"Who are you and what do you want with me?"

A cold, icy blue stare that chilled him to the bone was cast upon the imprisoned Augment. John Watson, rigid and firm in his place kept his eyes intently on the figure in front of him as a strange anger bubbled up from inside. Although he had opposed to this meeting, he had no choice but to execute what he was instructed to do. He couldn't defy them, as easy as it would be to, but he needed their trust. After hearing about Khan, John knew much better than to rebel.

John moved closer.

Once in a while, his left hand would unclench itself all too suddenly in an uncontrollable spasm that would wreak havoc on his bravado. When Khan's eyes flickered to the tremor, John's irritance only seemed to grow stronger as he felt inhibited by his flaw.

"What do you want?" he repeated through gritted teeth as he hid his trembling hand behind his back.

But all John received was silence and solemnity and he couldn't help but feel guilt eating its way inside him. He knew there was something there. A reason why his life was undoubtedly connected to the man in front of him.

The man they claimed to be Sherlock Holmes.

John shook his head and sighed, pacing to get rid of the stiff stillness that occupied the room and slowly, himself. And as he moved, so did his eyes. He scanned the interior of the room, watched the flickering lights, and waited for any sort of movement he could catch but all he saw was white. A crisp, clean white - almost too bright for his vision which was irregular to anything but the blackness for 300 years. But although straining to his sight, it wasn't uncommon.

He knew of this. Starfleet's white walls.

The memory of it was basically their beginnings as Augments, from waking up gasping for breath to practically living and growing accustomed to the laboratory's glossy interiors.

One memory remained painfully clear for John, however. Triggered by the pallidity of his surroundings, he could always recall the deep red splattering beneath him as it contrasted against the color. The horrid shot of ignorant betrayal ringing in his ears as he fell to his knees.

The blooming redness of his wound spreading to his shoulder.

But oddly enough, it was the lack of pain that had frightened him more than the shocking occurrence. John Watson was accustomed to pain during the war and had learned to accept and welcome it if it ever weaseled its way back into his life.

He no longer feared death back in the hot Afghan desert where every second could be his very last. They had to learn to embrace it when it came, and it came often.

But in a body much different from that time paired with a fearless mindset still unchanged, a numb sensation from an evident gun shot had brought nothing but realization to John Watson that day.

He was an Augment, and Augments weren't made to die.

They were made to survive and conquer. But that had went against everything John had instilled in himself; to sacrifice and to protect.

And like the blood that had oozed from his puckering wound, John had spotted yet another stark contrast to the whiteness that surrounded them.

One who unlike him, lived up to the true Augment nature.

Void black against the bleached walls, he stood unmoving in John's vision as he looked.

Khan said nothing to the man he yearned to talk to once more. He wanted him back, but he was afraid.

Afraid to lose John entirely. So he stood quietly, fearing his words that might only lead John farther and farther away from with every breath.

"I heard you've killed people." John spoke, edging nearer to the glass barrier that separated them.

"You've caused destruction and despair…why?"

Nothing.

"If you are who you claim to be, an Augment who've shared the same past as me, then what do you remember?"

Silence.

"Well?"

But Khan remained stoic with his face contorted in guilt and shame. There was nothing for him to remember. Only everything to forget.

And John couldn't see it because he too was blinded by the veil of fractured memory. All he knew was that he is alive while the others lay sleeping and that the man who had saved him was lost from his side. The one who had promised to be there, alive and well when he awoke.

Sherlock Holmes.

It had saddened John painfully, the memory of him, but there was something that picked in his mind. A nagging feeling that had kept him from feeling complete loss. From losing complete hope.

There was something, but he didn't know what.

Seeing Khan's face however, only seemed to agitate him even more.

"Well?!" he repeated sharply. "Aren't you going to answer me? To defend your identity?! Aren't you going to explain who you are and convince me of your story?!"

Khan, nerving and stern, winced back from John's biting words, but his eyes flew open in shock and worry as John had lost his balance and almost collapse in front of him, gripping his head in an evident agony.

He couldn't help but recognize that look of pain. A pain he had felt a long time ago when he was a young Augment, freshly gifted with an enhanced mind that he had yet to accept and tame. He could bear with it then, but not now.

Never now when John was the one to shoulder the pain.

"Jo-!" he attempted to call out, but quickly bit back the desperately escaping words of worry and woe. Fear still seeped between the cracks and it crippled him.

And when the torment stopped, John had placed a hand against the glass in front of him to steady himself, the surface fogging around the skin of his palm, indicating the rising temperature of his body, while sweat glistened above his brow. He cursed himself under his breath, punishing his unstable mind.

"I'm trying to remember...truly I am. There's something about you that keeps me from walking away from all...this. But every time I try to remember, my head burns up in flames."

The hand upon the glass now began to ball into a fist as John turned away.

"I don't know who you are...I'm sorry."

And everything that held Khan together began to crumble. Hearing the conformation repeat itself from John's voice had struck him hard as it did when John had first awoken, but he still couldn't accept it. He didn't want to be forgotten.

The distance between the two began to drift apart once more as John began to leave. There was nothing left for him to say or do and he hated it. But it was the truth.

Khan however, had finally broke out of his mold as he lifted a hand against the glass marked by John's hand imprinted on the surface that began to slowly fade away.

There was nothing left for John to say, but a million more was buried within Khan's throat, but only a few had risen up to his tongue and out his mouth in the form of vibrating whispers.

"My name is Khan, but I had gone under the pseudonym of John Harrison when I first awoke in fear of being discovered by those who knew of the existence of Augments. John Harrison. An homage...to you."

John had froze to a halt, eyes wide with realization and unprecedented grief.

Harrison.

Yes...he was Harrison. That was who he was as an Augment. A name his crew had known him by. A name exclusive only to those few.

That meant...

He turned back to meet Khan's eyes, no longer cold or distant.

Khan took another shaky breath as John moved closer.

"My name is Khan," he repeated.

"and all I want...is for you to remember me."

Khan's chest burned with sentiment. He closed his eyes painfully, letting his only memories flow freely in his mind. Memories of a single name, a single person, and a single time.

"John Hamish Watson…" Khan murmured, inaudible outside the glass, but loud enough for it to echo clearly in his cell. His own words repeatedly reaching back to his ears like a haunting reminder of his purpose.

And when he looked back up, John's eyes, intent and forlorn, once again met his.

But as he expected more words of scorn and exasperation for not giving a different request, for repeating an almost impossible demand, John had snapped bitterly yet forlornly as he banged his trembling fist against the impenetrable glass.

"Well I do too!" he cried, fogging the glass with his gasping breath. "I want to remember you…"

"I want to know...I want to know…"

Miles away from the Enterprise on a different ship bearing a different name, Jim Kirk had made his way back onto the large vastness of the Vengeance.

With the power completely disabled and the systems shut off, the corridors held nothing but an eerie darkness that had made ice chill over Kirk's blood. The worst however, was yet to come.

As he walked the silent halls with nothing but a single light guiding his way through the blackness, there would be times when he would catch sight of Marcus's fallen crew members that had met Khan's wrath slumped against the walls or sprawled against the cold floor. The pungent smell of blood had reached his nose long before his brain could register what he just saw but unfortunately, it wasn't an uncommon sight for the young captain.

Death, to him and all of the other officers before and besides him who had bore the weight of responsibilities of their crew, was expected and must be endured. But it did not mean he had the heart to simply walk past the bodies without a care. It only made it harder for him to try.

But Kirk wasn't here to pity the dead nor was he there to wander aimlessly in the dark. He had a sole reason to step foot back on the great ship and he was intent on fulfilling it.

He was on a self-assigned mission to find any available information about the Augments from the data files of Alexander Marcus.

Although evidently dead and probably rotting away in the Enterprise's medical bay, Kirk knew that the admiral must have kept intelligence on them close to him. A reason to how he had known about the Augments long before they had awoken.

