nyota_uhura24 | [BFF Verse - The ravens are all closing in / And there's nowhere you can hide]

Entry tags:

[BFF Verse - The ravens are all closing in / And there's nowhere you can hide]

Uhura was in a good mood. The memory of yesterday's assignment, of all the fear in the Debulans' eyes, was enough to make her nearly giddy. It had been far too long since she'd had the opportunity to slowly create a blinding, debilitating fear, just as her father had taught her to.

There was only one thing that could ruin her excitement. Scotty. The moment she saw him, she had to fight the urge to clench her hands into fists, or to reach for her knife. Not the knife I want... She would get it back, of course, but it would take careful planning. The fail safe was most certainly a problem. She was certain that given enough time, killing him wouldn't even be necessary, even if it was the safest course of action. But thanks to the fail safe, murder was out of the question.

Instead she monitored the times at which he entered the code, laying down preparations and waiting for a day he entered it early in the morning, and then all would be well. Soon, she promised herself. He really ought to just give the knife back, and then all this could be avoided... Though she was too angry now to let the matter go, even if he did.

To her extreme annoyance, she realized that she and Scotty were headed for the same turbolift, but there was no way in hell she was going to turn tail and run, even if the sight of him did infuriate her. "Scotty," she drawled. "How lovely it is to see you, though I must say you were far more dashing with a scar on your cheek."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Under normal circumstances, she would have struck at him long since, and he'd be back on the other side of the lift nursing yet another wound, but this... This was a side of her he had never seen before. She curled away from him, and he watched as she pressed the knife harder into her skin, and after a few moments he spoke again, in that same soft tone. "You dropped your knife, love. You never let go of a weapon, not voluntarily." He settled back on his heels again, opening up a tiny bit of space between them, his attention apparently focused on the knife he'd picked up. On impulse, he reached for the other knife, testing her reactions. He didn't try to take it, just reached for it, just to see what she'd do.

His words penetrated the haze of her fear, and warning bells sounded in her head. Scotty couldn't know this. Knowledge was power, and she never wanted to give anyone this power over her. He can't know. He can't know. But she couldn't hide her terror, and even though she was pressing the knife deeper into her arm it wasn't really registering anymore. He settled back a little, and she felt as if she could take shallow breaths, but then he reached for her knife, and she let out a soft cry of panic. She turned the knife towards his hand, but she was shaking too hard for it to be an effective defense. She opened her mouth to tell him to get the hell away from her, but that's not what came out. "Get us out of here," she blurted, and then bit down hard on her own lip to keep the words from spilling out. Shit. Shit, shit shit!

He watched the tip of the knife wavering in her hand, and then smiled, a soft gentle smile that looked utterly out of place on his face. He closed one hand around her wrist, pried the knife from her fingers with the other, and tucked it and its twin into his belt, just out of Uhura's reach. By now, he was fairly certain that he'd figured out the source of her fear, and her words only confirmed it. "The walls are closin' in, love," he whispered, leaning in just a little closer, his eyes locked on hers. "How much longer until there's no space left?"

He wrapped a hand around her wrist, and she couldn't even try to pull away as he pried the knife out of her shaky grip. The knives were out of her reach now, and though she had a more she didn't have the inclination to reach for them. Scotty was no longer important, any concern she had for what he might do drowned out by the screaming in her head, by the walls wavering around her. Her hands clenched and unclenched uselessly. She let out a soft sound of fear at his words, eyes darting around the turbolift in growing panic. "It's too small," she choked out, too afraid now to remember that she couldn't let Scotty see this. "We'll be crushed if we don't suffocate first. I have to get out..."

He leaned in closer, feeling a small rush of adrenaline course through his body. He had, by now, completely forgotten about the knife wounds, and not even the constant dull throb of pain could distract him from the events unfolding before his eyes. He had to suppress the urge to grin, licking his lips briefly as he leaned in closer still. "It's too late," he told her, speaking so softly it could hardly be called a whisper. "It's too late, love. No one will hear you scream for help, love. You'll die in here, love, just you an' me, alone in the dark, in this box..." Oh, but this was fun. How long would it take, he wondered, until she was so consumed with fear that she couldn't even speak, couldn't even move? "It's startin' tae get a little stuffy in here, love, don't you think? A pity there's no window tae open... Do you think is what bein' buried alive feels like, love?"

