Timeline: Chromosome 24

John holds his sister until they are on Earth. She sighs tiredly when he sets her down on the stretcher and her fingers flex around his hand. He doesn't ever want to let her go again, but the EMTs are wheeling her away and officers he doesn't recognize are pulling him away so he can explain why he's the only one left and why was there an explosion in the Ark and what the hell happened up there, Reaper?

He gives these skeptical officers his report in clipped tones, leaving out the ricocheted bullet and the Chromosome 24 Sam injected him with. There's no way in hell he's going to turn into some science experiment for this unholy mix of military and corporation. Even as he goes over all the deaths—all his friends' deaths—, he realizes that there's no way he's staying here. He's getting out and…doing something. Something far away from the military and space because fuck. He informs his superior officers of his intent to leave in this meeting. They exchange smug, smirking looks with each other. These looks, they say poor boy, can't handle his shit. John ignores it.

At the hospital he learns of the debilitating gash Sam's leg that's going to take weeks of physical therapy. She gives him a wincing smile; his fingers itch to grab her hand, but her hands are slim and pale and still in her lap, as if she is a statue. When he tells her of his lie and his resignation, her smile dims some. "What are you going to do then?" she asks.

He looks at her. Her pale blond hair, sun bright and wavy, was once Emily McCoy-Grimm's marker; much like Sam, their mother would always have it pulled back, away from her face, curling wisps sticking to her temples from the heat of the Martian atmosphere. Sam's hazel-green eyes, his eyes, were their father's; however, Leonard Grimm's had always been shaded by floppy hats and tinted glasses as he sweated over clean-cut maps and archaeological tools. He cuts his eyes away from her face and focuses on the precise stitching of the blanket.

"I don't know," he slowly says. After his parents' deaths, he had craved for anything that had pulled him away from science. Now, with the mark of Reaper and the alien injection floating in his veins…

He shakes his head. "What about you, Sam? You're not thinking about going back up there, are you?" His voice is gruff and blunt.

What little color is in her cheeks drain away, her mouth twitching down. "I'm not sure," she finally says. Her eyes dart to the bandages wrapped around her leg. "I would like to…"

"Are you insane?" John snaps. All during that nightmare on Olduvai, he had rarely lost his composure. And yet, his sister… "Not only did mom and dad die out there, in space, but you just witnessed what can happen out there! And you want to go back?"

Sam lets out a long sigh. "Yes," she huffs. "I would like to."

"You almost died up there," John bites out. His stomach is turning sickeningly, but there's nothing in there to come back up.

Sam purses her mouth together and pointedly does not look at him. "I will be going back up there, John," she resolutely tells the blanket. "Just like mom and dad."

John wants to shake his sister, ask her why she's being so stupid, but the only thing he can force out is, "And then you're going to die up there, like them."

A tiny woman in pale blue scrubs bustles in, breaking the tension in the air. She smiles indulgently at John and goes, "Sir, I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over now. I must check Miss Grimm now, if you please."

John sighs and the hot rage bubbling beneath his skin settles. He wants to gather Sam in a hug, make sure that she's still there and solid and real, but all he does is pat her awkwardly on the shoulder and say, "Get some rest."

She watches him as he walks out of the room.

Over the months that she's still stuck on Earth for physical rehabilitation, he gets a job as an EMT. It's still the same chase, the same thrill, that being a soldier brought, but he is not an out-and-out killer anymore. People may die, but he is not the Reaper.

One day, he's lounging, waiting for sleep to hit him, in the shitty, cheap-ass apartment he somehow managed to scrounge enough money for a lease for, when there's a quiet knock. He's visited Sam over the months and it's always always awkward and tense and stilted; with her standing all quiet and precise in this dingy apartment, that awkward tension only winds tighter and tighter. She swallows and shifts the messenger bag on her shoulder. "I'm leaving today," she says.

John grinds his teeth together. They've talked about this and there seems to be absolutely no way to convince her to keep her feet firmly planted on Earth. He exhales deeply through his nose and does not look at her.

She curls one thumb in the belt loop on her slacks and shifts her weight. "It's just a scientific excursion." Silence. "I'll make sure to keep in touch, John." The floorboards creak as she shifts again.

Her expression blanks and she's just about to turn away and leave, when John steps forward and pulls her into a hug. Sam startles and then hesitantly wraps her arms around him. "I'll be fine," she murmurs.

He breathes in the fresh, sunlit scent of her hair, her skin, her clothes. "Just…be safe, alright?" He pulls away from her and they share small, almost bittersweet smiles. And then she's gone, much like the sunlight on a cloudy day.

