Chapter Text
Jim pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around himself the best he can given the limited mobility the shackles allow, to ward off the cold chill of night. His cell is small a single wooden room with a window heavy with bars, and a small pile of hay to rest his head on. He was dragged to the nearest fort to stand charges for treason and tossed in a shack no bigger than an outhouse with a clear view of the gallows just beyond his window.
His hearing hadn’t taken more than thirty minutes, with a simple guilty and death at dawn for his trouble. He stood fast as the brass explained how disappointed they were in him, how he let everyone down including Pike, sinned against the uniform and all it stands for; and what would his father think? He hadn’t said a word when they denied him food or a blanket. If they wouldn’t listen to his defense, they certainly don’t care about his comfort now. Now, listening to his executioner stumble around making preparations for dawn, he feels small and alone. His consolation prize is Spock still managed to escape. Now he’s going to die for a crime he didn’t technically commit and worse, Nero is still alive. His father will go un-avenged and that’s worse than the noose he’s going to face. Suddenly the gray area that he’s chosen to operate his life isn’t as comforting as the dull streaks of dawn crack the night sky open.
He doesn’t regret saving the Vulcans, that was the right thing to do, but he imagined his end would be quick, a decisive bullet in the heat of battle not a long drawn out wait to meet the same fate his father had. Kirks’ clearly have a calling in life.
He zones out with the click of the lock on the door turning to allow the guards to enter. Jim takes a deep fortifying breath and gets to his feet, on auto-pilot as his feet shuffle to his doom to the jingle of chains. His heart pounds in his chest, made all the louder by the slow steady rhythm of the army drums singing his fate. It’s quite a turn out, everyone piling into the square to get a look at Jim Kirk’s death; officers smiling and men looking remorseful but accepting. Jim can’t say there’s a friend in the bunch and isn’t sure what that says about the situation or himself.
The trumped up charges are read aloud, a reminder and a warning against anyone else that gets the bright idea to go against progress’s will and capital’s plans. Human life is meaningless to development that’s steam rolling the land and morally right is just an innocent casualty of the war that’s going to play out in the next few years.
Jim stops at the top of the platform and allows the executioner’s hands to guide him into position. He spares a moment to look at his options, to find a way out of this mess but his brain’s too numb to come out with a last minute effort to save his own skin. He swallows hard as the rope is placed around his neck, tightened in preparation. The executioner lifts the black cloth to cover his eyes but Jim shakes his head. He’s never been afraid before and he won’t start now; he’ll look death in the face and smile for as long as he can.
The officers looking on in glee turn their heads to avoid the glare Kirk gives him, blue eyes unrelenting and deadly. Jim will make sure they see the ends to their good work, make sure they have the stomach for it if they’re going to use him as their scapegoat. The slaughter of an innocent tribe looks bad when spoken allowed and not whispered in the shadows; a rogue soldier stirring up trouble sounds so much better in the circulating papers.
The drums beat faster and Jim takes a deep breath, calms his nerves and thinks it’s all worth it, even if it led here. He blinks the moisture out of his eyes. The drums stop and he exhales, the silence suffocating as he waits for the floor to drop out from under his feet.
The executioner falls face first onto the wooden deck of the platform, a neat arrow sticking out of his back. Jim’s vision grays around the edges; he’s forgotten how to breathe and the dead body at his feet isn’t making any sense.
The world explodes with sound, gun fire, horses, shouts, all the sounds of what could be an epic bar fight or shoot out spilling through the square. The audience scrambles away like ants seeking cover or arms. The dead bodies are piling up as horses dance around carrying Vulcan braves unleashing a barrage of arrows on the masses.
This isn’t how Jim pictured heaven or hell; figured he’d probably feel the rope tighten before existence faded to something else. He can’t make sense of what’s playing out before him. His hands and feet are still shackled and the thick coarse rope secured around his neck, leaving him helpless to do anything, even remove himself from his precarious situation. The Vulcans should be miles away but here they are ransacking the fort. Bodies dropping left and right and some getting terribly close to hitting the lever that’s going to leave Jim with nothing to stand on.
“Spock?” chokes out Jim, surprised and relieved to see him riding towards the platform. He’s never been so grateful to see the stoic Vulcan before in his life.
Spock gracefully jumps from the horse to the platform, his bow coming up to block the blow from one of the guards who scrambled up the platform to finish the executioner’s job. Jim can only try and dance out of the way as they trade blows but his leash isn’t long enough to keep him out of the way.
Kirk trips over his own feet, the rope catching him before he can hit the ground. His hands fly to his neck to try and earn some slack on the rope. “Spock,” he wheezes, frantic and desperate.