It's too late. She whimpered softly at the words. There was no escape, no way out, no one to hear her scream for help. She was going to die in here. She had always been here in this tiny room, and even the terrifying man in front of her was probably just a figment of her imagination, a taunting demon she'd dreamed up in the darkness. She would never get revenge on her father. She would never board a starship to take her far away from everything she hated. She would always be a terrified little girl who wasn't strong enough. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she shook her head against his words, not wanting to listen, not wanting to believe him. "No. No, we have to get out... I have to kill him. I won't let him live for doing this to me." She shifted uneasily, nervous energy coursing through her.

"There's no way out," he replied, utterly fascinated by the sudden transformation of the woman sitting in front of him. This was Nyota Uhura, one of the few people aboard the ship he actually respected as a threat, reduced to a cringing, cowering mess by the small space of the turbolift. This was information far too good to share; he wanted to keep this revelation to himself, to store the knowledge away for future use. And he was already plotting, already planning. If she truly wanted that knife of hers back... It would be so easy to plant it in a small, enclosed space on the ship, to lure her to its location, and simply trap her there. Or, if he were feeling particularly generous, he could simply devise a maze of small, tight spaces, with the knife as the prize at the end - but she'd have to go out the way she went in. The possibilities were absolutely endless.

"There's no way out," he repeated, shifting a little to sit on the floor in front of her. He wasn't much for torture - not physical torture, at least - but he would take whatever advantage he had over Uhura, and gladly. If their positions were reversed, he had no doubt that she would do the exact same thing to him. "Can you feel the walls closin' in, love? Can you see it? Seems tae me they were a little father apart just a moment ago..."

There's no way out. She cowered against the wall, hands wrapping around her knees to hold them to her chest. At his words her eyes flew open and darted around the lift. "They're getting closer," she whispered, not quite sure if she was talking to him or herself. At this point it didn't matter, as she was fairly certain he was merely a dark figment of her imagination. I can't die here. She blinked furiously, trying to hold onto the part of herself that hated too powerfully to disappear. "I can't die yet," she managed, fear and determination mixing on her face. "Not until he's dead." Her eyes locked with the man in front of her, needing to communicate her last fragmented thoughts, because this was important. Very important. "I'm going to kill him with his own knife," she whispered. "But I'll wait until the day he hands it to me, wait until I've earned the right to hold it in my hands, and then I'll drive it into the place where his heart would be, but there will only be blood. I don't even care if it's quick, as long as he sees, as long as he knows that I'm the one who killed him."

He watched her a moment longer, unblinking, filing away what she said so he'd remember it later. But this was getting boring, and he needed a way to entertain himself until the lift started working again. "Whose knife, love? Who is it that you have tae kill?" He wondered, briefly, if it was him that she was talking about, but if it was... No, that didn't make any sense, because she was talking about whoever it was handing her his knife, which he would never do. Not unless he had a death wish. "An' what makes you think he'll be there, when you get out? If you get out? You won't, you know." What would happen, he wondered, if he drew a knife on her now, while she was like this? Would she fight back? It wouldn't be any fun if she didn't fight back.