Time passes and he's still an EMT and still stuck in his shitty apartment and Sam does keep in touch, although their conversations still have that strange tension to it that he figures will never ever go away. Time continues to pass.

One day two of the new EMTs are arguing in hushed whispers and swatting at each other like seven-year-olds. They keep throwing narrowed-eyed glances at him. This scrutiny, it itches along his skin.

Finally, he turns and barks, "What?"

They startle. The man swallows and lies, "Nothing."

John rolls his eyes. "If you're going to say it's 'nothing,' then you should at least have the proof to back it up. Now, answer me: what?" His voice is closer to a growl on the last word.

The woman pales and rapidly, stutteringly, says, "We were just wondering how old you were."

John glares. "That's what you're wasting your time with?"

Emerson leans over to him. This woman has known him since he first started. She's short and curvy and has chin-length auburn hair tucked behind her ears. She frowns. "Actually, Grimm, that's a good question. You don't look any different since the day I met you. And that was ten years ago."

John doesn't jump because he was a soldier and a little information is not startling and—wait, ten years? That can't be right. He counts backwards.

Emerson leans a little closer, green eyes going over his face. "Yeah, you don't even have any wrinkles or gray hair or anything." Her grin is sudden and teasing. "Any tips you would like to share?" She laughs lightly and walks away to hopefully bother someone else.

John turns away from the two newbies, concentrating on the medical journal he's holding.

He hears the guy whisper to his partner in crime, "'Grim'? As in the Grim Reaper? Wonder how many people die on his watch."

The woman shushes him.

Later, John goes back to his dingy apartment and stares into the small bathroom mirror. Ten years. That's the right amount of time. He's close to hitting fifty. And yet…Emerson is right. There are no deep wrinkles, no gray hairs, no sagging skin. He doesn't look anywhere near fifty. He feels as fit as ever. He peers at his reflection for another minute and then turns away.

He gets a message from Sam. She's going to be back on Earth in a few days. She's going to visit him.

Just like she says, she's at his door and knocking a few days later. She laughs a little and goes, "I figure you wouldn't change places." He's struck by her. There's silver in her pale hair, deep lines along her mouth and across her forehead and at the corners of her eyes. She's gotten skinnier, all bones in her wrist, all veins in her hands. She smiles at him and says, "I'm glad to see you John."

He nods slowly. "Me too."

They sit and she talks and talks and talks of everything she's doing in space. There are so many things they're finding up there, so many digs and artifacts. They're even talking about getting beyond Neptune and Uranus for their excursions. "People are developing new things," she says, sipping at the tea she somehow managed to make with the few things John has in his apartment. "There's something I've heard called 'warp' and it'll take us farther than ever before." She smiles a little. "There may even be other races out there, John."

He lets her talk, lets all this "space" stuff flow in one ear and out the other. Then, finally, he asks, "Sam? Chromosome 24…" and trails off.

She goes silent, still. Then, quietly, "Are you having issues?"

He looks down. The carpet beneath his feet is stained. "You said they had managed to overcome disease." He can't look her in the eye. "How did these things die then? Old age?"

She sighs, long and slow. "John…we never figured that out." He watches her hands instead of her face. They trace along her mug and dip and sway through the air like pale birds. They are less damning than the hazel-green of her eyes. "We couldn't tell how long they lived. We suspect most of them died when Chromosome 24 started choosing its vessels as the ones who would be monsters."

He forces out, "Is there the possibility they could have been immortal?"

"Well, no. Long-living, perhaps, especially to our standards…" she trails off. Then she sternly goes, "John, look at me. Is there some sort of problem with Chromosome 24?"

He looks up. Her mouth is a thin line, her eyebrows pinched together. Her narrow shoulders are tense. "No," he lies. "Everything is fine." The line of her mouth breaks and she smiles slightly. They continue talking, ignoring the thread of tension the both of them are carrying.

She leaves Earth two days later, going off somewhere in the deep, darkness of space. He stays an EMT, watching as people come and go. As he continues unchanging, the world shifts. Peace continues to spread, crime slowly winking out. Everyone is everyone's friend and the Earth wants to share that peace with any denizens beyond the singular planet, into the other space systems. John scoffs at this move into space, this urge for space, and goes on with life.

More years pass and one day John gets a message detailing the death of Samantha Grimm. It was a hatch on the ship she was on; it cracked and all the passengers died. John quits his job and wanders aimlessly. The only thing, besides all the money he has, that stays with him is an old picture of his family, on Earth; they are in front of an old house, his parents sprawled on the stairs with Sam and John between them. The only thing he can think of is Sam, his beautiful older sister, now dead.

He doesn't know how much time passes as he wanders from place to place. Most of the time, his mind is at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. There are more women and men that he beds than he can count. The amount of times he crosses the nation rises and rises. He can't quite remember what it was like having a real home.

One day, hung over and already half-drunk, John looks at the picture of his family. He can imagine the frowns all three of them would be wearing if they could see him. His mother would have tears in her eyes, but her frown would be stern. His father would shake his head, his glare both disappointed and angered. His sister, his lovely older sister Sam, would have that hopeless tinge to her frown. These images, these fancies, hit him harder than he thought they would. He drains the alcohol he has and hitches a ride to Georgia. Before Olduvai, it had been home to his parents. Now, possibly, it's a home for him.

He doesn't bother with trying to find the imperial white house from the picture, instead picking a ramshackle apartment he can actually afford. He purchases an old computer and doctors some birth certificates and IDs. Then he has to sit there and growl and painstakingly hack his way into his files from the Marines. It would be harder than it is if he hadn't been taught the basics of computer coding and if someone had actually changed the foundation of all the programs he needs to get into. As it is, everything is the same as it was years before and there is little issue in changing John Grimm's status to deceased and creating new files through credit systems and jobs for a new persona. He applies for another position as an EMT and remains quiet when they check his files. Smiling, they give him the job.

Even with the job, he tries to avoid people. He hides himself away in his apartment. It's always so so quiet, despite his neighbors on both sides. His mouth waters for the taste of alcohol, but he does not let himself buy it. Without the deep sleep of being spectacularly trashed, John starts to dream. They are dreams of his parents, of Olduvai, of Sam. They are horrors that wake him in the middle of the night, fingers tearing into the sheets, a scream choking off his breath. Because of these nightmares, he only gets a few hours of sleep a night, the rest spent up, pacing and talking out loud to himself.

John suspects that he may be going a little crazy. He's not sure there's anything he can do about that.

The years continue to pass. Eventually, he has to move again, concoct a different name and life. He has to do this again and again and again. However, he remains in Georgia, that family picture his one and only consolation. The nightmares continue in a downward spiral.

It's in a new place, with new people, when he finally cracks. A woman comes in, all sunlit blonde hair and hazel-green eyes and pale skin. There's a bullet in her stomach and knife slices along her skin and she bleeds, oh, she bleeds, all dark red smears. She convulses, red painting her mouth, and her face goes blank. John shouts for everything, anything. They try to bring her back, but the other people on his team shake their heads when they wheel her into the ER and the surgeons take over. John sees the doors to the ER swing close and everything blurs and then goes dark.

He wakes up in an empty hospital room, IVs trailing from his arms. He's still groggy, but he feels more rested than he has in weeks, years. A man leans over him; white hair is slicked behind his ears and tiny, square glasses magnify the gray in his eyes. His name tag reads TILL.

John attacks the fuzz on his teeth with his tongue and goes, "What happened?"

Dr. Till smiles at him, his fingers cold on the bend of his elbow. "Dehydration, sleep deprivation, malnutrition…," he lists. His bushy eyebrows go up. "Among other things. You're looking a little better though."

"Yeah," John says and scrubs a hand over his face. "Feel better, too."

Dr. Till grabs his chart and flips through the pages. After a few minutes, he sits on the edge of the bed and goes, "Now, why are these things happening?"

John frowns at this nosy old man. "You're not a psychiatrist, are you?"

Till cocks his head. "No," he says. "I just don't want to see you back in here. As an EMT you should be taking care of yourself." He smiles disarmingly. "So, speak."

John stares. Then he calmly rips out the IVs and swings his legs over the bed. However, when he tries to stand, his legs give out. The smack of tile against his face is both cold and jarring. Till stares down at him, sighs, and comes over to help him back onto the bed.

He stares at John with wise eyes. "Tell me."

John shifts uncertainly under the scrutiny. "Just nightmares keeping me awake. Insomnia. I just need some pills, or something, to help me get asleep."

"Nightmares can stem from psychological problems…," Till leads. But John says nothing. "Fine," Till goes. He scribbles something on the papers of John's chart and says, "I'll give you some sleep aids, but you need to talk to someone about whatever issues you're trying to deal with. Pills are not going to solve the underlying problem. If I see you back here…" He gives John a significant look, places the chart back, and strides out of the room.

A day later and he's back on the job. The sleeping pills lent him a night of dreamless sleep and he feels wired with energy. Yet, there's the niggling thought that those pills will run out eventually and there's no way he's going to be a slave to them. He looks up Dr. Till and hunts the man down in the cafeteria. The old man is sucking down coffee and has a sandwich in front of him. John grabs a Styrofoam cup of coffee and sits down across from Dr. Till. Till stares at him for only a moment and then he's smiling and talking as if there's nothing strange about this.

