Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/54415.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Star_Trek_(2009)
  Relationship:
      Spock/Uhura, squinty_hints_at_Kirk/Uhura
  Character:
      Spock, James_T._Kirk, Nyota_Uhura, Gaila_(Star_Trek), Leonard_McCoy
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Prostitute, Alternate_Universe, Child_Abuse,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Police
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-01-22 Words: 4909
****** Wake Me Up ******
by ninhursag
Summary
     So it's an au where Uhura is a sex crimes detective, Gaila is a
     rookie in her unit and Nero's the guy she wants to take down. Which
     puts her right in the path of one underaged hooker by the name of Jim
     Kirk.
Entry tags:
            fic, star_trek, wake_me_up
Pairings: Spock/Uhura and squinty hints at Kirk/Uhura, but mostly gen
Summary: So it's an au where Uhura is a sex crimes detective, Gaila is a rookie
in her unit and Nero's the guy she wants to take down. Which puts her right in
the path of one underaged hooker by the name of Jim Kirk.
Sound like fun? Boy are you in the right place!
Warnings: Thematic but not graphic child abuse, prostitution and underaged sex.
 
Now
The kid is so young it hurts, that's obvious even when his stare is blank and
blue and frozen, like he's looking right through everyone. He's wearing a
threadbare pair of jeans and a t-shirt with obvious holes in it and that just
heightens the sense of agonizing vulnerability. He's huddled in the back of the
squad car like it's the last corner left in the world and he has both arms
wrapped around his stomach.
Uhura kneels on the seat next to him. "Your name's Jim, right?" she asks
softly, like they train you to in community relations. "I'm Detective Uhura.
You don't have to be scared."
That sparks something. A cynical tilt to his mouth. His neck arches a little
and he looks her in the eye. "No?" he says. "If you're gonna ask me to testify
against the Emperor of South Side I think any sane guy would be scared."
"If I was going to, that would be true," she says and smiles at him. He doesn't
smile back. "I'm not, though. Nero wouldn't have anything to gain from hurting
you, not with what we have on him."
He snorts. "Okay," he mutters. "Can I get out of here, then?"
She ignores him, like he hasn't said a word. "See, there are a few things in
the law where the rules are pretty damn clearcut. You made a... let's call it a
movie, didn't you, Jim?" He blinks at that, staring like he can't figure out
her angle. "Nero was in it too. I have a copy. Watched it in fact, and I don't
have to tell you it was filthy. Bad enough to make my partner throw up and
she's in Vice, same as me."
Jim sucks in his lower lip. There's a faint red tinge to his cheeks that
surprises her. She didn't expect him to feel... not shame. Not yet. "It's not
illegal to make movies," he says, slowly, hesitantly.
She shakes her head gently. "Isn't it?" she murmurs. "It's damn illegal to make
kiddie porn. And that thing-- any jury sees that, they'll want blood. We won't
need you to testify, all we need is for you to answer a few questions. How old
are you, Jim? What's your last name?"
She expects resignation. Maybe even relief. She expects... she shouldn't have
expected anything, been ready for any response. She gets panic, quick and
brutal.
He talks first, babbles, "Look, look, don't do that. Don't-- I can't, they'll
find me. I'll do anything you want, anything, I can do girls-- women. I can do
women, it's good, I'll be good, I--"
She cuts him off with a quick hand on his shoulder, anything to end the
incoherent flow of words. "Jim," she says. "Slow down. No one's expecting you
to--" she never finishes getting the words out.
He hits her, surprisingly strong for all the thin youth of him. It sends a haze
of red through her vision and by the time she blinks it clear he's crawled over
her and out the door of the squad car. One of the uniformed officers catches up
to him less than a foot away, a big guy, chest like a barrel, fists like slabs
of meat.
Jim ducks a blow and hits back, but by that time a second uniform is on him
from behind and between the two of them they wrestle him down and into a pair
of handcuffs. When Uhura staggers out of the car he's hanging loose between
them, eyes blank and distant. Dead as they'd been when she first saw them this
morning, in that godawful movie.
