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WARNING: This story deals very explicitly with rape but it does NOT glorify or eroticize it.
But how carve way i' the life that lies before,
If bent on groaning ever for the past?
--Robert Browning, Balaustion's Adventure
I wanted my mother. Looking back, I can almost laugh about that--I was nineteen years old, I thought I was an adult, and I wanted my mother. But she was a couple of light-years away.
I needed an ambulance, but the idea of strangers--more strangers--no.
I knew I should call the authorities, but again--strangers. I needed something, someone familiar. I was barely hanging onto my sanity. The rational part of my mind had gotten me to the comm booth but I knew I couldn't hold out much longer. I had to let go, had to relinquish what little control I had. I could feel the ugliness pushing its way to the surface. But not until I knew I was safe.
I punched in the numbers, remembering at the last moment to turn off the visual transmission. I had no idea what I looked like, but I knew it wasn't an image that should pop out at someone in the middle of the night.
"Yes." He sounded angry. I couldn't blame him. I'd be angry too if I was dragged out of bed at whatever godforsaken hour it was.
"Sam." The sound of my own voice, raw and hoarse from screaming, startled me. I was surprised he recognized it.
I had no idea what to say. I stared at the blank screen for a long time. I was tempted to end the call. But there was no one else--I'd arrived on Sigma 4 only two days earlier to visit him and Aurelan. I didn't know anyone else.
"Jim, what's happened? Are you hurt?"
I pressed the button that would transmit the location and ended the call. Then I sank down to the floor of the booth, made myself as small as possible, and waited.
A touch brought me out of the trance I'd fallen into. I screamed and tried to get to my feet, to turn and run. But I was too weak and ended up scrabbling against the walls of the booth. Hands grabbed my shoulders.
Sam was kneeling beside me. He turned me, took one look at my face and went pale.
And that's when I knew how bad it was. I knew I was naked and in pain, I knew I was covered in dirt and blood and vomit, but the expression on his face, the shock in his voice--I turned away. I couldn't even look at him.
He gathered me into his arms and his touch, his smell--that did it. I put my head against his shoulder and--I can't even call it crying. Howling, wailing--it was even more than that. I couldn't make a noise loud enough, I couldn't sob hard enough to purge myself. I remember being frightened by my own grief--it overwhelmed me. I was shaking and babbling and he held me closer. I don't know how long it went on. I only know when I quieted, he was holding me very tightly and saying, "I'm here. I'm here."
Finally, I was simply too weak to make any more noise and we sat there for a long time. He may have even rocked me--I'm not sure. I think my mind shut down for a while because I snapped back to awareness when he said, "I'm calling an ambulance." He stood up, took off his jacket, and wrapped it around me. I remember wiping my nose on the sleeve.
I heard the computerized voice say, "What is the nature of your emergency?"
"My brother's been beaten to a bloody pulp, that's what!" His fist slammed against the console.
He sat down next to me, breathing heavily, and apologized--can you imagine?--*apologized* for coming on his airbike.
"I should've taken Aurelan's car. You'd be more comfortable waiting."
I told him it didn't matter. I couldn't move anyway.
Then he asked me again what happened. I didn't answer. Instead, I made him promise not to tell Mom. I'd wanted her earlier, but after seeing the look on Sam's face--no. There was no way I wanted her to be part of this.
He argued with me. He pointed out that there would be hell to pay if she ever found out, but finally, he gave in. I guess I was that pathetic.
At the hospital, they patched me up and gave me something for the pain. Although I had been beaten up pretty badly and I looked awful, nothing was actually broken. Then the police showed up and I had to tell them everything. I made Sam leave the room for that.
They took samples--hair and blood and fingernail scrapings. For some reason, the fingernails were the worst. It seemed the most personal. They said that a case like this was simple--after a DNA analysis, they'd do some bio-matching and make an arrest within a day or two. I didn't care. I just wanted it to be over.
After the police left, Sam and a doctor came back in. The doctor wanted to keep me in the hospital--to "talk to someone," she said. I refused and insisted on signing myself out. She took Sam aside and asked how old I was.
"Are you sure he's nineteen?" she whispered. "He looks younger. If he's under eighteen, we can't let him--"
"Yes, I'm nineteen!" I yelled. "Bring me the fucking papers so I can get out of here!"
"You heard the man," Sam said. He'd had Aurelan bring some clothes to the hospital so I got dressed and the three of us went back to their apartment.