Spock spares him a glance. Reaching behind his back he pulls free a tomahawk and slams it against the wooden support beam severing the rope. He can’t spare a moment more to aid Kirk, as Spock’s opponent pulls a knife of his own.
The tension disappears and Jim face plants on the platform gratefully sucking in air. He worms his fingers between the rope and his neck, painstakingly working the knot to loosen the noose enough to slip over his head. It’s difficult to get his feet underneath him being shackled but he manages. He shakes his head to ward off the dizziness making the ground spin and takes a few staggering steps forward. He throws his weight against Spock’s opponent, knocking him off the platform.
Spock places a steadying hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“Will be, once we get out of here.” He rubs his hand against his throat, the phantom feeling of the rope making him feel like he’s choking.
“Agreed.” Spock glances around the fort at the destruction surrounding them. The Vulcan way is a typically peaceful way but the army took that away from them. The council was against sending braves to the fort of all places, but Chief Sarek had over ruled them, with the logic of repaying their debt to Kirk and strengthening their relationship with a potential ally. It didn’t guarantee the raiding party the full force of the Vulcan people and while they had the element of surprise on their side, to stay much longer will incur heavy casualties.
Spock whistles, loud and sharp over the sounds of battle and Jim flinches at the noise. Spock’s horse runs directly towards its master, coming to stand next to the platform. Spock grabs Kirk and despite his protest, throws Jim over the horse before climbing on himself.
It’s an undignified escape to be slumped over a horse like a blanket but Jim’s too happy to be alive and getting a chance to fight another day to care. As they ride out of the fort and everything Jim’s known, he flips death off; the reaper will have to wait to get his prize.
“You’re sure about this?” asks Jim hesitantly. He can’t help the fidgeting his weariness is causing.
Spock tilts his head to the side, a frustrated look creeping across his face. “Hold still,” he reminds Kirk.
“Yeah, but...” whines Jim, pulling his hands out of position and into his lap.
Spock grabs his shackled hands and places them back over the smooth surface of the stone. “There is only a twelve point seven-three percent chance I will miss if you keep still.”
“That’s a twelve percent chance I lose a hand!” argues Jim.
“The likelihood of death from being captured by the army for having a blacksmith remove the shackles is far greater than the risk of losing a hand if we pursue this option.”
Jim opens his mouth to continue his protest of removing his shackles this way when sound of someone approaching pulls his attention. Just as a horse comes into view around the bend the shape ping of metal connecting with metal reverberates off the rocky terrain. He turns back to Spock, who could almost be accused of smirking and lifts up his hand. Remarkably, not only is his hand free of the shackle but unmaimed.
“Now the other one,” commands Spock grabbing Jim’s left wrist. He spares a moment to nod at the approaching riders before he continues liberating his co-conspirator.
By the time Kirk’s hands and feet are free of the chains, limbs still attached, the Vulcan riding party has dismounted. “Live long and prosper,” greets Chief Sarek with the customary Vulcan hand salute but the words seem heavier now that they’ve lost their home. Sarek’s eyes settle on Jim. “The Vulcan people are grateful for your service.”
He glances down, uncomfortable. It wasn’t the most successful job, he knows they suffered heavy casualties despite the warning and distraction. “I did what anyone would have done,” offers Jim, soft and gentle. “You saved my life. I owe you gratitude.”
Sarek looks at him skeptically. They both know everyone had a chance and chose to do the opposite in this scenario. “We are heading west to an ancient hunting land long abandoned by our people. We believe it is still unclaimed and will seek to make it home once again. There are no settlements that far out yet, so it is reasonable to expect peace for a little while. You are welcome to join us Jim Kirk; the army will continue to hunt you making it illogical to return to your people.”
“Thank you for the offer Chief,” starts Jim. The offer has merit. He’ll spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder if he doesn’t go into hiding, but he can’t let Nero win. The man is still hurting people and Jim won’t stand for it. “But I have unfinished business. The man that murdered my father was a part of this and I need to figure out why and then kill him.”
Sarek nods his head in understanding. “You will always be welcome among our people.” He turns to head back to his horse but stops and turns.
For the first time, Jim realizes Spock is still standing next to him and shows no signs of taking his leave.
“Spock?” asks the Chief. There’s concern and worry in his eyes.
Spock takes a deep breath. “No father. The officers recognized me, they will be searching for me as well as Lieutenant Kirk. My accompanying you will only put our people in danger. And mother’s killer is still out there. I understand our people find no logic in revenge but I believe where mother is concerned, I will adopt the custom of revenge that her people employ. I also feel it is my duty to help Kirk see his mission through to help nullify the debt our people owe him.”
