Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/338366.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Star_Trek_(2009)
  Relationship:
      James_T._Kirk/Spock
  Character:
      Governor_Kodos, Leonard_McCoy, Nyota_Uhura, Spock, Spock_Prime, Pavel
      Chekov, Hikaru_Sulu
  Additional Tags:
      non-con_NOT_between_main_pairing, The_use_of_every_Trek_trope...ever, h/
      c, Angst, Evil_Masterminds_who_are_Evil, Tarsus_IV
  Collections:
      Spirk
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-02-12 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 66394
****** Strength of Men ******
by 1lostone
Summary
     While a deadly disease incapacitates the Enterprise, an old enemy of
     Jim's forces him to remember his time on Tarsus IV. Spock finds
     Kirk's pain unacceptable.
      
     UPDATE: 7, August 2015. Wow, this fic is five years old and I've
     changed a LOT as a writer since then. I hope, anyway. With the help
     of FoxyK I'm finally getting around to betaing this for typos. Most
     of the fic- plot points, etc- should stay the same, unless one of us
     finds something especially cringe-worthy!
Notes
     My first Trek fic, posted originally in 2010. Please note the tags
     and all the warnings.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Thanks as always to  
[[info]]
yesterday_girl   and [[info]]ladyblahblah  for letting me ask them the most
random of questions and being damn awesome.
 
Also, in the middle of the fic  [[info]]avictoriangirl  made me this
 
:D
 
 
 
Stardate:  2259.52
“Bah dum … da dum… da dum-de-dah-dum…..”
The syllables were rough. Dry, like sandpaper that had been left outside for
far too long and could easily crumble to dust.  They weren’t the only sounds in
the hollow chamber. Occasionally there was a whimper or moan of agony to liven
up the chorus. Faintly in the background a computerized voice could be heard
counting repetitively, the alien syllables steady and monotonous.
“The mon…key… chased… “ 
Indeed, the man making those sounds was beyond realizing the repetitive song-
that he was repeating the same syllables over and over, like an old Earth
record that was stuck and skipping.  The words were the barest breath, his
strained and ravaged vocal cords unable to produce much beyond the slightest
whisper. 
“ The weeeea-sel.”
It was a silly song that he remembered his mother teaching him to play on the
small piano that sat in the living area of his boyhood home.   As a boy he had
had absolutely no discernible musical talent, but he did vividly remember the
smell of his mother’s perfume as she sat with him, patiently showing him the
keys to press, her warm hand on his center of his back, the feel of her hug
when he managed to play the childish song without stopping or with too many
mistakes.  It was one of the few times that he remembered sitting still.
“Bah dum … da dum…”
What would it do to her, when they informed her that her youngest son,
following the long-standing tradition of both his older brother and father, had
died while on a mission for Starfleet?
But his brain didn’t like that thought and shied away from it like a skittish
animal.
He had no idea how long he had been hanging here… hanging around. Hanging.
Huh.  The thought made his broken lips smile. He felt a trickle of blood escape
from the corner of his mouth, and licked at it instinctively. He was so
thirsty. The small wetness didn’t help at all, only caused his mouth to feel
even more dry and swollen as the bright copper taste hit his taste buds.  
He wiggled his left wrist by accident, but didn’t have the strength to wince
when pain ricocheted around his already abused body as the shattered bones
rubbed against each other.  The blood pooling from the horribly swollen
appendage caused the skin to throb against the chain that held him immobile.
 It didn’t matter. The pain would pass eventually, the horrible thirst would
dissipate. He would die here, broken and alone.
“Bah dum … da dum… da dum-de-dah-du…..”
God, he was thirsty.

***
Stardate:  2259.52.5
When the small ship had first shown up on the Enterprise scanners, Acting
Captain Spock’s fingers had tightened so much on the armrests of the Captain’s
chair that the metal gave a subtle groan of protest at its treatment.  The
fierce fury that the sight of the vessel produced was completely illogical. But
undeniable. “Red Alert.”   The klaxon and the flashing red lights seemed to
somehow enhance the moment, making it seem even more intense.
This was the ship that had attacked them. Stolen their Captain. “Ensign.
Report.”
“Aye. Keptin.”  Chekov quickly punched some numbers into the console.
Spock had to force himself to speak calmly as the young man worked. “Helmsman?
How long until intercept?”
“Four-point six minutes. Captain.”
Chekov spoke, his untrained voice showing his frustration with the information
he had to share. “Keptin. Long range scanners show that the wessel is in orbit
around the planet, but some sort of electronic disturbance is interfering with
in-depth scanning information. “
“--Captain. I am receiving no signals from either the ship or the planet. The
interference seems to be disrupting communications as well.” The man speaking
from the communications station also had nuances of emotion in his voice as he
spoke.  Spock could detect adrenaline and a faint tinge of panic.
“Take us out of warp, Helmsman Mathos.”  Spock was not about to trust the
occupants of that vessel again. They had long-range weapon capability. It was
illogical to assume that because the Enterprise’s sensors were compromised that
the vessel’s own sensors were as well.
“Yes sir.” The engines purred briefly as they slowed down.  Spock was up and
standing over the Ensign at the science station, fingers itching to pull up the
information he required. “Ensign, scan the planet’s surface for life signs.”
“A-aye. Sir!”  Spock wondered for a moment why the man’s speaking voice sounded
higher than usual, and acknowledged that perhaps he was standing a little too
close to the shorter Human.  Spock knew that his presence still intimidated the
crew of the Enterprise. Normally he would not have catered to such a human
insecurity, but he needed this information the Ensign could provide, so he
stepped back.
 The turbolift’s doors swooshed open “Damnit, why are we stopped? What are you
people…?” the Chief Medical Officer’s voice trailed off as he saw the enemy
ship on the Enterprise’s view screen.  Spock watched as the other man’s fists
clenched. His complexion became very colorful. Spock recognized that this was a
very tell-tale sign that McCoy was about to completely lose his temper.
Spock could now see the electronic disturbance.  It could be a storm trapped in
the planet’s atmosphere. He was not sure.  Whatever it was, it was an obstacle
keeping him from scanning the ship ahead of them. He could hear the doctor’s
heavy breathing as he glared at the ship. McCoy was obviously exhausted.  
As were they all.
Spock knew the human had come up from sickbay once they had dropped out of
warp, as he had a habit of doing. That habit was surely what was driving him
now as he looked over at Spock.  The doctor’s eyes narrowed even further.
Acting Captain Spock, Ensign Chekov, Chief Engineer Scott, and were the only
crewmembers assigned to the bridge  that hadn’t been struck by the disease that
had ravaged the ship after Captain Kirk was taken. It had been quite fortunate
that the Chief Medical Officer had not been victim to the disease. Their
replacements were ill. The people that staffed the bridge of the Enterprise now
were not who Spock would have chosen to complete a find and recover mission,
yet here they were. Logically, he knew that in the year since Captain Kirk had
taken over, the crew had been tested and retested to perform at their absolute
best.  Many had now worked double shifts as their crewmates were struck down by
the strange disease.  They were good at what they did, yet he still wished for
Mr. Sulu’s quick reflexes and Uhura’s unmatched xenolinguistics skill.
The disease had struck them hard. McCoy had watched helpless as the first few
patients died in front of him. It had taken him two entire days to isolate the
symptoms enough to slow the death process in order to find a cure. There seemed
to be no rhyme or reason to the disease, and McCoy still hadn’t been able to
isolate the cause.
Nor could Spock explain how the Captain had disappeared off of the ship with no
evidence of transporter use.  One minute the vessel was alongside the
Enterprise, and in the next moment unidentified microbes had been beamed into
the ship’s ventilators.  In the chaos of that discovery, they had discovered
that Kirk was missing.
It had been a rough ten days, to say the least.  Spock and McCoy had taken to
discussing matters in Captain Kirk’s ready room, so that the skeleton crew was
not unduly influenced by the conversation. 
“Ensign Chekov, Ensign Kelly, report your findings to me. I will be in the
Captain’s ready-room.”
 “Yessir.”
“Aye, Keptin.”
Spock’s eyebrow rose as he followed McCoy to the sparsely furnished room.
It was no surprise to him that almost as soon as the room’s doors swished shut,
McCoy had his tricorder out and was taking readings of his physiology.
“Still no symptoms? No... No… I can see. Adrenaline spike. Exhaustion.
Expected.”
Spock could clearly make out the muttered words and submitted to the quick
readings without comment. While he still found most human emotion completely
illogical, he understood that the CMO needed to reassure himself- to feel as
though he was accomplishing some small thing. The readings were correct; Spock
truly was exhausted. Vulcans required very little sleep to maintain day-to-day
activities, but Spock had been unable to sleep at all while performing his
duties as Acting Captain. When he wasn’t technically on duty, he had been in
the biolab, assisting McCoy with isolating the researchable aspects of the
disease.  With precisely 76.8 percent of the crew affected by or deceased from
the disease, McCoy had not had enough staff to care for the sick and do all the
research himself.
It was a dissatisfying situation.
Spock desperately wanted to meditate. Needed to. Needed to get these
uncomfortable emotions under better control. He knew this, understood this to
be the most logical course of action, but he had simply not been able to find
the time.
“Doctor.”
McCoy looked up, glaring at him.
Before he could speak, however, Chekov’s excited voice could be heard over the
communications.
“Keptain! Keptain!!” Spock had whirled on his heel and was walking out of the
ready room towards the young Ensign almost before the man had spoken the last
syllable, McCoy right behind him.
“Report.”
“The electrical anomaly is not just a storm. It is engineered, as sort of a
jamming dewice!”  His fingers were flying over the console as he muttered under
his breath. “Scanning, sir.”
Spock found himself tapping his finger against the leg of his uniform and
stopped immediately, appalled at his own actions.
There was a gasp from the station. “Keptin, I am picking up Captain Kirk’s
signal! It is wery faint. And… readings, sir. Faint life form readings from the
wessel.  Not sure if human or not. But humanoid.”
Spock spun on his heel. “Spock to Scott. Meet me in the Transporter Room A.
Lieutenant Jasper, assemble an away team.” He was already walking towards the
lift. 
“Aye, Captain.”
“Acknowledged, sir.”
There was a tense silence as the turbo lift hummed on its way to the proper
deck.  The doors swished open and Spock stalked through. He stopped McCoy from
striding to the transporter pads by angling his body in front of the other
man’s, but McCoy was so intent on his destination that he walked right into
him. The flurry of emotions he picked up from the contact was brief, but
extremely unwelcome. Fury. Worry. Heartache. Feelings of being superfluous. 
Spock raised an eyebrow and stepped back.
“You will not be accompanying us.”
“The hell I won’t!”
“Your duty is to the crewmembers on this ship. You cannot be spared at this
time given the negligible likelihood of your staff to find an inoculation to
this sickness without you present.”
McCoy sputtered, so furious that he couldn’t actually respond with words.
It was fortuitous; Spock thought, that the others showed up before McCoy could
resort to physical violence. Their time working so closely together had not
improved their relationship.
At all.
“Two teams.  I require one of you to beam down to the enemy vessel with me.” He
looked at Lieutenant Jasper who nodded once, gesturing to one of his
subordinates who came to stand by Spock.  “Lieutenant Scott, you have the con.”
“Aye, Sir.”
“You better bring him back; you damn… pointy eared…” McCoy broke off, turning
sharply on his heel, muttering obscenities under his breath, all of which Spock
could clearly distinguish.
“Lieutenant Scott, energize.”
Spock braced himself and waited for the feeling of the transporter to start
scrambling molecules, but it never came.
“Energize, Mr. Scott.” Spock’s voice dropped a degree or two.
“I… can’t sir. There is someth…”
Scott was interrupted by the beep of a communicator. “Keptin! The electronic
interference is back.  We’ve lost our signals from the planet.”

Spock raised an eyebrow.
***
Stardate:  2259.54.6
Two days later found the Enterprise in slightly better shape. McCoy found
himself staring out of the window in his office, looking down at the planet. He
had indeed made an inoculation against the spread of the disease, which the
crew members had taken to calling Blackneck. They knew that it was much like
Terran influenza, but had caused the patients to spike such a high fever that
its victims were delirious within hours. Spreading through the respiration
system, it had been quite difficult to contain. The virus had caused the neck
to swell and patches of skin to start flaking off. The remaining skin tissue
would turn dark blue or black until it looked as though the victim had some
sort of orchestrated contusions. The bacteria on the skin would result in
entire layers of flesh withering away. McCoy was heard to mutter that it was
like the ancient Earth plagues and leprosy with a touch of Ornaran plague and
lungworm thrown in for kicks. It constantly shifted, mutating itself so that
finding a cure was difficult. McCoy had managed to stop the mutation and the
spread and was working on administering relief to the individual symptoms. 
Crew quarters had become emergency quarantines.
McCoy took a sip of whiskey, savoring the burn as it hit his stomach. He had no
intention of getting drunk. Damnit. But he had prescribed himself a short break
before he fell on his face.  Slowly but surely, things were looking better.
Sulu and Uhura had been returned to duty, and that had helped both him and the
green-blooded bastard to get some much needed rest. Actually, McCoy had wanted
them to remain in sickbay for observation since both had flaking skin and
fading black contusions, but they had both insisted that they would be fine for
active duty.
Uhura and Sulu, along with Chekov and Scott, had pretty much taken over the
entire day-to-day duties of running the ship. McCoy had prescribed Spock a
period of rest, but had no way of knowing whether the pointy-eared hobgoblin
had followed his medical advice or not.  McCoy had slept for seven hours
straight, until his staff had awoken him, needing his expertise.  
Chekov had been monitoring the interference from the planet. He had been so
focused on finding every single scrap of information that McCoy had pretty much
had to force the kid into taking a break to sleep.  Even then he had suspicions
that he was somehow still monitoring from his quarters. Chekov and Spock had
both worked seamlessly and McCoy had been hard-pressed not to make any Caped
Crusader and Boy Wonder jokes.  Well, out loud anyway. He smirked into his
glass and took another sip.   
The two had discovered that the cycle of interference gave them exactly a 6.4
minute window of non-interference every twenty-four hours. They had been
unprepared for yesterday’s window, not knowing when exactly it cycled through.
McCoy had still not been cleared to go, but operating on the assumption that
the window would be opening in another- he checked the chronometer- hour and
twenty minutes, Spock had ordered everyone necessary to report to the
transporter room ten minutes before the actual window began.
McCoy and Spock had conferred again (their “conference” in the ready room had
resulted in McCoy yelling and waving his hands around, and several repetitions
of the word ‘illogical’) and were operating on the tentative assumption that
Jim was on the planet, and two unidentified humanoids were on the ship. The
sensors had confirmed Jim’s recorder signature planetside, so McCoy was
reasonably certain they were on the right track. . Reasonably. Okay, partially.
Somewhat. Damnit, he was a doctor not a sensor specialist. He took another swig
of his drink and sighed, standing and getting ready to prepare sickbay for his
friend and the two poor bastards that were stuck on the ship. 
Spock had insisted that he be the one to beam down to the alien vessel. ‘It is
only logical, as I have not contracted the disease that has incapacitated the
Enterprise. The member of security who is beaming down with me is also immune.
We have the advantage of being prepared and aware in this instance. I do not
anticipate any problems, Doctor.’
Prissy, tricorder-up-the-ass bastard.
McCoy busied himself with his patients in Sickbay, one eye on his patients, the
other on the chronometer as it steadfastly kept time.
***
Spock had spent several hours in deep meditation, trying to eradicate his
maelstrom of useless emotions. It had worked up to a point, and the additional
three hours of sleep had done wonders to sharpen and focus his thoughts.
He had gone over the plan with the security officer and the two medical crew
Dr. McCoy had insisted be added to the away team. The planetside team had a
very simple mission: they would be beamed to the Captain’s coordinates, and
beamed back as soon as they had ascertained that the Captain was safe to be
moved. Starfleet regulations prohibited them from simply locking on the
Captain’s location and beaming him directly to the ship in order to be certain
of exactly whom they were beaming up. It wouldn’t do to inadvertently violate
the Prime Directive when a simple visual confirmation would suffice.
This was an illogical regulation. If a member of Starfleet had been kidnapped,
Spock privately believed that he or she should be recovered without taking the
extra step to beam down to a possibly—probably—hostile planet.  McCoy had also
insisted that everyone wear protective suits that supplied clean air,
eliminating the issue of picking up possible planetary contamination.
Spock had a slightly different mission. He had tasked himself with finding
answers- answers that only a thorough examination of the hostile spacecraft
could provide. Who were these people? What motivated them to attack members of
Starfleet with such a hostile act?
He had no answers at this time.
The doors to the transporter room opened with a small swish and Spock entered,
pleased to see that everyone was ready and waiting.  To save time, Mr. Scott
was planning on beaming both teams within seconds of each other, and Spock was
satisfied to note that the planetside away team was already ready and waiting.
Spock nodded at the ensign, who handed him his phaser and tricorder. He
attached the tricorder securely to his uniform and held the phaser loosely in
his left hand.  Mr. Scott had explicit instructions to beam up all members of
the team, regardless of what they found, before the window closed again.
“Alright, laddies. Prepare to transport.” Mr. Scott nodded to Spock and the
security officer who stepped into place, ready to stand on the transporter pads
as soon as it was safe to do so. Spock anticipated that it would take only a
few seconds for Scott to beam them to the ship, but with such a short window of
opportunity it was vital that they be ready.
“Energize.”
As soon as the five people disappeared, Spock moved into place. He nodded at
Scott, who responded with a curt, “Energize!”
Spock felt the molecules do the odd pushpullthat signified the use of a
transporter beam, saw the blinding white light as he was being sent away.
 Before he faded completely he could make out a panicked, “Sir! Kirk isn’t…!”
before he disappeared.
Several things happened at once in the nanosecond before he reappeared on the
alien ship. That one brief warning…. Kirk isn’t… had tensed Spock into
movement, and from movement into action.
That action saved his life.
There was a flash of red and Spock was diving almost before he had
rematerialized, his quicker-than-human reflexes throwing him down, and over. 
There was a scream beside him as the security officer was hit by the beam of
light, the piercing his acute hearing as the high-pitched sound filled the
room. Spock saw the man’s flesh start to burn away; he flipped and turned so
that he landed in a crouch, eyes assessing the situation.  There was no one
there. Whatever had attacked the unfortunate Human must have been set as a
trap.
Spock moved cautiously towards the fallen man, Most of his legs and the lower
part of his torso had been burnt away.  Spock became aware of the computerized
voice doing some sort of countdown, and he made his way quickly through the
doors.  The readings had spoken of two humanoid life forms, and Spock had a
horrible suspicion that one of them was his Captain.  The planetside security
officer’s panicked, ‘Sir! Kirk isn’t….’caused Spock’s brain to whirl with
possibilities.
Spock vaguely recognized the language the mechanized voice was speaking. While
he couldn’t be certain without proper study, it seemed as though the Cardassian
voice was performing a simple countdown. The flashing red lights made it very
clear that the ship had been set to self-destruct. He hurried to the next room
and began searching for the life forms. He did a quick calculation of the
number the computerized voice spoke against the time left within the window of
opportunity and realized that ship had been set to self-destruct at exactly
three seconds before any away team would be able to beam out.  He tapped his
communicator, unsurprised when it gave a flat-sounding sound.  He could not
communicate with the Enterprise.Spock frowned minutely. He did not have time to
find and disengage whatever was jamming the communication frequencies.  
The tricorder beeped at him, showing that one of the lifeforms was still
tenaciously clinging to life. The readings were extremely faint. He couldn’t
read a heartbeat or any specific information from this distance, but Spock knew
that someone was on board. There was no sign of the other lifeform the
Enterprise’s readings had confirmed was here.
He had approximately 5.23 minutes. Spock ran.
There were several metal staircases. He was headed for the belly of the ship-
perhaps some kind of cargo hold. It took longer than he had anticipated,
following the tricorder readings.  
 Four minutes.
He passed what looked like an eating area, barracks, and some kind of medical
lab. His quick gaze inside caused his heart to start pounding and he skidded to
a halt, his regulation boots slipping a little on the tacky blood that had been
spattered everywhere.  The yellow Starfleet uniform had been ripped to shreds.
Spock blinked. The iron tang of blood hung rank in the room, along with the
smell of darker things.  Someone had bled out on the medical table. They had
been chained down, spread-eagled.
He was very aware of his heartbeat. Each thud seemed to counterpoint the placid
self-destruct countdown. It was illogical to stand there, staring at the dead
man, but Spock literally couldn’t make his foot move forward. All he could hear
was his blood rushing through his body, echoed by the too-fast thudding of his
heart.  It took an inordinate amount of time for him to take a step forward.
And another. The man’s face was turned away from him. Spock reached out, and
with surprising gentleness turned the man’s neck so that he could see the
features. 
His skin was still warm. Spock’s sensitive fingers could feel the fading heat
from the man’s skin.  He could see the man’s features frozen forever in a
grotesque mask of abject fear. He didn’t recognize the face.
It wasn’t him.
Time seemed to rush back all at once.  
Two minutes!
Spock whirled, clutching the tricorder.  He ran again, lithe body pounding on
the metal planks of the staircases, each step jingling in a strange staccato
accompaniment to the steady voice counting down to his death. 
He entered the large cargo hold with a feeling of gratitude. It had taken him
longer than he had calculated to go through the ship. There was a soft beep
from the handheld instrument, and Spock skidded to a halt again in front of a
large, heavy metal door that separated the cargo hold from a smaller area,
likely used for more precious cargo.
The door clanged as he applied his strength. There was a horrible screeching
sound as metal scraped against metal, and Spock got his first glimpse of what
was inside.
Once, while he was teaching at the Academy, Uhura had brought Spock a
twentieth-century Terran device, used to capture images one found captivating.
Delighted with his complete curiosity about the object, Uhura had gleefully
informed him that when loaded with film; pressing the button let you record a
still photograph of basically anything.  Spock had held the small device up to
his eye, pushing the button. The camera had been empty, but still made a sharp
clicking sound each time he depressed the small button.
He thought of that camera now as each image solidified into reality.
His Captain. Blood-stained metal cuffs held his wrists, secured to two thick
metal chains connected to each wall. 
His body- mottled shades of purple, blue, green and red… so much red… mixed
together as though a particularly petulant child had tried to combine vivid
paint. A kaleidoscope of agony.
One eye, peeking through the swollen flesh of a broken eye socket, lids
distended and disfigured. It widened a little. Fear.
He had thirty seconds.
The thought spurred him to action. He could not release the captain in time
before he was beamed up to the Enterprise.  Leaving this ship without the
captain was not an option. He whirled and ran for the small control console
near the air lock. The red of the flashing alarm flashed in his eyes as his
fingers flew over the controls.
Fifteen seconds.
Spock moved faster, searching for a way around the self-destruct sequence.
Ten.
He had seven of the eight placeholders.
Four.
There was a beep, an answering pip-pip, and the alarm shut off. Spock was
already ripping the location device from his clothes, flinging it towards the
cargo bay doors. He watched as it dematerialized, as Mr. Scott attempted to
beam Spock back to his own ship. The sudden silence was deafening.
A broken moan caused Spock to practically leap forward. The chains were strong,
thickly forged to keep their victim immobile. It took Spock two minutes to
remove the left one.
Kirk cried out as the atrophied muscles in his back, shoulders, and arms were
forced to move. Spock was as gentle as he could be, but knew that the muscles,
exhausted from overuse and strain, would hurt as blood began to flow back
through the tissue.
He became aware of a cracked litany of pleas spilling from his captain’s lips,
pleas for him to stop, to leave him alone.
“Captain. Rest, sir. You are... not yourself. You will be free in a moment.”
Spock felt the utter shock in the body he held against his own, trying to
support the Captain’s weight and release the other cuff at the same time.
The faint whisper of his name, unbelieving. Torn and bloody lips moved again,
more strongly. “Spock?” as though he didn’t dare trust the answer.
Spock remembered at once that he was wearing the biosuit. He quickly
ascertained that the captain showed no signs of the disease- it must not have
permeated the current vessel- and removed the outermost layer of clothing, that
which had hid his face from his Captain.
“Yes. Now, Captain, using your remaining strength to speak is an illogical use
of energy. You will cease while I finish releasing you from these restraints.”
Spock didn’t imagine the slight twitch of lips. Kirk’s weight against him
increased as the other man lost consciousness completely.
 
