Darling (A Star Trek fanfiction)

And I you, darling

It had been over a month since the incident during the guard shift.  According to the doctor on hand in the medical wing, the axillary artery in her shoulder had been nicked by the bullet.  And, despite her rapid healing abilities, she was put on bed rest for three days so as to not tear out the stitches.  Abigail hated those three days, she was restless and sick of not being able to get away from Khan.  He frequently teased her about being unable to go outside resulting in her popping a stitch.  

By the time her three days were up she couldn’t stay out of the room enough.  She got back to training as soon as her stitches were out, staying in the workout room for hours.  Even though the doctor had suggested it would be wise to wait for the tenderness in her shoulder to recede before resuming the usual sparring sessions, she paid no mind, tackling Khan to the ground at the first ill remark.

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“Oof!”

Khan landed flat on his back on the training room floor; the air fleeing his lungs.  Abigail landed on top of him, her knees pinning his arms to the padded ground.  Applying pressure with her forearm, she trapped his head firmly down by his throat.  He looked up at her curiously, glacier eyes locking on her fiercely gold ones.  God, how he hated those arrogant eyes.  His jaw clenched, bringing a smirk to her full lips.

“Come now, darling,” she purred, leaning her face down to his and applying more pressure, “you can do better than that.”

Khan’s mouth set in an even line as he relaxed his body beneath her.  As her lips formed a derisive pout at the assumed admission of defeat, he pushed her off of his arms, rolling on top of her thin form and barring her head to the ground with his arm at her throat.  Anger began to fill her golden gaze as the realization of betrayal hit her.  She squirmed a moment before feeling the insides of his thighs squeeze her arms to her sides.  Disbelief and fury filled her chest, both at herself for letting her guard down and at Khan for taking advantage of her when the fight should’ve been over.

“You’re right,” he murmured, shadowing her movements, “darling.”

Abigail glared up into his poised face, observing the easy triumph in  his icy eyes.  ‘Alright, alright.  You’ve made your point.  Get off,” she growled, averting her gaze as he stood with his legs straddling her hips.

A smirk curled his lips as he out stretched his hand for her to take.  Ignoring the half-assed peace offering, she stood and side stepped the taller man.  As Khan turned to follow her out of the nearly vacated training room, Abigail grabbed ahold of his right arm, flipping him onto his back in front of her.  A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she tiptoed around his seething form.

“I’ll see you back in the room then,” she called over her shoulder, leering at the lack of reply.

Abigail walked back towards the boarding portion of the institute through the herb garden.  She nodded in acknowledgement at those who passed, mainly fellow Augments on their daily shifts or headed to training.  It was nowhere near time for the roommates’ overlapping shifts, so she weaved her way through the halls and unlocked the tall door before her.  Kicking off her boots with added frustration, she ran a hand through her long, chestnut curls.  Khan was so bloody arrogant.  Granted they were all made to be, but he in particular got on her nerves.  She rolled her eyes angrily, stripping down in preparation for a soothing shower.  Marching towards the bathroom at the back of their quarters, she turned on the water and stepped into the cold spray.

What right did he have?  Showing off in hand-to-hand combat.  What was he?  A bird of prey?  Fluffing his feathers at her.  He was no alpha; not compared to her.  And the audacity of the director; pairing the two of them in the same room as if she had no idea of her distaste for him.  Closing her eyes, she sat at the bottom of the tub and curled her knees to her chest.