Chief Sarek looks like he wants to protest but simply bows his head instead. “Live long and prosper, my son,” he says before taking his leave with the rest of the Vulcan riders.
Jim watches them ride out of sight. “Are you sure Spock? You can still go with them.” He’s kind of grateful to have someone by his side; Spock proved to be a valuable asset but he would understand taking the chance of a life over what awaits if he does follow Jim.
“Yes,” is all Spock says before mounting his horse and offering Jim his hand.
“What the hell are you doing here?” shouts the mocha firecracker as she slams her knife into the table Kirk and Spock are sitting at with tremendous force.
Spock raises his eyebrow at the display that has gotten the momentary attention of the other patrons in the seedy and smoky saloon. It’s hardly the low key, non attention grabbing, spectacle they were hoping for.
Jim flinches as the force in which the knife is embedded in the table mere inches from his hand reverberates through him. He swallows hard as he quickly recalculates if the information is worth her wrath because for the record, he likes all his body parts attached where they are. “It’s nice to see you too, Uhura. Still delightful as ever I see,” says Jim with as much bravado as he can muster while thinking of all the things she promised to do to him with that knife the last time they crossed paths.
Uhura crosses her arms and glares at Kirk with an expression that screams ‘make it good, or so help you.’
Jim straps on his most dazzling smile and cranks up the charm a couple of watts. “This is Spock.” He points his thumb towards the Vulcan beside him, ever mindful of just how close the blade is to his hand.
Uhura glares for a second more before turning her attention entirely to Spock. Her shoulders relax and she extends hand giving the Vulcan salute warmly. “I’m Uhura,” she says with warmth before turning her icy glare back on Kirk. Her hostility promises Jim has about a minute to live unless he fills that time with meaningful words.
Jim kicks out the empty chair at their table, relieved when Uhura takes a seat and the rest of the onlookers go back to their own conversations and card games. “I’m in trouble,” starts Jim.
“What a surprise,” huffs Uhura. “Who is she this time?”
Jim kind of resents that that’s the first place Uhura goes, like the only thing he has going in life is ducking out women’s windows to avoid their husbands when they come home. Although to be fair, that’s exactly what he was doing when he last saw her, but in his defense, he didn’t know she was married. Jim may have pretty shady morals sometimes but he makes it a point to not destroy the happiness of families. “It’s not like that.” He has this feeling that Spock is judging him and it’s making him tense on all sides. “We need to get through the Tellarite lands. You’re the only one I know that can negotiate our passage.”
“Go around,” counters Uhura. The Tellarite are notoriously elusive, except when people trespass on their land, which combined with their willingness for bloodshed and the natural inhospitably of the land makes it better to avoid the trail. The trail through their territory is however takes two weeks off a person’s journey and allows anyone brave enough to traverse it to be left alone in their travels.
“We can’t. Besides every bounty hunter in the territory looking for us, the whole army is gunning for us as well.”
Uhura leans back in her chair, a wicked grin melting her features. “Only James Kirk would do something so monumentally stupid, the whole army would be after him.”
“Despite what Lieutenant Kirk’s reputation would suggest, our current predicament is the result of his attempt to foil the army’s plans to slaughter the Vulcan people in order to obtain our land under the guise of peaceful negotiation,” interjects Spock.
A ripple of sadness washed over Uhura, leaving sympathy painted across her delicate features. “The army wiped out the Vulcans?” she breathes so quiet it’s almost lost in the noise of the saloon.
“They tried. Mostly succeeded,” mumbles Jim, sinking into his seat and throwing back the last dredges in his glass. The self-incrimination is evident in every line of his body.
Uhura locks eyes with Spock, her hand falling gently on his for a moment as she says, “I’m so sorry.”
Spock pulls his hand back slowly, uncomfortable with not only the touch but the magnitude of attention from what amounts to a complete stranger. “Jim did manage to ensure survivors that are currently relocating in the hopes of rebuilding our tribe.”
“We need to lose some bounty hunters and gain some distance and you’re the only one I know that can help us get through Tellarite territory. Please, Uhura, we need your help,” says Jim, hoping to gain some compassion from Uhura without calling in the favor she owes him. He’d rather save that for when she’s really going to dismember him.
The Vulcan card does the trick, tugging at whatever heartstrings Uhura keeps hidden because not only does she agree to get them through the territory but Uhura rides with them. Her innate talent for languages and culture means they can stick to the routes less travelled, out of sight from people looking to cash in on the bounty on their heads and who hate the army as much as they do.
