - when the Enterprise had been shaken violently and sparks from overloaded circuitry began to rain down on the unsuspecting officers. Kirk had let out a startled shout as he was nearly knocked off his feet before he'd scrambled back to his command chair, all signs of pleasantries gone from his face.
“Spock, status report!” he’d shouted over the blaring sirens.
“Three hostiles bearing down on our position, weapons drawn and locked onto us, Captain,” the First Officer had replied from his station, face betraying nothing.
“Lieutenant Uhura, open a channel to enemy ships,” Kirk had barked out. “Scotty, I want damage report. Sulu, get ready for evasive maneuvers.”
Uhura had let out a swift “Yes, Captain” before a video link had flickered into existence and she’d watched as the Captain stood up from the command chair and rolled the tension off his shoulders, cracking his back and standing up straighter, chest puffed out and hands relaxed at his side; picture perfect of a Captain who had the situation under control.
“This is Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise, identify yourself.” The bridge was silent, breath held as they waited a beat. “I repeat,” the Captain said again when the hail wasn't returned, “This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation starship USS Enterprise. Identify yourselves or we will be forced to take offensive action.”
“Captain,” Spock said into the silence, “I am reading an increase in energy level from the ships.”
“Fuck!” Kirk cursed out. “Uhura, cut the channel. Scotty, I need shields and weapons boosted to maximum efficiency.” Kirk shouted out as he’d sat down on the command chair and activated ship wide communications. “Attention all personnel, this is a red alert. Prepare for battle engagement.” Cutting the transmission, he’d turned to Doctor McCoy with an unreadable expression in his eyes. “You might want to get back to your turf, Bones, before the lifts get disabled.”
“Goddamn it, Jim,” the doctor had cursed, sweat prickling his forehead as adrenaline had begun to pump through his veins. “Do you really need to remind me of shit like that?” He was gone before anyone could reply.
Cursing her momentary distraction, Uhura had refocused her attention back to her screen and begun to recalibrate the sensors, searching for any signals being emitted by the attacking ships. It stood to reason that they had to be communicating in some way, and if so she'd be damned if she couldn't hack into their system to learn what they were up to. She paid half a mind to the Captain as he’d begun shouting orders down to engineering as the ship rocked again.
“Sulu, defensive maneuvers. Chekov, why aren't our weapons affecting them?” The ship rocked again. She could practically hear the Captain's teeth gritting in anger. In the midst of it Uhura let a feral smile spread over her face as she finally found what she'd been looking for.
“Captain, I've found their communication frequency, but, as expected, it's heavily encrypted,” she reported, swishing her chair halfway towards the command chair so she could look at her Captain.
She found him sitting at the edge of his seat, hands flying over the controls of his chair. “Decipher them, Lieutenant. Let's find out what they're planning,” he’d ordered, voice low and borderline mischievous.
Uhura started at the tone of voice and turned her chair to fully face her Captain. The last time she'd heard that tone had been a lifetime ago in a smoky and dirty bar where a washed out pretty face has asked for her name and tried to buy her a drink. She shouldn't have been surprised to find out Kirk still had that kid in him, just waiting and itching for a fight, but after all these months serving with him she'd managed to forget where he'd come from, how she'd met him, what his flight or fight response was like when faced with impossible odds. She watched wonderingly as his hands never stopped typing at the controls and she wondered what exactly he had access to from there.
Shoving the thought aside, she’d turned back to her console and let her training take over. She might not be a hacker of the James Kirk caliber, but she'd yet to meet an encryption she couldn't break and she sure as hell wasn't going to break her winning streak now. She grit her teeth as the ship rocked again and ignored the sparks that began to rain all around them as the Captain began cursing out his chief engineer and pilot. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead and running down her neck to pool onto the back of her uniform as her hands continued to fly over her console. She could almost see the pattern, almost make out the variances in the language as it teased and danced away from her.
And then she saw it, the pattern of the code, and she latched on to it and let her brain reboot as she stared as what had been previously strings of gibberish suddenly resolved themselves into a language she could comprehend and interpret back to her Captain. Just as she was about to turn around and announce her success she noticed a flashing sign at her console and snapped her head around to watch as the Captain shot her a quick grin and a wink before ordering Sulu to break a hard left and fire photon canons into the ships' starboard sides. She watched as small chain reactions rocked the ships and left a trail of damage to the hulls and what was probably critical systems.
She turned back to her station in time to see a hail coming from one of the enemy ships just as the Captain ordered another volley of rounds aimed at the space the ships were maneuvering into, reading their intent within the broken communication transmissions. With a quick “Captain,” she fed the video link onto the view screen and watched as the Captain rose from his chair and issued the ultimatum for surrender or destruction. She silently observed as the Captain negotiated the terms of the surrender and contacted Starfleet for backup and further orders on how to proceed.
At his command, Uhura cut off the link and found her eyes fixed on the blinking red apple on the right top corner of her screen that had never been there before. She wasn't a programmer, nor was she part of the chain of command, so her knowledge of what could be accessed from the command chair was limited, but she was fairly certain that it hadn't been designed to get into other stations within the bridge in real time, replaying the information as they read it. And as it'd suddenly appeared, the apple vanished and she looked up to stare at James Kirk as he winked at her again and tapped a few more keys on the chair as he sprawled back into his seat. All that was missing was an apple in his hand and she'd be back to being that girl that hated him and wanted him to fail.
But the only apple now had been the one blinking on her screen and she smiled and nodded at her Captain.
V.
She stared straight ahead, brown eyes hard and defiant as she refused to give their captors the satisfaction of hearing her scream. She could feel the blood running down her arm and chest where the knife had nicked her skin while cutting off her uniform. She could feel the rough texture of the cords rubbing against her wrists in counterpoint to the rough hands roaming over her bare chest, and she forced her breathing to remain calm and unaffected. Her warm, sticky blood ran down one side of her face as it pulsed freely from the gash she'd earned when she'd tried to bite the bastard's hand off, and the resulting headache pounded in time to her heart. She gritted her teeth when she felt hands squeezing her breast, ghosting over a nipple, hot breath against her neck telling her they would make her beg like a whore.
In front of her, she saw Jim Kirk struggling in his bonds, hands bound together as they bore the weight of his hanging body, feet barely touching the ground. He was shirtless, rivulets of blood marring his chest from the flogging he'd endured a few hours ago. She watched as he snarled like a caged animal at their captors, taunting them, calling them cowards, worthless pieces of shit, ordering them to leave her alone. She heard the harsh laughter from the leader as harsher hands made their way down her body and forced her legs apart.
“The codes, Captain, and all this stops,” the man said softly as he clutched Kirk's bloodied and bruised face in a hard grip.
She saw Jim's bloodied spit land on the leader's face and heard the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh and bone cracking under pressure. She watched as Jim turned his face back towards the leader, spitting the accumulated blood in his mouth onto the ground and lips splitting into a devilish grin to show equally bloodied teeth. If he could, she knew he'd be giving the man the finger.
“James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise, alpha-seven-nine-omega-lambda-zero.” Name, rank, and serial number.
She watched as the leader punched him in the gut and Kirk wheezed as the air was violently expelled from his lungs. She saw as the man walked around her Captain and struck him in the back, right where she knew the unprotected kidney resided, right where he could cause the greatest amount of damage. She could see Jim grit his teeth and wondered if the shock had settled into his bones yet or if he was riding so high on adrenaline that he couldn't even feel anything anymore. She waited patiently for an opening, praying for Spock's determination, for Chekov's ingenuity, and for Sulu's fast thinking. She felt the hands grab the back of her hair and tilt her head up at the same time the leader did the same to Kirk and she bit down hard on the lips that closed over hers, stinking breath and dirty blood invading her mouth.
She felt her head snap forward and then sideways as the hand roughly let her go and back handed her. She heard the sound of a low dangerous growl just as an explosion suddenly rocked the building and the room was plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the filtered window high above them. She felt her guard take a hesitant step back and finally saw the opportunity she'd been waiting for. She kicked him as hard as she could in the shin and again in his balls as he fell forward with a surprised cry; then, as viciously as she could, she kicked him in the head over and over again until she thought she would throw up from the stench of the blood. From the other side of the room she could hear flesh hitting flesh but the lack of light made it impossible to tell if it was Jim kicking the bastard or the other way around.
She needed to get free now and help her Captain; there was no telling how long it would take the rescue party to find them, and Jim might not have that time. She began to work her wrists back and forth, ignoring the way they chaffed and burned as the cord wore away at her skin and left it bleeding raw. Blood on top of blood. She growled in frustration as her bonds refused to budge, eyes as wide as she could get them and staring at the opposite side of the cell, trying to make sense of the noises and vague shadows she could see moving and swinging. She heard the distinctive sound of a neck breaking and tensed in the chair, holding her breath. She waited a beat, and renewed her frantic attempts at getting loose, panic mounting with each silent moment.
“Captain? Captain!” She could feel the blood of her chaffed skin making her hands slippery. “Jim! Answer me, goddamn it!” A small noise, almost like a groan, sounded from the shadowed area, but she still couldn't tell who it came from. “Jim, you need to answer me,” she pleaded. “Jim. Jim!” The small noise sounded again and this time Uhura stopped struggling. She could have sworn...
“... Uhura?”
“Oh thank God,” Nyota murmured before pulling one hand up in an effort to loosen the rope. “Jim, can you tell me what happened?” She needed to keep him talking.
“What?”
God, his voice was so soft. “Jim...” she started but stopped. She took a deep breath and cemented her resolve. “Captain Kirk,” she shouted in the strictest voice she could manage.
She waited a beat and prayed. “Lieutenant,” she heard him say, voice a little stronger. “What...?” He trailed off and Uhura pushed down her panic. “What's our status?”
Nyota felt a smile ghost over her lips. “It would appear rescue might be on its way sir,” she replied back, giving one hard final tug on her bonds and almost shouted in giddiness when one hand slipped free. She quickly set to work on getting the other wrist free, more than ready to get to the other side of the room and relieve Kirk's arms from the incredible pressure they'd endured.
She was about to say something else, get him talking again, when the door suddenly burst open and she felt her body tense as bright artificial light flooded the room.
“I found them!”
Uhura blinked her eyes against the light at the voice and felt her face split into an actual smile as she was finally able to recognize Sulu as he ran towards her just as Spock and McCoy stepped inside. She must be quite the picture if the sudden horror that marred the faces of two of their three rescuers was anything to go by.
“I'm fine,” she cried out as she watched Sulu taking off his gold shirt as he made his way toward her. “The Captain-” she choked out, staring past Sulu and into the still darkened side of the room.
She watched as Spock and McCoy turned to where she was looking and sighed in relief when Spock practically ran and skidded to where she could vaguely make out James Kirk's hanging form.
“Goddamn it, Jim,” McCoy cried out as Spock circled his arms around Kirk's waist, bent down at the knees and slowly lifted the Captain upwards, unhooking his hands from the claw like hook that had held him hanging. She heard a small moan of pain just as she felt the cord on her other wrist slacken and pull at chaffed and bleeding skin.
“Spock?” Uhura felt the tension drain from her frame at the sound of the voice. “What...?”
“Do not try to speak, Jim,” Spock replied as he slowly sat down and lay Kirk against his chest for support. “You are safe now.”
“Oh,” Jim replied. Uhura could imagine the frown on his face as his voice turned pensive. “Right... In that case, do you mind if I...?”
“I will be there when you wake,” Spock assured him.
She could hear McCoy mumble and curse silently as he ran a tricoder over Kirk's prone body, Spock a silent figure as he held Kirk against his chest. She was distracted from the scene by Sulu who gently touched her arm to gain her attention.
“Let's get the worst of the wounds bandaged and you can have my shirt,” he murmured as he took out some field dressings from his belt.
She nodded numbly and let him treat her as her eyes returned to stare at the trio huddled on the other side of the room. She could feel her adrenaline drain out and shock settle into her bones, making everything hurt as tremors shook her body. She felt soft and careful hands wipe down her arms, chest and forehead and manipulate her arms to slip something blissfully warm over them. She snapped out of it when her vision disappeared for half a second as the black shirt was slipped over her head and she turned to look Sulu straight in the face, a grateful smile spreading over her lips.
“We have to get out of here. I've done all I can in this hell hole,” McCoy grumbled as he rose up to his feet. She watched silently as Spock gently gathered the unconscious form of their Captain into his arms and stood up as gracefully and easily as if he were unburdened. McCoy scoffed. “I'd tell you to be careful with him, but I feel like that'd be a moot point.”
“You are learning, Doctor,” Spock replied back, voice smooth and unperturbed at the indignant squack that left McCoy's lips.
Uhura followed as Sulu took point, Spock in front of her while McCoy took their six. She could feel the Doctor's body heat as he walked as close to her as he could, ready to catch or assist her should she so much as stumble. She kept her eyes on the uneven ground, taking in the various puddles of blood painting the walls of the tunnels of their prison red as they twisted and turned until she could feel her head swimming, lost in the passageways and the invisible corpses. In front of her, she could hear soft, pained moans as Kirk was jostled about despite Spock's carefulness and felt pangs of guilt and hatred wrap around her heart with every sound. If only she could go back and smash their captors' faces in some more...