_______________________________________________
Spock braced Kirk against his hip and put both of his hands on either side of
the cuff, pulling it off and flinging it away.  He stood there for a moment
with his head cocked to the side as he quickly decided the best course of
action.  There were three beds in the medical room. One had been… occupied, but
the other two held no evidence of foul play. 
He shifted his grip, stomach rolling as he felt the broken bones shift under
Kirk’s skin. Humans were so very fragile. Spock had to be careful. Moving very
slowly, he bent and carried him towards the sickbay, mind still furiously
whirling, walking slowly so as not to jar the unconscious man in his arms.
They were alone on this ship, and had to get away from the planet’s orbit
before the captain could be moved to the Enterprise. Kirk was horrendously
injured, and needed to get to Doctor McCoy as soon as possible; however, ‘as
soon as possible’ wouldn’t happen for another 23.46 hours unless Spock was able
to get the ship moving. 
He set Kirk down as gently as possible on the bed’s surface. For the first
time, he was able to step back and really take a look at the damage done to his
captain’s body. Kirk’s left leg was broken, the shinbone poking hideously
through flesh. Numerous contusions and bruises covered his body, from his legs
all the way up his waist and chest. There were a surprising number of…of… bite
marks.  Now that Spock had identified the strange markings, he could see that
many of the bruises were finger-length, particularly around his captain’s hips
and neck. He could detect evidence of broken ribs, and based on the number of
bruises on the captain’s skin could logically assume there was internal
bleeding in addition.
Logically, he knew that he should go and find water, something to fight the
obvious signs of dehydration, but he stood there for a moment looking down at
the broken body on the bed.  He reached out, but pulled his hand back
millimeters from the Captain’s shoulder, not wishing to add to his pain. He
realized the tricorder was still in the cargo hold where he had dropped it when
he had pushed open the metal door that had kept Kirk from (him)finding him
quickly. The tricorder was not a medical, but would still be able to give him
somesort of reading. Once he could be sure that Captain Kirk was in relative
safety, he could concentrate on maneuvering the ship out of the planet’s
impeding atmosphere.
Yet there he stood. Even in unconsciousness, Kirk’s features were tense with
pain. Spock hypothesized that from the position in which his captain had been
bound both his shoulders were likely dislocated. The skin of both wrists were
swollen and torn as though he had struggled, ceaselessly fighting until he had
no more strength from which to free himself.
Spock forced himself to turn around and observe his surroundings. The smell was
atrocious. His olfactory senses were bombarded, and Spock had no trouble
imagining the distress the sight of the other Starfleet officer would cause his
captain.  He quickly broke into some cabinets, counting on this Sickbay to be
organized similarly to the Enterprise’s. He found several standard blankets; he
stacked a few to the side and used the rest to cover the body and move it to
the other part of the ship. He didn’t see any way to clean the large blood
spatters, so he used a few of the blankets to cover the mess. It wasn’t a
perfect solution, but it would work for the interim.  While he was searching he
located a replicator and unearthed an extremely primitive medical tricorder.
 He set about getting water to clean and refresh Captain Kirk, while his mind
worked on the mysteries of the actual ship.
The ship’s controls were programmed in Cardassian, but the evidence regarding
the design of the ship suggested Klingon. The controls and amenities were
antiquated by at least three centuries.  He was a little leery of trusting any
of the medical supplies in the cramped quarters. What medical instruments he
did find looked more like instruments of torture.  Spock attempted to use the
replicator to get the captain some water, but noted with a twitch of his lips
that it was malfunctioning.  A quick search located several rusty containers of
water. He cautiously ran the tricorder over the containers, and when no
negative readings were forthcoming even more cautiously tasted it. Not fresh,
and certainly not the cleanest, but as no microbial or bacteria was detected,
better than nothing.  He tore one of the blankets into cloth strips and set
about cleaning the naked body before him.
The first thing he did was wet a strip and place it over the captain’s lips. It
was obvious that Kirk was horrendously dehydrated; fluids would have to be
reintroduced very slowly. With the other end of the strip, he gently blotted
away some of the blood.  The unfamiliar medical tricorder was malfunctioning.
Spock took comfort (although slight) in the fact that the captain’s heartbeat
still beat fairly strongly, if somewhat erratically.  He slowly dripped more
water over and into Kirks mouth. His captain didn’t stir or respond.
Spock used another strip of cloth to clean the dried blood off of the captain.
He bound up what bones he could so that at least the wounds weren’t open to the
ship’s air, binding and splinting the bones, but didn’t dare to more than that
without a proper medical readout. Starfleet did extensively train its officers
in emergency first-aid, and Spock was pleased to be able to do what he could.
Once Kirk had been cleaned up,   more bite marks came into view; - the teeth
pattern showed clear incisors with smaller teeth in between- and some still
more raw bruising. That was bad, but Spock didn’t start to lose control of his
emotions until he turned Kirk over on his side in order to clean his back. The
shoulder blades were very prominent due to rapid weight loss. The musculature
was marred by more bruises, contusions, and teeth marks. These showed a marked
lack of control; the small holes in his flesh were ripped rather than pierced.
There was blood, most of it dried and flaking but some still tacky and sticky
around Kirk’s buttocks and upper thighs.
Spock’s hand tightened spastically on Kirk’s hip, causing the other man to moan
even in his unconsciousness state. The sound of such fear and hopelessness
coming from his throat almost caused Spock to flinch away and drop him back to
the bed. He stopped himself from hurting the captain any more, and instead put
down one of the blankets onto the bed in order to wrap it around Kirk’s lower
body.
Not only kidnapped. Not only taken from his starship for nearly a fortnight,
beaten, held against his will. No, it seemed as though Kirk’s captors had done
everything in their power to break his body.
Spock feared what it would do to his mind.
****
An hour later Spock confirmed that Kirk did indeed have a fever. Not
surprising, given the number and extent of his injuries. Getting Kirk off this
ship had become Spock’s focus and, leaving him still unconscious in the
sickbay, Spock walked purposefully towards the bridge.
He could not hail the Enterprise until the brief window of non-interference
cycled back around. He was partially wary of piloting the vessel in any way, as
the Enterprise crew might see that as a sign of aggression and fire upon him.
 He turned to the controls and saw that it was a moot point anyway; before
abandoning the ship, its former owners had attempted to make sure that no one
would be able to pilot the ship in any way, shape or form.  Spock calculated
that based on the amount of damage, antiquated controls, and obvious lack of
mental acuity of whoever had done the damage he would be able to fix it… within
the hour.
 Screams from the sick bay had Spock running before he was even fully conscious
of doing so.  Deep, ragged, almost inhuman screams gave voice to utter
desperation and agony. Had Spock not known for a fact that they were along on
the ship, he would never have imagined that a sound like that could come from
his captain.
Kirk was huddled in the corner of the sick bay, looking around in horror.
Scream after scream seemed to be forcibly pulled from his throat.  His broken
fingers were unable to curl properly into fists, and they lay cradled over his
knees as he tried to pull into himself and away from what he saw.
“Captain.”  Spock’s voice was calm and quiet, betraying none of his shock at
seeing the other man in such a state. He took a step closer, and one more;
whatever it was that Kirk was seeing, he was not registering his first officer.
Instinct took over, and Spock was reaching out with his fingertips, placing
them gently on Kirk’s temple, cheekbone and near the pulse point in his neck. 
He murmured the words quietly and was still unprepared for the chaos into which
he was thrown.
No! Nononono----
Captain, you must cease. You are safe. You are with me.   Instead of the
darkness he was expecting, Kirk’s mind was awhirl with color and sound, images
bombarding him one after another until they pulled at him, pulled him in. He
was chained and beaten, cruel laughter mocking him with each strike against his
flesh. Spock could feel the memoryrememberedreality of each blow to his body.  
He was on a planet holding a small human child behind him, looking up at a
shadowy figure, despairhungerdisgust….
No, not here. Not again. I can’t… can’tcan’tcan’t….
Captain. Jim.   Jim. You are safe. You must calm yourself.
There was a sense of recognition, but still fear permeating through everything
else. Spock felt disgust curl in his stomach at the idea that Jim could
associate him with this sort of fear.
Spock..?  The mental image of darkness, black, inky shadows held at bay behind
Spock, an impossibly high tower that the nightmares couldn’t pass.  Spock,
somehow more real, more solid, and feelings of safety.
Yes. You must cease before you do irrefutable damage to your body. When you are
calm, I can help you further.   Again the mental image of all the nightmares,
fighting to get free, held beyond Spock, as though he was the lone being
responsible for keeping them contained.
Spock prepared to break the meld, only to have Jim’s thoughts, his psyche, pull
at him as though he were wrapped in strings.  Hundreds, millions of thin
strings that held Jim’s innermost self to his.  As he tried to disengage
himself the solidity of Jim’s thoughts clung to his like a frightened child to
its favorite blanket.
No. no. not alone.  No… don’t leave… can’t…
Wordless assurances; a soft disengagement.
Kirk’s eye was partially open, tears glistening on his ravaged cheeks. Spock
lowered his hand and shook his fingers. There was something... lingering. The
only other melds he had initiated had been on Vulcan, strictly supervised by
his father. They had been with another full-blooded member of his species, and
nothing so raw and emotional had occurred.  This sort of barrage of emotion was
difficult to disengage from, and Spock slammed his shields into place,
protecting his own fragile hold on his rage and anger at who had done this.
Spock helped Kirk… no, Jim … back up onto the bed, giving him some more water.
He found it difficult to keep addressing his captain so formally after forging
such a poignant mental connection. It seemed somehow wrong.
Jim didn’t seem to be able to stop the slowly leaking tears, though he was too
dehydrated to actually produce any more intense evidence of emotion.  His
captain looked numb, huddled miserably in the blanket, unable to hold the
vessel of water for himself. Spock assisted him impassively.
Spock made Kirk as comfortable as he could and stretched the blanket over his
body once again. His skin seemed more flushed. Small beads of sweat pooled on
his forehead, yet he was shivering. This went on for several minutes until the
Captain slumped over, once again unconscious.
“Captain, I must get you off of this ship.”
***
Bridge duty was an acquired taste.  Hikaru Sulu sat in the Captain’s chair,
body drawn tensely into a rigid perch as he glanced around the bridge. It
wasn’t the regularly-assigned Alpha bridge crew. Chekov sat calmly at his
station, awaiting orders. Lieutenant Uhura sat with her back slightly to him,
back completely rigid. She had such a frown of concentration on her face that
Sulu was kind of nervous about interrupting her, lest he get his head bitten
off for his troubles. Ensign Kelly sat at the science station, staring off into
space.  His own replacement, Geoff Mathos, was also tense, watching the orange
planet, the bright purples and blues of the electronic interference, and the
alien ship on the view screen. Mr. Scott was due back on the bridge any time,
having gone to engineering to check on something or other… Sulu wasn’t exactly
sure what he had said and hadn’t wanted to make his incompetence known to the
crew.
“Sir. I have an incoming message from Starfleet.”
“Ahhh. Okay. I’ll, uh... take it here. Thanks, Lieutenant.”
There was a small nod of acknowledgement and then Admiral Pike’s face filled
the viewscreen.
“Greetings, Lieutenant.”
“Admiral.” Sulu had the brief thought that maybe the Admiral wouldn’t ream him
in front of so many witnesses, and straightened in the chair.
“Status?”
“We are still waiting, sir.”
The Admiral looked slightly put out. “Was there a question about my orders?”
Orders? Scott hadn’t mentioned …. “I’m not sure to what you are referring sir.
As to Captain Kirk and Commander Spock, no word from either of them, sir. There
is still six hours before we can attempt to search for life signs and beam them
back.”
“You have new orders, Lieutenant Sulu.”
Sulu blinked. Neworders? As in… orders not involving saving their Captain and
his First Officer?
“You were to rendezvous with the Reliant. You were expected there an hour ago.
Acting-captain Scott was informed of this earlier.”
Ahhh. Shit. He was going to kill the Scottish bastard .
Sulu hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to serve under Pike as a captain for
very long, but he was extremely good at reading people. He could clearly see
the worry in the other man’s eyes, as well as his exasperation at having to
relay orders that he knew the crew of the Enterprise wasn’t going to like.
“Erm, There was an... engine… thing. He went to go see fix it, sir.”
“An ‘engine thing?’”
It was the same sarcasm used when he was asked about the parking break. Oh he
was so going to be busted back to cadet. “Yes, sir.” He noticed Pavel turning
in his chair so that his back was to the Admiral, his eyes comically wide as he
stared at Sulu.  They really had to work on that kid’s poker face.  He was
fairly sure that it wasn’t an official Starfleet regulation, but ‘cover thy ass
of your CO’ really needed to be emblazoned somewhere in the manuals.
“Let me guess. These… repairs… are going to take…”
“Approximately six hours, sir.”
Pike’s lips twitched.  “Understood. Pike out.”
The screen changed abruptly back to the scene they had been staring at for
days.
Sulu met the young man’s eyes and forced a smile. He hoped it looked confident
and not like he was about to piss himself.
There was a sudden flurry of beeps from Chekov’s station and he whirled in his
chair.  Sulu sat forward and tensed again.
“Sir! The wessel! It’s moving!”
Sulu bit his tongue so that he wouldn’t snap at the young Ensign. He could
bloody well see that, damnit.
The enemy ship was moving on impulse power… towards the Enterprise.
“Yellow alert. Weapons at the ready.”
“Lieutenant, can you hail them?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Increase visibility fifty percent.”
They all watched as the small ship broke away from orbit and began its path
towards them.
“Sir! We are being hailed!”
“On screen.” Sulu snapped.
Commander Spock’s face filled the viewscreen. He looked unharmed. “Commander
Spock!” Sulu had never in his life been so glad to see anyone, ever. One
eyebrow rose, disappearing into his hairline his reaction to the relief he
heard in Sulu’s voice.
“Lieutenant... I have found the captain. Inform the doctor that two will be
beaming directly to sickbay. We should be in range in precisely one minute and
twenty-two seconds. Engage the tractor beam and bring this ship to cargo bay
three.”
“Yes, sir.”
Spock nodded once, and his image faced out.
“Sulu to McCoy!”
“What?” The doctor’s voice was heavy with sleep and none too pleased for the
interruption.
“It’s Commander Spock, sir. He’s found the captain. They are beaming directly
into sickbay.”
There was a muffled thump and a curse. “It’s about fucking time. McCoy out.”
***
Jim had been barely awake when he felt himself being swung up into someone’s
arms. The simple act, although done with the utmost care and gentleness, caused
everything in his body to hurt, and he moaned again, feeling sick to his
stomach. He was held against someone very warm, and Kirk found himself
straining towards that heat, seeking comfort.
“We will be on the Enterprise shortly, Captain.” The words seemed to vibrate
under his ear, and Jim belatedly realized that he was being carried through the
ship like a bride being carried over the threshold.  It should have been
unmanning, but he really didn’t give a flying fuck. He wanted off this ship.
Jim thought he must have passed out or something, because it seemed like only a
moment before Spock was standing on the transporter pad. Jim felt nauseous all
at once, and closed his eyes tightly as the incandescent brightness of the
transporter beam began to form.  
“Jesus Fucking Christ! Bring him over here!”
If Jim had had the energy, he would have smiled at the worry in Bones’ voice.
There were too many people, too many lights and sounds.  He had an absurd urge
to make himself into an even smaller target, but tensing up caused something
very unpleasant to happen in the vicinity of his ribs, and he cried out in
pain.
That one small sound seemed to cause all the flurried activity in the sickbay
to completely halt. All Jim could hear was the rapid beat of Spock’s heart
under his ear.  His teeth were clenched as he tried not to vomit in front of
everyone. He was so dizzy, so disoriented….
“Okay, Spock. You can put him right here. Gently now. Gently…!”
Jim felt the softness of the biobed under him. The encompassing heat faded, and
he felt himself turning towards the other man’s body, seeking out the source of
that comforting warmth.
There was a sharp pain in his neck, and he opened his eye to see Bones, strong
face tightly controlled but for the panic in his eyes, standing over him with a
hypo.
\ Was he dreaming? Was this just another hallucination? He had seen so many
things on the ship, mistakes and wishes from his past parading through his
thoughts. Talking, begging, and crying to people who couldn’t have been there.
Jim became more and more convinced that this was just another dream, another
fantasy of being safe. It hurt so much to wake up. Reality had not been his
friend, and he could feel the burning of his body, the absolutely desperate
longing for water causing him to lose focus, to retreat again back into the
vaults of his mind. He didn’t trust the softness of the bed he was in, or the
sharp feel of one of Bones’ hyposprays.
This was just in his head.
Which meant that Spock was… that he had never… the sudden despair washing over
him was its own brand of cruelty. Jim was not sure if he ever wanted to wake up
again.  It just hurt too much.
***
Stardate:  2259.60
It was an unforeseen complication.  For a Vulcan, meditation was a way to
center the katra, the psyche and sense of self. To be unable to achieve the
calmness desired was quite disconcerting. Maddening.  
Spock knelt stubbornly in his chambers.  Incense filled the room, thick enough
that he could almost taste it.  He counted his heartbeat, his breaths, willing
control over his emotions. It infuriated him that this was the second time that
he had been driven to such intense meditation. The fact that he was actually
infuriated by anything so illogical was also highly … annoying.
His captain would have called him twitchy.
There was a beep as his subspace communicator went off.
“McCoy to Spock. I know you’re not on the bridge, damnit. I need you. Sickbay.
McCoy out.”
Spock could feel his heart rate start to increase, sending his blood flowing
more quickly through his veins. He quickly extinguished the incense and rolled
his shoulders so that the robe slid off onto the floor. He removed the silk
pants and quickly changed into his Starfleet uniform.  Being summoned to
sickbay was …disquieting. McCoy had been keeping the captain in isolation so
that his body could heal.  The doctor had questioned Spock about what had
happened on the enemy vessel, but had been distracted enough that he didn’t
notice Spock’s uncharacteristic evasiveness.
In the days since beaming back onto the Enterprise Spock had remained in his
quarters when not on duty, barely venturing out and ignoring anyone who tried
to seek entry to his private domain.  To make matters worse, McCoy had also
forbidden him from “lurking” in sickbay until the doctor was ready for him to
be there.
The wait had been intolerable. He had instead briefed Starfleet on what he had
found in the ship, finding himself strangely reticent to actually speak on the
exact nature of the captain’s injuries.  Command asked him to speculate as to
why he had been taken, firing questions at him so quickly that Spock had been
distinctly uncomfortable at Admiral Pike’s lack of control.
Spock had not mentioned the mind meld, or the shocking images he saw there. He
hadn’t even really taken the time to catalog what he had seen in his captain’s
mind, uncomfortably aware that in the moment of listening to Jim’s screaming he
had reacted emotionally to the situation, melding without permission and
against seventeen different Starfleet regulations.
The turbolift’s efficiency was clearly lacking; it was taking entirely too long
to arrive at sickbay. Spock made a mental note to inform Mr. Scott of the
inadequacy. The doors eventually swished open, and Spock walked purposefully
towards his destination.
“Spock! Damn, man you made it here fast.” Obviously, Spock thought. “Well, come
on then. You can see him.”
Captain Kirk looked strangely small and exceedingly young sleeping in the
biobed. The captain’s eyes were moving behind his eyelids as he sank into REM
sleep. He was dressed in some loose-fitting shift and had the electric blue
blankets pulled up to his chest, his hands lying on top of the blankets near
his sides. Spock was floored by the strength of the wholly sudden and
inappropriate desire he had to reach out and take one of his hands, as though
touching him would make him more real. The urge to touch was illogical.
He clasped his hands behind his back, staring down at the Captain.  The
bruising had faded to shades of yellow and green thanks to Dr. McCoy’s efforts.
Captain Kirk’s fingers and wrists were still swollen, but not to the extent
that they had been. Both of his shoulders had the same faded bruises, but Spock
could tell at a glance that at least they had been properly aligned.
McCoy jerked his head to the left in a way that indicated he wanted to speak
with Spock privately.
Jim made a small sound in his sleep, and Spock found himself clasping his hands
even more tightly as he followed Dr. McCoy into his private office.  The doctor
didn’t speak, going instead to a cabinet behind his desk and retrieving a
bottle of an amber-colored alcoholic beverage and a glass. He poured out a
small amount and tossed it back, sighing as though he had just completed some
arduous task. He rested the glass against his forehead for a moment. Spock
walked up behind him and seated himself, folding his fingers in front of his
face with his elbows resting on his knees.  There was a tense silence in the
office, broken only by the hum of the ship travelling through space.
“He won’t wake up.”
The doctor’s words, spoken with such a tone of worry and underlying fear caused
Spock’s own breath to catch. He raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry, needing
the moment to compose himself.
“You know the injuries he received. All the broken bones, the internal
bleeding, the fever and infection were easily fixed. No worries. The ...
tearing… from the sexual assault needed some surgery, but again… no problem.”
There was no hint of the very human tendency to brag in these statements. Spock
understood that McCoy was just stating facts, used to (to use the human
vernacular) ‘pulling miracles out of hats’.  McCoy’s hands tightened on the
glass.
“It’s like he’s just not there. He doesn’t respond to painful stimulus. His
body is fine- well, as fine as can be expected after recuperating from such…”
The doctor’s voice wavered. “. . . Trauma. But Jim isn’t…”
Spock stared for a moment. There seemed to be some sort of blockage in his
throat. His voice was deeper than usual when he spoke. “Why did you bring me
here to tell me this, doctor? Logically, this could have been communicated via
the ship’s communications.”
The doctor let go of the glass and rubbed his face briskly with the palms of
his hands.  “I need you to try something. Some of your Vulcan voodoo.” The
doctor waved his fingers in something that was likely meant to be vaguely
mystical in nature, but looked more like a slight muscle spasm.
Spock raised an eyebrow. 
“Look, damnit. I know that you guys have become friends in the past year we’ve
been on this damn ship. I just need you to… sort of give him a noodge.”
“A… ‘Noodge’… sir?”
The doctor’s face turned a few shades darker. He stood up so quickly that his
chair fell over backwards, crashing onto the floor. He began to wave his hands
in a most illogical manner, ranting and muttering under his breath as he paced
around his private office. Sufficiently distracted, Spock judged that the
doctor wouldn’t notice when he slipped out of his office.
Spock was uncomfortable with being in such close proximity to his captain, so
he found a chair to pull up to his bedside, judging that this would take some
time.
I know you guys have become friends…
Indeed. Friendship was not something that Spock generally cultivated, yet his
captain had made a point of spending time with Spock. Meals, countless chess
matches, conversations late at night after their shift was over discussing
completed missions.
 He was not a mind-healer. He was not a human psychologist.  Starfleet had
severe regulations on any species using any telepathic ability without express
consent. Humans were so … particular about keeping their secrets. Indeed, Spock
had no wish to be subjected to a closer connection with most of the people he
came into daily contact with. It had taken him years of meditation and self-
awareness to properly build up the shields necessary to maintain his teaching
position at the Academy, surrounded by such illogical, alien emotions on a
daily basis.
The irony that he had essentially ignored a lifetime of teaching and tradition
to act without thinking, diving into this man’s mind to calm him from whatever
demon he was remembering was not lost on Spock. Nor was the guilt. Had he
caused this condition? Was it possible that he had erred in some way? Vulcans
didn’t make mistakes when it came to the mental acuity needed within their
culture, but as Jim took pains to point out to him, Spock was not wholly
Vulcan. . Spock had gone over each moment on the Klingon ship until it had
crystallized in his mind. Guilt was not a foreign concept; Spock could
acknowledge that he was guilty over many things in his life. Sometimes, when
sleep eluded him, he would replay his own follies on theEnterprise, wondering
if had he acted differently he could have saved his mother’s life, the life of
his planet… and now could have somehow prevented this from happening to his
friend.
Spock breathed out so hard that the captain’s hair fluttered, and his fingers
tingled as they reached out. He flexed them once before softly, so very
lightly, touching the cool skin.
“My mind to your mind. Your thoughts to my thoughts…”
The colors were muted now.  Where once there had been shades and nuances of
tone, now the surface of Kirk’s mind was eerily calm. Spock felt himself
strangely reluctant to explore this version of Kirk’s mind.  He felt like more
like an interloper than he ever had before.
“Hello. Who are you?”
If it could have, Spock’s jaw would have dropped open in surprise. He titled
his head, staring at the small creature before him.  Human. Roughly thirteen
years of age. Hair shaved almost painfully thin, the skin of his pink skull
showing through in places. The boy’s skin was so fragile, the muscles on his
body wry and lean.
There was no mistaking the bright, curious blue eyes.  Even years later the
eyes hadn’t changed.
“I am Spock. Do you not know me, captain?”
The child’s nose scrunched up in confusion. “Captain? I’m no captain. My name
is Jim. And… no. I don’t know you. Why are you here? Are you hiding too?”
“I am looking for you, Cap... Jim.”
The child’s chin rose as his eyes narrowed. His body fairly bristled with
aggression. “Why would you be looking for me? Do you work for him? I am NOT
going back there! I won’t do it!”
Spock’s attention was caught by a flicker of a memory, projected over the muted
landscape like a slightly out-of-focus holograph.  He saw this strange
nonchild/child version of Jim tucking an even smaller child into a pallet of
blankets. A small, horribly bedraggled stuffed toy was produced and tucked into
the pallet as well.  Jim rocked back on his heels and made his way to the front
of the small cave, where a slightly younger boy obviously stood guard.
“Kev’s sick. And hungry. We need to find food. He needs medicines, Jimmy.”
Jim’s chin tilted up in a way that was jarringly familiar to Spock. It was the
same look he got on his face when Spock was telling him that he was not acting
in the most logical of manners.
“I know, Tom!  Don’t you think that I don’t know that?   Jim looked out into
the dark night, up at the stars. “I’ll be back. I knowa way. I know how to get
some food.”
“I don’t want you watching that.”   There was the feeling of a sharp finger
poking him in the chest. Spock was surprised to find the faint memory flicker
and go out. He focused his attention on the smaller, but no less imperious, Jim
in front of him. Spock looked down at him. He was completely out of his
element, having absolutely no experience with teenage humans.
“My apologies. I do not know to which ‘him’ you are referring. I work for...
well… for you, actually. Doctor McCoy asked me to come find you.”
“Bones?” Another memory, slightly more in-focus this time: McCoy and Jim, both
half out of their Starfleet uniforms, kissing passionately against the door of
a dorm room.
“Hey! ” An injured yelp.  “That’sprivate!”
Spock was left reeling. He shook his head sharply, trying to rid himself of the
image. Nyota had once used the colloquialism ‘wishing to bleach my brain to get
rid of that visual’ and he suddenly understood exactlywhat she meant by that
statement.
“Ah... I am... sorry.”
“What are you, some kind of perv?”  He took a step forward. “Wait, are you…
blushing?” He looked up at him, reaching out to touch one of Spock’s ears
delightedly.  A completely mischievous look covered the boy’s face, the
completely inappropriate grin crooking up at the corner of his mouth. Then,
another flicker of memory, as though the previous scene had been fast-
forwarded.  He heard the McCoy in the memory moaning in a way that Spock
definitelyhad no desire to ever hear again as the man in front of him kissed
down his body, rubbing his cheek against the hardness encased in the black
Academy trousers.  Fingers tightened in the light-colored hair as he tugged the
younger man up for another openmouthed kiss.
Spock spun around from both the flickering memory and the impish child, whose
wide grin now seemed to be taking over most of his face.
 “Well, that sets that. No way do you work for Him. I never seen someone blush
so hard.”
Spock took a moment to breathe, and turned back around, refusing to look at
(but certainly able to hear) the memory still flickering out to his left. He
could see bodies writhing together out of the corner of his eye.  “Whether I am
blushing or not is irrelevant. Who is it that you thought that I worked for?”
All traces of amusement vanished from the younger Jim’s face. “I don’t really
like to talk about it. He’s a bad man.”
Jim took a few steps back, body poised to run. Spock instinctively knew that he
could not allow this younger Jim to run away. He held up his hand in entreaty.
“That is understandable. Before you go, might I ask you a question?”
“Boy, you sure do have a funny way of talking. All formal ‘n shit.” The boy
shrugged. “Sure, you can ask. I don’t have to answer if I don’t want to.”
“Indeed. Don’t you wish to come back with me? McCoy… your… Bones does need you
to come back. He is quite distraught.”
The boy looked at him impassively, something flicking in the depths of his blue
gaze.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m safe here. I’ve been here before. I like
that no one can find me.  Well, you. But I don’t think you’d hurt me.”
“No, Captain…. Jim. I would not hurt you .” Spock was becoming increasingly
frustrated. He wanted answers. Who was this younger Jim hiding from? Why was he
afraid to come back? Without thinking of the consequences, Spock found himself
pushing against Kirk’s mind, searching for the answers he sought.
Many more flickers of memory, too fragile for Spock to actually understand what
he was seeing, flashed over the barren landscape. They were more like memories
of out-of-focus holographs, rather than the solid images he had seen earlier.
 There was a start of surprise, a feeling of betrayal and Spock was pushed out
of Kirk’s mind hard enough to send him reeling.
Spock snatched his fingers back from Jim’s unresponsive face with a gasp.
“What the fuck happened? Why were you there for so long? What?” The barrage of
questions let Spock know that McCoy had realized where Spock had indeed gone
and was now impatiently awaiting answers. He must have been standing in the
doorway, because Spock could hear the heels of his boots clicking quickly on
the floor as he walked forward.
Spock was grateful that he had chosen to sit in a chair; otherwise the abrupt
push out of the meld would have sent him to the floor.
“Doctor…”  Spock’s head was still swimming from what basically amounted to
being kicked out of Jim’s head. One name had solidified from the strange
flickers of memory at the end of the meld. He had grasped onto the word,
unwilling to let go, understanding instinctively that it was the key to all of
this confusion.
 “Who… Who is Kodos?”
 
 
_____________________________
“Captain. I have your message here. It’s on a secure frequency per your
request.”  
Lieutenant Uhura’s clear voice jarred Spock out of his inner contemplation. 
The Enterprise was enroute to Starbase  Jy-420, a medical facility. Doctor
McCoy had wanted to make sure that someone else could validate his research. He
was afraid that the disease that had struck down so much of the crew so
violently was still lurking around, and Starfleet had agreed that checking into
the medical Starbase would be in the Enterprise’s best interests.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I will take it in the Captain’s ready room. Mr. Sulu,
you have the conn.”
“Yes, sir.”
Spock stood up and gave his uniform shirt a sharp tug. He walked quickly off of
the bridge and into the relative peacefulness of the Captain’s working area.
Spock had always suspected that the Captain would be completely disorganized,
but there was no evidence of that here.  Several antique books stood sentinel
on the shelves of a small bookshelf.  There was a picture in a wooden frame of
an antique Terran vehicle new and shining in the bright sun, juxtaposed with
another picture of the same vehicle crumpled almost beyond recognition.   Other
than that there was nothing that identified anything of the captain’s
personality. Spock sat down and punched in his code to take the message.
“Ambassador Spock.” 
“Greetings Sp--”
“I require your assistance.”  Interrupting an elder was the height of rudeness
and uncouth behavior, but Spock did so without hesitation.
The Ambassador blinked.  “What has happened?”
“I am endeavoring to obtain more information on a man called Kodos.”
Spock had searched for hours for information on the name. All he had been able
to confirm was that a man by that name had been responsible for numerous
atrocities on the small planet of Tarsus IV. However, Spock had no idea how the
man was connected to Jim Kirk. There had been several layers of diplomatic and
Federation red tape, effectively sealing the files. Spock simply did not have
the clearance to read that information.
An Ambassador, however, would.
Spock watched his counterpart’s face as the man’s eyes widened in shock, the
aged skin becoming pale.
“Why do you require this information?”
“It is a matter of Captain Kirk’s safety.”  There was a silence as the two
stared at each other. Spock refused to let any hint of what he was feeling show
in his posture or on his face.
“In my timeline, Jim was… well. While his family was in space, Jim stayed for a
time with his relatives on the planet of Tarsus IV. While he was there, a
terrible famine struck, leaving food scarce. Governor Kodos executed over 4000
people, deciding which would live and which of the colonists would be put to
death. Jim was one of only nine people to survive the mass murder. He never
freely discussed his time there. It was most unsettling for him when we came
back into contact with the man several years later.”
“Then Kodos did not die on the planet?”
“He did not. In the chaos caused by Starfleet arriving on the colony and
discovering what had transpired there, Kodos had escaped.”
Spock was quiet, mind working furiously.
“What has happened?” Ambassador Spock repeated himself, his voice tight with
worry.
“I need … a favor.”
He waited for a moment, choosing exactly what to say. “You must get me the
Starfleet file from this time. From this Kodos. There is information I must
access, and even as Sarek’s son, I do not have the proper classifications.”
“Why do you need this information?” Spock could recognize the beginnings
stirring of anger in his counterpoint’s voice as he repeated himself for the
third time.
Spock debated for a moment on whether or not to tell his counterpart all that
had happened. Surely, he would have to impart this information somehow. The
older man deserved to be kept abreast of Spock’s suspicions.  He paused for
another second to gather his thoughts, and started to speak. The words were
emotionless, spoken without inflection or feeling as he related the captain’s
disappearance, his injuries and the second meld that the doctor had asked him
to do.
The look on the other Spock’s face, however, was anything from impassive.  Most
humans would likely not have noticed, but Spock could see him grow paler and
paler as he spoke.
“And you saw a younger version of him? In your meld. Not the older version that
captains the Enterprise, but a child? Actual memories?”
“Yes, Elder. It was quite . . . disconcerting to see memories of the captain
with Doctor McCoy. I find that I was most displeased at seeing such a
passionate encounter.”
There was a sound that would have been an indignant squawk in anyone else. The
look on The Ambassador’s face could only be termed as … horrified.
Fascinating. They both seemed to have the same response.  Spock had found
himself thinking of those memories more and more at the most inopportune of
times. On occasion, he found himself quite abrupt with the doctor. It was such
a private thing to have been witness to.
“That the captain has in effect locked himself away lends evidence to my
hypothesis that Kodos has indeed appeared in this timeline as well. Jim spoke
of hiding, of not feeling safe. I postulate that wherever, whenever he is in
his own mind, he will stay there until he knows that he will not be harmed upon
his return. I must know what happened. The fact that the records are surrounded
in such secrecy also leads me to believe that whatever did happen on that
planet, Starfleet will go to great lengths to keep it hidden.”
“Indeed.” 
Spock watched his other self think through everything he had told him.
“I believe you should bring your captain hereto New Vulcan. I believe that
there are sufficient mind-healers here to be able to help.  I will talk to our
father and see if we can set things in motion for this to happen more
efficiently. In the meantime…”  He rattled off a series of alpha-numeric code
sequences. “I hope this information gives you some of the answers that you
seek.  Good luck, Spock.”
“Luck is not necessary. But thank you, Elder.”
Spock ended the call and wasted no time in using his counterpart’s clearance to
find the information he sought.  He was pleased that Spock had managed to
retain much of the same status as he had held in his timeline, although he was
now known as Ambassador Salkek. Very few people knew of his true identity. Most
outsiders accepted him as yet another Vulcan Elder, rescued from the doomed
planet. There was no question that he was powerful and could assist with highly
delicate matters.  It had been quite a fascinating conversation to have with
his father when he asked for confirmation of the elder Spock’s identity.  Spock
often found himself wondering how his counterpart had let his father know of
his presence.
There was a series of beeps as Spock was finally able to access the information
he needed.  The video that appeared on his viewscreen showed a still frame of a
young James Kirk. Spock hesitated for a moment before accessing the video. It
was shocking to see the thirteen-year-old Kirk being pulled into a hug by his
tearful mother. The Kirk he knew was overly tactile, even for a human. He was
constantly touching people without even realizing that he was doing it. Spock
found it… strangely unnerving. The child from the Starfleet records looked much
thinner than he had in Kirk’s mind. His face was gaunt, body emaciated. The
hair was the same, shaved so closely in spots that the skin peeked through. His
skin was an unhealthy grey. There were large circles under his eyes and he
moved as though he would shatter into pieces at any moment.
The two boys behind him were also recognizable from Kirk’s memory. The elder of
the two looked shell-shocked, while the younger had his thumb plugged firmly
into his mouth. There was an older lady with them, and five other horrifically
filthy children of various ages clustered around her in the back of the
shuttlecraft.  Kirk stood stoically in his mother’s tearful embrace, and Spock
knew that whatever happened on that planet had been violently changed from the
events in the other timeline. In this timeline… he had been anybody’s prey.
There were several more records- mostly reports of childhood psychological
assessments and the occasional interview. The medical report and subsequent
Starfleet inquires alluded to the fact that Kirk, regardless of his own safety,
had used himself as a bargaining chip, trading sexual favors with Kodos and
whomever else he could find in the Governor’s hierarchy that would give him
food to keep the younger children in his care alive.
***
Three hours later found Spock sitting in the conference room, the bridge staff
staring at him somewhat nervously. The planet most referred to as New Vulcan
could be seen out of the observation windows, looking eerily like his home
world. He had never called a staff meeting before. Perhaps they were somewhat
unnerved by the Captain’s chair remaining empty, while Spock sat impassively to
his left as he always did.
“Computer. Cease recording devices to the Deck Seven conference room.  Spock
oh-one-three-oh-six-Alpha.”  His sudden voice caused Ensign Chekov to jump a
little in his seat.
“What I am about to tell you must be kept in the utmost confidence. It concerns
Captain Kirk.  Starfleet would be less than pleased to know that I am about to
share this classified information with you.”
There was a snort from the doctor’s seat as he tapped rhythmically on his leg
with his fingers.
“If you do not care to hear this information, you may leave now.” Spock met the
nervous gazes of the doctor, Commander. Scott, Ensign Chekov and Lieutenants
Uhura and Sulu. “No one will fault you for this.”
It was Chekov that spoke. “Please, sir. How can ve help the Keptain?”
Spock waited a moment, gathering his thoughts.
“You are aware that the Captain was grievously injured after he was forcibly
taken from this ship. What you don’t know is that someone was targeting him. I
believe that there were a handful of others who were likewise targeted. I do
not know how many of them, aside from the Captain, have been found, aside from
one. While on the Klingon vessel. I found another Starfleet officer, murdered
and left on the ship.  The doctor has confirmed his identity as one Lieutenant
Thomas Leighton.”
Spock waited for a moment to see if the words would spark any recognition.
Unsurprisingly it was Uhura who spoke.
“He was… was one of the survivors of Tarsus IV. I remember the press had a
field day with his book, accusing him of lying and treason against Starfleet.
His story was so sad. It’s about three teenagers, well, kids really, who
survived the famine. I remember the higher ups were furious at his allegations
that Starfleet had known what Kodos was doing on the colony.”
Spock remembered her reading the book, contentedly curled up on her couch while
he went through various PADDs of student assignments.  She had often read while
he worked. It was one of the many things that had so endeared her to him.
“Indeed.”
“So the Captain was … one of the survivors?”
“Yes. He was one of the few who could recognize Kodos’ face; I can only
speculate that his name was kept out of any official record because of his
father and his affiliation to Starfleet.  I believe that Kodos was responsible
for taking the captain from us, and that the disease was simply a diversion to
keep us incapacitated so that he could get a head start.”
“A diversion. Seventeen people dead for a diversion.”  The doctor’s voice
cracked.  Spock noted that Uhura leaned towards him, her body language saying
clearly that she was desirous of comforting the doctor.
Interesting.
“You are aware that the Klingon ship was set to self-destruct.”
“Aye. The doctor went barmy when he realized that the only things that were
beamed back were a dead man and your communicator.”
McCoy glared at Scott.
“It could not be helped. I calculated that I had insufficient time in which to
free the Captain.”
“Okay so... what now? What are we doing now?” Sulu spoke at a much quicker pace
than usual.  “Why all the secrecy?”
“If I am correct in my assumption that it was indeed Kodos that orchestrated
the Captain’s disappearance, then he had his hands on one of the few people in
the galaxy who could identify him. For ten days.”
Chekov gasped.
Spock looked over to the doctor, who cleared his throat before speaking.
“Jim has severe mental trauma. So severe, in fact, that I can’t reach him.
Spock has elicited the help of his people; some mind healers that he believes
can snap him out of it.”
“That’s good then!” Uhura looked relieved as she looked from the doctor to
Spock. “Isn’t it?”
The doctor snorted again.
Spock raisedhis eyebrow, pushed a few buttons, and the recorded message was
queued up for all to watch.  Admiral Pike’s face seemed to glare down at them
like some great predator.
“Commander Spock. Your father has made it clear that you wish to take the
Captain to New Vulcan to help. He has made it an official diplomatic request,
and you both are cleared to visit for no more than a week. Just you two mind
you. This is not a shore leave. The Vulcans want to discharge their debt for
Jim’s heroics during the Nero incident.”
They could hear Spock’s voice, although the subspace communication did not show
him speaking.  “And what of Kodos? Are we to just ignore the fact that this man
has—”
“That is classified. I don’t know how the hell you found out about it, but
Spock, please hear me when I say you need to let this go. Starfleet will handle
this. You will not, and I repeat notgo after this man. He is too dangerous.  Go
to New Vulcan. See if they can help Jim. Bring him home if they can’t, and
we’ll figure it out then.”
“I fail to see the logic in maintaining a conspiracy to keep this man and his
deeds a secret. He is an enemy of the Federation, and has murdered at least one
Starfleet officer as well as grievously injuring another. I find Starfleet’s
instance on letting him go the epitome of abject cowardliness.”
Admiral Pike’s facial features became even more closed off and expressionless,
except for one vein pounding prominently in his temple.  When he did speak it
was through clenched teeth. “You are dangerously close to an official
reprimand.”
There was no sound from Spock while the Admiral visibly tried to get a hold of
himself.  “You do not fully understand the situation. If we find evidence that
it was Kodos that hurt the captain-”
Here Spock broke off his thought. “Reprimand me if you wish, Admiral. But know
that I willfind whoever was responsible.   We will arrive in New Vulcan in
approximately four hours. Spock out.”
Spock ended the transmission.
“Jesus, Spock. Remind me never to piss you off.” Bones seemed somehow horrified
and impressed at the same time.
The tiniest of smirks was apparent on Spock’s lips.
“So that is the situation. Once the captain is back and … more himself, I fully
plan to continue my investigations. I wanted you to be aware of my actions. I
do not expect you to —”
“I’ll do ewery thing in my power to help the keptin. He is a good man. He would
do it for any one of us.” The teenager looked positively petrified to be
calling attention to himself, yet determined to have his say.
There were nods around the table, and Spock thought to himself, not for the
first time, how fortuitous it was that they had solidified into such a close
working unit. He knew that without a doubt, regardless of his extensive
Starfleet training, he never could have commanded such loyalty as did the
captain.
After that, the meeting broke up.   
“Spock. Can you wait a moment?” 
Spock moved out of the way of the doorway in order to let the rest of the crew
pass.  McCoy was the last to leave. Spock noticed that the doctor gave him one
unreadable look as the doors swished shut behind him, leaving him alone with
Lieutenant Uhura.
Uhura surprised him by stepping into his private space and lightly resting her
hand on his forearm.  “Spock… are you… is there something else wrong?”  She
tilted her head slightly looking up at him, concern plain on her face. 
He took a purposeful step back. “No, Lieutenant. There is nothing else that I
can share with you at this time.”
“I don’t mean regarding the Captain... it’s just… you’ve been…” She stopped
talking, pausing to collect her thoughts so that she could express herself
without insult. “A little off.”
He blinked. At once, he wanted to tell her everything.
 Maybe she could help him. He’d discovered that she was extremely perceptive,
often ‘translating’ colloquialisms or nuances of human behavior that had
baffled him.  They had ceased their intimate relations as soon as he had
offered to be captain Kirk’s first officer, as Nyota had not wanted the stigma
of having an intimate relationship with a commanding officer to mar her career.
 She had pointed out that they were better as friends, and to Spock’s chagrin
he found this to be accurate.  The transition to ‘friendship’ had happened
quite smoothly, with them sharing meals and discussing the same sort of things
they had previously, only without the addition of physical intimacy.  
She had been the one to encourage him to ask the captain to play chess one
night, a query that had eventually evolved into a twice-weekly occurrence and
had laid the groundwork for his friendship with the other man.
“Spock?”
He had taken too long- was just standing there staring.  “I have had some
difficulties processing everything that has happened recently.” As Kirk would
say, that was the understatement of the century.  “I find myself unable to find
logic in …” 
“In Starfleet covering up a diplomatic nightmare?”  She took a step back and
boosted herself up on the table to look up at him while he tried to put his
thoughts into words, understanding that he needed the space right now.
“On Vulcan, an elected government would not lie to its people. There are checks
and balances to assure that no one person has more power on the council than
any other.  If the Federation had not been untruthful with the issue a decade
ago, then we would not be in this predicament now.”
Nyota was nodding.  “You don’t get the lying.”
“I do not.”
She thought for a moment. “It is hard to explain. I suppose someone thought
that telling the truth- that they had botched the capture of a deranged mass
murderer- would hurt morale for those of us who have made Starfleet our life.
Maybe they wanted to keep the names of the victims out of the limelight to help
them somehow.”  
Spock found himself taking a step forward. He could not share the details of
what had been done to their captain, but found himself at a loss to properly
articulate how horrible it was.  “Be that as it may, the ramifications of …
such ill-conceived thinking…” He broke off, unwilling to say more. 
He was surprised when she flung her arms around him. Her hands locked around
his neck, and she brought him down for a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.  Spock
could read her emotions: she wanted to comfort him, help him in some way. 
Their lips met again and they kissed, slightly less chastely this time, drawing
apart and resting their foreheads together.
“You should—”
“Spock! You better meet me at the transporter room!”  It was hard to hear the
doctor’s voice over the loud screaming that could be heard over the open
communications line. Spock recognized the sound; it was the same cry that had
caused him to drop everything and simply sprint towards the sound of such
pain.  The screaming broke off into a number of whimpers, as though the captain
was keeping himself from screaming by sheer force of will.  “I don’t know
what’s wrong now, but something definitely is! The quicker we get him to your
voodoo people the better.”
“Understood.” 
 
Nyota had already drawn away, hopping down off the table and giving him a
little hug. “Just know that you can always talk to me if you need to. Okay?
That hasn’t changed.” She gave him a quick, sad smile and left, Spock quickly
following behind her.
Kirk lay on a stretcher in the middle of a Transporter Room A. He was awake,
staring up at the ceiling. The only sign of emotional upheaval was the tear
tracks on his cheeks.  The doctor was practically hopping up and down, unable
to keep still.
“Strangest damn thing. Just started hollerin’, then whimpering, then just
snapped awake. He isn't blinking though, or giving any other response.” McCoy
sounded disappointed, but took his tricorder over Kirk’s body one more time to
be sure.
Spock was at the stretcher in two strides, sliding his hands under the
captain’s knees and shoulders in order to lift him up into his arms.
 “You could just beam the stretcher, you know.”
“I am aware.” He walked to the transporter and met the doctor’s eyes. “I will
contact you when I have news.  Mr. Scott, you have the Conn. I would appreciate
it if you could examine the Klingon ship,” he paused. “I believe the expression
is with a fine-tooth comb. I wish to know everything about the vessel when we
return.”
“Aye, sir. Everyone ready then?”  Scott looked at the captain as though he
could will him to respond based solely on the intensity of his stare.
“Energizing….”
***
He was unsurprised to see his counterpart and father both standing impassively
to the side as he materialized. They had been conversing softly, and broke off
at the sound of the transporter.
The three greeted each other, and Spock was directed to a smaller chamber. He
recognized that he was in his father’s home; it looked almost exactly the same
as his living space on Vulcan.  As Spock walked, he could feel his captain
curling into his body again, as though seeking warmth.  Spock was surprised
enough that had he been anyone else, he would have dropped him.  Kirk had been
completely unresponsive since arriving in the Enterprise’s sickbay.  Spock
found himself tightening his grip, feeling marginally more hopeful that they
could indeed bring the captain out of wherever he was currently hiding in his
mind.
“Place him here.”
Spock did so, finding himself surprisingly reluctant to let go.  The other two
men knelt on each side of Kirk, reaching out in tandem and initiating a meld.
Spock shifted behind them, watching how Kirk’s face tensed from the high level
of telepathic activity.  Only few minutes had passed before the two broke off
the meld, staring at each other, surprised. They almost seemed to be
communicating without speaking, as Sarek moved further back and The Elder Spock
leaned over the captain again, firmly placing both hands on his psi points.
Spock watched as Jim’s face relaxed minutely. He settled his gaze on his
counterpart, who had a look of peace on his face as he worked.  Spock was
shocked by the wholly illogical spurt of unfamiliar emotion he felt as he
stared at the captain’s calm face with his older self looming over him.
There were several minutes of silence.  Sarek did not speak, and neither did
Spock as he struggled to put aside the irrational emotion. He had been angry
before, but this… this felt different. Colder somehow. Less   violent and more
concentrated.
His counterpart broke the connection with the captain’s mind with a small gasp
of air. “How many times have you bonded with this human?”
Spock’s heart began to pound. “Twice.”
Spock looked sharply at the younger version of himself. “You did not speak of
this during our earlier communication.”
“No, I did not.”
The Elder didn’t miss a beat. “Come. You must join with our minds.”
Part of Spock had understood this would be required when beamed down, had known
that there would repercussions from hiding the truth. He had understood
instinctively that something had gone wrong when he melded with his captain on
the enemy ship. That strange feeling of adhesion… as though their minds had
needed to cling to each other… he sighed, knelt, and found himself in Kirk’s
mind once more.  Spock’s fingers tingled when he reached out to touch his face.
“Hey! I thought I told you to get the hell out of here!” The younger Jim stood
with his arms crossed over his shoulders, glaring at the older Spock.  Spock
found himself doing the mental equivalent of clearing his throat. Jim turned
his full attention on him. Spock was disquieted by the clear, blue gaze.  “Oh.
It’s you. I thought I got rid of you already.”
Spock could feel his counterpoint become less in the foreground, serving as
more of an anchor to the present.  He was grateful; he knew how easy it would
be to get lost here. “Yes, capt.. Jim. You did. I thought you might like some
company. You looked like you could use a… friend.”
The child tilted his head and looked up at him. “Are we friends?”

A flicker of memory :
“Spock? Are you busy this evening? Maybe after shift?” The Captain stood there,
shifting his weight from one foot towards the other.
“I have a number of experiments that need my attention, captain.” Spock entered
a few key sequences on the PADD, not paying particular attention to the
conversation, the bulk of his awareness on the preliminary results of the
experiment he was running.
“Oh.” Spock looked up briefly in time to see some emotion flicker over the
captain’s face.“Uhura had mentioned that you enjoy a game of chess every once
in awhile.” He quickly looked back down.
“Chess, captain? You play ?” Spock raised an eyebrow, looking up from the PADD
again, interested despite himself.
“Yeah. A game here and there. But I can see you’re busy. Sorry to have
interrupted. Well, maybe some other time.” The captain clapped him on the
shoulder and walked off down the corridor, heading for his quarters.
Spock stood there for a moment, looking after the captain’s retreating back,
surprised at the stab of disappointment he felt.
The memory flickered and changed.
“And then… the Elloran said…. I don’t know! I can’t tell!”  The captain stared
for a moment, as though waiting for Spock to dissolve in giggles. “Get it?? I
can’t … tell!!”
“Perhaps you should concentrate less on your sophomoric attempts at humor, and
more on your chess game. Check.”
The captain shot him a dirty look before turning his attention to the
game.“Well, hell. If you’re going to be that way about it….”The younger man
managed to rescue his king and continue the game, staring at the board in
concentration, brow wrinkled slightly as he thought. They were silent for
several moments until Spock distinctly heard the captain make a rude sound
under his breath, shooting a look at him from under his eyelashes.
“Was there something, sir?”
Kirk leaned back in his chair, balancing  in a way that seemed to absolutely
defy gravity. “Oh.. I was just thinking.”
“Fascinating.”  Spock kept his voice absolutely inflectionless.
“See! That’s what I mean!” The chair landed on its legs with a small thump.“I
know you have a sense of humor buried in there somewhere. You say the damndest
things sometimes.  Bones thinks I’m nuts, but I think that you
reallygetsarcasm. You certainly seem to give it out well enough.”The captain
took a sip of his beer.
“Is it not better to give than to receive?”
There was a sputter, and Kirk choked on the beer he had just sipped. He coughed
a few times, eyes tearing up, trying unsuccessfully to hide his mirth.
“I do not understand. What did I say to garner such a response?”
“Ahh. Nothing. Nothing, Spock.” There was a beat of silence, and a wholly
wicked look in the captain’s eyes.“Although I bet Uhura can explain it. In
detail.”
“As I am not currently with the Lieutenant at this time, I would appreciate it
if you would explain. Details are always pertinent.”
The captain’s eyes widened momentarily, and Spock noticed that his tanned
complexion turned slightly redder as he flushed. Spock watched him for a
moment, strangely disappointed. “It would seem as though I have disproven your
theory as to my sense of humor, captain,”he said quietly.
“Oh! No, I’m sorry Spock. I was just teasing you.”
“Indeed. Checkmate.”
“Aw, balls.”
The boy seemed to be thinking as he and Spock stood side-by-side, watching the
memory.  Another flicker…
“James T. Kirk."
Spock could see the captain, looking at the man before him as though he had
done something exceptionally shocking. "Excuse me?!"

He recognized the voice, of course, as his counterpart spoke. "How did you find
me?" They looked to be in a cavern of some sort, with flickers of firelight
just barely highlighting their features. Spock was ashamed as always at the
fleeting feeling of guilt. This must have been on Delta Vega, where Spock had
abandoned Kirk without caring whether or not he survived, infuriated at the
gall of this human upstart who would speak to him utterly without respect,
completely defying his orders.
 He heard the suspicion in the captain’s voice when he responded. "How do you
know my name?"
His response, when spoken, caused Spock to hold his breath. "I have been… and
always shall be…your friend." The simple words, spoken with such a depth of
feeling made Spock feel as though the very universe had somehow tilted,
changing his perception of everything that had happened.  He could clearly
remember his own turmoil and disbelief when Spock advised him that he had the
unique ability to be in two places at once. “I could not deprive you of the
revelation of all that you could accomplish together. Of a friendship that will
define you both, in ways you cannot yet realize.” The words had seemed
prophetic. He could now glean the meaning; understand how yes, a relationship
with one person could indeed start to define another. Had he not done
everything in his power to get his captain to the doctor that could help his
failing, fragile body? Was he not willing to defy Starfleet, and indeed the
very Federation in order to get answers?
If that wasn’t friendship… what was?
 The younger Kirk gave Spock a funny sort of smile and flickered once before
disappearing completely. Spock turned around, looking for where the boy had
gone. “Captain!”. Spock turned his head again. There was nothing for him to
hide behind.  No rocks or boulders- nothing that would shield him from view.
 The strangely muted colors had a strange sort of shimmer to them. “Jim!”
 In an instant, Spock was snapped out of the meld and back into reality.