Sam called and cancelled his appointments at the university. Aurelan went to work and Sam and I sat in the kitchen talking, but not about anything that mattered. After an hour or so, I went into the extra bedroom to lay down. Sam came in and sat on the edge of the bed. I told him I was sorry that I'd involved him and Aurelan.
"Don't worry about it. That's what family is for. I'll be in the living room working on my thesis so just call if you need anything. I mean it. I'm writing the most boring thesis in the galaxy and I'll welcome any interruption."
I lay down but I couldn't sleep. I hurt everywhere and each little sound made me jump in fear. I finally took a pillow and blanket out to the living room and, feeling like a complete fool, asked if I could sleep on the sofa. Sam cleared off the disks and papers and I fell asleep watching him enter data into the computer.
That evening, the police had some suspects and wanted me to look at them. Just the thought of seeing them made me sick. I remember watching my hands shake on the way to the station. Then when we got there, they'd confessed in exchange for a lighter sentence so I never had to look at them again or even know their names. Small mercies, right?
The next few days were very strange. It was like we were in mourning and waiting for a funeral that never happened. Gradually, the pain faded, as did the bruises and other marks. But inside, I felt very, very cold.
I knew that my summer leave would end shortly and I was expected back at the academy. I wasn't sure which I feared most--going back in my zombie-like condition or taking some time off and having to explain it to my mother and the dean. Under the circumstances, I knew they'd understand, but did I want them to know the circumstances? The thought made me feel even colder.
And if the days were strange, the nights were worse. The dreams were horrible, one in particular. I saw my body slowly turning to metal and plastic. I watched my arms change from skin and muscle to rods and hinges. I could feel myself going cold and I was powerless to stop it. I knew that I needed to be touched, to be held--to make me human again. There were people all around but none of them could hear me. They wouldn't even look at me.
The first time I had that dream, I woke up screaming. If Sam hadn't been there, I think I would've gone insane. He lay down beside me in that little bed--like when we were kids--and stayed all night. I needed it--the familiarity, the security--but I was ashamed of needing it.
After a few days, my body had stopped aching and I needed to burn off some energy, so I decided to go for a run. I didn't tell Sam how nervous I felt about leaving the apartment alone but I think he knew because he said, "Good idea," and went with me.
We ran for a few miles along the river. It was getting late in the afternoon and it was cool there. We bought some fruit juice and went out on one of the docks to drink it. We took off our shoes and dangled our feet in the water. Sam started talking about the quarry where we swam when we were kids. We weren't supposed to go there and we laughed, remembering all the things we'd managed to keep from our parents.
Suddenly, for no reason, he pushed me into the water. When I surfaced, I grabbed his leg and pulled him in after me. We swam and dove and ducked each other. We even had contests to see who could hold his breath the longest, who could swim faster, who could splash the most doing a cannonball. It was wonderful. Finally, we crawled up onto the shore and lay in the sun.
After a long time, he said, "So...what happened? You said you'd met someone and were going to a party."
I didn't answer. They'd obviously told him something at the hospital and he'd been so shocked just seeing me--it seemed unfair to burden him with details.
"Hey. You're my brother," he said. "What's one more secret?"
Then I knew there was no one else I could tell. When I started, it was like someone else was speaking.
I was on my way to pick up a girl I'd met. I'd rented an airbike. The engine failed and I crashed. I wasn't hurt, just a few scrapes. A groundcar pulled up and the driver asked if I needed help. I asked to use his commlink to call for a tow. When I approached the car, he pulled me in and took off.
There were three other men in the car. I tried to fight them but one of them put a knife to my throat and asked if I wanted him to use it. They pushed me onto the floor and held me there. They were laughing and drinking out of a flask.
After a while, the car stopped and they pulled me out. They dragged me across a field to a toolshed. They took me inside and, after they'd beaten me up enough to take the fight out of me, they made me undress and lay down on the ground. The driver tore a couple of strips off my shirt and stuffed one in my mouth. I couldn't tell who tied my hands behind my back but he patted me on the ass and told me how handsome I was. One of the others laughed and asked why he was wasting his time on foreplay.
They pulled me up and bent me over a sawhorse. The one with the knife waved it in front of my face as the other two held me down. Then the fourth one stood behind me and pushed my legs apart. I heard him spit--into his hand, I realized. Then he raped me. I tried to scream but they pushed the gag further into my mouth. They took turns, switching places until all four of them had done it. They were very careful not to climax. They wanted it to last.
They removed the gag and I started screaming. The driver slapped me and told me to shut up.
The one with the knife was the first to put his cock in my mouth. I threw up. So he cut me across my arm, not deep, but enough to bleed. Then he smeared my blood on his cock and made me lick it off.
Then they bent me over again and two of them used me at the same time--one in my ass and one in my mouth.
They made me kneel in front of them and told me to suck them off. I did the first one and when he came in my mouth, I gagged and spit it out. He pulled me to my feet and grabbed my balls. He held the knife against them and said, "Do that once more and you'll lose these." I swallowed when I did the other three.
I thought it was over. But since they couldn't do it with their dicks anymore, they used other things--tools that were in the shed. They had an argument over whether or not to gag me again and they finally decided against it because they wanted to hear me scream. I can't tell you about it--it's--I just can't.
When they'd finally had enough, they dragged me back to the car and took off again. After a while, the car stopped. They pushed me out and drove away.
I don't remember anything until I realized I was crawling along the side of the road. I don't know where I thought I was going. Then I saw the comm booth and when I got there, I called you. That's it.
I heard Sam sob. I put my arm around him, wishing I had some comfort to offer him.
"I wish I could--" he said but he couldn't finish it. I knew what he wished. I wished he could make it not have happened, too.
We went back to his apartment and got very drunk.
Two days later, he asked me if I was planning on going back to school. I said I didn't think so.
"If you don't, you'll have to tell Mom," he pointed out. "And she'll want to take care of you."
I'd had horrible dreams all night long about pain and choking. At that moment, having someone take care of me sounded very tempting.
"Maybe I'll contact the academy and see if I can take a semester off. I think I need--time."
"What are you going to do with that time?"
"It's not like you to act without a plan."
"It's not like me to get kidnapped, beaten up, and raped, either," I snapped. Boy, was I in a mood.
"Look, Jim, I'll support any decision you make. But I'd like to hear your reasons."
Why didn't I want to go back to school? In some ways, it was the easiest course. No one there would know unless I told them. So maybe I could pretend it hadn't happened. I could pretend to be Cadet Kirk, the shining star of his class. But, Jesus, what a job that would be. I didn't think I could pull it off. I thought about how confident I'd always been--absolutely sure of my own invincibility. I wondered who the hell was that guy.
I tried to explain this to Sam. I told him how tough it was at the academy. You had to be on your toes, giving one hundred percent all the time. I didn't think I could do it. It hurt to admit that, but it would have hurt more to try and fail. It was too easy to imagine cracking under that pressure.
"What makes you think it'll get any easier?" he asked.
I said I sure as hell didn't think it could get any harder.
"All right, Jim," he said. "You didn't want to talk to a counselor so now you get to listen to me. I don't know anything about this but here's what I think.
"You told me everything that happened and you didn't shed a tear. Once you'd started, you never hesitated. Your voice didn't even shake. And you know why? Because you'd been telling it to yourself over and over for days. You've memorized it. You think I don't know what you're doing when you go white and silent? Or what you're thinking about when you can't sleep? How many times do you have to relive it before you get tired of it?"
"You don't understand. I *can't* stop thinking about it!"
"Oh, bullshit, Jim. You *won't* stop thinking about it because it fascinates you. It's completely turned you upside down and now you won't stop picking at it, like a scab. You think it's the most important event in your life. And if you hang on to it like this, it will be. You can let it be the biggest thing that ever happens to you. Nothing else--good or bad--will ever compare.
"Jim, you started talking about Star Fleet when you were seven years old. That's all we ever heard. 'I'm going to command a starship.' And now you're giving that up because--"
"I'm not giving it up--I'm just postponing it!"
"You *are* giving up! Because you're going to let the events of a few hours determine the rest of your life. That's right--a few hours. Those animals had control of you for a few hours. They hurt you, they humiliated you, they could have killed you. That was in their power. But only for a few hours. How much more are you going to give them?
"If you change your plans--if you don't go back to school--if you don't do your damndest to become the best damn commander in the fleet--they'll still be in control. And you'll be in that shed for the rest of your life."
I spent the next three days thinking about everything that had happened. And Sam was right--you do get sick of it. I went back to school. I was scared shitless but I went back.