While aboard, he searched intently for Marcus's part of the ship. An office, a storage room, anything was enough for Kirk as long as it gave him the answers that he needed.

Pushing deeper through the empty halls Kirk thought about Khan and John Watson. He thought about the way Khan's persona had melted off into someone much different when John had awoken. He thought about his anguish and his pain of being lost and forgotten, divergent to the vengeful villain he was back when Marcus was alive, provoking him into madness as he threatened the lives of his crew.

But now the Admiral was dead, and John, alive.

The man he knew as Khan was dying, now that hatred had finished festering in him and rising to take his place was someone else. Someone far more human.

And to wipe the threat that Khan harbored in him, Kirk needed to pull that someone out from Khan's ashes.

But meandering around a ship two times the size of a regular Constitution-class did not make his efforts any easier. Nothing but empty rooms occupied the warship and Kirk began to tire and lose motivation as he snaked through the cramped closeness of the corridors. It was only until he was met by a single door on the far end of the hallway.

Large and distinct from the others, it beckoned to Kirk, pulling him in like bait to a fish.

Almost sprinting towards the door, Kirk had easily infiltrated the disabled lock just as he had easily slipped into the mystery entrance.

Compared to the other failed rooms he had entered, this one however, was much grander and gave of a sense of superiority and knowledge. Cabinets littered the sides and blueprints, manuals, and books were sprawled haphazardly around the floor. In the center of it all sat a large desk just as untidy.

Although striking gold, Kirk gave a tired sigh.

"Spock," he spoke through his communicator in defeat. "I'm inside the Vengeance in search for anything that might have information on our superhumans and I'm going to need a hand sorting through all this crap."

It only took a few seconds of silence to fly by until another voice responded back to him.

"Affirmative Captain, I will pinpoint your location and transport to you immediately."

As Kirk clicked his device closed, he then began to search the place as he waited for his Vulcan. He nonchalantly flipped through the books and papers in front of him with no desire to begin rummaging properly for clues alone. It was way too much for him to go through by himself and he had no confidence that he could find anything singlehandedly.

"Come on Spock, what's taking you so damn long…" he whispered as he brushed his fingers on the side of the grand desk. But as he shone a light on the papers scattered on the surface, his eyes caught an unlabeled file kept bound and preserved unlike the unkempt rest.

Jim squinted and took hold of it curiously. In it, held thin sheets of crinkled paper, some torn, some kept in nearly perfect shape. The thing that had baffled Kirk however, was its texture. Delicately thin, the bounds of paper itself were as fragile as crisp leaves and smelt of must.

Almost ancient.

Drawing closer however made it evident that thin, wispy strokes of black against the greying paper formed letters into words and into sentences. The curvy penmanship indicated handwritten text that differed from the rest of Marcus's pile. After reading a few, it didn't take long for Jim to understand what they were and when he did, he had lost his breath out of nervousness and anticipation, almost dropping his flashlight in complete bewilderment.

Suddenly, a beam of light had appeared behind him where the tall and stiff form of Spock emerged from the darkness, but when he received no response or greeting, the befuddled Vulcan looked at his captain with questioning eyes, inching closer as he made his way to Kirk's form hunched over a pile of papers with great interest.

"Captain?" he called out softly. "Did you find something of use to us?"

And Jim, elated as he was, turned to face his second officer with the unlabeled file in his hands and a look of success in his face. He shook his head as if shaking himself awake from a dream and did the same with the papers in his hands.

"Letters, Spock!" he laughed. "Letters…

to Sherlock Holmes!"

A/N Ohohoho! Who could it be from? Any guesses? X)

Anyways, sorry again for the wait, but hey I did warn you guys! Just so you know, May is the month of ridiculous SAT and AP testings so that means April is cram month and I was fortunate enough for spring break to arrive and give me some time to write before I go into hardcore study mode. But good news!(or is it bad news, you decide) there is only a few chapters left so you guys are almost there! Thank you so much again for following through with this fic and for helping me with editing and reviewing! You guys are radical.

Reviews are helpful and welcomed! :3