I don't own Star Trek of 3 Door's Down "It's Not My Time"
Ok, so I'm on a songfic kick. But I really needed some action and a break from romance… so this is what I came up with.
Not My Time
His left eye was swollen shut, his nose and upper lip were caked with dried blood, his bottom lip was busted in two separate places; it hurt to move his jaw. His wrists were raw from the shackles supporting him, his left shoulder was out of socket and several of his ribs hurt so bad they must be broken. It was getting harder for him to breath. He was standing on his tip toes in a puddle of his own secretions, his calves cramping, begging for reprieve but he was shorter than the last prisoner they had held in this cell so his feet could not reach bottom.
He knew from the echo the room was small and made of some type of stone. It was damp and cold. There were no windows to allow light or fresh air into his prison, or if there was it was sealed. The air was stale and smelt of his degraded body. The cold stone dug into his back, scrapping it with every blow he tried to brace against, it was now sticky with his own blood and sweat.
His mind was the only part of him left untouched, though they tried. He remembered his life before this, his friends, his ship. They had been stolen from him in the blink of an eye. Shadows of doubt hid in the corner of his mind whispering if they would save him from this or if he would rot in this hellhole. The proud human simply ignored those voices, his faith in his friends shown brighter, vanquishing those shadows. He was not going down, not like this. This might be the end of him and everything he knew, but he was not afraid.
Days, hours, minutes they were all the same. He had no idea how long he had been kept in this inky black room. He had no idea who was holding him captive; they kept a hood over his face. They had beaten him without mercy since they had taken him hostage. He knew that there were several rotating the punches and kicks. They were attempting to break his resolve, to make him cry out in pain, to lapse into unconsciousness, but he was too stubborn to give them what they wanted.
Their heavily accented Standard grated on his steely nerves. They barked orders and demanded answers to their questions. He had only made one statement during his time here. "The worst you can do is kill me, but you aren't going to because you think I know something. You want codes and secrets of Star Fleet. Well, obviously, you don't know anything about the Fleet, because not one damn thing else is spilling from these lips. Do your best." He had growled in response to their laughter.
The one that stunk the worst had responded, stepping close, his fowl breath in his face penetrating the rough hood, circling around his face like his words. "You will give us what we want. I have no doubt your prideful ass will fall." His words were accompanied by a punch to his gut. "The Enterprise will not come looking for you." If there was a fear in the human, it didn't show. He simply held his head high.
This was an attempt to slowly drive the human insane, to make him crack under the pressure. However, these damn things did not stand a chance. Leonard McCoy would not budge. This was not his time.
A/N: Thanks for reading
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