Who is it that you have tae kill? Her lip curled back in fury, respiration increasing further as a wave of anger crashed through her. "Alhamisi." The name was infused with every ounce of hatred she possessed, because while Uhura hated plenty of people, the only one who would ever earn this blinding rage was her father. "He'll be there, she whispered, "He'll..." But the next words drive the anger back as fear takes over again. She can't lose her hatred, but now all she can think of is the walls getting closer and the fact that it's getting harder and harder to breathe. She shook uncontrollably now, shifting uselessly, legs sliding back and forth and hands clenching uselessly. "No," she breathed out, and suddenly it felt as if all the air was pushed out of her lungs. Her mouth opened but she choked on the air. No

He stood suddenly, retreating to the far side of the lift, leaning back against the wall, one hand dipping to his stomach to prod at Uhura's handiwork. Watching Uhura like this was all well and good, but there was little satisfaction in it, and he was losing interest. He had no interest in her in this weakened state; he respected her as an opponent, maybe even feared her, but like this... His lip curled upward. She was weak. And Scotty played by rules of his own devising, and watching Uhura squirm, though initially satisfying, was quickly becoming mundane. Besides, he knew what he needed to know, now.

"Get up," he said flatly. "You're embarrassin' yourself."

The presence in front of her suddenly backed away, and she was able to draw a shaky breath. She hadn't thought there was room for him to do that, but she still couldn't speak, still could barely move. It wouldn't be long now until there was no space at all. The walls of the lift had vanished, replaced by the white walls of that room where she must have spent her entire life. Everything else that happened was a dream, a fantasy made up to pass the time. She was here. She had always been here. She would die here.

Get up. You're embarrassin' yourself. The words registered in her brain, and she didn't understand because it was not the voice of her demons. Her eyes searched out the voice's owner, but she couldn't remember who he was. Her legs pushed at the ground but she didn't rise. Her heart was racing too fast, her breath coming in short, almost painful bursts.

He advanced on her again, slowly, cautiously, drawing one of the knives he'd taken from her. Reaching out, he ran the flat of the blade along her jawline, trying to get some kind of reaction from her. "Lieutenant, stand up," he ordered, withdrawing the knife, tucking it back into his belt. What would it take to snap her out of this? That was as much part of his new little experiment as anything else - how long, and with what stimulus, would it take her to realize where she was and what had happened?

Her eyes tried to focus as he moved towards her, and the threat registered dimly. There was a knife, but she couldn't move to defend herself. Still, her gaze sharpened and her eyes followed the blade. She gasped as it ran along her jawline, and then her eyes locked with his as she fought for some sense of reality.

Lieutenant, stand up. She blinked, trying to comprehend, trying to make the order fit into her view of the shrinking room. She didn't speak, didn't move, but her eyes were still on his, trying to hold herself here.... I'm not in that room. That isn't that room...

He tossed the knife down beside her hand. "Pick it up." He knew that re-arming her was likely to be a bad idea, but really, he had nothing better to do, and a few more injuries wouldn't kill him. Once again, he retreated to the other side of the lift, and sank down against the wall, keeping his eyes on her. "Come an' get me, love," he taunted her quietly, part of him desperately hoping that she would. Anything to alleviate his boredom would be welcome at this point.

Her eyes followed the knife in his hands as it clattered on the floor beside her. She stared at it for a moment, heart still racing even as some semblance of reality was slowly returning. It's the wrong knife. She reached out a still shaking hand, and as her hand tightened around the handle the shaking started to subside. After another few moments she looked at him, and slowly recognition formed in her eyes. She glanced around again, beginning to realize where she was, and then looked back at him. "Scotty?"

"Who else would it be?" he answered, stretching leisurely, wincing a little as the motion tugged at his wounds. He wondered, for a moment, how much of what had just transpired that she remembered. For now, he'd keep it to himself, not letting on that he knew her secret. There was no fun in giving everything away, after all. "Come on, then, love, if you think you're tough enough." He flashed her a quick grin, stretching a little again.

She blinked at him for a few moments, hand tightening on the knife handle because she knew she ought to be on her guard, but not quite comprehending. What the hell had happened? One moment she was carving into Scotty's flesh. The next he had seized her wrists, and then... With a flash of horror she recalled the terror descending on her. She'd lost it. She'd let him see her fear. What had she said? What had she done? It doesn't matter. He knows. He has to know. And now he's taunting me about it... No one was ever supposed to know. Rage filled her, but she forced her facial muscles not to react. This moment was too important. In one swift movement she launched herself forward, staying low to the ground and drawing a second knife from her boot.