\
This morning
Detective Uhura has had three years working sex crimes when she closes the case
of her career so far, the one she knows is going to get her an open slot in
homicide. She's got a feeling about it.
The pimp that runs most of the hookers on the south side calls himself Emperor
Nero, like it's a joke, and he's as much of a son of a bitch as his Roman
namesake. His girls don't talk-- the one who rumor said had been about to had
been found on a river bank, washed clean. Slit open from throat to spine.
Nothing sticks to him... nothing had, anyway, until Uhura has a video land on
her desk, dropped there by the new girl in the unit.
"Blockbuster guy brought it in," Detective Gaila says and shrugs. "Poor bastard
was still shaking. He said it was a snuff film."
Uhura raises one eyebrow and pokes the video with the edge of her pencil. "You
know every so called snuff film ever uncovered has been an urban legend or a
fake?" she says. She doesn't add Rookie but it's implied.
Gaila just shrugs again, letting the implicit reprimand slide off easily. "Regs
are to check them out anyway."
Uhura smiles at her. "Fair enough. I hope you didn't eat lunch yet, these
things can make you want to lose it." They watch it on the grainy old
television in the evidence room and Uhura wishes she'd been wrong about losing
lunch. The subject is a boy, a teenager. He's the only one whose face isn't
pixelated out. He has pale skin, is thin enough to see the knobs of his spine
and has remarkably blue eyes. For the length of the film, there's nothing
behind them.
Uhura watches the whole thing with her hands fisted in her lap. She only pauses
the video to give Gaila time to throw up in the trashcan at the halfway mark.
The still image of the paused video makes her stare. There's something there, a
hand over the boy's face, fingers splayed across the pale, thin neck.
A familiar pattern on those fingers. She snaps her fingers and waits for Gaila
to stop.
When her stomach's finally empty, Gaila sips from a cup of what Uhura hopes is
lukewarm coffee for Gaila's sake. The woman's hands are shaking so hard the
brown liquid keeps spilling over onto them, and if it's hot, she'll have burns.
When Gaila finally says anything she sounds hoarse. "I don't know if it's a
fake or what, but... I think I've seen that kid before when I was doing an
undercover job for narcotics. He's a hooker, works the south side. Jim... I
don't even know if it's his real name, but that's what he went by."
Uhura sits up abruptly. She can feel the edge of a smile breaking through. "The
south side?" she says. "Of course he is. How sure are you?"
Gaila swallows and stares back at the now blank screen of the television.
"Pretty sure. He wasn't... there was some bad stuff getting turned out, cut
with rat poison. A bunch of the people who used it ended up dead or
hospitalized. That kid was the one who dropped me a tip. He was a nice kid.
Smart."
Uhura shakes her head and taps her fingers on the scarred wood of the desk in
front of her. "He still is. These things are always fake." She tries to project
all the sincerity she has in her. She won't think of that kid's face and
whether it mattered to him if he was alive or dead, not anymore. "Come on, we
have a lot to do, starting with finding this kid."
Gaila follows her when she gets up, but there's a look of confusion you can't
fake on the woman's face. "Where are we going?" she finally asks when they're
half way out the door.
"South side hooker in a snuff film?" Uhura says, glancing back over her
shoulder. "Fucking Emperor Nero runs all of the hookers on the south side-- you
know he doesn't let in independent operators. More importantly, I saw something
while you were busy losing your lunch. Didn't pixel guy number three have
tattoos on his hands that looked a lot like Nero's to you?"
"What?" Gaila says and jogs to catch up to Uhura. "No? I don't know? They did?"
Uhura smiles, for real this time. "I know an Assistant DA who can find a judge
who'll agree with me that they damned well do. This, my friend, is called
getting a warrant." In her head she can already imagine herself nailing that
son of a bitch to a wall.
"Which ADA?" Gaila asks, running after her, already breathless. "The one that's
your boyfriend?"
Uhura rolls her eyes. "That's my private business," she says.
Three hours, later, warrant skillfully obtained by Spock on the DA's office in
hand and a squad of uniforms for back up behind her, she and Gaila were
knocking on Nero's door. A boy answers it, familiar blue eyes taking her in.
"Jim," Gaila says, with a thick relief that Uhura can't help but feel too. It
isn't that-- she didn't expect him to be dead, she hadn't lied to Gaila. Still,
though.
The kid blinks, looking for one to the other. She can almost see the thoughts
running in his head and that's even more of a relief than the fact that he's
alive. There's still someone awake in their behind those pretty eyes of his.
"What can I do for you, Officers?" he says, pasting on a smile.
It's not a real smile, but Uhura returns it anyway.
An hour after that Uhura's standing in front of Jim while he's cuffed between
two uniforms. Somewhere not too far away, Nero's being escorted forcefully to
another squad car, but Gaila's got that for now. Uhura's got Jim, staring at
anything but her. One of his eyes already looks puffy, like he took a blow when
they brought him down. It makes her wince internally.
"I'm going to be eighteen in three weeks," he whispers, eyes practically glued
to the filthy concrete under his feet. "Just three weeks. Then they can't come
after me if I-- they couldn't have come after me."
Uhura lets out a slow, whistling breathe. Three years in sex crimes, she
doesn't have to ask who 'they' might be, not really. There aren't too many
things that drive underage kids out here and if he's this terrified of being
tracked this kid isn't one of the throw-aways.
From somewhere behind her she can feel Gaila watching her. No clue when she'd
gotten done packing off Nero, but that doesn't matter. Uhura stiffens her
spine.
"Your underage ass is material evidence in an ongoing investigation that's
going to take down one of the major players in this city," she says and smiles
just a little when his gaze snaps back onto her, those eyes huge and startled.
Alive again. "I think it's going to take a little longer than three weeks, kid.
When this blows over you'll be free to go."
He shakes his head, but she can almost smell how badly he wants to believe it.
"They'll make you get call a social worker and... and whoever it is will call
them. You can't keep them away from me even if you want to."
"Kid," she says and take a step forward, not quite in touching range even if
his hands weren't cuffed. "I just told you, you're evidence. You think you can
trust me to look after evidence in my big case?" She's careful not to say 'look
after you'. She isn't stupid and she doesn't think for a second Jim is either.
He tilts his head and frowns. "I don't know," he finally says. "Can I?"
She doesn't drop her gaze, just looks him right in the eye. "Yes, you can."
A visible shiver tears through his body and then, finally he shrugs once and
looks away. "Fine," he whispers. "Whatever." He pauses and then his head
swivels back up. She thinks he really does believe her, he looks... better.
"Nero's going down, huh?"
Uhura's smile is wide and genuine. "Yeah, he is," she says.
The kid nods decisively. "Good," he says, firm and easy. "He's an asshole. He
hurt a lot of people."
"Like you," Uhura says without thinking about it.
The kid blinks and then he laughs, a short bark of astonishment mixed with real
amusement. "No," he says. He looks past her finally, past the sirens and lights
to where Nero is being driven away to be processed. "He's not that good." He
shakes his head, still bemused. "Anyway, that movie you saw? After that he said
he was in love with me, can you believe that? Like... I impressed him or
whatever."
She rocks back on her heels and he gives another harsh laugh. "Yeah," he says.
"I know, I thought it was weird too. I guess I'm just his type. Why did you
think I was answering the door at his place?"
The uniforms won't uncuff Jim, but he's compliant enough when they lead him
back to the car. She climbs in the front and Jim leans up against the plastic
shielding came him in back. "So, am I stuck in juvie for those three weeks?" he
calls. "Not that I'm complaining!"
Uhura shrugs and doesn't answer, except to grunt a, "Probably," but internally
she's already preparing for a logical conversation with Spock about the housing
a not quite of age runaway and how that might work.
She has a promise to keep.
 
Now
Their forensic psychiatrist is under thirty, barely, and acts like he's over
seventy. Uhura's never been able to figure out if it's his life or it's an
affectation. McCoy's a good guy, though, even if he's an asshole. She can work
with him.
When he drops in front of her desk and he's in a towering rage so bright she
thinks he might catch the blinds on fire, she knows to shut up and listen to
him. His hands are in fists and one of them is clenching a thick manila file so
hard the thing is already bent almost in half.