He drove me to the transport. We didn't talk much on the way until, out of the blue, he said, "In a lot of ways, you were a rotten little brother. I mean, what's the point of a kid brother if you can't push him around? You were such a stubborn little know-it-all--with a face like a cherub. Nothing stopped you.
"Do you remember when you were eight and you wanted to go with me and my friends to a baseball game? We wouldn't let you so you drove the groundcar. When you showed up at the ballfield, so proud of yourself, I had to laugh. It was so ridiculous. I called Mom and she came down and hauled us both home. To this day, I don't know why I had to leave too, but it was one of the few times I can remember you being spanked. Up until then, you had Mom completely snowed. 'Oh, Jimmy would *never* do that.' And I helped you cover up a lot of your tricks. You know why? Because you needed me. You didn't think so--not little Jimmy Kirk--but I knew.
"This is going to sound corny, but I remember when you were born. Mom and Dad had been building it up for months--'You're getting a little brother!' I was really excited. I didn't realize that you'd be a *baby.* So I was pretty disappointed when they brought you home. But Mom made this big speech about how you were going to depend on me and I would have to help take care of you. And they let me hold you. I can't imagine letting a five-year-old hold a newborn but they did. And that was it--you won me completely."
I had tears in my eyes. Then he laughed and his voice changed to the teasing tone I knew so well.
"And as I was holding you, there was this awful smell. So Mom took you into the nursery to change your diaper. Dad and I followed--to watch, I guess. Dad lifted me up so I could see. Now at the age of five, I didn't know what was going on, but since then, I've laughed about this a million times. When Mom took off your diaper, you had an erection--a tiny, pink, cute-as-a-button erection. She and Dad started laughing and I kept asking 'What's so funny?' Finally Dad said, 'I guess he's just excited to be home.'"
I accused him of making that up.
So I went back to school. I went back and acted like the person I wanted to be until I *was* that person.
I didn't tell anyone about what had happened. At first, I worried that the nightmares would give me away to Gary. It's pretty hard to keep a secret from your roommate. But I didn't wake up screaming and, if I talked in my sleep, he didn't say anything. And I wouldn't have told him at all if it hadn't been for that damned hand-to-hand combat.
It was about four weeks into the semester and the instructor had paired us up for a match. Everything was going fine until Gary got behind me and tried to force me to my knees. I don't know what happened but I'd broken his nose and two of his ribs before they pulled me off.
When I visited him in the infirmary, I thought I owed him an explanation. And "Sorry, I got carried away" wasn't going to cut it. So I told him. And I told him how much his friendship meant to me, how much strength I'd drawn from it. On the occasions when I needed to be reminded that there were decent men in the universe, it helped to have one of the best as my friend.
Two weeks later, we became lovers.
It was the nightmare again--the one about plastic and metal. He came to my bed and held me, just as Sam had. But we started kissing and touching. He was very gentle and kept asking, "Are you sure?"
We made love that night and every night after that but it was weeks before he actually fucked me. I wanted him to. God, I practically begged him. But he wouldn't. He said he couldn't stand the thought of hurting me, reminding me. Finally, I turned Sam's line on him. I told him that when he treated me like a victim, someone he had to be careful about, he was putting me back in that shed.
He did it then. And, yes, it hurt. But knowing he didn't want it to--that made all the difference.
And knowing I could still love and be loved--that made all the difference, too.
There've been a lot of women in my life and I won't say they didn't matter because some of them did. But Gary was the only man. He and I were lovers on and off right up until he died. Over a year ago. It doesn't seem that long.
Tomorrow, I have to tell my mother that Sam's dead.
I still haven't been able to grieve for him. I told myself I was postponing it until the Denevan situation had been resolved. But now the crisis is past, his son is out of danger and sleeping peacefully in sickbay, and the truth is I simply have no way of expressing a loss this profound.
Sam and I never spoke about that night again but when he and Aurelan brought the boys to my installation as captain of the Enterprise, I knew why. He said, "I'm proud of you, Jim." I thanked him. For everything. I think he knew what I meant. After all, he was right about so many things. Including how much I needed him. It's painful to think of all those years when I didn't know that. And even more painful to think what my life would be now if he hadn't been there that night. If he hadn't said the things he did.
And tonight...I haven't had that dream in years. When I woke up screaming...and Spock burst in that way...
It seems impossible, but everything that was taken from me--my innocence, my lover, my brother--suddenly all of it has been given back. I watch him sleeping and I know it's all been given back.
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