___________________________________
 

Spock found himself struggling against his older self, surprised at the
strength that held his arm away.
 “You must …cease!”
Spock, still disoriented from the meld, froze at the sharp note of command.
“Can you not see what has transpired?”
Spock jerked his wrist out of the other man’s grip. “I do not.” His hand shook
slightly with tremors.
Spock could see the signs of temper in the other man’s face: the flared
nostrils, green tinge to the skin as it flushed in anger, and the narrowed
eyes, but he was completely baffled as to what caused this to happen.
“Do you not see what you have done?”
Spock was honestly puzzled. Before he could defend himself, he found the
strength of his counterpart’s mind sliding against his own, the feeling
strangely sensual. The Ambassador didn’t give his younger self a chance to cast
about feebly for answers, but firmly steered him in the direction he wanted. 
Spock could see it, like some incandescent, shimmering serpent. It wasn’t
alive, but moved as though it were. It was tied firmly to the elder Spock’s
katra, wrapping around it as though giving support. Spock understood that this
was a visual representation of a bond, reserved for bondmates, although he had
never seen anything as strong as this before. His father, when first teaching
him as a child, had once shown him what a ‘healthy’ bond would look like, so
that he could recognize his own binding wit h T'Pring . His father’s bond with
his mother had been extremely strong, but was nothing like this.
His gaze flew hungrily over the bond, twisting sinuously as though thinly
crafted chains had been braided together, and together and together, each touch
and shared thought, each intimacy and feeling built one and on top of each
other to form something strong and encompassing.  He was utterly shocked to see
this bond, which was so much beyond beauty, come to an abrupt end The ends
looked though they had been cauterized, soldered over without any hope of being
reforged.
My bondmate was . . . taken from me.
If Spock could have fallen to his knees with shock, he would have. The idea
that something so beautiful could have been in some way destroyed was both
horrifying and cruel. Something shifted, and Spock could feel for a moment the
absolute despair that severing such a bond had caused his counterpart. Only for
an instant, then blocked, shut off… locked away to the smallest, furthest
compartment of his mind.
Do you understand? Can you not see this within?
And all at once he could. The shadowy presence, constantly in the back of his
mind.  He had hidden away from the possibility… from even a hint that this
could be possible. Things began to fall into place quickly, as though his mind
finally had permission to catch up with itself.
Why he couldn’t function with his normal efficiency while his captain was hurt.
The small ‘click’ of completion, as though sliding the last puzzle piece into
place when he allowed himself to reach out to his captain’s mind.
His utter inability to calm himself after leaving Jim in Sickbay.  His sudden
possessiveness.
As each realization came into being, Spock could see his own bond, bright in
places, yet sickly in others.  It was unfinished, almost completely
transparent.
The Elder Spock broke away with his mind almost without him noticing beyond the
sudden crazed circle of his thoughts.
Spock bowed his head, breathing hard as he struggled to compartmentalize what
he now understood. He could feel his thoughts running around and against each
other like small panicked animals” instead.  He forced himself to look at his
captain, who slept on, completely oblivious to the realizations his bondmate
was now experiencing.
He stood there for several moments, attempting to regain some sort of control.
“Initially, I had hoped to be able to help your Jim.  It would be a simple
matter to have him acknowledge his fear, rather than hide behind it. I confess
that I had not anticipated this taking very long at all.”
“But now he rejects your help.”
“Indeed.  Your bond is not fully formed, yet it prevents me from my own
inquiries into his mind. I do not know if I can help you.”
Spock felt a burst of panic, jerking his gaze away from his captain and meeting
his counterpart’s eyes.
“Be easy.  I did not mean to imply that he is beyond help. It is a simple
matter of showing you what to do.”
“If the bond has not fully formed, than can it be broken?”
Something very much like disappointment flickered in the depths of the
Ambassador’s gaze.  “You wish this? Truly?”
“I…I do not know.”  He didn’t. “How… how is it possible for …” Spock broke off
unable to articulate his query.  The idea that a Vulcan could mishandle
something as primary as a mind meld was … daunting. The very fact that he could
have done something so… unanticipated was horrifying. He moved to seat himself,
assuming his meditative pose without consciously thinking about it, positioning
himself to the captain’s left. 
He took a deep breath, trying once again to force his thoughts into some sort
of order. His guilt over this situation was irrelevant. If the captain needed
his help, then he would have his help.  If the bond could be severed later,
then he would do so.
As confusing as everything was, one thing stood out with absolute clarity:  the
captain would not wish to be bonded to his First Officer for the rest of his
life.  Most bonds were similar to the human concept of marriage, in the sense
that two compatibly minded people bonded with the eventual goal of procreation
to advance the species.  Spock’s jaunt into the captain’s memories showed that
Kirk did feel friendship for him, but Spock was highly doubtful that the
Captain would ever be interested in anything more intimate. His own feelings on
the matter were again irrelevant.  Spock had chosen James T Kirk as his captain
when he became the First on the Enterprise. It was his choice that had led him
to this moment. He could do nothing less than everything to help his Captain in
any way it was required of him.
The elder Spock had said that the key lay in helping Jim separate from the
strange break in his psyche, or rather to understand that there was a break
between the adult Jim and the younger.  Part of Spock felt extremely
uncomfortable doing this. These were such private memories, ones that caused
Jim great personal anguish. Being a witness to that was excruciating.  But if
you have truly bonded with him, sharing his memories is both your burden and
your blessing. 
He sighed, reached out, and melded with his bondmate once again.
***
This time was very different.  It was though his acknowledgement of the bond
brought everything back into vivid clarity. He could feel it, wavering in and
out of his consciousness (or his consciousness’ consciousness if one were being
particular). He could feel Jim at the end of it.
“Jim?” His voice seemed to echo in this strange landscape of Jim’s mind.
“Hey… Spock!”   Spock was astounded to see the “right” version of his captain
come sauntering towards him. The same version he’d seen countless times
striding around the deck of the enterprise, confident, direct gaze warming in
greeting as he drew closer to him.
“Where the hell am I?”
Interesting. Spock spoke cautiously. “What is the last thing you remember?”
“Ahh. Reports. I had a shitload of paperwork to catch up on. I remember
…remember… okay, actually I don’t remember anything after sending off my
reports to Starfleet. Poof.It’s a complete blank. Then I woke up here… walking
around aimlessly until I felt you speak.”
“Felt me?”
Jim cocked his head to the side, rubbing the back of his neck briskly, looking
rather sheepishly down at his feet.  “Yeah. Felt. It’s the weirdest damn thing,
Spock. Like déjà vu that has giant teeth and tentacles or something. It’s
freaking me out a little to be honest.  I feltthat you were here somewhere with
me. Like we were separated or something, and if I just kept looking I would
find you.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the next.“And... I was right.
Here you are.”He grinned at Spock kind of shame-facedly, as though he expected
Spock to call him a liar at any moment.
Spock blinked slowly. His captain was speaking of a level of intuition that
shouldn’t be present in a human.
The scene around them blurred and changed rapidly, swirling around them in a
chaotic mix of color and sound until it solidified, reforming into a dimly lit
corridor. There were several doors on each side of the imagined hallway.  This
was vastly different than the somewhat abstract memories from before.
“What….what’s this?”
“It’s a corridor, Captain.”
Spock had no problems reading the look Jim shot him.
“Thanks, Spock. Your powers of observation are still unmatched throughout the
galaxy,” Jim spoke dryly.  “Okay, so why are we in a corridor? What the hell is
going on?”
“We are in your mind.  Well, parts of us are. We are physically on New Vulcan
in one of my father’s sleeping chambers. You have been… ill.” Jim swung around,
looking at Spock solemnly. His hand seemed very hot as it rested on Spock’s
forearm. Spock was rather disconcerted at the way the weak bond seemed to flare
at the phantom touch. It was reacting much in the same way as it would in the
physical world. The sensation of heat from Jim’s skin was … distracting.  “You
were taken from the ship. From the Enterprise…”Spock broke off as something
seemed to flicker in the other man’s clear, blue gaze.  Jim moved his hand
away, looking out at the doors, evenly spaced throughout the hall.
“Weird. So, why did we go to New Vulcan? Why couldn’t McCoy help me?”
“There were complications. Your physical body was hurt in such a way that it
caused you great mental distress. I miscalculated some information and caused
some damage to part of your mind. It can be remedied, but first you will need
to acknowledge whatever you are… suppressing.”
“Oh.”   One small, whispered syllable shouldn’t be able to convey such a wealth
of emotion.
Spock found himself standing with his hands behind his back, watching his
captain’s face as he struggled to understand. “I am here because of my…”
“Miscalculation?”
“Yes. I reacted … illogically.”
“You mean you reacted like a human.  The two are not mutually exclusive, Spock”
Jim paused as though to collect his thoughts. I’m sorry that you seem to be
stuck here with me. I don’t imagine this will be comfortable for you at all.
But…” he trailed off, looking at the rest of the doors lined up in the corridor
with an unreadable look on his face. “I am... glad you’re here, Spock.”
“As am I. Shall we begin, sir?”
Jim raised his eyebrows, but otherwise didn’t comment as the two walked down
the corridor. “So, whatever is behind these doors is something from what… my
past?”
“I believe so. We are, after all, in your mind.” 
“What injuries did I have when I got back to the Enterprise? I mean, surely
McCoy could have pieced together something of what had happened to me.”
“Affirmative, sir .”  Spock found that he was strangely nervous as they stopped
in front of the first door. Speaking professionally was more of a habit than
anything else, but from the way Jim looked at him out of the corner of his eye,
Spock understood that he had done something insensitive. “That is to say… yes,
Jim.”
Jim’s quick, blinding flash of smile and subsequent clap on his shoulder made
Spock’s own lips twitch in response.
“Your injuries were extensive. However, I do not believe that I should go into
detail at this time. I believe that you will… see what happened when you are
ready.” Spock spoke haltingly, aware that he was being somewhat cowardly by not
coming right out and answering the other man’s question.
“I’m not sure that I really want to go down this chamber of horrors. There are
a lot of doors here. It’s kind of bizarre.”   As he spoke the scene changed
again becoming less solidly formed and more insubstantial.  Spock recognized it
as much like the flickering ‘landscape’ from before.
Jim took a shaky breath.  “Alright then. Let’s get this show on the road. I
have a ship to captain.”
***
 The scene shifted as though they were watching a holograph. It started off as
before, flickering and unsubstantial. The image solidified to a planetary
landscape on a very pleasant night. Spock instinctively looked up to the sky,
as though he could discern the location from the stars alone.  Jim’s movement
followed his, only he flinched hard enough in recognition that he almost took a
step back into Spock, who had been standing behind and slightly to the left of
the Captain as was his custom.
Jim gasped for air as his whole body turned rigid.  “Oh, okay I get it now.
This is like therapy. As if every goddamn psychoanalyst in two detention
centers, three different boarding schools and Starfleet didn’t already try to
pick my brain apart. Well, no. No fucking way. I’m not doing this again.”
 Spock raised an eyebrow. Jim sounded petulant. It was closer to the voice of
the younger Jim that he had met before instead of the older version that stood
in front of him.  “I do not believe you have a choice.” With that, Spock put
both of his hands on Jim’s shoulders, and spun him around to look at the images
that were forming. Once again, the almost physical jolt of surprise when they
touched shocked Spock into quickly letting go of the other man. 
The bond flared at the touch, and the flood of emotion from Jim caused him to
gasp. Terrorhateragehungerescape Spock had just a moment to try to reinforce
his own shields before the scene solidified around them completely, as though
he were really there.   
There was a strange whining sound from the man in front of him, and Spock
watched stoically as Jim’s eyes darted around as though he were a trapped
animal.  Jim was breathing heavily; face completely bloodless in the dark
night.
“I can’t… I can’t do this. Not… again.”
“You can. You must.” Spock said, simply.
Jim spun away from him, still darting his gaze around the landscape. He doubled
over, placing his hands on his thighs, trying to regain some semblance of
control. “Spock….”
But Spock understood.  “Jim, I do understand that this is not a comfortable
situation for you. But you must do this.”Spock paused again. “You have a
duty.”  He stared at him for a moment, judging the reaction to his next words.
“You have never struck me as a coward. Jim.”
Jim’s head came up, emotions flicking over his features too quickly for Spock
to identify before his face went carefully blank. There were a few beats of
silence.“Let’s go. Should be a lot of fun.”
Spock rather doubted that.  He knew what the Starfleet files had said on this
situation, thanks to his other self. He had read extensively about the effects
of sexual abuse and trauma on the human psyche. But experiencing it firsthand
was … something he had never done.  They waited in silence, Jim ahead of him,
each nuance of his posture and behavior showing that he was still upset with
his First Officer’s words.
There was a gasp of air and Spock saw that Jim was biting his lower lip hard
enough to draw blood.  “Okay… Okay... Um, this is the palace. Kodos’ main
control center.  When the food died, he figured out the best way to control a
hungry population was to … kill them all.”
The scene flickered as Jim spoke, a visual representation of his words.  Spock
watched impassively as the younger Jim clutched the hand of a girl roughly the
same age. She had long blond hair and seemed to be crying. They were in a
crowded room, huddled up against the wall near a large ventilation system. 
There were angry voices around them, the mutterings of a crowd close to revolt.
Spock could see the same careful determination on Jim’s face that he displayed
when faced with a particularly difficult problem.  The boy’s gaze flicked over
the faces of the adults in the crowd, moving carefully to the dark shadows
gathered outside the room, visible through the windows. Spock could see men in
military apparel who seemed to be holding weapons.  The scene shimmered and
crystallized.   There was the sound of breaking glass and Spock watched the
younger Jim’s eyes widen as he realized what the mercenaries had done.
The container seemed to summersault slowly through the air, each rotation
sending more of the bright blue gas into the room.  There were two more crashes
of breaking glass they pitched in two more containers.  The gas rose quickly to
the ceiling and floated down towards the crowd, becoming denser as it did so.
People finally started to give in to the terror as those closest to the
containers began to die.  They watched as their faces exploded in red as
capillaries in their eyes, nose and throat all seemed to burst at the same
time.  Others tried to cover their mouths and break for the windows, where they
were shot without fanfare by the soldiers standing guard outside.  Spock could
smell the sharp, pungent stink of hundreds of people as they started to panic,
trying to rush to the exits, trampling others in their way as they desperately
tried to leave.
Spock’s gaze was riveted on Jim, who yanked the girl to him, trying to protect
her with his body, pulling her sweater so that it was over her face.  “Amiee!
Come on… come on!!!” He pulled her sharply, and even over the sound of the
crowd’s frantic panic the sound of her wrist breaking could be clearly heard. 
The older Jim moaned at the sound, face losing what little color it had as he
watched the events unfolding around him.
The girl started to wail as she stumbled towards the teenaged Jim, holding her
wrist and already starting to cough.  Jim herded her closer to the wall with
his body as he started to pry under the grate that covered the ventilator. The
metal sliced his hands, but Jim worked quickly, holding his breath as much as
he could as his gaze darted over Aimee’s panicked, coughing face.  
“Mama! Mama!!” Aimee had seen someone in the crowd and was struggling against
Jim, who was trying to push her against the wall and open the ventilator grate
simultaneously.  His blue eyes streamed as he tried to repress coughing, but he
was able to get the grate open.
“Come on… come ON!” he gasped. Jim moved to boost her up to the grate, but the
girl twisted sharply, still screaming for her mother, unaware that both her
nostrils were bleeding as death began to claim her.  Jim was unable to maintain
his bloody grip, and the girl disappeared into the crowd.  He had time for one
frenzied glance over his shoulder as the girl was crushed to death, blonde hair
streaked with bright blossoms of blood as her skull was pulverized.   Spock
watched as Jim, starting now to cough as his aching lungs gasped for air,
jumped up into the ventilation grate and began crawling away.
The scene disappeared with an abruptness that was startling.
Jim stood with his head bowed, breathing heavily. “She was my cousin. I
couldn’t save…. she wouldn’t…”He took a shaky breath. “I tried not to remember
the screaming and the smell. I was in that ventilator shaft for what seemed
like forever- moving as quickly as I could, afraid that if I stopped they would
find me…”
Spock was at a loss of what to say.
The flicker of memory gave a hiccup and stutter as though responding to Jim’s
chaotic thoughts.
“I was so hungry. There was nothing on the planet but bark and plants and
stuff. I had tried to break into some of the colonist’s homes…”
Jim, looking dirty and desperate, on his knees searching in the cabinet of what
looked to be a kitchen. The cruel cuts on his fingers from the metal grate had
scabbed over and looked to be healing. He found a package of something and
devoured it, almost choking in his haste. So intent was he that he failed to
notice the two hands reaching for him.  Spock found himself tensing, ready to
yell a warning at the young boy.
Jim’s head snapped up, and the moldy, green object he was eating slithered out
of his mouth and onto his torn, filthy shirt. His scream barely had time to
form before the large black-tinged hand came around his mouth, jerking his legs
and face backward into a large body at the same time. 
“Lookie what we found here…” Jim froze instinctively in the other man’s arms,
as though he thought if he didn’t move then the predator holding him wouldn’t
notice his presence.
The man spoke in a series of harsh alien syllables, relying on the universal
translator to convey his point. It did with chilling efficiency. Then Jim was
being thrown onto the floor in front of three other large humanoid beings. They
were vaguely reptilian in appearance, built solidly and heavy with muscle.  Jim
looked very young and exquisitely small as he lay crouched on torn floor, eyes
enormous with fear as they darted from one man to the next. 
“Don’t be afraid, pretty one…” The sickening smell of his breath and the
knowledge in his eyes as he reached for the boy, hand dropping his weapon in
his haste as he reached for his trousers.
Spock became aware of his hands balled into fists as he watched. His eyes
narrowed and the men were on the boy, holding him down, pinning him to the
dirty floor while they took turns, the grunts of satisfaction and the wet
slapping sound of skin on skin obscenely loud in the small space.
The young boy didn’t say a word. His face a mask of stoic indifference, Jim lay
there, not even fighting as the three took their turns.
Jim didn’t say a word when the last pulled out from behind him, forcing him to
turn around.
Jim didn’t say a word when his mouth was pried open.
The grunts and small sounds filled the room. As with the other memory, all
senses were involved; Spock could smell the musky scent of semen and the sharp
tint of copper. It was a sick smell.  Spock could see something cold flash in
the boy’s eyes, and he could see the small frame tense, each muscle drawing up
and freezing into itself.  
Jim waited until the man was close to orgasm before reaching for the discarded
weapon, pulling it into play with reflexes that seemed almost inhumanly quick. 
His captor’s face exploded in an orange mess, blood and gore dripping loudly in
the silent room.  The younger Jim reached up to his mouth, wiping it with a
shaking hand, quickly pulling up his trousers with the other hand.  There was a
footstep and a bark of sound in the doorway, and Jim had turned and fired
before the other two beings could even get their weapons into position.
The scene abruptly went dark, dissolving into nothingness with a suddenness
that was startling. 
Spock could hear Jim’s louder-than-normal heartbeat.  A broken sounding laugh
cut through the silence. “That wasn’t even the worst part. You should see what
I did later.”  Jim took a step away from him, turning away to wipe his face on
his tunic. “Well.  You probably will.”
Once again, the scene changed.  Spock’s eyes widened to see Jim, dressed in a
clean shirt and trousers, stashing food as quickly as he could in a small
knapsack.  Jim was still painfully thin, the cheekbones of his face standing
out in sharp relief.  There was the heavy step of a booted foot in the corridor
behind him, and Spock was utterly astounded to see Jim’s face change. Instead
of the fear or hatred he expected, Jim’s face slid into an expression of sexual
awareness, even expectation.  The lips twisted into a smirk as he looked back
over his shoulder at the man who had walked into the room. 
“Governor Kodos... Sir...” 
Jim turned and walked over to the man, who stood staring at the boy. He wasn’t
particularly tall, but had an unmistakable aura of menace about him.  Kodos
reached out almost absently and grabbed Jim’s head, pulling him closer by his
hair, possessiveness obvious in his actions. It bespoke of gestures done
countless times.    Spock was sickened to see how even as Jim performed for the
man, he was careful to keep his attention away from the knapsack that still
bulged with food.
The next scene showed Jim running through the darkness back to the cave Spock
had seen before, giving the food to the younger boys he had clearly decided
were in his care.
“Enough.”   Spock didn’t mean to speak.
Jim laughed again, somewhat wildly.  “Yeah. Enough would be good.  I haven’t
thought about this in years.  One of the psychotherapists was Betazoid, and
taught me how to block certain memories.   God, I forgot how….”  Jim trailed
off, rubbing his hand over his face. “It’s okay, Spock, I can feel your
disgust. I’m not mad.  It’s understandable.”
Spock slammed his shields shut, appalled at himself. Where was his control?  He
seemed to have no emotional center. The tenuous bond seemed to seesaw in and
out of his consciousness, giving him occasional insights into what Jim was
feeling interspersed with complete blankness.  “You are mistaken.  There is no
shame in any of your actions here.”
Jim seemed resigned and waved away Spock’s protests. “You know what? It doesn’t
even matter. Why shouldn’t you be here reliving some of the most humiliating
things I’ve ever experienced? That totally makes sense. This is how the
universe works for Jim T. Kirk. Let’s get this over with so I can get back to
my ship, and get you the fuck out of my head.”
Spock’s lips tightened. It was fortunate that he had not been completely
forthright with Jim about the state of their bond. Indeed, breaking the
connection seemed the only acceptable course of action given the captain’s
utter repugnance for the idea of Spock being ‘in his head.’ 
“Jim.” His voice seemed rougher than normal.  “Whatever emotion you’re
‘feeling’ from my reaction is likely an echo of your own emotional state. I
assure you I am not here to judge you. I am your… friend. It is only logical
that I be here to support you when you need it.”
Jim’s short burst of laughter was harsh.  “My friend. We’re not friends, Spock.
Friendship can’t be built on someone manipulating someone else.”
Spock’s neck turned so quickly that the he strained one of the tendons. Jim
stood there with his arms folded over his chest, blue eyes narrowed slightly.
Spock could clearly feel some sort of blockage in his throat. He had to clear
it twice before he could speak, but before he could do so the scene changed
again.
Jim, speaking, eyes seeming startlingly blue in his face, pale in the reflected
firelight.  “Your destiny can wait! He won’t believe me, only you can explain
w—“His voice rough with shock, eyes still wet with tears.
“Under nocircumstances can he be made are of my existence. You must promise me
this.”His alternate self’s voice was cold with determination.
“You’re telling me I can’t tell you I’m following your own orders? Why not?
What happens?”
“Trust me. Above all. Jim, this is the one rule you cannot break. To stop Nero,
you alone must take command of your ship.”
Jim snorts, disbelieving. “How, over your dead body?”
Spock is astounded, although by this point, logic would dictate that he
shouldn’t be, by the slight tone of amusement as his other self spoke.
Preferably not. The Ambassador’s tone changed again, becoming steely with
determination, trying to impress upon the young man the direness of the
situation “There is, however, Starfleet Regulation 619.  Yes… I forget what
little regard you had for such matters. 619 states that any commanding officer
who s emotionally compromised by the mission at hand… must resign said
command.”
“So I need to emotionally compromise you?”
“Jim. I just lost my planet. I can tell you, I am emotionally compromised. What
you must do is get me to showit.”
Then,
“What is it like? Not to feel? Anger. Or heartbreak?  Or the need to stop at
nothing to avenge the death of the woman who gave birth to you?! You must not
feel anything! It must not even compute for you! You must not loved her at
all…..”
Spock watched the scene unfold again as though he were merely an observer,
seeing the pure fury on his face, watching as his fingers closed around Jim’s
neck, tightening slowly… harder and harder as though with each tense of muscle
he could burn the words from his memory.
“I’m sorry.”
Spock met the younger man’s gaze, echoes of the remembered rage swimming in the
depths of his eyes.  He watched Jim, shoulders slumped and neck bowed in front
of him, and was absolutely astounded at the realization that Jim equated that
moment… a few minutes of calculated desperation geared towards quickly getting
Jim the results he needed… with the events of his childhood on Tarsus IV.
“You have no reason to be sorry. While I was not aware of the events leading up
to your assuming the role of captain, I did understand the necessity behind it.
There is no fault here.” Spock struggled to keep his emotions, still so raw
after everything he’d experienced thus far out of his mental ‘voice’.
Jim moved so that he was standing in front of Spock. His hand came out as
though he wanted to grab his First’s arm, but the motion was awkward, arm
dropping back to his side uncompleted. “But what I said! God, I was just so
pissed off, and confused, and blown away by what he showed me in that
mind…thing. It was like I knew exactly what buttons to push to make you go
crazy, butfuck,Spock. That was horrible. It was a… dishonorable thing to say.
And untrue.”  He reached out and rested for a moment on the back of Spock’s
hand, briefly. “I am so sorry,”he whispered shakily.
Spock closed his eyes at the electric spark of awareness. He could feel Jim’s
emotions again, dispairdisgustanguishhumialtionand his first instinct was to
disentangle himself from the whirlpool of emotion. He jerked his hand away from
Jim’s touch, purposefully moving his gaze so that he wouldn’t have to see Jim’s
reaction.
“I repeat, Capt… Jim. There is no fault here. To use a colloquialism, you did
what you had to do.” 
Jim moved away from Spock, pacing angrily as he struggled to process the
quickness of events.  He was holding onto his temples, rubbing as though he had
a headache. Spock could hear him muttering to himself under his breath, but
couldn’t discern what he was saying. Spock found his hands going naturally
behind his back, body straightening into the comfortable parade rest as was his
usual custom while he waited for his captain to work through his inner turmoil.
“Okay. I get it now . Whatever happened on the Enterprise has to be related to
whatever my mind is running in glorious Technicolored syndication.”
“Syndication, sir?”
“Never mind. Stay with me here. So, I need to remember who… and what happened.
No problem. I can do that. I think.” Jim waved his hands as though directing a
particularly complicated orchestra. “Okay, brain. Show me your worst. I’ve got
people to do… places to see…” 
Spock was familiar enough with Jim’s tone of self-deprecation that he didn’t
take his words seriously. This time when the scene formed it was instantly
familiar.  Jim’s captain’s quarters, lights low enough to show the illuminated
3D chessboard. Jim was slumped in the chair he normally sat in, focusing on the
board with almost single-minded determination, fingers steepled into a point
under his chin.  The man sitting opposite of him was not himself, as Spock had
initially thought when he saw the blue uniform, but . . . Doctor McCoy.
Spock was completely unprepared for the burst of emotion that surged through
his body. He did not like the visual of the other man sitting in the chair he
normally used when playing chess with Jim after shift. “Damnit Jim, what are
you waiting for? Some of us actually have things to do on this damn ship.”
There was a grunt from Jim’s side of the table.
The doctor rolled his eyes, looking around at the mess of the cabin. “Wow, it
never ceases to amaze me just how much of a slob you really are. Does your
place look like this when you have Kermit over for… whatever it is that you
guys do here?”
“Quit calling him that, Bones.”   Jim’s lips twitched in amusement.  “We just
play chess.”
A purely wicked look flitted over the doctor’s features. “And of course by
‘playing chess’ you mean….” The doctor was all but laughing outright as he
stared at Jim’s sudden flushed face.
“Ahh. Wait. I remember this now. I think I need to sort of speed ahead to when
I left my quarters.”  Jim spoke quickly. The scene went black as though all the
lights had suddenly winked out.
Spock absolutely refused to acknowledge the fact that a muscle in his jaw
twitched repetitively.
“I think I’ve got the hang of this now. Lemme see if this works. ” The moments
from Jim’s memory flashed forward quickly:
-dematerializing in the middle of the almost  empty  corridor, blinded, unable
to see the face of the young person who had hit him on the back of the head,
stunning him immobile, his reflexes too slow to prevent the incapacitating
hypospray--
-- his shock at seeing Thomas, his friend now fully grown, tortured to death in
front of him, his own body bowing in agony as they crushed the bones in his
wrists—
--chained in the belly of some stinking ship, hands hanging onto the metal
cuffs for some sort of support while his body was split apart from the man
thrusting into him, recognizing the face as an older version of his most
horrifying nightmares,  just wanting everything to end--
--knowing he was helpless and welcoming death as an end from the unending pain—
--the sickening, shameful feeling of hope as he opened one eye, realizing that
Spock’s startled face was his salvation—
The scenes flipped from one to another as though a holograph had started to
skip from a malfunction, images solid for mere moments before fading into the
next volley before being plunged into blackness once again.
When Jim spoke it was absolutely devoid of any emotion, face frozen into an
absolute mask of cold indifference.  Spock could not feel any emotion from the
feeble tie between them.
“Kodos is… alive?”
 
_______________________________
 
Spock’s eyes opened and he came back into himself with a quick gasp of breath.
He flexed his fingers and moved his hand  from Jim's face. He shut his eyes,
sorting through the memories, setting them into some kind of order in his mind
so that he would later be able to catalogue each response when he was better
able to do so without this inconvenient emotional chaos.
He heard a small whisper of sound from behind him, and turned his head.  His
counterpart stood there, patiently waiting, eyebrow raised in silent inquiry. 
Spock nodded, exhausted.
“And do you still wish that your bond be severed?”
Let’s get this over with so I can get back to my ship, and get you the fuck out
of my head.   Spock nodded, holding his counterpart’s gaze for a moment before
breaking eye contact, looking down at Jim, who still seemed deeply asleep
despite the small beads of sweat on his forehead.  “The captain has made his
feelings very clear.”
“Indeed?”
Spock did not reply.
“As you wish. I will perform the Breaking. It is my understanding that you do
not wish for our father to know the particulars of your folly. It would be best
to accomplish this task now before Jim awakens.”
Spock flinched minutely. “Yes.” 
The Ambassador moved once again to his previous position on Jim’s other side.
He expected the older man would bring Jim into the meld first, and was
surprised when he was drawn in first instead.  The sensual slide of his own
mind against his… a bright spark of apology...and…
“Sleep.”
Spock slept.
**
He eased the younger version of himself back onto the small pallet, pleased at
the sight of the slightly olive complexion against the skin of Jim’s healthy
golden—although still slightly pale—skin. Jim made a small noise at the back of
his throat and turned slightly so that his shoulders were touching that of his
bondmate’s.  The sight arrested the elder Spock, and he stood staring down at
the two for quite some time, indecisive. Coming to a decision, he reached out.
He could not deny the satisfaction he felt by once again sinking into Jim’s
mind. The earlier chaos had smoothed out, although parts were still wickedly
raw. He gently manipulated images and memories so that when Jim woke he
wouldn’t be incapacitated by what he had seen. They would of course still be
there, but locked away well enough that remembering wouldn’t compromise his
other duties. 
He then focused on his younger counterpart, observing, ferreting out the
answers to questions the younger man did not know how to articulate, or even
understand. The conclusions reached simply strengthened his resolve.  It was
fascinating to be able to see all of the different facets of this ruthlessly
logical mind. In his own time, he had struggled continuously against giving
into to his Human side until Jim had laughingly pulled him into mutual respect,
friendship, and a love so encompassing that it could not be denied.
 Nero had changed all of that for Spock’s counterpart.  Emotional responses
came quickly to the surface, though they were rarely displayed.  Their father’s
simple declaration of his love for his wife had caused such chaos in Spock’s
thoughts that the elder Spock was shocked at his ability to cope. He had
struggled so hard to embrace his Vulcan half that hearing that had been its own
form of torture. If his fully Vulcan father could love…
Emotion/logic, Human/Vulcan. The constant need to choose one or the other, the
sense that one must be superior, and never knowing how to find a peaceful
balance between the two.  Indeed, never knowing if it was even possible. Spock
did not envy his younger self’s journey. Truths he himself had learned much
later in life were forced upon him at such a young age by the actions of one
madman who was willing to destroy billions for his revenge.
His younger self had many gaping holes in the education of his Vulcan mind. 
Spock felt a quick burst of anger at his counterpart’s teachers. Bias was
illogical. Spock had come into contact with this particular emotion countless
time in his adventures on the Enterprise, and it never failed to astound him at
how quickly it came into play, regardless of the species. But for these Vulcan
educators, whose greatest gift was to cultivate young minds, to perpetuate this
feeling of disgust for something the younger Spock had no control over was …
highly disquieting.  Because of this bias, this unreasonabledisgust of Spock’s
humanity, he had never been properly taught some of the particulars of melding
with another mind. And never made aware of these discrepancies. 
Seething, Spock quickly put the training he would need in his mind, ready to
access whenever needed, for if ever there was a certainty in the universe it
was that this young man wouldeventually be asking questions. Perhaps his
younger self had made a mistake. Perhaps he had just been too emotionally
invested in Jim to be able to maintain the separation of self required for a
mind meld. An ‘accidental’ bonding was not unheard of, but extremely rare.
To sever a bond that was so strong without physical contact, existing without
being properly consummated would be… illogical. Their bondburned between them,
pulsing as though awaiting acknowledgment. Spock manipulated this too, forcing
it into the back of their awareness so that they would be unaware of its
existence.
Until it was time.
***
Stardate: 2259.63 
Jim was blissfully warm. Almost too warm. His eyes slowly blinked open, the
unfamiliar ceiling slowly coming into focus. It looked as though it had been
sculpted from dusky marble, the low light in the room glinting off of slight
imperfections in the stone.  His eyes drifted lazily shut again.
With consciousness came awareness; Jim wasn’t alone in the bed. Whoever was
next to him was breathing the slow, deep, even breaths of sleep.  He couldn’t
tell if they were male or female, and was horribly confused for a moment. 
Normally when he woke up next to someone and didn’t remember how they got
there, there was the murky memory of the maniacal consumption of alcohol or at
the very least a pounding headache or nauseous stomach warring with the reek of
sex in the room. Not so this time. He was clothed. He could feel their heat
behind him, although they weren’t touching.  And Jim felt… amazing.
He stretched, making a small sound in the back of his throat as he did so, a
sort of stuttering, sleepy yawn. Some of his joints popped, and he thought
ruefully that he was definitely way too young to be creaking like that. He felt
as though he had just had an extremely peaceful nap after an even more pleasant
vacation. His mom would have called him “bright-eyed and bushy tailed” in that
wry way she had.
The breathing next to him paused for a moment as the other person woke up,
exhaling on a whoooosh of sound. They must have been facing the same way he
was, because he could feel the breath hot against the back of his neck. Jim
shivered. He could feel the other person’s sudden tension, then the bed dipped
and they got up.
Jim stretched again, rolling into the heat still clinging to the bedclothes,
yawning hugely. He kept his eyes shut, enjoying the lassitude.
“Captain.”
Jim’s eyes snapped open as he looked up at his First Officer.  Spock had, for a
moment, the strangest look on his face before his pale features smoothed into
their normal impassivity.
Okay, waking up in bed with Spock wasnot what he had anticipated. Perversely,
he found his cheeks heating in a sudden blush.  He popped up quickly, tugging
down his shirt that had ridden up just slightly. 
“Ah, uh.. good… morning?” He threw his legs over the side of the pallet and
stood up, surprised at the sudden onslaught of dizziness. Jim shook his head.
“Where are we?”
“In my father’s home. On New Vulcan.”
Jim blinked and remembered.
“Your … mind. We are in your mind.  Well, parts of us are. We are physically on
New Vulcan in one of my father’s sleeping chambers. You have been… ill.”
 
