(Mirrorverse) One Down, One to Go

[mirroredcommand]

Everything was ready to go, packaged up as tightly as he could manage without the benefit of having his stronger first officer to help him haul it. Pike had only glanced once across his quarters, many fond memories there. He had a small package to help with those memories tucked into his packs, something that had been difficult to acquire without anyone seeing. Thankfully, the security cameras had very good resolution and were capable of giving photos that could be taken along.

He had only two last errands before he left the ship entirely. Pike had tucked his packs into the transporter room Spock had rigged to work for universal transport and then locked the room down so they could not be accessed. The probes were incredibly useful in knowing where his crew was around him so he could move from corridor to corridor without notice. He walked straight-backed towards sickbay, eyes forward but constantly paying attention to his surroundings.

There was no mind paid to anyone within sickbay, but he did reach out to the probes contained within. Would they feel different, after time in McCoy's hands? They responded just the same to his touch, as he had hoped they would. He only had to give the merest command before he had Kirk's location, and he walked up to the door. He glanced behind him, then concentrated on the single override code above his chief medical officer's. The door opened, and stepped inside to see what McCoy had done with Kirk.

[OOC: If the information about Kirk's whereabouts is incorrect, please send me a message but that is the latest information I know of.]

Comments

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Eyes dim with the sedatives McCoy had given him were not dull enough that they didn't register the room's new occupant. Kirk sat huddled on the bed, knees to his chest and arms looped around them, swimming in the uniform that had been replaced but not re-sized. It strained his muscles but he didn't touch the wall unless he had to. The walls were alive. Or something. Hadn't worked that out yet, but he wasn't taking any chances. He'd been careful not to let on how much strength he had regained, until he made it to the door of the iso room one day and was repelled by whatever had eaten that corpse in the brig. They'd covered his hand and he'd screamed silently as they crept up his arm, his vocal cords raw and unpracticed, until he'd stumbled backwards and they flowed back to wherever the fuck they'd come from.

Until he worked that out, there was no need for restraints.

Through the fog of the drug, McCoy's own little cocktail of compliance, Kirk was aware of a few things. This wasn't Chapel, come to carve on his ropey flesh, or McCoy to admire the work and erase all but the fine network of fresh scars.

It was Pike.

He'd wondered, dimly--everything seemed far away, his atrophy extending to the reaching for thoughts--when Pike would come back for him. What purpose he was being saved for. He'd thought Pike gone, when Spock hadn't shown up again. Had his own suspicions about that, too. And now Pike was here, without Spock at his side, and Kirk couldn't imagine he'd been kept alive for any good purpose. He wasn't going to get up. Wasn't going to give in. Let the fucker kill him, if that was what he was here for. He just watched, eyes larger than they had any right to be in that face.