She was so distracted she failed to notice the change in light until bright sunlight suddenly blinded her as they emerged from the underground passageway and she was forced to stop for a moment, eyes shut tightly in pain. She instantly felt McCoy's hand at her elbow guiding her forward and just as she opened her eyes to take in the sight of the green canopy around them, the swirls of the transporter beam surrounded her and she found herself back on the Enterprise; she found herself back home. She felt McCoy's hand guide her off the pad and toward the stretcher. He helped her onto it just as Spock deposited Kirk's unconscious form on the other stretcher, and before she could even thank him he was already ordering the nurses around as they ran out of the room.
She allowed hands to push her down and closed her eyes against the passing lights and winding path to the lift and the infirmary. She was thankful as Nurse Chapel pulled closed the privacy curtain around the isolated corner of the wing, sealing the two of them into a world of their own. As soon she was out of sight, Uhura felt her stomach churn and before she could even signal Chapel, she was throwing up - god bless nurses and their reflexes as a basin appeared right as she leaned over the railing. She lay exhausted on the bed as Chapel ran the tricoder over her and redressed her wounds, only using her head or shrugging her shoulders as means to answer the various medical questions. Finally she was allowed to dress herself in one of the medical gowns and slip under the covers for some much needed rest.
The next time she opened her eyes - minutes? hours later? - she could hear McCoy's exasperated voice from the other side of her curtain but he was either too far (unlikely) or she was too fuzzy (probably) to understand him. She blinked against the glare of the lights and shifted to crack her back and nearly cried out in pain when something that wasn't supposed to twitch did. As it was she must have made some kind of noise because the curtain was roughly shoved aside to reveal an annoyed McCoy who immediately picked up her arm to examine the IV line she hadn't even noticed was attached to her hand.
“Welcome back, Lieutenant,” he greeted her, turning around to pick up a hypo from the tray next to her. She watched him silently as he injected something into the line and the pain that had been mounting in her body slowly disappeared to be replaced by the cool sensation of pain medication. “How's that? Better?”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
“Don't mention it.” She didn't reply back as he went about checking her over while making the occasional notes in his Doctor's log. After a few minutes, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, nodding once in a pleased sort of manner. “Well then,” he finally said, “since you're awake and as healthy as can be expected, I'll let your fans know you're allowed to have visitors,” he continued in a tone of voice that clearly indicated this should be viewed as an early Christmas present.
Despite herself, Nyota smiled as McCoy gave her shoulder a light squeeze and walked back to the other side of sickbay where she could make out Spock seated by another bed. She couldn't see the occupant from where she was, but she didn't need to be a genius to know it was Kirk; and if Spock's face was anything to go by, the Captain had yet to regain consciousness. She watched the Vulcan silently, observing him as she rarely had the opportunity. Although his face was as blank as ever, she could see the tension in his shoulders and the tight lines around his mouth; clear signs that expressed his stress and unhappiness and which she had never seen until recently.
And they made her want to strangle Kirk for putting them there.
But she if she was honest with herself, these weren't the only emotions that had begun to slip past Spock's carefully constructed mask. More and more he had begun to show his exasperation and mirth at Kirk's antics, and had begun to encourage Kirk's deranged sense of humor by not only enabling him but actively participating in the jokes. More and more she could see glimpses of the Human buried deep inside the Vulcan and it made something in her chest tighten and twist with both joy and sadness; joy that he was allowing his human half to blossom, and sadness that she hadn't been the one to finally bring down his barriers.
She sighed and looked down at her hands as they twisted around the sheets in her lap. She waited for the flash of jealous hurt that usually accompanied these thoughts and was surprised when all she felt was a kind of numb peace settle over her. It had been months, nearly a year since her silent battle against Kirk for Spock's affection had begun, and she had known for some time now that she was going to lose. And that had hurt.
But as she looked up and saw Spock watching her silently from across the room, she found that she could be happy for him, that she could be happy for Jim; that she was happy for them. And that, more than anything, was what prompted her to smile and nod to Spock, who suddenly seemed to have a giant weight lifted from his shoulders as he clasped one his hands to Kirk's and he returned her gesture.
Yes, she thought, she could be the love him kind.