Curiosity Killed The Cat (Khan/OC Fanfiction)

The Cruelties Of The Universe

For the first time in a long time, Elizabeth didn't want to see John. Hell, she didn't want to be within a five-mile radius of John. In addition, for the first time in a long time, she didn't have any choice in the matter. It was over, there was no way it could be put off for another night.

When she opened the door, her hands were trembling due to her fear--her fear of what was to come. The inevitable argument. The walking away. Then the pain, the relentless pain. If John could make her happier than no one else ever had, she knew, undoubtedly he could cause her suffering like no one else.

His apartment was completely dark, but she knew better than to think he wasn't home. With ease, she navigated the dark hallway and into the bedroom where it was brighter, but not by much.

John whirled around in his desk chair to look at her the second she walked in. He sharply hit the button on the side of his monitor and the screen went dark. He was expecting an explanation, but Elizabeth couldn't deliver. She was too busy looking at him, really looking at him. Elizabeth took in the sharp angles of John's face, his ink black hair, the slope of his shoulders and his chest, the way he sat with impeccable posture, his long fingers tapping the desk, the perplexing eyes that were grey at that moment--every part of him. The parts that created a sum that she couldn't bear to be without.

He'd shown up just in time.

Just when she'd started to become mind-numbingly bored. Just when she'd forgotten what it was like to feel something overpowering. Just when she'd become numb to things like the feel of paper, the taste of homemade food, and waking up next to someone who set her heart on fire.

He'd shown up just in time, and now she had to say goodbye.

John's eyes flashed in anger, and it felt like someone was ripping a vital part out of her. Elizabeth choked back a sob.

"Why are you crying?" He asked coldly.

Elizabeth bit down on her lip, hard, centering herself. She took a shaky breath and looked away. "Because I have to leave you."

"What?" He snapped, his voice still harsh and impatient.

"You know last week when I showed up here three hours late?" Elizabeth kept her gaze fixed on the wall behind him, mechanically reciting what she'd planned out in her head. "That day I received a letter from Captain James Kirk. He wanted to interview me for a position on a five-year mission. I didn't tell you, I didn't want you to know. I lied to you about what I was doing tonight because my interview was tonight."

John didn't say anything for a pensive moment, and Elizabeth didn't dare to look at him for his reaction.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I got the position, I start in a few months," Elizabeth said bitterly. "Thanks for asking."

"Tell me," John growled.

"I already told you," there was a tear falling down her face as she spoke. "Because I would have to leave you."

"You're not making any sense."

"Think about it!" She finally looked at him. "I'm going to leave for five years! Obviously, we can't maintain that sort of distance for that long, neither of us would want to and it would be pointless to try. I need to end things with you now because I can't go on like this, knowing that the end was coming."

John didn't say anything for a long time. He turned away from her and stared at nothing. Perhaps his silence was his form of relenting and she should just leave. She turned toward the door, her feet blocks of steel, when he said, "Stop."

"What?"

"You're wrong."

"John, do not make this harder than it already is. Pursuing a doomed relationship isn't logical."

Finally, he stood up. "It is if it's ours."

"Fuck, John," She said helplessly. "We're not an exception to the cruelties of the universe."

"I do not expect you to give up your mission. I know you. You wouldn't give that up, especially not for me," he cringed as he said it, like it hurt him to admit that. "I won't ask that of you. All I'm asking is that you don't leave until you have to." He looked so vulnerable, just as scared as she was.

"What are you talking about?"

"You said it yourself, you won't be leaving for a few months. Why should you leave me now, when that time is still there?"

"Putting off the inevitable will only hurt us more in the end," Elizabeth's heart was picking up with each word he said in protest to what she was trying to do, she hadn't expected him to fight it.

"I don't care," He walked over to her in urgency and grabbed her shoulders. "Elizabeth Marla, listen," he said desperately, a tone she wasn't aware he was capable of. Elizabeth winced at the seemingly random use of her middle name. John called her by it at times, she didn't know why, he probably just liked the sound of it. Elizabeth didn't, it reminded her of loss.

"Walking this world alone, without even having one's own memories, is a tribulation I would not wish on even my greatest enemy," John continued on trying to convince her, and Elizabeth thought it ironic that he was just now telling her how much she meant to him, now that it was ending. "Do you realise what you've done for me?"

More tears. Her voice cracked as she whimpered out, "John, you're only making it worse."

"You gave me purpose," John said as he looked her in the eyes, unwavering and honest, because he meant it.

"Shit," she whispered under her breath, and tried to comprehend what was happening, but it was all mixed up in her head with the thousands of emotions she was feeling, and it was far too much for her to handle.

"Bye," she said quickly as she turned away, trying to break everything they'd built over the past four months (God, had it only been four months? It felt like years) with a word.

"Wait!" He grabbed her arm, and she yanked it away like his touch hurt her.

Elizabeth looked back and his eyes were wide and glassy, like there were tears there threatening to fall. She had to rip her eyes away and keep them at the floor, she couldn't cave now, no matter how her entire being was screaming at her to stay, to fix it. "Let it go, John."

Elizabeth ran out the door, down the stairs, out onto the street, then all the way back home. She sprinted the whole way, not stopping once until she found her front door. Leaning against the wall, her breathing out of control, she stared at the number on her door--72-- until her vision started to blur and blacken around the edges.