“Oh.”  Jim sat down heavily on the bed again as his legs gave out.  He was all
at once completely disgusted, horribly embarrassed, and sick with remembering
everything that had happened.  His stomach felt like it was going to explode
through his esophagus. “Can I… can I have a moment, Spock? Alone?” Jim’s voice
was strangled as he put his finger to his temple like he was trying to push the
sudden bright burst of pain from his head.
Spock didn’t speak, but he left the room. The door made a soft “click” behind
him as it shut, the sound making Jim smile despite the maelstrom of his
emotions. It wasn’t often he heard that anymore. Most doors were computerized.
The sound was one he remembered from his childhood in Iowa, in the old
farmhouse that his mother refused to update.
Jim groaned, resting his head in his hands.
This was horrible.  He felt bombarded by remembered sensation.  He forced
himself to take a deep breath, and was surprised as some of the feeling faded. 
It was still bad, but not... unbearable. What he was feeling was nothing like
the numbness of those first few weeks after being rescued from Tarsus IV, or
the exquisite skin-crawling-off-his-bones feeling when he woke himself up from
a nightmare, the echo of his cry still ringing in his small bedroom at the
farmhouse.  Jim felt. . . well, not quite like an impartialobserver, but
certainly one who could step back from the rawness of the past few days.
When he had gone through command training, several of his lectures had been on
the expectations of the tortures often inherent when captured by an enemy. 
While sitting there, lounged in the classroom, the idea of taking strength from
the simple fact of repeating your name, rank, and ship’s identification had
seemed asinine.  Jim had a vivid memory of incurring the wrath of the Commander
giving the lecture when he snorted under his breath at a couple of key points. 
He owed the man a fruit basket or something.
The repetition had kept him grounded while on the enemy ship.   Each time he
could say the words, whether it was through clenched teeth, or a gasping moan
of agony, it was its own retribution. A small defiance in the face of his
tormentor.  He had felt so very afraid (and boy was that uncomfortable to
admit, even to himself) when he had first seen Kodos smirking at him. He hadn’t
seen the older man, but the younger, virile and exquisitely cruel phantom of
his nightmares. At first everything that made him James Kirk had slithered
away, leaving a petrified child in its place. 
And then he got angry. That anger had kept him focused, as well. Every
repetition of James Tiberius Kirk- Captain, U.S.S. Enterprise,SC937-0176CEC
somehow proved to himself whohe was. Each word had called up an image of
hisship, his crew, confirming every damn thing he had accomplished to get to be
the youngest Starship Captain in Starfleet’s history.
True, he still was ashamed. Jim was honest enough with himself to admit that
part of that would probably never go away. But he had dealt with it as a kid,
and was… well, mostly… confident that he could handle any lingering results
from his experiences.  True again, that it had been downright horrifying to
have Spock as a witness to his worst memories.  Of all people, Spock would have
been the most affected. . But hadn’t Spock gone through the same thing?  Jim
could see in his mind’s eye the look on Spock’s face after losing his mother,
hand still outstretched in entreaty, watching the lights of her aborted
transport fade away into obscurity.
That look had haunted his dreams, too.
Jim sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face, and stood up.  He was starving.
His bladder felt like a Ga’ha’r spongebeast that had been left in a rainstorm.
  His mouth tasted like something had died, been reincarnated, then burned and
killed again.  He had a million different questions he wanted answered.
It was time to go.
***
Spock hadn’t gone far, Jim found.  He gave a sharp jerk of his head at Jim’s
inquiring look and soon the two were walking in sync as they had done countless
times before on the Enterprise.  “Dr. McCoy would like you to contact him as
soon as you are able.”
“I just bet he does.” Jim’s smile was wry. “He’s probably twitching out of his
skin about now.”
They had not walked all that far before reaching a larger chamber. It looked
like more of a receiving room, and Sarek and Ambassador Spock seated near a
small alcove, speaking quietly.  The other men both looked up at their entrance
before moving to stand.
“Jim. I am pleased to see you looking better.”
“I’m pleased to be looking better, old friend.” The endearment slipped out
without Jim thinking about it. He could sense Spock stiffen suddenly, like an
animal who had just sensed danger.  “Also, I’m thrilled that the universe
doesn’t seem to be exploding at you two being in the same room, acknowledging
each other.”
He didn’t imagine the flicker of a smile on the old man’s face. “Have you
eaten?”
“Nope. I think I can take care of all of that when I’m back on my ship. I did
want to thank you for your help. I don’t… remember much of what happened, but I
do know that Spock wouldn’t have taken me here unless you had both agreed to
it.  Thank you too, sir, for your hospitality.” He inclined his head towards
Sarek who, looking aloof from the conversation, nodded politely back.
“The debt was owed.”
Jim felt the familiar guilt assuage him. “Ah, with all due respect, sir your
people have no debt to me. I truly thank you for your help, but anything else
is unnecessary.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, wincing at the
awkwardness of the conversation.
“Indeed.” Sarek’s right eyebrow twitched slightly, which Jim took to mean the
Vulcan equivalent of ‘yeah, right.’ Or possibly ‘go fuck yourself, I’ll do what
I want’.  Vulcans- textbook definition of enigmatic.  
“Well, thank you. Spock, are you about ready to go?” 
“Yes, Captain.”
Jim took a few steps back to give Spock some privacy, and took out his
communicator.  “Kirk to Enterprise.  Two to beam up at my mark.”
“K-eh—keptin! It is wery, wery good to hear your woice. Aye! Ah, I mean... yes
sir. On your mark.”
Jim had to grin. Chekov sounded like he was about to wet himself. He waited for
a moment, standing out of earshot while Spock spoke quietly with his father and
his other self.
And fuck it all, if that wasn’t just weird seeing them side by side.
Jim watched as they finished their conversation and found himself strangely
reluctant to meet Spock’s eyes as his First Officer walked towards him. “I am
ready, Captain.”
So much for calling him Jim. Jim tried not to sigh as he flipped his
communicator again.
“Enterprise. Two to beam up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jim gave the Ambassador a little wave, which seemed to amuse him as the
transporter began to send them to the ship. Then the split instant of
nothingness and all of a sudden light and he was blinking at the familiar
transporter room.
“ My God Jim.”  He barely had time to blink before Bones was running a
tricorder over him, practically pushing Spock aside in his haste. Jim stifled a
grin and clapped his friend on the shoulder.  Chekov was practically vibrating
in place, somewhat like a puppy wagging its tail so hard it couldn’t sit
properly.  Before things could get out of hand, Jim raised one hand for silence
and spoke.
“Chekov, can you handle calling a meeting of all the bridge officers for me? 
I’ll need you and Scotty there too. I know we’re just about at shift change, so
it can wait until then.”  Bones swooped in with something that looked
suspiciously like a hypospray. “Bones go stick someone else with that damn
thing. You’ll have to wait to get your filthy hands all over me.  I’ve got
captainy things to do.  Spock, you’re with me.”
Jim stepped off the transporter pad and started to leave. He paused, thinking. 
“Actually, Spock there’s something you can do for me. I need you to take the
transporters offline. I want this ship on lockdown.”
Spock’s normally unflappable features looked a tad bit … flapped …at the
randomness of the order.
Jim fucking loveddoing that to him. 
“Yes, Captain.”
“Catch up with me later. I’ll be in my quarters.”
Jim walked off, feeling like he had a purpose. Bones, not one to be deterred
for long, scrambled along behind him. “Listen one damn minute. You can’t just
blow this off!”  He waved the tricorder in emphasis, and it beeped
distressingly as though being forcibly kept from a warm and fuzzy place. Jim
gave it a dirty look. He could hear the undercurrent of worry in Bones’
normally curmudgeonly tones. He sighed and stopped for a minute, not
particularly eager to have this conversation in the middle of a damn corridor.
Bones reached out to grasp his forearm, mouth working as he started to splutter
his objections. It was a gesture both of them had done to the other hundreds of
times.
Jim froze. “Let go of me.”
The hiss surprised him with its intensity. He shut his eyes at the look of
shock on Bones’ face. All at once he wasn’tall right, the pleasant buzz of
taking back his command fading in a swirl of inexplicable fear.  He forced
himself to take a deep breath, realizing that Bones had let go of him as though
burned.
“I… I know.” He started off haltingly, forcing words out through his suddenly
tight throat. “I know you must feel... I just…have something to do first.”
He could hear Bones breathing harshly and knew what it was costing him to not
give in to the questions he must have.
“I’m okay. You’ll have to just trust me until I…” His heart was beating so fast
he felt like it was sucking out the air in his space around him, growing and
lodging in his throat until he thought he would--
“Captain.”
Inexplicably, Jim felt some of his tension abate at the clipped interruption.
It was too much. Opening his eyes, he turned on his heel and didn’t look either
of them in the face as he walked towards the turbolift.  He felt like a coward
for being relieved when the doors swooshed shut behind him, giving him blessed
space and the sweet obscurity of white noise in order to try to collect his
thoughts.  Oh fuck. Oh damn and bloody fuck. I don’t have time for this now. He
rested for just a moment against the wall of the lift, raising one shaky hand
to cover his eyes.
When the doors swooshed open again Jim only had the strength to look up
blankly. Spock stood there for a second, cocked his head minutely to the left
and walked inside.
“Deck seven.”
Oh great. He hadn’t even started the damn turbolift.  He half expected Bones to
come parachuting in from the Jefferies tube, hollering about psychoanalysis and
relieving him of his duty.
“Are you well, Captain?”
Was he? His heart was still pounding, skin covered with a light sheen of sweat.
“I just… I need… I need to be accomplishing something.”
“Did the doctor say something to upset you?”
“No, of course not. I just overreacted to something stupid.”  The turbolift’s
speaker gave a little cheep of sound, indicating that they were at their
destination. Jim visibly pulled himself together and took a deep breath. “When
I was taken, they knocked me out with something. It was someone who works on
this ship, Spock.”
Jim, staring at the floor, missed the way that Spock’s eyes narrowed.
 “Who?” The syllable is cold and tight with suppressed fury.
“Ah, that’s the tricky part. I only saw her for a second before I passed out.”
The turbolift doors opened and both turned to look at the startled ensign that
stood there, eyes jumping between the two senior officers. Jim forced a smile
and nodded to the crewmember.  “Ensign. We were just leaving.”
“Yes... sir?”
Jim and Spock walked down the corridor to the captain’s quarters.  Jim sighed
as he walked in, enjoying the little rush of ownership he felt when he saw his
belongings neatly put away.  The yeoman that kept his quarters neat did a
fantastic job.  He glanced around, all at once feeling better. He crossed to
one of the chairs in the sitting area and sat.
“Everything is kind of unclear about that. Whatever they hit me with did
something to my eyes. Or maybe I had an allergic reaction or something, but
whatever it was, it was like looking at things underwater. I remember the pain
in my neck, and turning to knock the shit out of Bones. But it wasn’t Bones
that jabbed me.  I can remember the red uniform, and blonde hair, and then
nothing. I don't even know if it was a man or a woman.  I woke up on the other
ship.”
Spock crossed to the console and started entering data, fingers fairly flying
across the keys. “There were fifteen uses of the Enterprise’s transporter
device within the last twenty-three days. According to the records, seven crew
members beamed off the ship and beamed back.  Captain, you were the
abnormality.”
Jim snorted, actually finding that he had to bite his tongue to not say the
smartass comment that was bursting to be shared.
“Everyone else was part of the rescue party, either on the planetside away team
or on the search and recover mission on the enemy ship. You don’t show up as
leaving through the ship’s transporters the first time, but arriving back onto
the ship approximately fifteen minutes ago.”
There was a small whistle and his doors slid open.  The small woman that
entered was staring down, unfocused on her surroundings.  She walked to the
captain’s bed, letting her fingers ghost over the black duvet that was folded
crisply onto the mattress.
“Yeoman Karidian.” Jim spoke softly, with pleasure in his voice.
The woman gasped and jumped, spinning to face her captain.
Jim laughed, holding up his hand. “Relax! Wow, you were pretty focused there.
Did you miss me?” The flirting was second nature by now and Jim relaxed back
into it with a feeling of gratitude.
She simply gaped at him for a moment, seemingly astounded.
“Hey.. it’s okay. I guess the word hasn’t gotten around that I’m back. You’ve
done a great job here with keeping up my rooms, Yeoman.”  Using her title
seemed to wake her up.
“Yes. Ah... yes sir. It’s great to have you back. I’m so very sorry; I didn’t
realize you were here. I can come back later.”
Jim nodded, understanding that his words would make her even more
uncomfortable. He was used to his crew suffering through slightly varying
degrees of hero worship and tried to be kind but professional when it
happened. 
“Dismissed, and thanks again.”
“Yes sir.”
She walked quickly through the doors, not sparing a glance for Spock who stood
staring at her as she left out the door.
“She’s cute, huh? Does a great job. Very organized.”
Spock’s head turned to face him as though doing so caused the tendons in his
neck to creak with disuse.
“Captain… where is Yeoman Rand? Who was that woman?”
 