Of course she had another knife. So did he. He had the knife in his sleeve, and like her, knives in his boots, but he didn't draw any of them as Uhura launched herself at him. He caught one of her hands before the blade had a chance to connect, but he wasn't so lucky with the second. For a moment, he wasn't even aware that he'd been hit, and then... He glanced down, realized that he'd tried to move his arm, and that his arm wasn't responding - Uhura's blade had landed just shy of his shoulder. The only part of the blade visible was the hilt.

He turned his gaze back to her, locking his eyes on hers, and leaned forward, driving the blade in deeper. "Is that the best you've got?" he asked, his voice tight with pain. "I could do better in my sleep."

He caught one of her hands, but the other blade connected. A wave of pleasure ran through her as it sunk deep into his shoulder, her love of drawing blood chasing away the last of her fears. She was still too furious to even sneer. "Not even close, Scotty," she hissed, twisting the blade in his shoulder and tearing her wrist out of his grasp. The second blade was at his neck in an instant, and she held it there, staring into his eyes. "I want to kill you," she snarled, pressing the blade ever so slightly so that a few drops of red blood bubbled up. "But I'm going to have to settle for slicing you up. If you try to stop me, I might just decide that killing you is worth the consequences." Keeping a firm grip on the knife in his shoulder, she slid the other knife down his torso, slicing open the fabric of his shirt so that she had more skin to work with.

Stars exploded in his vision when she twisted the knife in his shoulder, but he didn't make a sound, apart from a quick, sharp exhale. She tore her wrist from his hand and he swallowed heavily, letting his arm drop back to his side as she pressed the second knife against his throat. His breathing heavy, he leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as she sliced his shirt open, focusing on the pain radiating from his shoulder. "Be careful, love," he warned her, laughing quietly just after he spoke. "Don't want me tae end up dead."

She laughed coldly at his words. He didn't want to fight back, and that was fine with her. Right now she just wanted to cause him pain, to leave her mark in his flesh. That little sharp exhale was music to her ears, and she wanted to hear more, wanted to see more beautiful blood. She forced back thoughts of what had just transpired, furious at her humiliation and a little afraid that if she let herself get too angry she really would kill him. "Oh, but I do, Scotty." She drew a line down his chest with the knife, cutting just deep enough to draw blood. "Don't tempt me." She brought the knife to her lips, flicking her tongue over it. "If you make me too angry, my blade might slip." This time, when her blade returned to his chest, it was deep enough to scar. She carefully carved the letters into his skin. Uhura.

He could have fought back. Even with the knife in his shoulder, he could have fought back. He had knives of his own, and one hand that still worked. But he was transfixed by the pain of her blade on his flesh, drawing in a deep breath every time she made a cut. He could lose a lot of blood this way, he knew, but by this point, he didn't much care. He couldn't help it; he laughed again, his hands trembling now with adrenaline. "Is it as good for you as it is for me?" he asked her, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

He inhaled deeply every time she cut into his skin, and she let the sounds wash over, let them drive away the memories that frightened her. There were already a myriad of scars on his chest, but these would be noticeable, these would be hers. Her mark. It sent pleasure coursing through her to be hurting him like this, to be marking him like this. She laughed softly at his words. "Better," she murmured, calm now, hands completely steady. "It's really a pity about the location. If I had my tools, my drugs, my ways to keep you from dying too soon, you can't imagine the pain I could make you feel."

He hated people touching him - unless, like Uhura was doing now, there was pain involved. Pain was safe, familiar, comforting. It was something he understood, something he embraced. And right now... He groaned softly at her words, leaning his head back to rest it against the wall of the lift. "Don't tempt me, love," he murmured, opening his eyes just enough to look at her. "I might just take you up on that." It could be dangerous, true, but as long as he had her knife... As long he had incentive for her to keep him alive... He twisted slightly, leaning into the blade in his shoulder, another soft groan escaping his lips.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject