Title: Good-bye Love

Author: The Emcee

Pairing: Khan/Kirk, past Sherlock/John, past Lucas North/John Watson

Rating: K

Summary: A visit from an old friend is just what the doctor ordered for Khan.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: I saw on tumblr this post where someone asked, "Since when did Sherlock Holmes become evil?" and someone answered, "When John Watson ran off with thirteen other men." So, you could say that this was inspired by that. Thank you, tumblr post! R&R. Enjoy!

~…~

Good-bye Love

~…~

Khan knew that he was dreaming. He knew that he was dreaming because he couldn't be awake. The last thing he remembered was being forced into his cryo-tube and put back to sleep. Although he had planned to escape, he had yet to do so as he was still in his induced sleep. Therefore, the only explanation as to how he could be standing on the roof of a building was that he was asleep. However, the why escaped him. Why was he standing on the roof of a building while he dreamed away?

He sensed his presence before he could think of anything else. Of course Khan would be able to sense his presence. Ever since they had first met at Bart's he had been able to sense his presence. It was like…it was like wind dried clothes and tea; it was like acceptance and forgiveness and security; it was safety and friendship and…and love. Love that had been offered to Khan so easily back then, back before his fall… Ah, now his standing on the roof made perfect sense to him. But Khan didn't turn around to face him. Nor did he smile, although maintaining his expressionless façade was far more difficult than leaving his crew in the hands of Marcus had been. Khan stayed where he was, refusing to give in and turn around to see him, although that was all he really wanted to do.

"Stubborn as always," came John's voice from behind him, a slight hint of humor and annoyance in his tone. There was more humor to it than annoyance, however. There always had been, especially back in those days. Back when he was called…

"Sherlock. It's…it's been awhile," John said and Khan heard footsteps. And then John was standing beside him. If Khan wished it, he could use his peripheral vision to look at him. He refused to give his old flat mate, his old best friend, his…his old beloved the satisfaction.

"Indeed, it has. Over three hundred years, if I do recall," Khan said, his voice not betraying any of his feelings even though he felt incredibly bitter and angry. How he managed that he had no idea. John always made him feel as though he were about to lose it, to lose hold of whatever control he managed to conjure and contain. And before he had been put back to sleep again, Khan had felt plenty of rage and anger and hatred. They were familiar to him now and easier to deal with than sadness and heartbreak and despair.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," John said.

"It's Khan, now," Khan corrected him almost gently. He heard John sigh from beside him.

"All right then. I'm sorry, Khan," John amended his apology, and Khan knew that he did feel sorry. Perhaps not for the reasons Khan wished he was, but he was still sorry nonetheless.

"For what? For leaving me when I needed you most? For not waiting for my return? For running off with another man," Khan spat, the bitterness and anger he felt finally bubbling to the surface like tar. His fists were clenched at his sides and shook with the anger and rage he felt. Even now, even after so long and so much, Khan still loved John. He always would.

"I stayed in 221 B for two years, Sherlock!" John protested. "I waited for you and hoped and prayed for two long, lonely, heartbroken years. I couldn't stay there anymore, not with all of the memories and the sadness. So, I left."

"With him!" Khan growled, narrowing his eyes dangerously as he finally, finally, turned to look at John. God, he was as beautiful as he had been when they first met. Only John looked more relaxed and…and happier. It was a happiness that Khan had not been able to give him.

"Lucas was…he was there, Sherlock. He was there and he was strong and he helped me. You can't fault me for being with him when you left," John told him, glaring up at him.

"I told you; it's Khan, now. Not Sherlock. Not anymore," Khan hissed through his teeth. John scrutinized him intensely for a moment and Khan fought not to shifted on his feet. After so long, John still had the ability to seem as though he saw right through Khan's façade and into his very soul.

"What happened to you, Sherlock? You didn't used to be so full of anger, so full of rage and hate," John asked him, still staring intently at him.

"You left, John," Khan told him with a sneer. "That's what happened."

"Yes, well, you left first," John countered.

"And you think that was easy for me? You think that I wanted to spend years unraveling Moriarty's empire? You think that was enjoyable for me?" Khan all but yelled, his eyes glaring daggers at John. If he wanted to, he could crush John's skull in his bare hands and wouldn't think twice about it. Back then, back when he still went by the name of Sherlock, the thought would never have crossed his mind. But Sherlock was dead; he died when he realized that John had given up on him, and all that was left was Khan.

