If you haven't read the other Those Darn Fanfic Writer stories I've written, this is a parody of fanfic writers and their love to torture certain characters. Please don't be offended by anything in this story, it is only written in jest, for I too am an avid whumper. And yes, all of the events in here are references to actual stories, unfortunately I can't tell you which story is which, but a lot can be found right here on and they're really good. Anyway, please read, relax, enjoy, and review.

Par usual, I don't own Star Trek.

The Loss of Life and Liberty

Slowly, but steadily three figures began to appear on the transporter pad. The young woman working the controls found it all a little boring and routine. She'd been sitting there for about thirty minutes, waiting for the signal from the away team. As she adjusted the proper controls, the three figures began to resemble Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. Par usual they were bickering as their bodies fully appeared. The captain, who was being supported on either side by the two officers, looked a little worse for wear from what she could see, though the transporter console blocked most of her view. His shirt had some tears, but it was still mostly intact. She sighed slightly. Once again, she'd lost the bet and this time the pot was getting pretty high. She could have used the money to send home to her family. Once fully rematerialized, Spock and McCoy began walking off the pad, pulling Kirk with them. As the two officers stepped off the pad, Kirk stood up and pulled himself out of their grip. Due to his slightly weary and haggard look, she thought he might fall, but he surprisingly remained standing. He did, however, appear to be lost in thought.

"Come on Jim," McCoy beckoned the younger man, turning towards him. The captain didn't answer. Spock turned in time to see McCoy stepping back on the transporter pad to grab Kirk.

"I said come on," he tried again, pulling on Kirk's arm this time.

"Let go of me, Bones," Kirk growled, pulling his arm from McCoy's grasp.

"Then come along with me to sickbay. I need to take a look at your injuries."

"I'm fine Bones. Nothing's wrong."

"You're a captain, not a doctor, so please leave the medical diagnoses to me. After all, I am the doctor here," McCoy emphasized, grabbing Kirk's arm yet again. "Now come along."

"Stop it," he said firmly, pulling himself away from McCoy and out of his grasp.

"Captain," Spock began calmly, "this is highly illogical. I do not under…"

"No Spock," Kirk cut him off, his voice rising and turning sharply towards the Vulcan, pointing a finger at him, "you wanna know what's highly illogical. Why they keep coming after me."

"They, sir?" Spock asked, an eyebrow raising in question. He turned briefly to McCoy, who shrugged his shoulders and gave a confused look, before continuing. "Who are they?"

"They changed everything," Kirk said. If Kirk heard Spock's question, he gave no indication of it. "Absolutely everything." He threw his arms up in the air. "I don't even know who I am anymore. I've got a whole new childhood Bones," he complained, looking at the doctor. "Memories of events that I can't even recall having. Why, why would I ever drive dad's car off a cliff. And uncle Frank wasn't that bad. I loved staying with him when Mom and Dad were both on duty. But no, now he's some abusive drunkard who was going to sell that wonderful car. Worse yet, dad's dead." Kirk seemed to have forgotten the other people in the room as he paced around the transporter pad.

"What're you talking about Jim?" McCoy decided to try a different approach.

"My life, Bones," Jim said desperately, almost pleading with the country doctor. "They stole it from me and changed it, without even asking me. You know, maybe, just maybe I didn't mind being dead, after all the Klingons finally left me alone. I was an upstanding member of Starfleet, very well respected and decorated. Sure, I had my share of one nights, but I was never a juvenile delinquent with a reputation as a womanizer. What'd they do to me? When I was twenty-five, I never looked like this. Though I do have to say, I'm not totally unfond of the body," Kirk added, looking at a reflection of himself in the transporter wall. "It's kinda grown on me. I'm much more fit. I think I may even be more handsome, if that's even possible."

McCoy rolled his eyes at the preening young man. "Well there's nothing wrong with his ego."

"Indeed," Spock agreed.

"Look Jim, I don't know what you're talking about, but you really need to come with me," McCoy pleaded. "And I think we'll be pulling out the restraints for this visit," he added under his breath.

"You know, at the same time, nothing's really changed though," Kirk said, turning back to his two officers.

"But you just…" McCoy started, puzzled.

"I know, but you see I still keep getting this awfully funny feeling in my stomach when I look at you two. It's the same feeling I get when I look at the Enterprise and think about what a gorgeous ship she is."

"Yeah and whenever I look at you I get this feeling I really should have stayed in the bathroom. Now come on." McCoy tried to pull Kirk again.

"I'm fine," he claimed yet again. But McCoy knew better. He could see the beginnings of a limp on Kirk's right side, but he couldn't yet pinpoint the culprit. Annoyed, he gave Kirk and exasperated look. Kirk caught the look and immediately apologized. "I'm sorry Bones. I tried not to say it. I didn't want to, but they made me," he pleaded. "They're always wrecking havoc on my life. Nothing's ever simple with them, don't you see? Nothing can ever be just a simple peaceful mission. No," he said, as he began to pace the circumference of the transporter pad, "I have to be attacked by zombies who take over the crew. They keep getting more creative."

"The same they that changed your life, sir?" Spock asked.

"No, no, no, no, no." Kirk paused at the far end of the transporter pad, waving his hands in front of him for extra emphasis. "This is a different they. They seem nice and well intentioned, but that's just a front. And they find me where ever I am." Kirk began his pacing again. "I can't hide from them. Believe me, I've tried," he turned briefly towards them to stress his point. "They're everywhere. If one of them can't get me, another one does and then they just pass me along until they're done. From one adventure to another with very little time to rest. And honestly, I'm getting pretty sick of it. I'd like for once to control my own destiny."

