Blood Ties - part 5c/6
Blood Ties, part 5c
Spock drives, and Jim sits on the back seat cradling Leah to him. His mind’s racing and his heart would be too if it could. He should feel guilty, but to feel the bond with Bones that giving her his blood has formed, how even in sleep she’s filled with craving to be with him now, is intoxicating. He knows that she’ll dream about him, imagine him in the room as if he were really there, see him in reflections and shadows and just want, like he has - since he first cast eyes on Leo all those years ago and has been haunted, almost destroyed, by this soul.
He carries her into the apartment building and punches the security code in, the one he created for her which he’s damned certain is unhackable, and walks into the dark interior, listening to Spock park up the truck and take his own vehicle away, leaving them alone. He must have known what Jim did, he knows vampires as well as any other demons, but he hasn’t mentioned it and for that Jim’s grateful, not wanting to enter into another ethical debate with the Vulcan.
Finally, she stirs in his arms. He ought to bathe her and clean her up, but he knows she needs to sleep to allow the last of the healing to take place; so he takes her to the bedroom, pulls back the covers and goes to fetch a wash cloth and a bowl of warm water, finding leaving her for just one moment pains him.
He eases off her coat and buries his face in the blood soaked into it - glad no one can see him for the freak he is - and lays it aside with a sigh, taking up the curved medical scissors and cutting away at her clothing, stopping while she moves, when the cold metal touches her skin. He rakes her skin with his eyes, fighting to keep his face from transforming. He’s so aroused by the freckles, the way she looks in the dim light, her lips soft and so fucking kissable. He dabs at her skin with the cloth, leaving her bra and pants on, not wanting to take advantage. Then she wakes up and stares at him.
“Put this on or you’ll get cold,” he says quietly, handing her a long-sleeved t-shirt he found on the couch. Her eyes narrow and something passes over her face.
“What did you do, Jim?”
“What I had to,” he says. “I couldn’t have you die on me, Bones…”
She sits up, her strength apparently returned, and surveys the room, taking the t-shirt and pulling it over her head, her face one big Bonesy scowl when she pulls it down. She brings her knees up to her chin and looks at him with big, dark eyes.
“What?”
“Motherfucker!” she shouts, swinging her hand to hit him and he catches it in his, holding her arm rigid, then lets go. He knows she needs to do this and he doesn’t flinch when she slaps his face again and again, screaming and sobbing stopping only when she draws blood. She lets her hand drop and runs a hand across her tear smeared face. “I fucking hate you,” she says, her eyes fixed to his lip where she’s hurt him.
“No you don’t,” he says, raising his hands, tentatively leaning towards her.
She meets him half way, climbing into his lap and wrapping her legs around his back, running her tongue across his wounded lip, and he hopes it doesn’t heal too quickly, wanting her to taste his blood again. She sucks on his lip and moans as he wraps his arms around her. He pulls her away knowing she’ll regret this if it goes any further, shifting so he’s sitting behind her and can lean into him and stays there until she cries herself to sleep.
+++
Maybe she died after all because this, this is heaven; the soft lapping against her cunt, the cool finger sliding along her entrance teasing her, cool breath puffing against her heated skin; it’s what she wanted, she realizes, her whole fucking body feels connected to him, craves him and she wants him to swallow her whole, to hold him inside her, to enter her so she can’t tell where he begins and she ends.
“Jim.”
His head emerges from under the covers, his eyebrows a little mussed and his eyes are brilliant blue, gleaming and hypnotic when he looks up at her. He rests his chin on her thigh and grins. “Morning,” he smiles.
“Dammit,” she grumble-moans, and he licks his lips, pressing his thumbs to her inner thighs. She struggles to sit up and he pushes his forearms gently across her belly, and while she huffs, she decides not to argue because she’s so damned close, “Jesus, Jim … did you think to ask if…I…” He mumbles against her skin, his tongue on her labia, two fingers working their way into her, and she moans again, writhing and pushing against his touch until she grips around him, spasms and comes, her hands holding onto the side of his head, the feel of his cool skin inflaming her, making her cry out.
And just as she comes she hears a growl from Jim, a possessive rumble, and then there’s a needle sharp cut into her as his teeth sink into the tender flesh of her thigh and she comes again, almost immediately, thinking how he gave her life, how much she needs this, him, her pulses in synch with his sucking, lapping at her, drawing out the wave of ecstasy which doesn’t stop until he stops.
He’s glassy eyed, bumps fading on his forehead when she finally opens her eyes to look at him. She should be furious but she’s jelly, molded to the bed, to him.
Finally she says, “Where’s my locket, Jim?”
He rests his chin on his hands, lips moist and puffy; he’s fucking glowing with health, eyes shining with happiness. “You’re wearing it,” he says with a devilish grin. Her hand moves heavily to her neck, and he’s right, the vervain’s fresh that morning, so how...?
He kisses her belly, looking at her from under his ridiculously thick eyebrows, nuzzling his cheek against her, his voice muffled when he says, “I know, Bones, I know about the baby...six months to go I reckon.”
Her throat tightens in joy and dread. “How did you know?” when she wasn’t sure herself, didn’t dare hope, though she has been getting up to pee in the night...
“I knew the minute I saw you, smelled you,” and he licks a leisurely stripe in the space between her breasts, “and maybe I can hear her thoughts, you know when you’re not wearing the locket - she sounds like a cat purring. That’s what you were doing in the cave that time, wasn’t it? Looking for things for her...I took a peek in your bag after...sorry...”
She turns her head away, mind struggling to find purchase in reality, then something occurs to her and her voice hitches in her throat. “Your blood, Jim, I’m worried what it’ll do to…if it’ll harm her,” she whispers, grinding her teeth to control the tears threatening to spill. “I haven’t read anything about the effects on a…”
“She’ll be fine, your baby will be fine, Bones.” Jim rises above her and presses his lips to hers, speaking against her mouth.
“She?” her voice is a squeak now it finally registers what he’s told her. She hasn’t scanned to check, hasn’t wanted to think about it, didn’t want to get used to the idea, not after she lost the other one, years ago, though she kept the baby things, wanting to believe that even with all the radiation in the atmosphere still, she had a hope.
“Yeah, she.” He molds his lips to hers and for one crazy moment she imagines what it would be like to have him stay, as his tongue pushes inside her, licks at her teeth and she tastes herself on him, her cunt, her blood.
He seems to sense her disquiet and pushes up on his elbows. “I’ll look after the two of you, protect you; everything will be just fine - and the blood, the good stuff-” she watches transfixed when a pink tongue flicks against one of his canines, “-It’s better than any anti-bodies you can give her and she’ll have super shiny hair.”
“Asshole,” she grumbles, stroking his hair, looking at the ceiling.
“Does Dieghan know?” Jim asks, in-between licking her arms, her neck, her hands. She doesn’t stop him, wants to savor every moment they have together.
“I’ll tell him, of course, but...he wants to...we have political differences, Jim, you know that. I don’t hold with his self-sufficiency crap; people can’t be alone - they need each other, we need to re-build groups, not survivalists in their own little shelters. I don’t want my daughter brought up like that.” A little moan escapes her. “Stop it, Jim, I can’t think with you doing that...”
“But you taste like, well, like being alive,” Jim says reverently, “I can’t get enough of you.” His hands stroke her softly, trailing across her belly, over the new life she now knows for certain she’s carrying.
“You didn’t give me a choice, Jim. You took that away from me when you compelled me. You played God.”
“I did? How about you, Bones, how about when you’ve got a dying patient in front of you, who’s playing god then, huh? Do you ask them whether they want to be saved or not? You were fucking dying - what? You wanted to die?”
“You should have asked, Jim, on both counts. You gave me your blood without asking, and now, you’ve taken mine.”
“Okay...next time. I’ll ask next time...I thought you...” his words trail off and she daren’t look at him, can feel him stiffen against her as he waits for the inevitable.
“There’s not going to be a next time.” She feels this wave of sadness creeping through her veins, grief and loss and she knows, just knows it’s not all her; this is what Jim’s feeling too though his face is impassive. “You’ll bring danger here, Jim.”
“No. I’ll stop anyone hurting you,” his voice is fierce, a hiss of possessiveness.
“Why, Jim, why do you care? We barely know each other, you’re a fuckin’ vamp; we don’t have a thing we could share, how can we share a life with nothing in common but the chaos, trying to survive it and build again?”
“I can’t remember a time I didn’t care.”
“I don’t need protecting, Jim, I can handle myself.”
“I saw that - fuck you’re hot Leah McCoy. Women and guns, bit of a weakness of mine.” She knows he’s joking to cover up, she sees him swallow, look away. Then he says, “And despite what you say about people working together, you want to do this on your own...”
She sits up and leans for her sweater on the floor, giving herself time to allow his words to sink in, but nothing emerges that’s of any help. “You talk about the McCoys, my family, my family name like we’re something to you, but if that was true why don’t I know about you? Something would have been written down, passed on, surely... what the hell’s the connection?”
“I’m your family’s dirty little secret maybe?” His face is inscrutable, voice bitter. “Who you gonna tell about me, Bones? You gonna tell your daughter how I licked you open, made you come, the second time singing on my teeth while I sucked your fucking beautiful blood? How that made me come all over myself, your bed, without even touching my cock? Are you?” He’s got his hands tight around her wrists and he’s worked his way back between her thighs and he’s hard and heavy, nudging against her, she’s so wet; just one shove and he’d be inside her.
“Let go of me,” she hisses. “You’ve made your goddamn point, now let me go.”
“Okay, Bones, I’ll let you go - if it’s what you really want.” He shoves away from her and walks across the room to retrieve his clothing, his erect cock almost flush against his belly.
+++
Jim makes his way to a bar in a deserted part of the woods, deep in the rad zone. It’s frequented by demons, other outcasts like him, as well as the sick, and the crazies. He stands and contemplates the row of vehicles parked out front, beat-up trucks, an ancient old Chevy, and a motorbike, a gleaming, perfect motorbike. It takes him seconds to get it started and he takes off, the wind in his hair, faster and faster, along rough roads filled with mines, managing to avoid every one because he’s one lucky son-of-a-bitch, right?
+++
“Good morning, Doctor - I trust you are fully recovered.”
“Course I am, you know what Jim did to me, and I will talk to you about that another time but we’ve got bigger fish to fry. Spock, I’m worried about Jim - he said something and took off.”
“Kirk is more than capable of keeping himself safe.”
“Yeah, I know but he looked wild-eyed…”
“I fail to understand the nature of your euphemism. Was he in control of himself?”
“Yeah… no… dammit - I’m worried okay?” She glares at his infuriatingly calm features on the screen. “Don’t you give a damn about anyone, Spock?” She waits what seems like an age while he thinks some of his thinky thoughts.
“You have said nothing which might cause me to believe he is in danger, Doctor.”
“Okay, how about this - how about you get your green ass over here because I want you to? I need your help, Spock, I’m worried about Jim.” Jim’s right, she can’t do this alone.
“If you had made that clear I would have ended this conversation and already departed, Doctor.”
“Jesus, Spock, remind me again why I keep you around?”
“Because I respond to your illogical, emotional pleas with the minimum of query.”
“That’s what you call that? Get over here, dammit.”
+++
Once Leah’s treated the patients waiting who she decided were in most need, it’s still late into the afternoon before they set off.
She drives while Spock uses the navigation device to sweep the area; it would have been so much easier if Jim had kept his goddamn chip in; they’ve been searching for an hour at least and they’ve got no idea whether he’s even headed in this direction. While Jim was on foot, he will have moved so fast that he could have covered miles by now.
“I don’t know which way to go,” she admits.
“I believe you do, Doctor…”
She turns to look at him, “What do you mean?”-
“Now he has given you blood, you are bonded.”
“What, you mean like swans or something?” There’s a swell of feeling inside her.
“I do not comprehend the allusion to swans, however you should now experience a telepathic connection with Jim.
“And what if he’s taken my blood too?”
Spock raises an eyebrow. “You allowed that? Then connection is not only inevitable, but considerably deeper and I am certain if you concentrate sufficiently, you will be able to sense his presence.”
“Dammit,” she thumps the steering wheel with an open palm. “Why didn’t you just say that and quit wasting time?”
“I believe I did. And I suggest you pull over to do it - this road is heavily mined and it would not help our cause if you were to have us both killed.”
“Okay okay, now shut up talking so I can use my vamp radar.”
+++
Jim turns the bike in a tight circle and drives back the way he came, along the river, through groups of prefabricated buildings dumped years ago in the area for the rads. When he sees the bar lit up, most of the vehicles are still there. The Demons tend to settle in for days at a time and it’s not unusual that the same group would still be here now. In fact, he’s counting on it. He parks up the bike and strokes the handle-bars lovingly.
He’s had a lot of time to think while he was riding, about how he it was when he thought Leah might die, how it made him panic, what grief was like. He realises it’s not just the people, the hundreds of faceless people he’s taken life from over the years that he’s responsible for, but he took something from all those they left behind too; they all felt like he did, only they didn’t have the magic of vampire blood to make everything better. He’s evil, he’s beyond fucking redemption.
Taking a deep unneeded breath, he prepares himself by thinking about human blood, recalling the faces of some of his victims, to get the demon boiling inside him so that his face transforms and he can look as intimidating as hell.
He kicks open the bar door and there’s silence other than the music blaring, a sea of faces, vampires, werewolves, a handful of rad hangers-on, there because they’re always in hope of a drop of demon blood, hoping it’ll prevent their degeneration.
“Which one of you fuckers owns the bike went missing this morning?” he says, rising to his full height, baring his teeth. A Chaochladh demon, all red skin and black tattoo-like marks all over his face rises from a stool. He’s typical of his kind, all lizard brain and sharp teeth - perfect. “I had to bring the piece of shit back,” Jim growls. “I mean, man, it’s way overdue a service, and the power pack’s practically dead now...” He swallows when he sees a glint of silver out of the corner of his eye, these guys aren’t fond of vampires at the best of times.
He could have just taken his ring off, waited for the dawn and stood in the sun, burned away nice and quick. But that’s too good for the likes of him - he should be torn apart, he deserves to be the hunted for once, to be the victim like so many have been because of him. It’s more fitting, more biblical and yeah, stylish to the last.
Fuck, he just hopes it’s going to be quick.
+++
When Leah and Spock find him, he’s lying in a heap outside the bar, a couple of rads dousing him with buckets of water they’ve got from the river. She runs to him on shaky legs and the rads scatter, shooting desperate looks at her.
“It is fortuitous that they are addicted to vampire blood or they would have left him to burn,” Spock says, checking his readings for radiation. He’s assured Leah she’ll be safe here because of Jim’s blood still coursing through her; she didn’t think to ask whether Spock would be harmed.
She drops to her knees and cradles Jim’s head in her hands, not giving a damn that tears are streaming down her face. He’s near dead, if there’s even such a thing for a vampire, but they’ve tried to cut through his wrist to steal his ring and hock it; there’s a silver chain tied round his throat and his clothing’s burned away, his beautiful white skin charred black and blistered. If the rads hadn’t saved him, he’d have gone up in flames, his long life ended for sure. The fact that they didn’t simply stake him shows they wanted him to suffer, leave him there in agony. And she’s heard of rads, the more desperate ones, holding vampires captive, draining them dry, keeping them weak - what the fuck might have happened to him if they hadn’t turned up?
“Jim,” she grates out, touching his lips, blistered and blackened. “What the fuck are you doing you idiot? Why’d you run away?”
He doesn’t answer, he looks dead, his chest motionless, no pulse of course but if he hears her, he doesn’t respond in any way. “Jim, come on, wake up! It’s gonna be okay!” She looks up at Spock. “We need to get him out of here, we need to fucking do something.”
“It is not safe here, Doctor, but we must act now. He must be interred or he will not recover for many years. Outside he is exposed and is in danger from further retaliation. I suggest we move him to a safe area with haste.”
“What if he comes to? He must be in so much pain; what pain relief can we give a vampire for god’s sake?”
“The cure for all ills is human blood, Doctor, I think you know that already.”
She rubs her hand across her face, pulls irritably at her hair sticking to the tears and snot. “Get the med-kit, I know what to do.”
She untangles the chain from round his neck and throws it far into the darkness. She can hear music and laughter from the bar behind them and she grinds her teeth; whoever hurt Jim must have just tossed him out here, set fire to him and then returned to their party. It occurs to her for the first time, that they too might be in danger - the bar might be full of demons; not all of them want to be integrated into society after thousands of years of seeing humans as prey or simply the enemy, reacting to their persecution with violence of their own.
She grabs the med-kit from Spock and nearly drops the whole damn lot when she opens it; then heaves a sigh of relief when she finds what she’s looking for, a blood collection needle and tourniquet. She shrugs off her coat, wraps the tourniquet around her left arm and tightens it, pulling it closer with her teeth. “Keep watch, Spock, we’ve got no idea who’s in there,” she says nodding towards the bar.
Spock nods and lifts his rifle, pointing it at the door while she draws out a vial of her own blood. Jim is still motionless, unconscious and doesn’t react when she crouches over him and whispers in his ear. “Look, Jim, it’s your favorite coming up; I’m gonna fix you, then when you’re all better, we’ll try again, ‘k?”
She turns the stopper on the vial and parts his lips for him, watches as her still warm blood falls into his mouth.
At first there’s no change, then he moans in pain, and swallows. “That’s right, Jim, this’ll make you all better, drink, that’s right...” It’s only a drop, he probably needs a whole heap to get over this, but for now at least it’s revived him and she draws out another vial; this time he drinks of his own volition, lips sucking and then he coughs and opens his eyes to look at her. Even his eyes are dull-fuck, this is bad.
“Hi,” she says. “You had me fucking worried there...”
“Bones...” he tries to lift his hand but it flops uselessly to his chest. Leah trembles and raises his charred fingers to her lips. He smells of death and for the first time since she’s known him the floral smell is gone - he’s as devastated as the forests once were. She hears Spock behind her.
“Doctor, we must move him - it is not safe here.”
“Okay.” She leans down and plants a chaste kiss to Jim’s lips, feeling him smile against them when she whispers, “I love you, you annoying bastard, now get better so you can be my guard dog again, alright?”
He doesn’t answer and it may be a trick of the light, but his eyes seem to shine a little more when she stands up and takes the rifle so Spock can lift him and carry him to the truck.
+++
They go to Spock’s place and in the basement she presses her wrist to Jim’s mouth, wants him to feed from her so he can become his old self again. He shakes his head.
“Too sick, Bones, I...won’t be able to trust myself, might kill you.”
“Kirk is right, Doctor,” Spock interjects. “Since he is so close to death, there is a high probability his vampire instinct will take over and he will drain you completely. Indeed, the volume of blood he needs to help him return to his former state would require many humans. He is best interred as I believe it will take many months to regenerate, but he will rise again when he is fully recovered to find us.”
“I want... I want to stay with you…” Jim croaks. “Don’t want to leave you again.”
“It’s okay, Jim, I’ll still be here when you come back. You can come find me...I want you to, dammit.” She’s crying now, and she tries not to look at the box Spock’s made for him in the few hours they’ve been here. “Jim, did you want to die, is that what happened?”
“Now what makes you think that eh, Bones, leave a gorgeous thing like you…?” His eyes are half shut. “And you missed me, didn’t you, Bones...? Didn’t think you cared.”
“‘Course I care, you ass, now quit talking…you never stop talking.”
+++
Leah feels as if her heart’s going to be cut out, but she knows Spock’s right, knows this is the only way Jim’s going to survive.
They drag the box into the cave, her cave, and fill it with soil, then they rest Jim on top, naked. He’s so damaged she almost can’t bear to look. She insists on putting the violin in there, and some clean clothes, folded up at the foot of the sarcophagus. She throws in a flashlight though Spock reminds her vampires can see in the dark but it makes her feel like she’s doing something, dammit. For now his skin needs to be shrouded in soil so he can heal more quickly. She wraps his fingers round a bag of her blood. “Take this when you wake up, Jim, whenever that is, just so you can control yourself when you come out, okay?” It’s her blood, all she can spare considering her condition.
“Kirk, the lid is programed to respond to your voice alone; when you awake, you will be fully recovered and whole and doubtless exceedingly hungry. I know you will find us. Live long and prosper.”
“Thanks, Spock,” Jim says, eyes fluttering shut.
“See you in a couple of months, Jim, I’ll be waiting.” Leah kisses him one last time and then she helps Spock lift the lid, pushing it across once she’s allowed herself a last look at those bright, bright eyes.
“I will find you again,” is the last thing she hears him say.
They seal the box shut, roll a rock across the entrance of the cave and head home.
End of Chapter 5
Next part, Chapter 6: Iowa, 2233