#poor khan

“What… what happened?”

“Naga took you.” he replied, plainly and honestly. “Just before the seas opened up, and swallowed the Alliance and Horde fleets. Vindicator Argonas and Vindicator Avehi were sent down, and rescued you.”

Khanaros reached to take the vessel from Mierne when she had finished it, instead replacing it with a nutrient loaf - a small brown bread-like substance, unwrapped and ready for Mierne to eat at her own pace. It smelled… bland. Far less appealing than the liquid, but every bit as fortifying. 

“You are safe now… recovering well, physically,” he reported, smile clearly forced. “But… there can be no telling yet the extent of the psychological damage done to you. The Naga used some void creature known as a zoatroid to wrack your mind and alter your thoughts and behaviors. They… enslaved you, Mierne.”

The words almost seemed to hurt him as he spoke them, a hand reaching out to rest atop Mierne’s leg. Worry crossed his wrinkled face; worry and fear. He was eternally grateful Mierne was safe… but he knew this was only the beginning of her recovery.

Mierne nibbled on the bread given to her as she listened intently to Khanaros’ words. She frowned as she came to realize that not everything she’d dreamed about had been fabrication. She swallowed down a bite.

“I… vaguely remember some of it…” she admitted, “I thought it was a nightmare.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. The thought of things she’d might have done under zoatroid control made her lose her appetite. She put the rest of the loaf down on the side table, before bringing a hand to her head. Trying to recollect things gave her a migraine. 

“Let us… let us speak of other things,” she requested, her eyes meeting his golden gaze once more, “I wasn’t aware that you had Lightforged. When did this happen?”

“--Hm? Ah… it was after our discussion at the Darkshore,” he replied, tone hiding well his concerns now - for her sake, he felt it best. “You don’t recall? It is fine if you do not… after all you have endured, it is easily excusable.”

Khanaros smiled, and gave Mierne’s leg another supportive, comforting squeeze. There was no question this was difficult for him. To see his beloved Mierne so scattered? To hear that she didn’t remember things? But for a hard as it was for him, he couldn’t begin to comprehend how hard it must’ve been for her. He did his best to keep that in mind.

“What do you recall? From before Nazjatar?” he asked. “We can start there, and I will do my best to fill in the rest. And separate truth from fiction. Alright?”

“Honestly? I am uncertain. I remember coming to visit you, as usual, after the Legion was defeated. I remember Argonas moving to the isle… Avehi coming to visit me… I -do- remember being in Darkshore, but as for why…”

She shook her head, “Naga and murloc populations increased on the isle… Are we at War again? Or was that a nightmare? And Teldrassil burning?”

She shrugged, but then could help but chuckle, “Fairly certain you and I getting engaged did not actually happen.” She laughed, “I mean… can you imagine?! That would be crazy!”

“Sadly, the war-related memories are all true. We--”

It struck him like a blade, as the words crossed Mierne’s lips. The laugh didn’t help, either. He suspected a while back she wasn’t fully on board with the engagement, but those concerns were softened when they made plans further to move in together. But… that, too, was probably not something she was interested in. Something else ‘crazy’, like getting engaged. His shoulders sank, though his smile remained - forced, of course.

“Heh, quite crazy!” he nodded along. “We haven’t made such plans, no.”

The lie tasted bitter in Khanaros’ mouth, however. Would it be better to tell her the truth? No, it was better for her to get her bearings, and recall her life as she wished it to be. Normal for Mierne didn’t include forecasting their nuptials, it seemed.

Mierne was visibly relieved. It wasn’t that she didn’t  have feelings towards her dearest and oldest friend. But marriage? Their lives were much too incompatible for things to go any further than their usual casual intimate encounters.

“--The war, though… it rages. Teldrassil did, in fact, burn by the Warchief’s order.” he frowned, now that the topic changed appropriately to do so. “This is why we went to Darkshore.”

It began to make sense to Mierne; why she had been in Darkshore. The enemy had been too close for comfort. She had to do what she could to protect the Exodar and the Isles!

“That explains the Lightforging, then,” she brought a hand up, fingers brushing his beard as she admired his changed features. “You look good. Really good,” she couldn’t help but smile, “This path suits you.”

The affections, of course, made Khanaros happy. But undertones behind it did little to stave off the great sense of loss he was feeling. This was more than just a setback in her memory… it was a setback in their relationship, as well. It hurt him deeply, in a way he couldn’t express.

He couldn’t let that show, of course. Instead, he plastered on a smiling expression, and nodded. 

“I’m pleased you still think so. We discussed it, before I underwent the trials. I worried you would not find me nearly as pleasing to the eye, so grossly incandescent.”

He let out a chuckle - a convincing one, considering. 

“But… yes, with the war continuing on as it has been, I felt Lightforging would be an appropriate means of coming out of retirement.”

“Indeed!” She chuckled, finally removing her hand to reach for the food she hadn’t yet finished. 

She was already looking stronger; her eyes more luminous and colour returning to her cheeks. Markings were left along the side of her face where the zoatroid had clung and been ripped off. The wounds would most likely leave scars, but, for now, Mierne seemed oblivious to them. Just as well. It was doubtful she would care. The hermit had never been one to fuss over her appearance. 

“And here I am keeping you from your duties… I hope I didn’t take too much of your time off the field.”

"Not at all. I am mostly a strategist these days, helping direct forces rather than fight on the front, directly." 

He shook his head, giving Mierne's leg one final squeeze before pulling his hand back. He stood.

"I would not burden you with details." He left it at that, planting a light kiss on her scarred cheek. "For now, rest. Recover. I will come by again later to see how you are feeling, yes?"

It grew too much for him - not just seeing her like this, but learning how much of her memory she had lost. Khanaros worried deeply for Mierne, of course. But he also worried about what this manner of regression could mean for their relationship. Suddenly, they weren’t engaged anymore. Suddenly, they weren’t living together anymore!

Wisps of white began encircling Spock, the Vulcan disappearing from the room. The remaining crew glanced at each other. No Kirk, with his never-ending ideas. No Spock, to reason their way out of it.

Hikaru Sulu took the initiative, heading for the control panel. The ship rocked as it was hit, Sulu crashing painfully into the console. A red light began to flash, the ship declaring, “Life support systems failing. Life support systems failing. Life support...”

Sulu swiftly clicked the mass communicator. “Everyone, head for the escape pods. If you're close, don't bother with oxygen masks. If not, grab one. Try to stay calm.”

Now for the backup plan. As acting captain, he was to be last off or go down with the ship. He was going to make it worth it. One augment in this world was enough. They didn't need 71 more.

He grabbed an oxygen mask. It wouldn't last long, perhaps an hour, and the best option for his crew was to escape and hope at least some of them made it. As for him, he had to hurry. He shut off the view panel and connective screen just as Khan opened his mouth to say something. No need for that man to hear in or leave them with torturous last words.

He quickly called up McCoy. “Doctor, meet me at the room with the cryotubes.” He then put his adrenaline to use, sprinting with all his might. The ship rocked again, and he was running on the ceilings.

His oxygen mask wasn't going to last long with the way he was breathing. He entered the room with the cryotubes, McCoy already there with his own oxygen mask. The doctor said, “Let me guess, we have to put them back in the torpedoes?”

“No time.” He opened a cryotube, much easier to do without it being encased in a torpedo. He swallowed hard. This had to be done. “We have to kill them.”

“We can't save Jim if-”