 
_____________________________
Jim stared blankly at Spock. “Yeoman Rand?”
Spock felt odd; as though each muscle in his body was poised for flight. “Yes,
Captain. The woman who was just here–I do not know her.”
The way she had lightly run her fingers over Jim’s bedspread had been
unprofessional. Logically, being an attractive female, it was likely that she
had been one of Jim’s past lovers, and the slightly wistful touch before she
had realized they were here could have thus been easily explained.  However,
thought Spock was hardly an expert on the complexities of human emotion, even
he recognized that the way the woman had left here was suspicious. Her facial
features upon seeing Jim and Spock watching her would seem to suggest extreme
anxiety. 
“Rand transferred out at the last Starbase. Personal leave. Honeymoon, I think.
Yeoman Karidian took over for her, hm. . . I would guess about a month ago. 
Why, Spock?” There was tension in Jim’s voice. Spock found himself displeased
at the distress that surfaced with the question; the captain suddenly tensed
up, looking much like he did when Spock had come upon he and the doctor in the
corridor.
“I found her actions curious.”  He saw Jim relax as Spock verbally dismissed
the subject. Spock turned again to the computer, fingers flying over the keys
as he thought.  He took up the threads of their previous conversation. “It
would appear that whoever was responsible for your incapacitation does indeed
still remain on the ship.”
“Unless they used something besides our transporters to snag me.”
“Indeed. Erasing their molecular signature through the transporters would also
be quite challenging.”
“I don’t know about that. I mean, I could do it.”
Spock turned and looked at him for a moment. “Your mental acuity is not that of
a typical human.” Spock could see the slight reddish tinge in the vicinity of
Jim’s cheeks and found a strange sense of satisfaction that his words put it
there.
 “I just mean that if I can do it, then others might be able to too.”
“I am aware, Captain. In addition, the shift change from Alpha to Beta has
occurred. You have an officer meeting momentarily.” He was quite certain that
Jim had managed to forget in the short time. “I would understand if you would
like me to head the meeting in your stead. Your earlier emotional outburst
would seem to indicate that you are not ‘okay’ as you claimed to Dr. McCoy. It
would be best if you go to sickbay and allow him to assist you.”
Jim flinched.
“I’m fine. I’ll catch up with Bones later.”
“’Fine’ is a non-sequitur, captain.  I find myself curious about your
definition of the word.  Your earlier actions would indicate a less than
optimal emotional state.”
“Don’t mother-hen me, Spock. I said I’m fine and I meant it. What do you want
to know? God, I reek.”  Jim stripped off his outer shirt and tossed it in the
general direction of his bed. The undershirt he also flung away. He walked into
the bathroom.  “Spock?” The question was muffled while the captain began
cleaning his teeth.
Spock found that it took a moment for him to collect the thread of his previous
line of inquiry. The way this human approached casual nudity was nothing less
than astounding.  “If you and Dr. McCoy are lovers, then why do you not let him
comfort you?”
“Whaaat!?”
Jim popped out of the bathroom so fast it looked as though he had been
transported.  He was naked to the waist, holding a wet towel and seemed to have
been in the process of washing his body. Most of his chest was still damp. He
was staring at Spock with an expression of shock that even Spock could clearly
read.  Spock turned back to the computer, busying himself. Nyota had claimed
that he needed to work on something called ‘segueing’ into conversational
queries.  Perhaps she did have a point.
“It has been my observation that human lovers tend to provide emotional support
to one another. Indeed, it is clear that you and the doctor are quite close. I
am just curious why you did not allow him to try to comfort you.”
Jim opened his mouth, started to speak, and then closed it once again.  “I
can’t believe the younger me showed you that. We were in my head for me to try
to get over myself, and you end up with a view of one of the most …” He sighed.
“What you saw was a long time ago. And we didn’t actually um... have sex. That
night you saw was mostly a combination of alcohol and stupidity. We’re not
lovers, Spock.” Jim took the towel and finished wiping the water off of his
skin. He disappeared back in the bathroom again, walking rather quickly; face
and neck flushed a much darker red. Spock noted idly that this blush did not
produce the same emotional reaction in him that the captain’s previous blush
had done. Curious.
Spock stifled a sigh. Nyota had also frequently admonished him not to ‘jump to
conclusions’ based solely on his logic and observation of human behavior. She
claimed that there was no way to properly predict how someone would act in any
given situation.  The image of Jim, features clearly in the grip of some
emotion, almost running away from Dr. McCoy earlier in the corridor  warred
with the memory of the impish, childlike version of Jim who had taunted him,
causing Spock to speak almost without fully considering his words.
The sexual proclivities of this human should not warrant so much deliberation.
He had no logical answer for why he kept going back to the thought.
“Hey, Spock?”
Spock had been so deep in thought that he had not realized that Jim had
returned to the room. He was in the process of struggling into the black
undershirt of his uniform, voice muffled by the fabric when he spoke. 
“Yes, Captain.”
“Are you planning on telling anyone what you… saw?”
Spock’s eyebrow rose. “I do not believe that the information is mine to share.
I am aware that you did not want me there with you, Captain. I am deeply sorry
that my mistake made it so I had to witness such deeply personal thoughts. You
may be certain that I will not tell any of your subordinates any of the events
that have transpired.”
Jim reached out and touched Spock’s arm. As in the meld, there was almost an
electric feeling to their touch. Spock could hear Jim’s quick inhalation of
air, although he covered his surprise with a smile.  His own heartbeat
increased.  For the first time he allowed himself to question the necessity of
having his counterpart break the bond with this man. How was it possible to
still have such a physical reaction to a simple touch?
“I didn’t mean that you would go tattling on me.” He bit his lip, looking down
for a moment at the floor, and then removed his hand from Spock’s forearm. 
When he looked up again he was smiling a little. “I was looking for you for
forever in that place. Just wandering around, lost. I was so confused, Spock. I
felt scared, and yeah that’s hard to admit to you. But I was so fucking scared
that I wouldn’t get out of there. It was the worst feeling.  Then all of a
sudden, you were there and I knew I was going to be safe.” Spock found himself
holding his breath while Jim spoke.
“One other thing. I really do wish you would call me Jim. You know more about
me than anyone. I think it’s permissible to be on a first-name basis.” He
smiled again and took a step back, breaking the moment.
Spock watched while Jim walked to the small closet and rummaged inside to find
a gold overshirt and found himself wishing that he could properly mediate in
order to completely calm his mind. The emotions that this human could provoke
in him, often without trying, were occasionally overwhelming.
“Okay. I don’t smell like a week-old corpse now. Let’s go.”
Spock was still slightly bemused as he followed his Captain out of the room.
***
“Captain, it’s so good to have you back!”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. It seems like you guys have been busy while I’ve been
on my little vacation.” Jim crossed to his chair and sat down, nodding at
everyone seated around the table, striking up a conversation with Sulu who was
beaming with delight.
Spock stood at the door for a moment, clutching his hands behind his back. He
watched the interplay between the captain and his officers. Everyone had
adopted--after much urging on Jim’s part-- relaxed attitudes when interacting
while not on duty. Here in the conference room, that attitude was even more
informal. It reminded Spock of the almost giddy feeling Academy cadets seemed
to experience--at least the young, human ones--after completing their exams. 
They were all exhibiting postures that indicated how happy they were to have
their captain back, their shoulders rounded as they conversed quietly with each
other, body language calm and relaxed. Spock walked in, noting idly that as he
sat down, spines seemed to straighten and grins seemed to, well not disappear
exactly, but certainly become more restrained.
“Thank you all for coming. I have a feeling we have a lot to discuss.”
Uhura snorted, throwing Jim a speaking glance. While the two had never become
particularly close towards each other, their professional relationship had
grown enough that they were no longer communicating through sarcasm and rolled
eyes. Spock found this much more satisfactory.  Clearly it was more logical to
have a bridge crew that respected and liked each other.
“I don’t even know where to start.” Jim sighed, and for a moment while running
a nervous hand through his hair, the confident, cocky image he projected
cracked a little.
“Captain. Per Commander Spock’s request, Lieutenant Sulu and I went over the
other ship very carefully. I dinnae know what he was hopin’ tae find, but we do
have more information than we did previously.” Scott was spinning his chair
from left to right. He caught Spock’s gaze and straightened, immediately
ceasing all extraneous movement.
“Great job recovering the ship..”
“Aye. There was nothin’ really of value on board. Memory banks hae been wiped
prior tae the self-destruct sequence. And I do mean ‘wiped’. Daft bastards made
sure nothin’ could be salvaged. Most of equipment had been gutted and burned. .
Quite annoying, that was. I still hae the pieces o’ course. I maebbe able to
discover something else, but right now that’s fairly much a dead end.” 
“We dinnae-“  Sulu gave Scotty a dirty look.  “Did. Not. Know for certain who
pirated the ship, but its registry was listed as missing during a raid near the
neutral zone seven standard months ago.” There were some stifled grins around
the table. Spock looked around at the amusement on his companion’s faces. It
was only logical for people who spent a large amount of time together to start
emulating the speaking patterns of their cohorts.  He failed to see why this
was humorous.
Dr. McCoy picked up the thread of the conversation. “We recovered the body
found on the ship.” Kirk stiffened.  “I informed Starfleet of the medically
relevant details.”
Spock could see Jim’s hand curl into a fist from where it rested on the arm of
his chair. “I... I forgot about Thomas. God.”  He bowed his head for a moment,
rubbing his temple with his right hand.  When he spoke, the words were soft, as
though he was not aware that he was speaking out loud. “I’ll have to tell his
wife.”
“I can do it for you, Jim. If you need me to.” McCoy also spoke softly. Spock
found that he didn’t care for the unprofessional way the doctor angled his body
towards the captain, as though he were about to reach out to touch him.
Spock shifted in his seat, his leg brushing briefly against the captain’s.
Spock felt the same jolt of awareness again Jim sat up, hand falling away from
his head. “No, Bones. It’s my duty. I’ll be fine.” and found that for a moment
he wasn’t focusing on the doctor’s words. 
“Thomas Leighton. I don’t think I need to go into particular details on his
injuries. I’ve submitted my report, and any of y’all can access it.  He and
Ensign Reed were the only two casualties found on the ship. The device that
killed the Ensign was set to kill anyone who disrupted a certain pocket of
energy particles that had been distributed over the transporter. Spock, you
were damn lucky you moved in time. That was a pretty nasty little booby trap
they set up.”
“So, he left me there to die.”
“The level of complexity does suggest a formidable enemy, Jim.”
Jim’s shoulders straightened against the back of his chair. His blinding smile
at Spock’s informality caused a strange feeling in the region of Spock’s
chest.  He idly noted that it had been 2.5 days since he had partaken of
sustenance. Perhaps he was hungry. 
“Each step of their plan was meticulously planned,” Spock went on.  “The
Klingon ship was stolen and later modified for use. The planet, which we
confirmed had no signs of sentient life, was chosen because of the electric
field’s disruptive abilities.  Your communicator was found on the planet’s
surface. Had the enemy vessel’s self destruct sequence been completed we would
likely still be searching for you on that planet.”
“So how did you know to come to the ship?”
“Ensign Chekov had located two life forms on the ship’s surface. He found the
information before the science officer stationed on bridge duty.” Spock did not
arbitrarily complement people, but he found the young genius to be
exceptionally receptive to praise.  Indeed, at his words the young human smiled
brightly, then immediately sobered as though told some dreadful news. Spock
noted that to his left, Lieutenant Uhura covered her smile with her hand.
“If the Ensign had not made that discovery you would not have been found.”
Spock found the prospect of that highly unacceptable.  “We made preparations to
beam down to the surface and learned that the electronic disturbance cycled
through a short window of approximately six minutes. By the time we detected
the pattern the window had already passed. It took us another cycle to beam
down to the planet’s surface, whereupon the away team discovered that you were
not on the planet.”
“Then, what? You just found me?”
“Not exactly. I searched the ship for the lifeform indicated on the tricorder.
I located where you were being held prisoner, released you from your bindings
and was able to repair some of the navigation equipment. I contacted the
Enterprise, and we were beamed aboard.”
Jim moved his elbows to the surface of the table, resting his lips on his
steepled fingers as he thought.  He stood up, pacing back and forth in a flurry
of motion. They were all used to the captain having such a reaction, as though
he had kept himself unmoving for as long as he could absolutely stand before
practically erupting with energy, mumbling under his breath as he paced.
“So. Questions. How’d I get off the ship? That’s the biggest fucking case of
mutiny I’ve ever heard of. When I catch whoever did this I’ll maroontheir ass
on Delta Vega and see how they like becoming lunch for that red lobstery thing.
So I remember that fucker Kodos.  Have to assume that he’s going after Kevin
and the rest, or why would me n’ Tommy be on the same ship?  Why now? Why after
all this time?” He stopped moving and whirled to face Spock.  “What does
Starfleet say about this?”
Spock found every pair of eyes suddenly on him with varying degrees of
intensity.
“Starfleet did not seem to feel that your recovery was of paramount importance.
I did not concur.  I believe regulations state that you must take action
against me for my insubordination in captaining the ship to New Vulcan for your
recovery.”
Jim stopped pacing. He turned to look at Spock, sitting at the head of the
table.
“Bad Vulcan. No cookie.”  He shook his finger and grinned.
Spock’s lips twitched.
“After you were returned to the ship, Spock brought all of us in here and
showed a communication between him and Admiral Pike. We were told to mind our
own business. The Commander made it clear that he was interested in finding
this Kodos person. We agreed with him, sir.” Sulu leaned forward, tapping one
finger on the table’s surface as though emphasizing his point.
“You guys can’t possibly…”
“We can and we will, keptin. There is a saying in my homeland. The wengeful
willian who wages war without walor will not be wictorious .” 
There was a silence. Spock noted that Dr. McCoy, Lieutenants Uhura and Sulu
along with Commander Scott looked to be studying the grain in the wooden
conference table. Carefully.  Jim was clearly biting the inside of his cheek.
 Interesting.
“Ah, thanks Chekov. That means a lot to me. But, I won’t let anyone do anything
that will mar their Starfleet record.”
“Captain, if I can ask, you mentioned ‘catching them’. Who were you talking
about?” Sulu titled his head, looking directly at the captain as he continued
to pace around the room.
Jim flopped down in his chair. “I’ll have to get back to you guys on that one.
I think Spock is gonna have to read my mind again to figure it out.”
Spock sat up straight. “I beg your pardon, Captain?”
“I was thinking you could do another one of those meldy things. It’s so
frustrating. It’s like I can see who attacked me… but I just can’t make out
their features.”
“I do not know if that would be wise. I would need several hours of meditation
before I could attempt such a thing again.”
Jim was quiet for a moment.  “Okay. Well, thanks for catching me up, folks. Why
don’t we break today and see what we can find out. I have to contact Starfleet
anyway. That should be fun. Bones, do you still have any of that whiskey you
smuggled off that Romulan freighter?”
“Smuggle! I did no such thing. I won that fair and square.”
“Whatever. Bring it. I have a feeling I’m going to need some after this. Spock,
we okay to meet tomorrow? Will that give you enough time?”
“That should be sufficient.”
“Alright. That’s a wrap, guys. Try not to have too much fun without me.”
Spock stood and pushed in his chair. He could see that Nyota wanted to speak
with him, but the prospect of being so casually asked to meld with his captain
had, to use the human vernacular, thrown him for a loop. He desperately wanted
to be alone. He needed to center himself, to calm this chaotic mass of emotion
before he was once again compromised.  He made his way to his quarters.
“Lights down 40 percent.” Mindful of his earlier physical reaction, Spock
crossed over to his replicator and ordered a salad of a mix of Terran and
Vulcan vegetables. He ate mechanically, quickly doing so for the nutrition he
needed to be able to center his katra during the energy expelled during
mediation. Similarly, he drank a light Androian fruit drink he was quite fond
of so that he would not be dehydrated after his meditation.
He then crossed into the bathroom, stripping off his uniform and stepping into
the sonic shower.  He heard a muffled thud and what sounded like a laugh over
the sound of the sonics from the other side of the bulkhead.  Spock’s eyes
closed of their own accord as he listened to the sounds in the other berth.
Jim. And the doctor.
Both his and the captain’s quarters were mirrors of one another, partially
separated by the shared bathroom with the rest of their quarters separated by a
bulkhead. There were two doors that opened on either side of the small
bathroom, each mechanized so that the door wouldn’t open if someone was in
there without a specific override.  To be heard so clearly Jim and the doctor
had to be sitting near the eating area, quite possibly sharing an alcoholic
beverage. Not for the first time, Spock wondered what it would be like to
partake in that particular human ritual.  He stepped out of the bathroom and
walked naked to his closet, dressing quickly in one of the few Vulcan mediation
robes he owned.
He lit the candle. It was a familiar scent, calming and bittersweet at the same
time.  His mother had once told him that smell was the sense Humans most
associated most with memory. Spock had found that his candles- made from
particular version of Vulcan sage and Terran lavender , with the spicier scents
of sandalwood and  musk mixed throughout-- allowed Spock to decrease the muscle
tension with every deep, steady breath he took.  He shut his eyes, relaxing
each muscle, preparing to go into a meditative trance, almost desperate for the
cold unattachment his shields provided.  His breathing became steadier, slowing
past the normal Vulcan respiration and into--
A burst of laughter from Jim’s room caused Spock’s eyes to pop open. His breath
caught, sharp and staccato as he sucked in a gasp of air. The bulkhead was thin
enough that he could discern murmurs of sound, but not actual words. A low
grinding sound. He was appalled to realize that he was clenching his teeth at
the interruption. 
Spock began his breathing exercises again, determined to relax enough to
properly mediate. His breathing slowed. Calm, quiet blackness. Time often had
no meaning during meditation. His training allowed him to go as deeply as he
wished, relying on his inner sense of time to rouse him if he were needed. 
Spock assumed his regular rhythms and patterns, sorting through information in
his brain as it came to the forefront of his subconscious. 
Jim Kirk. The fleeting thought summoned memories of his time in Jim’s psyche. A
flash of blue eyes. The barrage of information, the sharing of memory, had been
so far out of his realm of experience that he had refused to think about
everything he had witnessed. 
Worse, he was once again emotionally compromised.  The guilt at bonding with
Jim--even accidentally--and then breaking that bond, was like some sinister
thing, ready to spring on him at any moment.  To break something that had the
potential for such  beauty was sickening.  Spock could clearly remember the
incandescence of his counterpart’s bond. His own had been tenuous. Weak.
Unformed, unconsummated, but with the potential for such exquisite joy. 
And he had had itterminated.
He was deeply disturbed to find that he could still pick up faint strains of
what Jim was feeling. That shouldn’t happen at all with a psi-null if he wasn’t
physically touching him. Spock could detect a sense of calmness, of relaxed
camaraderie from Jim. There was no denying that it ‘felt’ like Jim; even his
brief foray into the other man’s mind had left Spock with a clear understanding
of what Jim’s mind felt like. This echo of understanding didn’t distract Spock
from his meditative state, however. It was a whisper; a low buzz of occasional
feeling.  He was able to turn his thoughts even more deeply inward, sorting
through the events of the past few days, building and solidifying his personal
shields. Ideas and theories, speculation and hypotheticals were made and
discarded until—
The scream brought him out of his trance. There was a loud thud against the
bulkhead, and Spock was up and moving towards the bathroom without making the
conscious decision to move. He barked the override to allow him into Jim’s room
and came up short, staring, robe swirling around his legs as he froze.
Jim was huddled in on himself, holding up a hand as though to ward off a blow.
His long frame was folded so that his face was on his knees, hidden by one of
his forearms. The residual echo from the broken bond pulsedwith terror. Broken
cries were muffled, yet still horribly loud in the otherwise silent room.
Spock observed that the doctor was in the process of slowly backing away from
his friend.
“What have you done?”
 
_______________________________________
 
Jim’s mouth was open, face pressed against his knees. He could hear nothing but
his frantic heartbeat echoing in his ears. His chest burned.  It was though his
throat had closed with this strength of his shock. His neck muscles trembled
with the pressure of pushing, his face against his knees lip splitting against
his uniform leg.  The taste of blood filled his mouth. Dimly, over the sound of
his heartbeat, he became aware of other sounds in the room.  He couldn’t
breathe, couldn’t make his lungs work well enough to actually draw in oxygen.  