“Hold it right there,” orders Jim leveling his gun at the slightly graying head that comes into view. The click of the hammer sliding back drives his point home; he has no compunction about using the gun. The man raises his hands in surrender slowly turning around to get a good look at Kirk.
“Jim,” he nods in acknowledgement. It wasn’t the warm greeting he had been expecting but given the circumstances it’s better than being shot on sight. “You really stepped in it this time kid.” Trouble and Jim have always seemed to go hand in hand, so he can’t say he’s surprised to find Kirk at the center of the biggest shit storm in the last decade. There’s no condemnation in his voice; a leopard can’t change its spots any more than Jim can play the role of society sheep. Christopher had thought the brash and violent rebellion phase had passed in the last couple of years that he watched Jim grow into a fine upstanding officer but it was apparently the calm before the storm.
There’s a subtle rustling sound coming from the other side of the stair case and Pike turns his head. “Spock,” he greets as he catches sight of the Vulcan undercover of the other wall in the old rustic cabin.
Spock’s gun doesn’t waver but his eyebrow arches in curiosity. “I do not believe we’ve been acquainted.”
“You come to bring us in, Captain Pike?” demands Jim, gravel in his voice, returning the attention back to himself. He doesn’t want to gun down his friend and mentor but very clear lines have been drawn in the sand; it’s the world versus him and Spock and he’s not going to lay down and die for some misguided notion of friendship. The weeks of running and being dogged by every bounty hunter and lawman have taken their toll burning up any compassion he might have had. He’s tired and running out of ideas.
“No,” is Pike’s simple answer. He slumps a little, going for a more casual appearance, less threatening.
Jim takes a step out of the shadows and his relative cover behind the wall, “How’d you find us?”
“Jim,” sighs Pike, and it sounds a little frustrated, “there isn’t anything I don’t know about you.” It has the virtue of being mostly true. He’s been there since the beginning, when a starry-eyed George told him he’s met a girl and was going to leave the army to settle down with this girl that made the moon and the stars shine. Pike had continued with his military career but he’d made a point to check in on the little family when passing through, watching it grow from two, to three, to four and then back to three. He’d been the one that held a teary-eyed yet stoic six year old Jim’s hand as they lowered George’s coffin into the ground. He knows all Jim’s haunts and friends, where he runs and why. The only thing he can’t accurately account for is the sheer depths of the kid’s balls and stupidity, but he isn’t ever surprised by it.
Jim stands his ground and fights, so he had to still be in the area. He isn’t stupid, despite the kid’s best efforts to convince everyone he is, so he couldn’t run anywhere obvious. That left Pike with a very narrow trail to zero in on. Winona’s mother’s old childhood home is far enough removed from both society and the Kirk name that unless someone was told, it’s doubtful anyone would ever venture this far to look for two wanted criminals.
“What do you want?” Jim snaps, fingers tightening on the gun. If this is some friendly ‘I’m your Captain and we can work this out together if you just come back and explain your side of things’ conversation, he wants no part of it. This runs to deep to be talked out and Jim’s not sure he wants to. He wants blood, he wants Nero’s head and won’t get that if he walks back into the hands of the organization that not only allied with the man but willingly put a rope around Jim’s neck.
Pike nods his head towards the table, a sorry excuse for a meal, hastily interrupted lying scattered across it. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this, son.”
Jim scowls. “Nothing to talk about.” He’s torn between the possible pending danger and the over familiarity his lifetime with Pike that wants to pull him into a false sense of security.
Pike shrugs his shoulders and cautiously takes slow measured steps toward a chair at the table. “When the army tells me my best Lieutenant insights mutiny and starts a savage uprising destroying any hope for peace with the Vulcans, I like to find out what the army did wrong.”
Jim scrutinises every inch of Pike, searching for the trap he knows is laid out for him. Reluctantly, he holsters his gun and takes the chair opposite Pike. He leans back with his arms folded across his chest, hostility at the world rolling off of him in waves.
Spock takes a step further into the room but doesn’t lower his weapon. Pike tries to ignore his systematic sweeping of the room for threats with his eyes.
“I sent you on that mission because I thought seeing negotiations first hand might teach you some humility and the virtue of subtly.” He picks up a hard misshapen blob that looks like it might pass for a biscuit and gives it a tentative sniff before hazarding a bit. “Imagine my surprise when I hear it all goes to hell, the formerly peaceful Vulcans have scattered to the wind after a bloody skirmish with the army and Jim Kirk is being hanged for treason, only to escape in a blaze of glory facilitated... are you ready for this part?” asks Pike looking serious.
Jim chews on his lip, looking cross and everywhere but at Pike.
