Re: Shifting colors.kirk_georgeSeptember 30 2009, 04:03:28 UTC
George finally was able to focus long enough to wriggle his arm free, pushing up against the restraints. Something snapped, and he was able to breathe freely, move freely. Without thinking he scooped the gun Nero was wearing up, and turned to fire at Ayel, who was the biggest threat right now. Had to protect Jim. Jim had the actual information, was his son. Needed to protect him
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 30 2009, 15:00:03 UTC
There was a hard whine and a sharp, loud sizzling crackle. He snapped around to follow it and his shoulder exploded in light and pain. The bolt struck with such force that he spun, twisted off-kilter and slammed back against the crates.
Ayel screamed. Rage, outrage, and agony burned everything green. Overcharged! Hope it fries him. He stepped forward, clutching the wound with his good arm, but his knees refused to hold. He let go, spread his hand to keep from landing on his face, and hot liquid slithered out between his fingers, stained the grates.
It was dark, and seeping slow. Missed the arteries. He would live.
He tried to move the arm. Hot nails marched down the bone, driven in by steel jackboots as his fingers twitched, clenched, spasmed, and fell uselessly still. Nerve damage.
"After him." It was a hard, hateful cough--his? Yes. Ayel was talking to himself outside his head, again. That wasn't good, he knew it wasn't. He pushed with his right arm, scrabbling to get vertical, and landed hard on his backside instead. Not going
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 30 2009, 15:15:06 UTC
There was a bright sound, high pitched and sharp to his ears. There was a dull sound, like the knife slamming into meat. There was a loud sound, something that echoed between his ears and sounded almost familiar. Another dull sound, like a sac of clothing hitting the laundry room floor.
It happened before Kirk could force himself up on a single arm, almost hitting the ground as blood ran down his limb. He stared at the grating, stared at nothing, stared at blood and ink mixing into black and following the pattern of tattoos until they were obscured.
Everything seemed distant and far away, even the pain. His own thoughts felt just as far away, as if he was in a giant black space all by himself. A single clear thought came to him.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 30 2009, 16:18:25 UTC
James moved in heavy, drunken lurches, slow and broken. Ayel watched with a certain--not detachment, no, he couldn't claim that anymore--but a haziness, a faraway feeling, like a dream. The pain proved this was real, a sharp sticking nuisance he couldn't banish, wedged knifelike in his arm. He could get to his feet in a moment, when the room stopped tilting.
He was cold. Something cold against him, against his leg--he knew, could feel what was happening, and made himself look anyway. Everything leaned a little, everything but the hand, James' hand, resting there on his thigh.
Without thinking, he moved to swat it away.
It was like wires crossing, sparking apart and fusing together, a shudder of connection from the top of his head to the floor of his spine. It couldn't be refused, so strong, so certain.
Who or what was a Bones? Bones like that, special, bright and intense. He'd wanted so badly and it was here, right here, it was in him, it was him, found him, finally. Fear and relief bloomed against the inside of his skull, drove
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 30 2009, 16:27:50 UTC
The world in his head and the world around him had become one, all pasted over with a bright green filter that was whatever Ayel had pumped into him. The pain was forgotten, the tattoos were forgotten, even the simple idea that he was captured was forgotten.
All that mattered was the man under his hand.
Those words came into his mind. The mind needed no translation of a word, or did it, or did Kirk's mind do translation subconscious, who knew. He heard it in Standard, accented, thick, and scared.
I'm here. Told you I'd come back. I'm here. Never let you go.
Kirk sat back, clumsy and swaying and nearly falling. He barely thought, maybe not at all, as he drew Bones close, opposite to that damaged shoulder, still feeling hot blood running down his skin. Kirk himself was icy cold, even if it had been a human touching him. The man he needed the most was here. He had dreamed of Bones, and Bones had come.
Bones was hurt. Bleeding. So much blood... dying.
I'm here. As if he wasn't knocking to the gates of Death's mansion himself. You'
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 30 2009, 17:07:37 UTC
You're safe. The thought broke over him with total certainty, radiant, captivating. It drew him in, like music, like velvet against the chill.