"I am afraid I must admit, Captain," Spock started, "I am most confused. Who are they?"

Kirk stopped moving finally. Walking towards the two, he looked around cautiously. Finally, when he was no more than a couple inches from them, he spoke in a whisper, "The fanfic writers."

"Oh, Jim you've really lost it now. Fanfic writers?" McCoy exclaimed.

"Ssh, Bones," Kirk tried to quiet the doctor. "Not so loud."

"Are they here Captain?" Spock asked.

"Are you outta your Vulcan mind, Spock? Don't tell me you actually believe him." McCoy said quietly to Spock.

"Certainly not doctor," the Vulcan returned in a similar quiet tone, "but I believe it would be wise to humor the captain, given his current injuries. If he believes that we believe him, he might be more cooperative."

After another glance at Kirk, Bones couldn't help, but agree with the Vulcan's logic. Kirk had definitely worsened, though the man seemed oblivious to it, walking around, mumbling to himself as if he were perfectly healthy. The slight limp he had noticed earlier was now a full blown limp, but he was leaning far too heavily on his right side to be compensating for just the limp. He must have injured his ribs on that side as well, McCoy deduced. Stupid fool.

"Um," McCoy started awkwardly, taking a step towards the captain. The medical part of him screamed out to just sedate the man as blood dripped down the left side of his dirty face from a now unseen scalp wound. For his friend's sake, he told that side to shut up for a second and concentrate on calming him down first. Kirk had developed a sort of phobia of hyposprays, though for the life of him, he couldn't understand why. So, coming at him was with one was out of the question and would just send him running and then they'd never catch the ungrateful little twerp. "Maybe we can help you with them."

"Yeah," Kirk agreed, slowing his pacing a little as he thought. "With the Enterprise we should be able to smoke them out. They'll never know what hit them." He grinned.

"We can use our scanners to determine their location," Spock added. "But first you must go to sickbay with Doctor McCoy and myself."

"Yeah, we'll find 'em," Kirk ignored Spock. "And then, they'll never be able to torture me again," he laughed a little, though his laugh held a tone of evilness to it. Continuing, he quickened his paced, quite oblivious to the awkward position of a couple of the fingers on his left hand, "no more avalanches, falling off cliffs, getting stabbed, or poisoned. Do you realize all they've put me through? I've been captured, beaten up, and drugged to the gills and then they interrogated me. They've had me hallucinate and go on a killing spree for no apparent reason. I've been shot at, stabbed, and punched so much those hyposprays are actually starting to feel like a tickle. I don't know how many times Spock or you've found me lying half unconscious somewhere, bleeding from who knows how many cuts, ribs crushed and any number of bones protruding from me only to insist 'I'm fine, go check out the other guy, he's hurt worse.' Don't you see Bones, I'm tired of it. I just want them to leave me alone," he finished, stopping and turning to McCoy for emphasis, a pleading look in his eyes. McCoy, however, noticed the dazed look in his eyes. Definitely a concussion, he silently diagnosed.

"I know Jim," McCoy agreed, taking a tentative step forward. "They do a lot to you. We'll take care of 'em," he said calmly, trying to coax Kirk into coming with them. "But first we need to make sure you're okay. You can't go out hunting them when you're injured."

"Don't you see Bones. I'm not hurt this time. I out smarted them," he said quite proudly, his dazed look making him look like he'd just come back from a bar delighted about his nighttime adventures and begging for Bones to patch him up before his morning classes started.

"Not injured? Would you take a look at yourself man? You've got a pipe in your side." Kirk glanced over to his left side only to see a six-inch metal pipe sticking out of the side of his abdomen.

"Well that's a new one," he calmly commented. "Strange though, it doesn't even hurt." He tapped on it lightly. "Metal. I wonder when it happened."

"Captain, I think you should refrain from touching it," Spock advised.

"Why Spock? It doesn't even hurt." He pulled on it and laughed a little. "See. It actually kinda tickles."

"That's it, he's lost it." McCoy commented, reaching for a hypospray.

"I believe, doctor, that we must only work a little more before we will get his cooperation in our endeavor," Spock said, tilting his head towards the grumbling doctor. McCoy paused; he'd give Spock a few more minutes before he knocked the fool out.

"Come on," Kirk said, taking a step. He gasped before he could finish his sentence or complete his step. Pausing, he looked down only to see a glimmer of something white. "Bones," he said, looking up, "I think something's wrong."

"No kidding," McCoy grumbled. "Please Sherlock, tell us, what clued you in?" McCoy retorted, moving towards the younger man. "Was it the pipe sticking out of your side waiting for someone to hang a coat on it or the top end of your tibia peaking out to say hi?"

"Neither," Kirk answered tersely. "My toe feels funny," he managed to grunt before his vision began to tunnel and McCoy's crabby commands became distant. Next came the frightening sense of falling, but he could do nothing to halt or brace his fall. What seemed like an eternity later, he found himself landing on two pairs of rectanglish softness. He faded from consciousness hearing McCoy.

"This was your plan you green blooded hobgoblin? D-it Jim." He paused for a second before muttering, "Those darn fanfic writers."