"The only thing that got me through those long, lonely, painful years was the thought of coming home to you," Khan said, stepping closer to John. He brought a hand up and gently touched the doctor's face. John closed his eyes at the contact, reveling in it, before he opened them again and stared back evenly into Khan's bright, blue eyes. Khan's face contorted in anger and rage as he added, "And then I come home and Mycroft tells me that you've met another bloke, Lucas North, and have been happy with him and it killed me."

"I'm not sorry for being with Lucas," John said, "but I am sorry for all of the hurt and pain I caused you."

"And what's worse is that Lucas is the reason you died prematurely," Khan said lowly, his voice quivering with barely suppressed rage and hatred. Rage and hatred directed at the man who had taken his John away from him. "Were it not for him, you wouldn't have died in that car accident."

"It wasn't Lucas' fault, you know," John told him matter-of-factly. "We were hit head on by a drunk driver. How was that Lucas' fault?"

"If he had been stronger, better, he could have protected you sufficiently! But he was weak and mundane and human," Khan shouted.

"But you've found someone else," John said, changing the subject quickly. "That Jim Kirk fellow, wasn't it?"

"Jim Kirk," Khan huffed and moved away from John. His gaze turned away from him and stared out at the horizon. "He's weak, inferior, and reckless. And he has no idea what he's doing."

"And you like him," John pressed. "You liked how he took you on at the Starfleet HQ meeting. You liked how he chased after you to Kronos. You liked how he punched you again and again. You like having him chase after you, don't you?"

"How do you know about Starfleet and Kronos? They were after your time," Khan asked John, hoping to divert his attention on that instead of the person who had been plaguing Khan's mind since San Francisco.

"I'm dead, Khan. I see everything. Now, answer my questions or else I won't leave you alone," John demanded. Khan almost scoffed but he didn't.

"Jim Kirk is intriguing. I find that unlike most Starfleet Captains he has a conscience. He tries to see things from other people's perspective," Khan admitted. "It makes him easy to manipulate and control."

"No, it makes him easy for you to like him. You want him, Khan. Don't deny it," John pressed.

"What I want is my crew, my family, and nothing more," Khan told him sternly.

"You already have them. You're surrounded by them right now. So take a load off and go after Jim," John encouraged him. "You need someone to be with." You need someone who will help you get over me, is what remained unsaid. But it was true, though.

"And how do you expect me to do that when I'm locked up in my tube asleep?" Khan asked, a slight sneer in his voice.

"We both know that you have a plan to escape. You just have to wait until someone comes in to make sure that you and your crew are all still there and to administer the new dosage of tranquilizer that will keep you all asleep. That's when you make your escape," John told him. "Your body functions will quickly come back once the dosage is being changed. So much for ancient machinery and torpedoes that ruining cryo-tubes, eh?" He chuckled. Khan did not. Silence fell upon them and Khan continued staring out at what lay in front of him. Nothing but buildings and the bright light of the sunrise.

"I truly am sorry for all of the pain I've caused you, Sherlock. Khan," John told him, looking up at him with a pained expression on his face. "But I want you to be happy, with your crew and with Jim. You deserve to be happy."

Khan didn't say anything. What was there to say, really? The experiments that had turned him into a being that was far superior to the average human had given him a family. He was now surrounded by his family, which is what he had wanted from the moment Marcus woke him up. But he also wanted Jim there with him. For reasons he couldn't and didn't want to explain or understand, he felt drawn to the Captain and desired to dissect him inside and out. To claim such a passionate and headstrong man made Khan's blood boil with want and desire. John maybe have been right, that Khan deserved happiness, but he would never admit that to the doctor. Somehow, he had the feeling that John already knew it.

"I have to go. Can't stay here all day now, can I?" John asked. Khan hesitated, not sure if he should or could speak or not. But his voice had a mind of its own.

"Will I ever see you again?" Khan asked him, his voice sounding uncharacteristically small and vulnerable. Too vulnerable for his liking.

"Someday, perhaps. Until then…good-bye, Sherlock," John said, a sad smile on his face as his body began to disappear. When he was gone, Khan turned and stared at the spot he had once stood.

"Good-bye, John," he said softly.