No one ever spoke to him like that, only family, and the only family he had left had hidden his name away, silenced himself completely in the wake of his grief...But silence was no barrier to the heart.
We. We're safe.
(No they weren't, it was cold, it was dark and the guards were always there, waiting, they would arrive any moment and take him away again, didn't matter how tightly Ayel held on, it wasn't ever enough--)
Ayel reached out anyway, smoothed a hand down his back. Shielded him with the arm that would still move (so cold under his hands, he must be sick, must be dying, what had they done to him), used the arm that still did what he wanted. Wrapped close and pulled them together. Always together. Nothing would part them. Safe! Always, I promise--
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 30 2009, 17:24:37 UTC
They were achingly similar, for a moment. One pain-blind, the other drug-blind. Time slowed, stopped entirely. What was occurring outside was distant and unknown. So far away.
He was warm, something to cling to in the darkness behind his eyelids. Just as his friend always had, Kirk felt himself being pulled against the other's warm body, shielded against the green. He thought about the dream, all over again.
"Promise me you won't stop fighting 'til you see me holding you.
"...Until you're holding me. I can stop fighting then?"
"When you see me, when you feel me, you can let go and let me take care of you."
Bones was here. He had seen him. He could feel him in his arms. Bones had come.
To his drugged mind, it made perfect sense. So, he gave up. Kirk collapsed against that warmth, letting his eyes stay closed, as the last of the fight went out of him.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 30 2009, 18:55:42 UTC
There was nothing but their breathing, just faintly out of time, slightly out of step with the world and with each other, slick and difficult with pain--that was true, that made sense...He was drifting somewhere, not outside his body but through it somehow, to where they touched.
Had to keep him warm, take care of him. That was so true it hurt--never looked after himself. Someone had to.
Bones had to. He understood. He did. It was right there and so clear. I love you.
He just held on, waiting in case there were tears or screaming or a lashing out of hands and feet. Couldn't let him hurt himself. Any more than he already had.
But that was all, just I love you, plain and bright as he settled close, relaxed and uncoiled, calm at last.
Had to keep him warm. He was stubborn about that kind of thing--that was true enough, too, that was the same--mulish? Yes, mulish about...Little stuff. Physicals and paperwork (you could not get him to do something he did not want to do) and whatall. Plain stubborn. And loving and his
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 30 2009, 19:08:57 UTC
There were tendrils in his mind, picking through memories, tossing aside what wasn't needed, incorporating what was. The very flavor of Bones' words, that liquor-thick peach-sweet accent that Bones got only when he was truly worried (or sex sedated). The kiss to his forehead, testing as doctors might have hundreds of years ago. That was Bones. All Bones.
Not a seriously injured Romulan with no control over his mind-gift.
I'll be okay. You're here. You can fix anything. After all, you fixed me.
His fingers, the ones that weren't swollen and ugly colors, came up and pressed against the wound. Bones was hurt. Couldn't let Bones die in his arms. Bones, you're hurt, need to get you somewhere safe... Why wasn't here safe? Something just nudged at his mind, telling him it wasn't.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 30 2009, 19:42:48 UTC
Anything, yeah. He could fix anything. Had fixed the--no, no one fixed the ship, she fixed herself, but she did better with him there.
Sure. He could fix it. Just needed time.
Bones was hurt. He was hurt, they were hurting, so much.
He had to get...Something had happened, one more bad thing in a long line of bad things. And too soon, too soon the guards would be here. That image didn't make it. There weren't faces for that feeling in here (where was here? outside of where it usually was, a place that wasn't all his) because...Jim...had never seen it. Just a kind of seasick dread that made Ayel truly horrified of green, made green strange to him for the first time in his life.
The feeling was red, too, and black and empty.
He was being prodded, gently, stroked with love and fear and cold careful fingers that tried to knit hope against the hole in his skin.
Somewhere safe? He knew it would hurt if he laughed. He tried to anyway. Oh, yes au'e, hurry.Yes. If he could just find his feet. Where had they gone
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 30 2009, 20:05:26 UTC
Kirk might have never have seen the inside of the prison-hell before, but he was getting flickers of it now. Feelings, feelings that had texture and taste and imagery, coursed through him and urged him right on. Affecting each other, two enemies, drawn into the same dream-nightmare.