"I found who your kid is, Detective. I also found your kid's medical records,"
he spits out, dropping the file in front of her like it's nuclear waste.
She raises an eyebrow and opens the file with her thumb, scanning the first
page. James Tiberius Kirk. 17. Of Riverside, Iowa, born to George and Winona
Kirk. Father deceased in the first Iraq war, mother remarried and then
divorced. Custodial parent, the stepfather. She blinks and taps her fingers on
the offending paper before staring back up at McCoy. "The stepfather? Why?
What'd she do?"
"Dunno specifically, but I can tell you the man-- the stepfather-- was the town
Sheriff in Riverside." She waits for him to go on, but he just shakes his head.
She bends her head back down to the file and turns the page. Oh. Oh. She's
looking at commitment papers to a locked psychiatric institution in Iowa.
They're signed with a flourish by the guardian, the stepfather.
"Schizophrenic?" she repeats the diagnosis blankly and tries to reconcile it
with the kid she'd seen, the one Gaila had told her about. "There's nothing in
his behavior to indicate... unless he's been taking some serious medication
without anyone noticing..." she pauses and looks back up at McCoy, like she's
asking if that's even possible.
"He's not," McCoy says. "Physical picked up some THC in the urine, but he's
pretty clean otherwise, which given where you found him... heh. No other
psycho-affective medications, legal or otherwise." The look on his face-- she
doesn't know how someone can stay that angry for that long without stroking
out. "I've done a preliminary sitdown with the kid and I'd bet the desk
sergeant's ass there's a post traumatic stress diagnosis there, but this..." he
points down at the report in front of her. "No. I didn't see a damn thing to
indicate this."
"What did Jim say?" she asks softly. Her brain's already going in fifteen
different directions. She still needs Jim to show that son of a bitch Nero was
where she says he was in that video. She doesn't want anything that can be
picked apart by a slick ass defense Attorney.
It's easier to think about that.
McCoy glares at her. "I'm sure it will come as a shock to you that the kid
doesn't like 'fucking head shrinks' as he puts it. He said shit to me, other
than to say he's not crazy. He wants to talk to you."
"Huh," she says. "I can do that."
They have the kid in what's really glorified lock-up, but he's got his own room
and he's allowed to see visitors in it. In some ways it makes it easier on her
that they've basically got him isolated. Isolated with no one to talk to and
lots of time to think about what comes after this. It fucks people's heads,
Uhura knows that, knows how to use it.
It's probably worse for someone like him.
He's sprawled out over a narrow, metal framed bed, head bent over a thick
looking book when she walks in.
He frowns when he sees her, making his face tighter, closed off. The first
words out of his mouth are, "Hey, you look stressed. Bet I could help you
relax."
She rolls her eyes. "I talked to Dr. McCoy," she says.
That makes him sit bolt upright. "I don't know what the fucking head shrink
said, but I'm not--"
"Crazy," she finishes for him. "I know you're not, Jim, and Dr. McCoy doesn't
think so either. Want to tell me what happened in Riverside to make someone say
differently?"
He doesn't even hesitate, which is irritating, but not surprising. He's half
way broken just from being here, but not enough to give her everything she
wants to know. "No," he says. "It's none of your business. The deal was that
I'd help you get Nero and you wouldn't let them get me."
She lets out a long, tired breath and walks over to him. She can see him go
stiff, still hands clenched white around the book he's holding. "Jim," she
says, trying for sweet reason. "It would help if I know who them is."
He looks away, right through her like he can make her invisible just by wishing
for it. "No it wouldn't," he mumbles. "I'm not crazy, okay? I'm not delusional
and I'm not a liar. Everything I said was true."
"Okay," she agrees. She settles down on the very edge of his bed next to him.
He's quiet and so is she. After a long lull in the conversation she leans over
to see his book. She blinks. "Spherical Astronomy," she says. "That sounds
heavy."
He just snorts and rolls his eyes, but after a moment he volunteers a smile. "I
wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid," he says. "It's not weird, okay?
Lots of people do."
She keeps her own face serious. "No. Not weird at all." She doesn't tell him
he's still a kid. "So, I know your name is Jim Kirk, you're not crazy and
you're going to be an astronaut." He huffs a laugh at that last one, but
doesn't interrupt her. "Why don't you tell me what you're going to do when you
get out of here?"
He shrugs eloquently. "Get a job, a regular job," he says, like it's a
question. "I'll be able to do that, right? When you're eighteen you don't need
anyone's permission." He hesitates a second, biting down on his plump lower
lip. If he weren't so skinny... so damned young, he'd be really something.
"You'll tell them, right?" he finally says. "You swear?"
She shakes her head, dragging her thoughts back on track. "Tell them what?"
"You know, that it's cool. That they don't have to-- I'm not crazy. They said I
was crazy, gave me these pills that made me, made it. I can't do that." He's
shaking, she can see that. He's still shaking. She reaches out to touch him.
The skin of his wrist is warm and damp with sweat under her fingers. He stares
at her from under a fringe of thick lashes.
"Jim, Jimmy," she says and she can feel the moment he relaxes, just a little.
"I'll tell them. You're going to be fine."
He nods. Stares at his hand where she's got hers wrapped around it and then
lets his gaze wander up. Out of nowhere, he pulls out a smile. "Not as fine as
you, Detective Uhura," he murmurs, voices bright and playful like he'd never
been scared at all. It's a nice trick, but she can still smell his sweat.
"Read your book, kid," she says, and pats him on the shoulder. "If you need to
talk to anyone, you have my number and Dr. McCoy's."
He doesn't call, but she drops in to see him anyway. She brings books from
Spock's collection. Physics and Astronomy, heavy and dusty. Jim's eyes shine
blue when he sees them, happier over that than seeing her.
The third visit she brings Spock himself with her, in his work clothes, tie
perfectly pressed and shoes a shiny black. "This is Spock with the District
Attorney's Office," she tells Jim. "He's here to talk to you about your
deposition."
Jim narrows his eyes, quick glance from one to the other. "You said I wouldn't
have to testify," he says sharply.
"You do not," Spock interjects. "You must merely state that you were... are a
minor and participated in the filming of the video that found its way to the
police department. Nothing more."
Jim sits up abruptly, different from his usual sprawl, spine gone straight. "I
don't want to have to see Nero," he says.
"You need not fear--" Spock begins.
Jim interrupts with a laugh that has Spock throwing Uhura a quizzical look,
like she could explain the kid. Ha. "I'm not afraid of Nero," he says and
scratches the back of his neck. For a second he almost looks embarrassed, like
it's somehow odd to not be afraid of a man who's gang terrorized a
neighborhood. "It's just weird, that's all. He was all... into me."
"He is a monstrous individual," Spock says, obviously startled. Uhura almost
says something, but doesn't. Better for Spock to see what the kid's like first
hand.
"I know," Jim says quietly. "He deserves... whatever. It's just weird, that's
all."
After staying long enough to make sure they don't kill each other, Uhura lets
herself out of the room. She goes down the hall and across the street to Dr.
McCoy's temporary office.
"Well, what's the final verdict?" she asks after letting herself in.
McCoy rolls his eyes at her and flips the file he was working on closed. "I'd
testify as a witness on that kid's behalf, if that's what you're asking. He
ain't a stunning exhibit of mental health, but nothing's there to warrant an
involuntary commitment. All things considered, he's a tough cookie."
"Did you find out why one of your colleagues tried to get him committed?" she
asks, knowing it will sting even as she says the words. Sometimes she just
can't help it.
McCoy doesn't rise to the bait this time though, he just puts his hand on his
forehead. "I called around," he says. "Old professor of mine did a residency
with the head of Riverside psychiatric. He found out that the guy's a golf
buddy of the Riverside Sheriff."
"Oh," she says, and she's not even a little bit surprised, but it makes her gut
twist anyway. After this she's definitely getting into homicide. It has to be
easier to avenge the dead than agonize over the living.