They spend weeks like this before John broaches the subject of his nightmares. He hesitatingly tells Till of his experience as a Marine, of his sister and parents in space, of the virus that mutated and killed his fellow soldiers. Once again there is no mention of the ricocheted bullet and the Chromosome 24. He tells of her death, his wanderings, his dunk into the bottle, his descent into insanity. Till chuckles and says, "It's not insanity. It's just a horrible combination of grief and stress, my boy."

And, that's the first step, the first crack. John gets used to seeing Till almost every single day, simply talking. Till is his friend and he already knows this is not going to end well. Yet, he continues meeting the old doctor.

One day Till comes into the cafeteria and he is pale, the only color in his face the shadows under his eyes. They get through most of lunch before John abruptly, roughly, asks, "What's wrong?"

Till coughs into one gnarled fist. His smile is wan and trembling. "I'm just a little sick," he says; his eyes, dark gray and tired say: do not ask. John reins in his curiosity, his worry, and lets it go.

It is no surprise then when a few weeks later, Till does not show up. John asks around the hospital and he finds out that Till in stuck in a hospital room, resting, supposedly healing. John hunts him down and sits at the bedside. Till does not wake up this time, nor the next few times John comes within the following week. One day, however, Till does wake up and peers blankly at John for a few minutes before asking, "Whatever are you doing here?"

"You're sick."

Till hacks out a laugh and smiles a little. "Yes, but I am an old man. It is normal for me to be ill, whereas you are young and supposed to be out living."

John ignores the implied you are not supposed to be here and asks, "What is it?" He has his own suspicions. Medical training in the military had only yielded enough information so emergencies during missions could be handled. Information about basic sicknesses was completely passed by. Little more information was added during his years as an EMT.

Till's eyebrows rise. "I'm surprised. You can't figure it out?"

John shifts his shoulders and glances away. "I got my training as a Marine. I never did the whole doctor thing like all the other EMTs."

The bushy white eyebrows furrow. "Why not? It seems like something you would like." A rusty laugh. "Your bedside manner would be absolutely atrocious, but you would be an excellent doctor."

John scowls. "Maybe, maybe not. Now, come on, old man, just tell me."

Till sighs tiredly. "Pneumonia, my boy. Nothing can really be done." His smile is just this side of broken. "I'm dying."

John wants to say many stupid stupid things, all the silly little platitudes, but he knows better. He pats the wrinkled hand. Three days later, Nathaniel Jason Till is dead and John is leaving this town for a whole new place.

It's as he's still wandering around Georgia that he thinks of the idea of becoming a doctor. It's so removed from both military and corporation; plus, he also likes working as an EMT. He sits down at a free computer terminal in a coffee shop (and when did that happen? how much had he missed?) and hacks into his database once more, declaring this man deceased and creating a whole new person. This new man, he applies to the University of Mississippi. He gets accepted into the school and spends years there learning all he can. At one branch, under one name, he learns all about human anatomy and physiology. At another he delves into alien medicine.

(And, dear God, when did that happen? He looks up the past decades—damn near a century—he's apparently missed and discovers that alien life forms had been found and they're completely sentient and they have their very own civilizations and cultures and Earth is actually lower on the scale compared to some of these cultures. With all these new races and new cultures, the United Federation of Planets was formed, years and years ago, and people were recruited for the cause.)

He literally spends years going through all the alien medicine. Medicine, for all races, is intriguing. He picks a hospital and works there for years, time passing easily as he is immersed in medicine. With this new place, he discovers the joy in alcohol once more. There are easy times with others from the hospital, easy times at bars, when he does not get blindingly drunk, when he does not get spectacularly smashed, and a weight is gone from his shoulders.

More years pass and he starts seeing funny looks from people. Looks of why are you still here? Looks of how are you still alive? Looks of why aren't you old? As there are no alien races that have been discovered that are exactly like humans but with an extended life span (except for the super-Martians on Mars, but that is old, ancient information that nobody cares about, that nobody really knows about unless they are historians specializing in alien cultures and those are wonderfully rare) so he leaves again.

This time he settles down in a small town. He changes all his files again. This time, he takes his father's name, his mother's maiden name. He is Leonard McCoy in this time, a doctor with a private practice. He is there for a few years, happy in this little town.

And then he meets Jocelyn Smith. She is beautiful and intelligent and funny and he completely falls head over heels for her. (And it's not like he means to, oh no. He's struck by his attraction for her when she comes in to get flu medicine and she keeps coming back and flirting and teasing and being coy. So when she asks him on a date, he simply can't help himself. He says yes and it spirals out of control from there.)

They date. The elderly ladies in the town coo over them. A few years pass and John is so in love. He can't imagine leaving this woman's side, ever. He's really not thinking when he asks her to marry him. Yet, Jocelyn says yes and they are happy. They are happy and John is a horrible horrible liar and he has no idea what he's going to do when she gets older and he doesn't.

And then one day Jocelyn comes up to him, hands on her stomach, beaming, and says, "Len, I'm pregnant."

He says something and she throws her arms around him, but the only thing he can feel is fear. Not just of upcoming parenthood—which is frightening enough in and of itself—but because he has Chromosome 24 and the child…

He says nothing to her about it and just holds her tighter.

There are nine months of chaos and hormones and stress and then there is Joanna Samantha McCoy. Jocelyn sleeps with this little child cradled in her arms and John takes a tiny drop of blood. In his own lab at the back of his practice, he analyzes it, but there is nothing. Still there is that fear that something might be wrong with his child because of him.

And all of a sudden, things are spiraling out of control. They fight all the time, about every little thing. John starts finding solace in alcohol again. Still, he has that singular picture (Jocelyn: god, Len, who the hell are they? I've never met your family, there was no one at the wedding, don't you dare walk away from me…) and he does not completely descend into the darkness that he had hit after Sam's death. When Joanna turns four, Jocelyn gives up. She hands him divorce papers and after some struggle, he signs them. Then her demon of a lawyer comes in and sweeps everything away from him, including his own child.

When Joanna is four and a half years old, he is kicked out of the house he and Jocelyn bought together with nothing to his name but a single picture and the clothes on his back. There is absolutely nothing he can do at this point, it seems.

He sits at a coffee shop, ignoring the people milling concernedly around him. A few are giving him dirty looks. He debates going over to the computer terminal and just changing everything once more when Mrs. Gehannes, an older lady that had always come to his practice, approaches him.

She smiles a little and pats his arm, "I'm sorry, Dr. McCoy. I mean, you and Jocelyn were always such a cute couple and poor little Joanna…" John says nothing. She leans forward conspiratorially. "Well, Mrs. Wilkes came up to me and said that she heard that you don't have anything or anywhere to go." Her smile is sweet and for a moment he thinks she might offer to put him up for the night. She does offer that, sweetly, but then she goes, "It's just, well, you've heard of the Federation right? Of Starfleet?" When he nods, she continues, "With your medical practice, you could do something like that, since your practice is gone. They have dorms at the school in California I've heard. With your skills, they're bound to take you in." Her smile widens a little. She flushes a little under his gaze and says something along the lines of how her son is in Starfleet and he simply adores it.

He stays at her place for the night. As he's staring up at her ceiling in the middle of the night, he thinks about her words. The Federation. Starfleet. It's for peace and he would be using his medical skills, not being a soldier. But still…it's in space. However, there's nothing for him on Earth except for his baby girl and he's not going to be able to see her for years if Jocelyn has her way.

Halfway through convincing himself that joining Starfleet would be a bad idea, he realizes that his friends and his family would be ashamed. All these years, and he's still avoiding space? Okay, Goats wouldn't be ashamed, but he would say something about the shepherd leading the flock and then would go off into a sermon of some sort. But Sarge…the man would have his head on a platter for pulling shit like this. And yeah, the man had been a monster at the end, but they had been friends. Once. The Kid would be ashamed. A hero like that, hiding behind fake names and alcohol?

And his parents…well, disappointing their memory seems to be John's purpose now. Sam, though…Sam had seen the horror of Olduvai and she had still gone back up to space. Had it just been stubbornness? That was always a possibility with her. She had confronted whatever fears she had and had gone back up. She had died up there, but she had still gone back up.

The next morning, John uses Mrs. Gehannes's computer to apply for Starfleet. Mrs. Gehannes grins at him and says he can stay there until the reply comes back. She seems convinced that he will get accepted. He stays for a week before a message comes for him, saying that he has been accepted and that he has to be at the Riverside Shipyard in Iowa to catch the flight to the Academy in San Francisco.

Mrs. Gehannes gives him some money and a bus ticket to the Shipyard. While he's speechless with gratitude, she winks and says, "That's for all the times you helped me, Leonard. Now, go on and save the Earth, okay?" She laughs brightly when he gets on the bus and then he's gone.

The Shipyard is a large, sprawling place, interspersed with glowing, blinking lights and technology he's never even seen. He's directed to the cadet ship and is blinded by the deep red cadet uniforms. For a moment, he's perfectly fine. Then it sets in that he's on a fucking ship that's eventually going to take him to space and oh hell, what the fuck is he doing?

He goes to the bathroom to hyperventilate in private. The tiny flask of whiskey he has is a warming comfort, but it does absolutely nothing for the panic choking off his breath. A tiny woman in a uniform strong-arms her way into the bathroom and bustles him out. He tries to convince this officer that he's perfectly fine in there and he has aviophobia and he doesn't need a doctor, damn it, he is one. She forces him to a seat and then he's stuck next to this young kid with sun-golden hair and bright blue eyes and a sort of annoying youthful heroicness.

He talks to this kid, shares alcohol with this kid, and finds out this kid's name is Jim Kirk. They get to the Academy and this kid, this Jim Kirk, sticks to him like glue. He thinks, oh hell, I've got myself a shadow, but he's really okay with that because this kid is charming and amusing and frustrating all in one go. They don't dorm together (they can't and John somehow managed to wrangle his way into a single dorm room, which he is perfectly okay with), but this kid somehow manages to hunt him down during his lunch hour and sits down and starts talking to him like they're friends.

As he sees more and more of the Jim Kirk underneath the charming mask and he spends more and more time with him, John figures they are. (Not enough, quite yet, for John to reveal his deep dark secret of Chromosome 24, but enough that he can tell Jim about Jocelyn and Joanna and Sam.)

Within three years, Jim changes from "that kid" to his best friend. So when Jim decides to do the Kobayashi Maru for the third time, he figures what the hell and thinks nothing of it until Jim somehow manages to pass the damn thing. He knows enough about Jim Kirk to know he did something to make this happen and he waits for the fallout. When Jim is called in the meeting for cheating, well, it's not unexpected. Then this teacher, Spock, walks up as the accuser and the two are bantering and arguing and then everything goes to hell.

As part of Starfleet, John must go to hell also then, but Jim is on academic probation and looks like a kicked puppy when he walks away. He can just imagine the sad little look and he damns himself and then Jim and then this Spock guy and all of Starfleet before he turns around and pulls Jim away so they can get him onto the Enterprise.

After some sedatives, Jim goes crazy (well, crazier) and then gets wrangled into jumping off the damn ship to stop some drilling device on Vulcan. John curses the lot of them, more so when he gets forced into the job of CMO. Everything is spiraling deeper into hell because of this Nero guy and Captain Spock and crazy, beaten Jim and hey, somewhere within all the crazy and ingenuity and death, they manage to save Earth.

They all pile off back to the Academy where the graduating class is stripped to its bare bones and they discover that the crew of the Enterprise are heroes now. It's fitting for the rest of them, all these bright, young geniuses, but John is no hero and he's known that for a long, long time.

Jim pulls him into the position of CMO again for their five-year mission and Spock joins as First Officer right before they're about to take off; despite Uhura's claim to the guy, John can see beyond the slight tension and the clipped words and the avoiding eyes that occur on the bridge. They're like two kids on a playground, he decides, and tries to be consoling when Jim comes to him to drink and bitch.

It's no surprise to him when Spock and Uhura split and Jim and the hobgoblin shack up together. In fact, he's really amused by it, especially since it reduces Jim to fretting over an actual relationship instead of just dealing with a one-night stand. The relationship strengthens and grows and it's almost sickeningly cute.

There's the first five-year mission and the second and the third and it continues like that until most of them are old and gray. (Except for John, of course. He uses make-up and dye to cover his true age. He still gets shifty looks from the main crew, but none actually say anything.) They split and the Enterprise goes to a new captain. They split and they die. Unlike most bridge crews in the Federation, they die at old, happy ages. Scotty is the first to go. Then Sulu and Chekov. Then Uhura. Then Jim dies, with Spock and John watching over him. Spock, old and now alone, goes to the colony Vulcan II and remains there. John…John is lost and tired.

He stays on Earth long enough to go to Joanna's wedding. (The man she's marrying doesn't know what to do when confronted with the always absent father. At least he's not a father that looks Joanna's age. A little make-up fixes that, however.) While Jocelyn is less than pleased, Joanna is ecstatic that she can walk down the aisle with him. He presses a kiss to her forehead, watches her first dance with her husband, threatens the man that he will know if this guy hurts his baby, and then leaves.

He accepts a commission for another five-year mission aboard another ship. He avoids the people on board and waits until they land on a peaceful planet. When they land he smashes his communicator and hides away. He sees a few red-shirts looking for him, but they leave after a while, probably deeming him dead.

He shelters himself. Soon, however, the natives search him out and ask him many questions. Most are concerned about what he is going to do, but the elders touch his fingers, chitter at each other, and deem him true.

One elder sits next to him, a thick gray braid over her shoulder, and stares concernedly into his eyes. Finally, she smiles at him and goes, "You fit in here. Stay." She pats his hand and the natives leave.

He is able to let go here. He spends his days doing honest labor in his small home and his nights are without nightmares. A few days after his first meeting with the natives, a few younglings approach him and paint symbols that curl along his shoulder blades. The elder woman follows soon after and laughs when she draws her fingers on those new tattoos. "They accept you," she says. "They deem you a healer."

He agrees and soon enough he is within the village, dealing with the natives. He heals what he can with the limited supplies he has. In return they teach him their language and their culture.

The elder woman approaches him again. She asks him his story. As he tells it to her, she paints symbols along his side. Some of these symbols he recognizes; it is their language. His story, perhaps? He fans his hand over the top of these symbols and wonders what they exactly say. Olduvai and Sam, Till, Jocelyn and Joanna, Jim and the rest of the Enterprise crew…

The elder woman finishes. She watches him with filmy blue eyes and nods her head decisively. "Your name."

"What?" he says because it's been years since anybody's called him John and he doesn't want to give any of his fake names to these people.

"Your name," she repeats. "Is Cylus Vaako."

She gathers her brushes and paints as he stares. "What do you mean?" he asks incredulously.

She sighs, as if he's purposely being obtuse. "You come here for new life. You need new name. Cylus for searching. Vaako for healer." A smile twitches her lips up.

He inclines his head. "Thank you," he says. Another smile and then she's hobbling away with her brushes and paint.

There are many, many years he's on this planet. As there are no time pieces, he can only tell the passing of time by how the people grow. He learns their rituals and language. Eventually, he can read the story painted on his back and side. None question his unchanging age. They merely accept it as him being an off world healer.

Then one day, a comet passes overhead. It glows bright white-blue and seems to sprinkle stars across the sky. He remembers all the physics and astronomy he had to learn at the Academy, but that vanishes when one small star breaks away from the tail and lands on the planet in the form of metallic ships.

Men march onto the planet and Lord Marshall Covu commands the death of all who resist. The men of the natives fight and die. John—Vaako tries to heal them, but their bodies are resisting any and all attempts. The men die and the women submit.

Seeing this man, Vaako is filled with contempt, with the desire to kill these men for the deaths of these peaceful people. He wants to die instead of giving up. Yet…the women and girls crowd around him. One small girl takes his hand; her fingers tremble against his. He cannot leave them alone. He follows the people that have become his family onto these metallic ships and becomes purified.

All pain disappears, including the recent grief for the dead men. For once, his mind is completely cleared. He can think of his parents, his Marine friends, Sam, Till, Jocelyn, Joanna, Jim, and all the rest with nothing more than a clear mind. However, his focus is only on the pain of his neck, nothing more. He is…free.

They ask his name and he gives it and he becomes a soldier once more. Most soldiers are Purified every few weeks. Because of Chromosome 24, he has to be Purified every few days. The Lord Marshall and the nobles purport the religion connected to Necromongers. He does not believe; he has never believed. The only thing he trusts is the Purifying. It is sweet and wonderful and perfect. This is the way.

He remains a lowly soldier, spreading Purification and the Necromonger way, until Lord Marshall Zhylaw is there. Then, and only then, does he become the leader of teams. He becomes a Commander.

Then Dame Leelia Krypkus notices him. She is a snake of a woman, both sinfully beautiful and horribly cunning. She comes to him in the soldiers' quarters and beds with him, whispering sweet, ambitious nothings in his ear. Because of the Purifications, he is clear in mind. Because of Leelia, he is both clear and satisfied. She feeds his ego and his libido. Without emotions cluttering his mind, that is all he desires besides a strong leader.

They marry; he becomes Lord Vaako. There is no love on his part, only lust. Most times, she is the frightening, cunning woman that plans their life in full. Very rarely, she is sweet to him, pressing loving kisses to his brow. He is unsure if this is a ploy to bind him tighter to her or if she really does love him. Soon into their marriage, he discovers that it is only a trick. She lies with many in order to further her ambitions. She is always, always power hungry.

They land on Helion Prime and all is going as it should until a handsome, muscled man steps in and throws everything off course. Vaako feels a bolt of lust and then obediently allows the idiotic man to go against Irgun the Strange. Everyone expects this man to die and yet, he is smart and uses Irgun's weakness against him. Vaako is unwillingly impressed.

It is no wonder that Dame Vaako appears seemingly out of nowhere to escort this man in. Vaako scowls as they walk into the Basilica into the quarters of the Quasi-dead. If this man becomes a convert, he will be strong…and Dame Vaako will quickly drop him for this man. Vaako understands this.

The man—Riddick—escapes. Vaako is ordered to hunt him down and kill him. He hunts down the beautiful bastard to Crematoria. And the man dies. It is simple.

He reports this to the Lord Marshall and he is made First among Commanders. Leelia is happy for only a few seconds and then she is speaking treason. Although he had always known that she is a snake, he is shocked and horrified. Then she starts hissing about how Zhylaw is a weak man for feeling fear. This…this sinks in. She reminds him a little of Sarge and the comparison is both true and startling. She…she is right. He is weak for feeling fear.

He will do this.

He will do this…and then he finds out that Riddick is still alive and is on the ship. The Lord Marshall is in the main chambers of the ship and Riddick will probably find him there, attack him there. They race there and yes, Riddick is fighting the Lord Marshall.

Vaako takes his moment…and fails. Riddick is the one that kills the Lord Marshall. Riddick is the new Lord Marshall.

As a man that tried to kill the previous Lord Marshall, Vaako waits for his execution orders. Nothing of the kind is ordered. Leelia tries to convince him to attack the new Lord Marshall, but he refuses do to this as this Lord Marshall is strong and does not fear anything. After many failed attempts at persuasion, Leelia quietly separates from him and places herself at the side of Riddick.

Riddick finally calls for him. He half-expects to be killed on sight. Instead, Riddick stares at him with those eerie mirrored-eyes and allows the new additions on the Basilica, hellhounds, to sniff at him. After all he's been through, these hellhounds do not scare him like they should. They stare him down and he stares right on back and his hand is not snapped off when he draws his fingers along the head of one.

Riddick makes a contemplative noise and goes, "I shoulda figured." The hellhounds slink back to him and curl around his throne. He stands and stalks over to Vaako. He dips his head and one side of his mouth quirks up.

Vaako's stomach curls in on itself. This man is beautiful and dangerous and oh no, he's feeling again. He hasn't been Purified in a few days and he's feeling it.

Riddick smirks, smug and victorious. He draws his hand along Vaako's arms and says, "Your bitch has been sniffin' around lately."

It is a statement, but there is a question lying underneath. Vaako cuts his eyes away, "She has separated from me. Her will is her own." As it always had been. Another contemplative noise and Riddick looks far too interested. Vaako swallows and says, "My Lord—"

Riddick glances up. "It's Riddick." He stares at Vaako for a long moment and then stalks back to his throne. He sprawls and starts asking questions about councils and nobles and soldiers. Thrown off, Vaako answers to the best of his abilities. That is how the meeting ends.

Within a week the councils are changed according to Vaako's recommendations and the aristocratic system is completely banished. The former-Dame Leelia comes to his quarters to shriek at him. She leaves in a frustrated rage when he doesn't answer her.

Walking away from his quarters, he feels someone watching him and stops. Hellhounds slink out of the shadows and pad around him. One breaks off from sniffing him to nuzzle at his hand. He scratches behind the pointed ear and the thing rumbles contentedly at him. A human hands curls around his arm and slides upwards until big fingers are circling around his Purification scars.

"Why do you get Purified so much?" Riddick asks. His mouth is by Vaako's ear, the lips just brushing the shell.

"Reasons that are only my business," Vaako bites out. He refuses to acknowledge the heat at the pit of his stomach.

Riddick chuckles, the sound rough and gravelly. He skates a calloused finger over the scar and Vaako shudders, teeth clamping down on his lower lip to suppress any sounds. Riddick smiles, but it is more a predatory baring of teeth. The hellhounds pad around Riddick's feet as the man backs up, vanishing in the shadows.

Vaako whirls around, but there is nobody there.

Really, what happens is inevitable. At the next meeting, Riddick keeps his silvered eyes on Vaako. It is when the others leave and Riddick approaches that Vaako warms. Riddick fairly devours Vaako with his gaze.

When Riddick kisses him, it is rough and almost brutal. They somehow make it back to the Lord Marshall's chambers before Riddick completely strips him and lays him bare. Riddick is warm and big and strong and Vaako clings to him like a lifeline. When they are done, Vaako lies flat on his stomach on the soft sheets. There is a bite mark at the juncture of shoulder and neck that is already fading; Riddick is tracing it with one finger.

Vaako shivers and Riddick grins. "You're mine, Vaako," he says. "I'm not lettin' you go." Vaako warms, and this time it is not purely lust. He is…perfectly fine with this. As long as one day Riddick is also his. He wants to say this, but he keeps his words to himself. It is not quite the right time for that. But one day.

That big, warm hand skims down and draws along the painted symbols on his back and side. "What're these?" Riddick asks.

Vaako looks at the mirrored eyes. He feels warm and safe and wanted. He swallows and makes his decision. "It is a story," he says, "of a man once named John Grimm…"