Help me up. Run.
He could do that. Bones needed help. For Bones, he could keep fighting. Just a little longer. He had to force his legs to work, to get them underneath him so that he could balance. One good arm stayed wrapped around his friend, pulling them both up with strength he didn't know he had left in him. Scabs broke open and bled again, and the world tilted at a 90 degree angle.
Kirk was forced to lean against the crates, his entire body shaking as he struggled to keep their combined weight up. Come on, baby... I need you to stand for me. Can't keep us both up. His hand shifted, slippery with blood.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everOctober 2 2009, 02:07:10 UTC
When he was finally upright again, wrapped in arms he trusted, movement in the side of his vision made Ayel turn his head.
Someone running.
(That was Ikeil--the alarms screaming behind them, around them, so loud the stones trembled, so loud his skull bled--Ikeil had turned wrong, slid and slammed into the wall, and taken off down a dark side tunnel that did not scream.
Ikeil hadn't met up with them. Wouldn't be meeting them. Had to forget, name him later, write him down and keep him close, but not now. Had to run.)
Can't keep us both up. The captain was being ridiculous again. Always taking on so much for him.
Ayel's trust was absolute. Affection sneaked out in other ways, other words, but the meaning was the same.
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticOctober 2 2009, 02:25:55 UTC
There was something deeper then affection that was coming from Kirk in a steady stream, mixed in with worry, fear, and pain. It was simple-not-simple love. He was going to get them home. Had to get them home. They had to... had to...
The thought trailed off, unable to find purchase in his mind. They leaned on each other to keep moving. Need to stop.. your bleeding... The reek of that blood screamed in his mind, staining his hand.
Need to... get home. Home. That was right. Home. Where ever home was, they had to get there. Home. Home was a silver swan in the darkness of the waters.
Stay with me, baby. Stay with me. Don't die. Don't die. Don't die...
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everOctober 2 2009, 07:13:59 UTC
Don't die. The chill of it needled down his spine. Bleeding. Was all that his? It hurt so much. They both hurt. But it was buried under this other feeling, warm and sure, deeper than bones, his Bones, theirs now.
This way! Come, heis'he...follow me. Out was this way, just ahead. Never back, only forward. Had to keep moving.
(No time, out of time, the ship was waiting for them, dragged here somehow, somewhere on the surface, banked in blinding cold white, cheap hateful struts bristling all around her like needles in a pincushion. They can't get inside, she's too clever, but they've been trying for years.)
That was home. So close. Still so far.
We can make it. Don't stop now, not for anything, not even for the pain. We'll make it; I'm with you.
They twisted through the corridors and the last one spit them out.
No snow. No ice. Nothing. Black metal and the reek of copper--his blood?--and bits of blinding yellow rolling from the ceiling.
Not Kansas anymore. That was too bewildering, too foreign, something was very wrong here.
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticOctober 2 2009, 12:47:00 UTC
Together, only together, could they make it. Supporting each other, each lost in his own fantasy-dream brought around by their body's way of dealing with something more then it could handle. The common thread of protect-save-hope was all that kept them moving despite the fact that their bodies said otherwise.
Scared? That false bravado came into play in his voice. Hey, don't be scared. You got me and I got you, we can fucking do anything. It was almost instinct just to play up on such a thing, to keep them both calm. There was so much blood, fresh and hot covering Bones, drying and brown-black covering Kirk flecked in red as tattoos broke open again.
Just keep moving. Need to find... find... What did they have to find? Something safe... It took forever to actually think of it. Shuttle. Where the thought came from he wasn't sure, because he was utterly lost. Bones seemed to know where he was going... came... must
( ... )
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Ayel screamed. Rage, outrage, and agony burned everything green. Overcharged! Hope it fries him. He stepped forward, clutching the wound with his good arm, but his knees refused to hold. He let go, spread his hand to keep from landing on his face, and hot liquid slithered out between his fingers, stained the grates.