"The basis for Jim's diagnosis was paranoid delusions," McCoy goes on, words
sharp as tacks. "I ain't gonna tell you what of exactly, but you're a smart
woman. I'll just go on and give you three guesses about what he was deluded
enough to try to tell people and the first two don't count."
Abuse, of course it is. It's still not a surprise. She forces her mind past it,
at least for now. Focus. "Will we have trouble with them?" she demands.
McCoy shrugs, "Anything's possible, but they'd have to be a lot more delusional
than they claim the kid is to want to open this can of worms now. If it hits
the media... well, town of Riverside is a small, small place for a big, big
scandal like this. They can't sweep it under the rug when the kid's out here."
Uhura nods and gets ready to say something else, something about the case, on
topic. Instead what comes out of her mouth is, "He wants to be an astronaut."
McCoy actually cracks a smile at that. "He tests off the charts on the IQ
batteries. If he can keep his dumb ass together long enough and we don't go
sliding into economic chaos and have to scrap the space program, why the fuck
not?"
She nods. She's still thinking.
On Jim's eighteenth birthday, Nero cops a plea. It's not a surprise-- there was
no way this was going to trial. The sentence isn't what Uhura wants, but she's
been a cop long enough that that part doesn't surprise her either. Guy was a
pimp with too much inside knowledge and the DA's office wanted to go after
dealers and suppliers instead. Motherfuckers.
She picks Jim up outside of juvie. He's got a worn out duffel bag that's
probably full of books since he's wearing one of the two sets of clothing she's
seen him in. He frowns when he sees her.
"Hey," he says. "What gives? Our deal's up, right? You got your guy and I get
to get out of here."
She nods and lets herself smile. "Yeah, you do," she says. "Where are you going
exactly?"
Jim raises a bushy, dirty blond eyebrow and his mouth curls upwards, like a
born flirt. "Well, I was going to see if I could sweet talk someone pretty into
letting me crash on her couch. What do you say?"
She rolls her eyes. "And what were you going to do when you got the crash
space? Eat out of her fridge and roll around looking pretty?"
He snorts and follows it up with a surprisingly bright peal of laughter. "Not
if she'd rather put me to work," he says. "But I thought that lawyer guy was
your boyfriend." He pauses. "I'd be up for that, actually. I do couples."
"Yeah, you're going to need to wait until you're older and get your skinny ass
through school," she says and then wonders if she's actually flirting with this
kid. Fuck.
He laughs again though and she can't help but smile at him. "I can take the
GED," he offers. "Or are you going to hold out until I'm an astronaut? Cause I
think you have to join the military for that and I'm not sure that's my thing."
She sobers, forces herself to. To look him in the eye. "This isn't for the
chance to fuck you, Jim," she says. She doesn't have to add that she probably
wouldn't have to do a damned thing to get that chance. He's already all but
offered it up every time they've been in a room together.
His eyes roll up and his smile goes plastic. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You want to
help me reach my limitless potential. Have you considered a career as a
highschool guidance counselor? Because you sound like my old one until I told
her some true shit about my home life and ended up in a straitjacket."
She shakes her head. She doesn't move towards him, lets him come to her
instead. Like a feral tom cat, ears all pricked up, pride in his stance. "Maybe
you just remind me of someone," she says, and meets his gaze, tries to let the
truth shine through for once. "Someone who got some well timed help and wants
to pass it on."
"You sound like a hallmark card," he says, but he steps closer. "You're talking
about yourself, right, Detective Uhura?" If he had a tail, it would be
bristling.
"You're eighteen," she says instead of answering. "My front door isn't locked
from the inside, you can show yourself out any time."
He whistles, sweet and low. "Man," he says, sounding surprised. "You're good.
Do they teach mindfucking in cop school?"
She looks away. "Do what you want, then," she says and turns her back on him.
She takes one step, two, three. Doesn't hesitate.
He catches up to her half way down the block when she's at her car. "I didn't
say I didn't like being mindfucked by a beautiful woman," he says and hovers by
the passenger side door.
She shakes her head and unlocks her car. Breathes out when he tosses his bag in
the back and climbs on in.
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