“The son of the Vulcan chief.” He glances at Spock but the Vulcan doesn’t seem to be any more inclined to enlighten Christopher than Kirk. Pike has all the patience in the world; he can wait Kirk out if that’s what it takes. “You’re going to have to trust someone some time Jim.”
“We weren’t there to negotiate anything,” mutters Kirk. “It was a set up to kill the Vulcans and steal their land so the railway can come through. I don’t know how high up the plan goes but it was sanctioned. Guess it’s bad business for the world to find out we’re starting the wars with the Indians so they pinned it to look like I started it when I warned the Vulcans of the impending attack. Seems Nero brokered a deal to help facilitate it. He was there and I didn’t do anything. ” The words come tumbling out of his mouth faster and faster. It’s one thing to know the truth but he didn’t know how much he needed someone to believe him until he was spewing the tale to Pike.
Christopher is quiet for a painfully long time. The silence chips away at Jim’s soul. This was Pike’s life, the organization he’s breathed and bled for. It would be a simple matter to dismiss everything Jim claims and pretend the status quo is still in place, if not for the simplicity of not having to deal with the sheer mass of those culpable then to save his conscience soul from the lies that now haunt every order executed and decision made.
“Well the first thing, is you’re going to get a good night’s sleep because you look like you’re going to fall over, then we’re going to have a decent cooked meal because this...” he gestures to the attempt at food on the plate, “is just sad.” Pike uses his command voice, leaving no room for argument. “We’ll work out a plan about what to do after that.”
Jim nods his consent and Spock finally holsters his gun. Whatever Pike decides to do about them, it’s tomorrows problem; today promises the first night of real rest since things started. Jim’s too tired to turn this down.
Pike has two men with him, ones he trusts implicitly, waiting in town. He’ll ride out and get them while Jim sleeps and bring back all the makings of a good meal; his man Sulu is apparently a wonderful cook.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider the easy way out and let me get you as far away from here as possible?” asks Chris, as he dumps Jim onto the bed.
Jim shakes his head as he relaxes on the blankets. Now that he’s horizontal the energy that’s been keeping him going is fading fast. He doesn’t have the reserves that Spock does at this point. “Can’t walk away,” he mumbles tiredly, eyes already slipping shut. “Not while Nero’s still out there.”
A little smile creases Pike’s lips. He knew the answer before he asked the question but he still had to give the kid an out. He wants nothing more than to spare what’s coming for Kirk, what vengeance, revenge and survival are going to do to George and Winona’s little boy. He’s going to protect Jim for as long as possible and if that means waging war on the world, then that’s what he’ll do. He has to step up his game from what it used to be.
Pike has some loose ends to tie up and information to get before he loses all touch with the army and any ability he has to lawfully help Jim. He takes his men, Sulu and Chekov with him with plans to meet in two weeks time. It’s plenty of time for Jim and Spock to follow up on a lead that Pike was able to give them in regards to valuable documents that could help steer them towards Nero and his accomplices while Uhura goes on a head to scout out locations for a possible base camp.
It’s a lucky break on two fronts. Not only do they get the information but he runs into Scotty again. Jim’s glad that the Vulcan incident hasn’t left the Scotsman too worse for wear. Scotty’s talents are hard to pass up, so he’s relieved when Montgomery agrees to tag along. It’s not the greatest repayment he can offer for Scotty being kicked out of the army, hunting Nero promises death, but it is purpose and direction, all the things Scotty seemed to be missing lately. Jim always likes having a good drinking partner around.
It’s the first real step Jim’s ever taken in his life to actually take Nero down. It’s nice to have people willing to have his back while he leads this charge and he thinks they may actually accomplish their task. He has Pike’s guidance and Spock’s logic to temper his hand and curve his brashness that would most likely lead the plan to ruin. One way or another Nero has touched all of their lives and now they have a common goal to keep them united. They establish a base camp far away from civilization but pretty central to the cluster of towns in the area. Their nefarious activities don’t offer gainful employment so they’re reduced to less than honest means requiring access to stagecoach and train routes and towns they can loot supplies and skills from.
There is no turning back from this path, because Nero knows they’re coming now. Jim doesn’t think he’d want to turn away even if he could. It’s dangerous and deadly and so far from the side of right he’s not sure he can see the line clearly anymore. They’re outside the law now, viewed as no better than the man they’re trying to bring down. It’s the most fun Jim’s had in years. He kind of knows this is where he was always going to end up anyways. His future’s tight around his neck like the noose Nero put around his father’s, only Jim’s going to do what George couldn’t. Jim Kirk is going to restore law in the land by killing Nero.