It was dark, and seeping slow. Missed the arteries. He would live.
He tried to move the arm. Hot nails marched down the bone, driven in by steel jackboots as his fingers twitched, clenched, spasmed, and fell uselessly still. Nerve damage.
"After him." It was a hard, hateful cough--his? Yes. Ayel was talking to himself outside his head, again. That wasn't good, he knew it wasn't. He pushed with his right arm, scrabbling to get vertical, and landed hard on his backside instead. Not going ( ... )
Reply
It happened before Kirk could force himself up on a single arm, almost hitting the ground as blood ran down his limb. He stared at the grating, stared at nothing, stared at blood and ink mixing into black and following the pattern of tattoos until they were obscured.
Everything seemed distant and far away, even the pain. His own thoughts felt just as far away, as if he was in a giant black space all by himself. A single clear thought came to him.
Look.So he did ( ... )
Reply
He was cold. Something cold against him, against his leg--he knew, could feel what was happening, and made himself look anyway. Everything leaned a little, everything but the hand, James' hand, resting there on his thigh.
Without thinking, he moved to swat it away.
It was like wires crossing, sparking apart and fusing together, a shudder of connection from the top of his head to the floor of his spine. It couldn't be refused, so strong, so certain.
Who or what was a Bones? Bones like that, special, bright and intense. He'd wanted so badly and it was here, right here, it was in him, it was him, found him, finally. Fear and relief bloomed against the inside of his skull, drove ( ... )
Reply
All that mattered was the man under his hand.
Those words came into his mind. The mind needed no translation of a word, or did it, or did Kirk's mind do translation subconscious, who knew. He heard it in Standard, accented, thick, and scared.
I'm here. Told you I'd come back. I'm here. Never let you go.
Kirk sat back, clumsy and swaying and nearly falling. He barely thought, maybe not at all, as he drew Bones close, opposite to that damaged shoulder, still feeling hot blood running down his skin. Kirk himself was icy cold, even if it had been a human touching him. The man he needed the most was here. He had dreamed of Bones, and Bones had come.
Bones was hurt. Bleeding. So much blood... dying.
I'm here. As if he wasn't knocking to the gates of Death's mansion himself. You' ( ... )
Reply
No one ever spoke to him like that, only family, and the only family he had left had hidden his name away, silenced himself completely in the wake of his grief...But silence was no barrier to the heart.
We. We're safe.
(No they weren't, it was cold, it was dark and the guards were always there, waiting, they would arrive any moment and take him away again, didn't matter how tightly Ayel held on, it wasn't ever enough--)
Ayel reached out anyway, smoothed a hand down his back. Shielded him with the arm that would still move (so cold under his hands, he must be sick, must be dying, what had they done to him), used the arm that still did what he wanted. Wrapped close and pulled them together. Always together. Nothing would part them. Safe! Always, I promise--
Forever. For however long they had.
Reply
He was warm, something to cling to in the darkness behind his eyelids. Just as his friend always had, Kirk felt himself being pulled against the other's warm body, shielded against the green. He thought about the dream, all over again.
"Promise me you won't stop fighting 'til you see me holding you.
"...Until you're holding me. I can stop fighting then?"
"When you see me, when you feel me, you can let go and let me take care of you."
Bones was here. He had seen him. He could feel him in his arms. Bones had come.
To his drugged mind, it made perfect sense. So, he gave up. Kirk collapsed against that warmth, letting his eyes stay closed, as the last of the fight went out of him.
I love you.
Words he had never been able to speak aloud.
Reply
Had to keep him warm, take care of him. That was so true it hurt--never looked after himself. Someone had to.
Bones had to. He understood. He did. It was right there and so clear. I love you.
He just held on, waiting in case there were tears or screaming or a lashing out of hands and feet. Couldn't let him hurt himself. Any more than he already had.
But that was all, just I love you, plain and bright as he settled close, relaxed and uncoiled, calm at last.
Had to keep him warm. He was stubborn about that kind of thing--that was true enough, too, that was the same--mulish? Yes, mulish about...Little stuff. Physicals and paperwork (you could not get him to do something he did not want to do) and whatall. Plain stubborn. And loving and his ( ... )
Reply
Not a seriously injured Romulan with no control over his mind-gift.
I'll be okay. You're here. You can fix anything. After all, you fixed me.
His fingers, the ones that weren't swollen and ugly colors, came up and pressed against the wound. Bones was hurt. Couldn't let Bones die in his arms. Bones, you're hurt, need to get you somewhere safe... Why wasn't here safe? Something just nudged at his mind, telling him it wasn't.
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Sure. He could fix it. Just needed time.
Bones was hurt. He was hurt, they were hurting, so much.
He had to get...Something had happened, one more bad thing in a long line of bad things. And too soon, too soon the guards would be here. That image didn't make it. There weren't faces for that feeling in here (where was here? outside of where it usually was, a place that wasn't all his) because...Jim...had never seen it. Just a kind of seasick dread that made Ayel truly horrified of green, made green strange to him for the first time in his life.
The feeling was red, too, and black and empty.
He was being prodded, gently, stroked with love and fear and cold careful fingers that tried to knit hope against the hole in his skin.
Somewhere safe? He knew it would hurt if he laughed. He tried to anyway. Oh, yes au'e, hurry.Yes. If he could just find his feet. Where had they gone ( ... )
Reply
Help me up. Run.
He could do that. Bones needed help. For Bones, he could keep fighting. Just a little longer. He had to force his legs to work, to get them underneath him so that he could balance. One good arm stayed wrapped around his friend, pulling them both up with strength he didn't know he had left in him. Scabs broke open and bled again, and the world tilted at a 90 degree angle.
Kirk was forced to lean against the crates, his entire body shaking as he struggled to keep their combined weight up. Come on, baby... I need you to stand for me. Can't keep us both up. His hand shifted, slippery with blood.
Reply
Someone running.
(That was Ikeil--the alarms screaming behind them, around them, so loud the stones trembled, so loud his skull bled--Ikeil had turned wrong, slid and slammed into the wall, and taken off down a dark side tunnel that did not scream.
Ikeil hadn't met up with them. Wouldn't be meeting them. Had to forget, name him later, write him down and keep him close, but not now. Had to run.)
Can't keep us both up. The captain was being ridiculous again. Always taking on so much for him.
Ayel's trust was absolute. Affection sneaked out in other ways, other words, but the meaning was the same.
Hell, I'm a grown man; I can stand. Lean on me.
They were getting out of here.
Reply
The thought trailed off, unable to find purchase in his mind. They leaned on each other to keep moving. Need to stop.. your bleeding... The reek of that blood screamed in his mind, staining his hand.
Need to... get home. Home. That was right. Home. Where ever home was, they had to get there. Home. Home was a silver swan in the darkness of the waters.
Stay with me, baby. Stay with me. Don't die. Don't die. Don't die...
Reply
This way! Come, heis'he...follow me. Out was this way, just ahead. Never back, only forward. Had to keep moving.
(No time, out of time, the ship was waiting for them, dragged here somehow, somewhere on the surface, banked in blinding cold white, cheap hateful struts bristling all around her like needles in a pincushion. They can't get inside, she's too clever, but they've been trying for years.)
That was home. So close. Still so far.
We can make it. Don't stop now, not for anything, not even for the pain. We'll make it; I'm with you.
They twisted through the corridors and the last one spit them out.
No snow. No ice. Nothing. Black metal and the reek of copper--his blood?--and bits of blinding yellow rolling from the ceiling.
Not Kansas anymore. That was too bewildering, too foreign, something was very wrong here. ( ... )
Reply
Scared? That false bravado came into play in his voice. Hey, don't be scared. You got me and I got you, we can fucking do anything. It was almost instinct just to play up on such a thing, to keep them both calm. There was so much blood, fresh and hot covering Bones, drying and brown-black covering Kirk flecked in red as tattoos broke open again.
Just keep moving. Need to find... find... What did they have to find? Something safe... It took forever to actually think of it. Shuttle. Where the thought came from he wasn't sure, because he was utterly lost. Bones seemed to know where he was going... came... must ( ... )
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