“Goddamnit man, I didn’t do anything! He was sitting on his bed reading a
message and suddenly jumped up and threw the damn PADD across-“
He tuned out the frantic words, focusing instead on the sound of feet moving
against the carpeted floor. Jim became aware of a blast of heat, the scent of
something spicy that reminded him of the desert. Someone… Spock.
SafeSpocksafewon’thurtsafeSpockJim leaned almost imperceptibly towards the new
source of heat like a plant searching for the sun.
“Jim.”
Jim felt himself tense at the sudden sound.  He took a shaky breath, and then
another, listening to his heartbeat become less panicked. Slowly he relaxed his
neck muscles, moving so his mouth was just resting on his knee. He realized his
lip was throbbing.
“Neither the doctor or myself mean you any harm. I am going to touch you in a
comforting manner. Do not be alarmed.”
Even though panic was a tight ball of nausea in his stomach, Jim’s lips
twitched at that. He nodded into his legs. He felt the higher temperature of
Spock’s own body heat as his gently touched Jim’s shoulder. 
Fucking stupid. Cowering in the corner… it was a picture just a picture it’s
over.
He felt Spock jerk his hand away. The contact, brief though it was, made Jim
suck in his breath, the skin of his shoulder suddenly cold. Jim forced himself
to look up. He slowly unclenched his body. He forced a breath, and then
another, hearing a high-pitched whistle as moisture caught in his throat.
“Jim.” Bones sounded so relieved. The sound made his eyes tear up in reaction.
Shame and guilt warred for space within him.
“I--”
Bones knelt on his other side. He swore under his breath and pulled Jim into a
hug. Jim’s arm flopped a little, brushing up against Spock. He became aware of
something strong, dark- a feeling? Impression?- and it was cut off abruptly as
Spock stood with one fluid movement, walking towards the broken PADD near the
table.  Bones clutched him for a moment longer before breaking off and
standing, grunting when his bones creaked as he stood. 
Jim made his careful way to his bed, where he lay down, idly wiping the blood
off of his face. His mind was carefully blank. Bones was watching him
carefully.
Jim sighed. “Bones. It was just a panic attack. Surely you haven’t forgotten
the joys of me making an ass out of myself. Pretty entertaining, huh?”
“Don’t be an idiot.” He crossed his arms, biting off the words through clenched
teeth. He jerked his gaze towards the broken piece of equipment.“What the fuck,
Jim?”
Jim was watching Spock as he stood stiffly with his back to them. The robe that
he wore was cut widely around the neck, showing Spock’s collarbone and the
ridges of his vertebra as his neck bowed.  Jim didn’t think he had ever seen
the other man- Vulcan?- wearing anything other than a uniform. It made him look
softer somehow. Jim could hear the sound the robe made as it slid against
Spock’s skin as he bent over to retrieve the device and holy loving Christ what
the hell was he thinking?
“Clearly you saw something on this that was disagreeable.” He turned around
with an inquiring look.  Jim couldn’t meet his eyes. He had. Oh, god he had.
“I wish to see this missive.”
Jim sighed. “No you don’t, Spock. I wish I hadn’t seen it either.”  Spock’s
eyebrow raised just a little, the only bit of movement in his pale face. 
“Jim. You know I can’t release you for duty if this is going on.”At ‘this’,
Bones waved his hands around as though indicating the whole room.
“Yeah.”
“I’m tempted to give you something to knock you out. At least then I’d know
you’ve slept.”
“Thanks, Mom. Spock, seriously. Leave it alone. That’s an order.”
Spock, who had been punching in a key sequence hastily stopped, looking up over
the small PADD. Jim could see his mouth tighten into a small frown.
Jim looked back at him, his eyes flicking down over the robe and back up to
Spock’s face. The garment was absolutely beautiful. Most Vulcan artifacts were
simple and unadorned, but this one was long and flowing. There was a small
section of silver stitched into the front of the robe, replete with various
Vulcan symbols. The threads shimmered in the low lights.  Spock, seeming to
just now realize that he was not dressed in his regulation Starfleet uniform,
set The PADD down on the table and turned, walking back towards the bathroom. 
“I will leave you to the doctor’s ministrations while I go and change into
something more appropriate.”
“’Kay. And thanks Spock. That was the second time you’ve helped me today. I
really appreciate it. I’ll contact Pike and see what needs to be done.”  Spock
paused for a moment before resuming his measured stride back into his own
quarters.
“The second time?” Jim felt the bed dip as his friend perched on the edge. He
heard the hum of the medical tricorder and tried not to roll his eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Jim, these readings are all over the place.”
“Awesome.” He was exhausted. He didn’t remember panic attacks leaving him so
wrecked afterwards.  “I can’t believe I still have to talk to Starfleet about
all this. I mean, we’re just hanging out here over New Vulcan. It’s only been a
couple of hours since we beamed back.”
“Well, to be fair you have had a lot of your mind. Literally. I don’t know what
sort of Vulcan voodoo they did down there, but it seems like it’s changed some
of your mental signature. The patterns aren’t damagedexactly, but different.
Stronger, but… Damnit Jim, I’m a doctor not a psychiatrist! I had something
like six months of psychiatric training at the beginning of my career, even
before we met on that shuttle. I have half a mind to insist we go back to that
Starbase so I can have you checked out.”
“What Starbase?”  Jim’s eyes, which had lazily drifted shut, popped open
again.  Bones had finished one pass with the tricorder and started back up the
length of his body.
“Oh we were en route before we found you. That damn disease. It just made me
want to make sure that we were fully aware of its sympt-“ Bones stopped and
winced.
“What do you mean, disease?” Jim was completely baffled.
“Ehh, shit.”
Jim looked at his friend, who was staring over his head, looking troubled.
“Bones.”  Bones usually ignored that tone when he used it with him. This time
he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Jim felt something in him shiver as the door to his bathroom slid open. Spock
was there, dressed impeccably with his hands clasped behind his back.
“When you were taken off the ship, something was injected into the ship’s
ventilation ship. Something microbial. It… it was pretty bad. It took out most
of the crew for several days.” He sighed and Jim braced himself for what was
coming. “Seventeen people died. It didn’t work like anything I’d seen before.
Each separate symptom needed its own cure.”
“And what, you just forget to tell me? GoddamnitBones! ” Jim sprung up from the
bed and started pacing around his quarters again. He saw the abandoned PADD on
the table and scooped it up, throwing it as hard as he could against the wall.
The sound of glass breaking was loud in the quiet room.  “What the hell else
haven’t you told me?” He remembered he was barefoot right before he kicked the
broken glass. Instead he turned and threw himself down into one of the chairs,
seething.
“Captain.”
Jim wasn’t sure what Spock saw in his face when he snapped his neck around to
meet his gaze, but it caused him to shift very slightly. 
“How do you forget to mention something that killed seventeen of my people?”
Jim’s voice was tight with anger. He refused to show any other emotion. These
two had already gotten all he emotion they were going to get out of him for
today.
“As you are well aware, Captain, my memory is eidetic. I do not ‘forget’. I
judged that this information would best be expressed semi-privately due to the
99.6 likelihood that you would be emotionally compromised by the details of the
disease. I admit that I had not anticipated Dr. McCoy sharing this information
until you were cleared for duty. Clearly there are nuances to Human doctor/
patient relationships that I do not understand.”
Bones glared at Spock, lips twisting in a smirk. “Clearly.” He bit out. 
Jim held up a hand. “So, not only did I get kidnapped and go a little crazy, my
ship was attacked. Starfleet is probably dicking around with all the PR and red
tape from Tommy’s death. Still, I need to tell them…” His voice trailed off as
he continued his thought. “Let’s back up. I need to contact Starfleet before I
do anything else. If you two can behave you can stay here. Otherwise, split.”
“As Acting Captain until you are medically cleared, it would be most logical
for me to remain while you contact your superior officers.”
“Fine. Bones?”
“I need to add the latest funky brain readings to your illustrious medical
file.” He waved the tricorder significantly. “You two kids try not to have too
much fun.” His grin was wry but at least it was a grin. Jim knew how he hated
to deal with ‘bureaucratic bullshit’, preferring instead the relative solitude
of his office or the ordered chaos of sick bay. The fact that he was leaving
him with Spock just proved that either he trusted that Jim wouldn’t fall apart
again, or that he was in for a physical so complete Bones would be able to
predict the next time that he would sneeze.
“’Funky ‘ brain readings?” Spock’s voice was clipped.
“Yeah. Don’t worry. He thinks it was just a side effect of some of the stuff
that happened when you went in after me.” Jim tapped his temple with his
finger. “Well, let’s get this over with. Then maybe you can do your mind meld
thing again and tell me who I’m supposed to be looking for, so that I can kick
their ass.”
Spock seemed frozen for a moment.
“Spock?” Jim cocked his head. His heart rate was still high enough from his
earlier burst of anger that his face was still flushed. Between that and the
panic attack, he was pretty damn sure he was ready for a nap. The euphoria he’d
felt when he woke up on New Vulcan a few hours ago had dissipated completely.
Spock had moved to the side; out of direct range of the video screen but still
able to hear.   Uhura was off-duty at this hour, so Jim punched in his
communication data himself, waiting patiently while the subspace call was
placed and answered.  Jim spun around in his chair while he waited.  He caught
a glance of Spock, who was staring at him as though he were a particularly
interesting physics formula.
“Spock? Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”
“I could not possibly hope to answer that with any accuracy, given the
statistical certainty that somewhere in the universesomethingis ‘wrong’, Jim.”
Jim couldn’t help the slightly goofy smile at hearing his name from Spock’s
lips. He remembered that his lip had been split while he sat in the corner
about this time and winced, licking at his lip. Spock was so stuffy; it was so
hard for him to be informal. The fact that he was trying meant a lot to Jim,
hence the goofy smile. 
There was a beep, signifying the Admiral was available.
“Captain Kirk.”
“Admiral Pike.”
“Goddamn, son it’s good to see you.” Pike smiled. 
“It’s good to be seen. You know that I wouldn’t have been if Spock hadn’t found
me.”
“Yes. I read his report.”
Jim sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well?”
Pike sighed, smile draining away from his face.  “Well, I have some good news
for you. It’s not perfect, but it will be better than nothing, and you better
be damn grateful that I managed to arrange it.”
Jim didn’t say anything.
“Kevin Riley is working as a medical researcher on Starbase 11. Erica Molson is
a stage performer, last seen on Wrigley. Your orders are to find and escort
them back to Earth.”
“My orders? Gee, Admiral. I haven’t even been cleared for duty yet.” Jim was
fighting to keep his face blank. Kevin and Erica. He hadn’t seen either of them
since he was thirteen years old. Even hearing their names caused his heart to
speed up. He felt his skin start to sweat. His throat started to close. Oh no
oh nonono. Not again. He couldn’t do this now, not now not-
“Admiral, what of the criminal Kodos?” Spock moved into the frame, brushing
against Jim briefly in passing.  The quick touch was like a burst of
adrenaline, clearing Jim’s head and allowing him to think clearly again.  He
took a deep breath, trying to hide how shaky it was.
“We have no information on him at this time. We do not even know if it was he
that-“
“It was.” The words broke from his throat, as though fighting for life through
broken glass.  “It was him.”
“Jim, you were tortured. For days. I… understand what your mind goes through in
a time like that. The crazy things you remember. Starfleet regulations are
clear. You know we can’t corroborate your statement without additional
evidence.”
Jim felt like he had been punched. His face must have reflected his shock,
because the Admiral spoke again.
“Jim. We need evidence. You have your orders. I am sure you’ll be back on duty
in no time. You always have had a way of getting things done over and above
expectations. Pike out.”
Jim found himself staring at the monitor for a full minute. Spock had stiffened
beside him.
“Jim, the inflection in Admiral Pike’s voice would seem to indicate that he has
just ordered us to go against our official orders. I find myself unsure that
this is the wisest course of action.”
“Yeah.  ‘He needs evidence.’ We just have to get him that evidence.”  He tapped
his communicator.
“Kirk to Helm.  Plot a course to Wrigley. Warp five.”
There was an awkward silence. Jim rolled his eyes.  “Spock.”
“Assume the course, helmsman.”
“Yes, sir.”  The poor guy sounded relieved. Truth be told, Jim had reacted
without actually realizing that he wasn’t technically a captain at the moment. 
He put his head on his hands.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered. “God, I’m tired.” The movement brought his
shoulder against Spock’s torso. He cracked open one eye. “Okay, I can write off
the first couple of times as coincidence, but what the hell is that? Every time
we touch I feel like someone just goosed me.”
“Captain, I fail to understand the correlation between Terran avian species and
your reaction to touching me.”
Jim bit his lip to keep from laughing, then yelped a little when it stung. “Ah,
it’s an expression. I mean, when we touch there’s a surprising ... link.
Between us.”
Spock took a step back and walked over to the eating area, taking his normal
spot in front of the chess board.  “I believe what we are experiencing is a
residual effect of a… connection.”
“From you being in my head? You mean, from that mistake…thingy?” Jim wasn’t
sure exactly how to put it in words.
“Affirmative.”  Spock sounded as cold as he did during his Kobyashi trial.
Jim turned in his chair fully, observing his First Officer. “I’m afraid I don’t
understand. Is this like the meld the Ambassador and I did? Why am I not linked
to him? I mean, you can’t read my thoughts when we touch, can you?”
Spock’s eyelid twitched in a way that Jim took to mean he was growing agitated.
“You are aware that I am a touch telepath.”
Jim nodded. His eyes grew wide. “You mean, every time that I’ve touched you,
you could read my thoughts?!”
“Before our …link, yes. Only through skin-to-skin contact. I could ascertain a
glimmer of what you were thinking, especially if you were directing your
thoughts to me at the time. In the past four point three hours, I have observed
that I can pick up some of your more overwhelming emotions without skin
contact, as evidenced when you were becoming emotionally distressed when
speaking with the Admiral. My counterpart has likely attempted several melds in
the course of his life and would not have miscalculated.”
“You mean I was your test run?”
Spock didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. Jim stared at Spock for a
moment...
“Can I touch you?” The words slipped out before Jim could properly think about
them.  He leaned forward a little and held up his hand.
Spock looked appalled; skin flushing in a light green. “That gesture would not
be appropriate.” Jim was confused. Spock looked like he had just propositioned
him or something.
 Spock sat across from him at the table, seated with his back straight, hands
lightly resting on his legs, no different from the other hundreds of times Jim
had seen Spock sit that way. Acting on instinct, Jim reached out and touched
the back of Spock’s wrist with a finger.  Immediately, he felt better, as
though the chaos of his thoughts had gone through a filter.  Jim tried to get a
handle on everything he was feeling, not wanting to make Spock uncomfortable
again. He shut his eyes in concentration.
“Do I have your permission to join our minds?” Spock’s question seemed muffled
in the quiet room, yet it caused Jim’s breath to catch.  He nodded, still with
his eyes closed. Jim didn’t know what the hell was going on in his life, but
when this happened, each and every time, he came out of it with some knowledge.
“My mind to your mind.” Jim could feel the fingers of Spock’s hand slide
against his face. He found himself leaning forward just a tiny amount, leaning
into their connection.
“My thoughts to your thoughts.”
The world slid away, and all he was aware of was Spock, like some burning sun
in a pit of darkness. He knew what he wanted and went for it. Jim found himself
fumbling mentally, unable to really muster any sort of defense against Spock’s
mind. He found himself unable to even think in words. There was no landscape
this time, no emotional transference or visualization of memory.
Jim relived his incapacitation again, Spock watching the memory over and over,
slowing it down and speeding past other parts, looking for some kind of clue. 
It was impossible. Jim’s allergic reaction had muddled his senses; sight was
blurry, no sense of smell or taste. A feeling of nausea, a glimpse of a red
uniform and the suggestion of medium-length blonde hair. A glimpse of human-
looking hands. The body was slight, but nothing indicated whether his pursuer
was female or male. Jim tended to think male since he wasn’t exactly a
lightweight, and it would have required some physicality if Jim had managed to
fight back. There was a bright glint of bluish light as the portable
transporter glinted in the corridor. It landed on Jim’s chest with a soft thud.
Then the feeling of panic, confusion and darkness as he transported.
Jim took the mental equivalent of a breath of relief, thinking that this was
done, but felt Spock’s mind again.  A feeling of curiosity. The mental image of
Jim throwing the PADD against the wall in a shocking display of emotion. Jim
scrambled mentally, trying to pull away.
He gasped, eyes flying open as they came out of the meld. Spock’s gaze bored
into him with such a storm of intensity in his brown eyes that Jim couldn’t
begin to actually decipher what Spock’s eyes were telling him before the other
man was pulling way, putting distance between them.
“Ah, thanks. For stopping I mean.”
“I find your insistence on maintaining distance in this manner unpleasing and
completely illogical.”
Jim grinned a little at Spock’s prissiness.
“Tough.”
He got up and crossed to the replicator, getting a coffee for himself and a
Vulcan tea for Spock. It was a gesture he had done hundreds of times during
their chess matches, yet Spock seemed mildly startled when Jim set the mug
beside his elbow on the table.  He took a drink. It came in such a small dose
that Spock drank it in one swallow, like one would do with a shot. Usually the
sight made him inwardly smile. Jim lounged against the bulkhead as he drank,
thinking. 
“So, nothing helpful in my memory then. The ship’s still on lockdown. How are
we supposed to complete our mission with a traitor on board? I really want this
guy nailed to a wall, Spock.”
“I will start by compiling a list of each crew member with light-colored hair,
and cross-referencing it with who would have been off duty at that time.”
Jim snorted. “Yeah, assuming that was really their hair. They could have been
wearing a wig or could have been totally bald! They could have stolen the
uniform…” He broke off, sipping his coffee. The heat felt good against his
swollen lip. “Shit. This isn’t going to be easy.”
Spock stood and crossed to the front door of Jim’s quarters, setting the small
empty mug by the replicator on his way.
“Hey, wait? Where are you going?”
“I believe that should be obvious…Jim.”
“I have some more questions though. Like, why was that meld different than the
other times when I was out of it?” He took another sip of coffee.
Spock tilted his head slightly, looking at Jim as though he had done something
mildly fascinating. “In the previous meld, we were bonded.”
Jim choked on the coffee, almost dropping it as he tried to get his body under
control. He carefully set the mug on the table near him while he bent over at
the waist coughing. “What?”  He was pretty sure his eyes were going to bug out
of his head.
“We were bonded together for a short time.”
Jim was still trying to remember how to breathe.  “Wh—wh- what?”
“Was your aural perception damaged in some way, sir?”
“Jim, damnit! Yes! You said you made a mistake, not the Vulcan version of ‘til
death do us part! I mean, I’m not exactly an expert on Vulcan cultural rituals,
but even we know what a bond is!” Jim stared at Spock, who stood at his
customary parade rest, each muscle in his body tensed.
“Indeed.”
“Wait… wait. I thought Vulcan bonds were permanent. Who broke it?”
“My counterpart corrected my miscalculation. As I said, the connection that you
feel is just the residual effects of that bond. I hypothesize that it will fade
in time.  Please do not be concerned; we are no longer connected permanently.
 If there is nothing else, there are several experiments that need my attention
before I retire for the night.  I suggest that you get some sleep.”
Jim’s brain seemed to still be stuck.  “Uh… ah. Yeah. Goodnight, Spock. I’ll
see you tomorrow.”
“Indeed. That does seem likely.” Spock left his quarters without another word.
Jim collapsed onto his bed, mind whirling.  There was no way in hell he was
going to sleep without trying to put his thoughts into some sort of order. That
was one of the tricks that the first slew of counselors had suggested: that he
write about his feelings. As a teenager he had been less than thrilled with
keeping what he referred to as a ‘dream journal’, but as an adult Jim found
that it did help to talk out his problems. He did it at least once a day. He
smiled, remembering how cold it had been on Delta Vega, and how extremely
pissed off he had been.
“Captain’s personal log, Stardate … something. Shit. I should probably know
that. Oh well. Dear journal, Today I had a very interesting day.”
He laughed. “I don’t know why I always start my journal like that. I doubt Ms.
Malone really intended me to keep on with that way of starting. Or was it Dr.
L’eath? Whatever.  So I found out that I got married a few days ago. Me.
Married. To Spock! I guess he accidentally bonded us? I’m not really sure how
that works. Uhura might know more about it. Although, if I go up to her and
casually mention that I accidentally married her boyfriend, she might beat me
to death with her ponytail. It surprises me to learn that Spock isn’t
infallible. I mean, he always seems so controlled. I guess in Vulcan years he’s
still fairly young though. I mean Spock… not my Spock, but the other Spock.
Wait, not that he’s my my Spock.” He paused for a few minutes, surprised by the
little spurt of … wanting. He shook his head, appalled at himself. Talk about
misplaced gratitude. “Anyway, theolder Spock doesn’t really seem all that old.
But I guess he would have to be over one hundred and fifty standard years. I
could ask him I guess. But... it kind of makes me feel like shit. I think it
hurts him to see me. Maybe makes him remember his version of me.”
 Jim yawned, rolling off the bed and taking off his clothes. These days he
slept in just an old pair of sweats.  He found a pair in his wardrobe and slid
them on. (He used to sleep naked until the first time he had been sick and his
Yeoman, without knowing he was in bed, had yanked off the covers. Both of them
had shrieked like a little girl at a slumber party.  Yeoman Rand had gotten an
eyeful, and Jim, with visions of sexual harassment lawsuits dancing in his
head, had never gone to bed completely naked again.)  He got back in bed, under
the covers.
“Anyway, I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I couldn’t tell Spock. Or
Bones, either. It was pretty stupid of me to throw the PADD against the wall
like that. Sort of like a kid having a temper tantrum. It was just… seeing poor
Tommy. They hurt him so… “He stopped for a moment, trying to speak past the
blockage in his throat.
“It’s funny. I’ve spent most of the last part of my life very carefully not
thinking about those guys. Tom, Kevin… or even Erica, although she wasn’t in
the same situation as we were. She still got off on the shuttle with us. Same
bunch of diplomatic hoops.  Same bunch of bullshit. We didn’t want to talk
about what happened to us on that fucking planet. Still don’t. And now, somehow
He is still alive… and it’s pretty goddamn clear that he’s coming after the
five of us. 
“I don’t know who sent that message to me. I was just sitting there, drinking
with Bones, same shit we always do after I make it back from some mission or
another and he’s done being pissed off that I got hurt. My message station
blipped, and I was too lazy to get up to put it on the viewer. Good thing too.
Bones would have shit himself if he saw what they sent. So that’s one good
thing I’ve managed to do I guess.  Bones tries to be all gruff about stuff like
that, but he’s the biggest girl over things sometimes. Like, I could tell he
was hurt that I hadn’t told him the details of what happened on Tarsus IV.” 
Jim yawned again, punching his pillow into some sort of comfortable shape. Part
of him was hoping that this would allow him to sleep. The other part was afraid
that he would start in with the nightmares again. He sighed. 
“I’ll feel better when I know that whoever helped me get off the ship is
caught.  I can figure that out as soon as I get some sleep. Goodnight,
Journal.”
Jim stretched out on the bed. He lay there for a few minutes, but the
exhaustion of the day did eventually catch up with him. When he closed his
eyes, he tentatively reached out for that spark that he felt with Spock. It was
muted, distant, but there. His brow furrowed as he concentrated. Very dimly, he
could sense something comforting; a stroke of cool skin against a fevered brow.
He sighed again and slipped into sleep.
 
 
________________________________
 


 Stardate: 2264.9
 
The turbolift’s doors wooshed open.  
Spock could feel who was standing there a split-second before the Captain
walked out onto his bridge.
“Commander Spock, I am completely thrilled to let you know that your duties as
captain of this beautiful lady are no longer required. The good doctor has
given me a clean bill of heath!”
Spock raised an eyebrow.  Jim’s voice sounded positively gleeful. He had been
less than receptive to the three-point-six days of medical leave.  The captain
could frequently be seen sparring in the gym, challenging other crew members to
various games in the recreational area, sharing meals with his subordinates and
generally making it perfectly known that he would rather be back on the bridge.
Spock overheard the words “Bones” and “bastard” in several separate
conversations.
Jim stood next to his chair, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He
made a little “shoo” motion with his hands, and Spock felt his raised eyebrow
twitch. Through the residual effects of their broken bond, Spock could faintly
feel Jim’s buoyant spirits.  Spock got up and moved to his own science station,
relieving the ensign who had been stationed there with a nod of
acknowledgement.
Jim sat on his chair and sighed in such a satisfied way, wiggling in the seat
as though he was making room, that Spock noticed Lieutenant Uhura had to cover
her mouth to keep from laughing outright.
“Lieutenant Sulu, report!”
“We are approximately three hours from Wrigley, sir.”
“Increase warp by two factors.” Jim’s smile was so bright that it seemed to
light up the room. Spock noticed how several of the crew members’ own emotions
seemed affected by seeing their captain back in control of the Enterprise.  He,
naturally, was not susceptible to such emotional occurrences. He just found
that a jovial atmosphere on the bridge often resulted in a coherent crew- and a
coherent crew performed their duties admirably.
“Yes, sir.”  Even the helmsman’s mood seemed moderately more positive.
Spock turned to his console and began working on several of his own projects
that circumstances had forced him to let slide.  Jim’s exuberance was like a
small burst of light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Spock was finding it
difficult to completely ignore it. He found it quite puzzling that a broken
bond would have such a lingering effect.  Jim had actually asked him over a
game of chess two nights ago. Spock had found himself somewhat at a loss to
answer Jim’s questions. No, he had never heard of this happening before. Yes,
logically it was possible that it was a side-effect of his only half-Vulcan
physiology. Jim did not seem overly concerned about the loss of privacy. Spock
quickly deduced that Jim’s sense of his ex-bondmate’s emotions was not as
strong as Spock’s unless there was physical contact. Spock had composed a
lengthy missive to his counterpart, asking for advice on the matter, but had
yet to receive a response.
Jim was in the middle of a conversation with the Ensign Chekov when his console
beeped, signifying a message.  Spock happened to look up as Jim took it, and
watched his face pale at an alarming rate as he read it. Spock’s gaze met
Lieutenant Uhura’s. Her face was quite expressive, surprise indicated by a
slight widening of her eyes. Most messages went through her. He made a split-
second decision. Clearly, the captain’s well-being was at stake, as evidenced
by his sudden pallor.  Spock watched as Jim made an effort to delete the
message, stabbing particularly hard at the keys, straightening his spine and
his back.  Spock could detect a little flutter of panic in the back of his
mind, but Jim showed no outward evidence, instead staring at a point slightly
to the left of Ensign Chekov’s head.
 It was very simple to copy and divert the message to his own secure frequency.
Had he not noticed the small occurrence, Spock never would have been able to do
such a thing. Unfortunately, Spock had been able to find no trace of the first
message that had caused Jim such distress. Whoever had sent it had also
programmed a virus into it so that the material was unrecoverable.
The message was simple:
To our own lips. He's here in double trust/ Some say he's mad; others that
lesser hate him/ Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes/ 'Tis safer to be
that which we destroy.
The picture file that accompanied it was a close-up of part of Jim’s face. His
normally bright eyes were dim with terror.  The left side of his face was a mix
of purple and yellow from extensive bruising. There were three fingers on his
neck; splayed out in a bruising grip as though someone from behind Jim were
hanging on to his throat. The fingers were filthy, nails and cuticles ragged
and torn.
Spock felt the stylus snap in his fingers. The message started its destructive
sequence; Spock stared at blue eyes as they started to fade away, the words
also fading into obscurity.  He was purely unprepared for the feeling of
possessiveness that burst deep within him. He took a deep breath and looked
over to where Jim was still staring out into space. 
Spock felt as though he would hurt something if he stayed at his station for
one moment longer. The depth of emotion that he felt was appalling. Even more
so was the sharp memory of his own hand wrapped around Jim’s fragile throat as
he squeezed. Then, he had someone to react against. Jim had provoked him past
endurance, therefore he must be stopped. Simple.  Now, however, Spock found
that there was nowhere to direct this sudden surge of rage. He had not often
thought of his loss of control on the bridge, but seeing that picture had
brought the memory back.  Did the captain equate one moment of violence with
another? He flexed his hands, forcing them out of the two clenched fists.
 He stood and walked over to Jim’s chair.  “Permission to be excused, captain.”
Spock had purposefully stood within Jim’s personal space so that he brushed
against the captain’s sprawled leg. At the touch, Jim sat up, shooting him a
quick, grateful look before taking a rather shaky breath.  The small jolt from
Jim’s feelings was somewhat soothing. Jim was pleased to see him; the little
bit of panic dulled.
“No problem Spock. Shift’s over in a few minutes anyway.”
“Indeed.” His voice was clipped. Spock felt an irrational spurt of anger at
Jim. If that had been the second message, what had been communicated in the
first? It was unthinkable. Spock wanted the privacy of his quarters so he could
begin to track down these messages. He turned on one heel and stalked towards
the turbolift, fighting to keep his face impassive. 
Once inside his quarters, Spock began a sequence that would continue cross-
referencing a possible list of suspects. It had been narrowed down to fifty. 
This was subjective in the sense that Jim’s captor could have disguised their
hair color or physical features, but it would have been difficult to hide their
body type.
He had also initiated a separate ship-wide monitoring system that was hidden
under several sub-layers of life-support, so that it would not be discovered
should anyone else desire to sabotage the Enterprise’s security equipment.  He
found it insupportable that the area around the captain’s quarters had not been
under continuous surveillance. If the recording devices had gone offline, then
he should have been made aware of it immediately. Spock, while not technically
in charge of security, still had several department heads report to him daily
both as the first officer and acting captain.  He had not been amused to
discover such negligence.
To say the least.
He began another sequence to try to trace the messages.  He tapped his monitor.
“Lieutenant Uhura.”
“Yes, Commander?”
“I require your presence in my quarters in approximately twelve minutes- when
your shift is complete.”
“Ah…yes sir.”
Spock ended the communication and continued to work, quickly lost in thought. 
When the chimes on his door cheeped to indicate that someone was seeking
entrance, Spock didn’t hear it the first time.  He had narrowed the list down
to thirty- four names.
“Spock?”  Nyota’s voice through the door.
“Enter.”  He finished up rechecking the calculation he was working on and
turned in his chair to where she stood, uncertainly shifting her weight from
one foot to the other.
“Nyota. I wish information. Please be seated.” Spock attempted to modulate his
voice. Some of his anger had subsided, but enough bubbled near the surface that
Spock knew he must be cautious.
“Yes?” She sat on the bed and looked up at him, tilting her head in question.
“The captain has received two threatening messages to date.”
She blinked, eyes narrowing. “I beg your pardon?”
“I do not know the contents of the first message. The captain was quite
distressed. The message was written to self-destruct with a virus so that it
was irretrievable once open for a certain amount of time.”
“And the second? On the bridge?”
“Lines from the ancient Earth playwright, William Shakespeare. From Macbeth, I
believe. They were not in their original order. Rather, they had been
rearranged to form a threat. This was accompanied by a picture of Jim while on
the enemy ship.”
His hands tightened in his lap as he recalled the picture of Jim’s eyes, the
same feelings of fury and protectiveness overwhelming him for a moment. He
fought it down with an effort, focusing on his breathing, uncomfortably aware
that Nyota was still watching him. Spock took his duty as protecting the
captain very seriously. That someone would purposefully seek to harm him...!
“You’re . . . mad.”
She always was uncommonly perceptive for a human. He opened his mouth to speak
but before Spock could answer, his door chime whistled.   “Enter,” he said
instead.
The doors whooshedopen again to reveal Jim. He walked in with his head down,
and seemed to catch a glimpse of Nyota on Spock’s bed out of the corner of his
eye. Jim’s step faltered and he quickly looked up. His expression, which had
looked fairly worried, changed to embarrassment.
“Oh. I’m interrupting. I’d just gotten used to walking on in. Sorry about that.
Lieutenant. Commander. I’ll catch you guys later.” His smile looked somewhat
less than his usual blinding grin. Before either of them could speak, he had
turned on his heel and left. 
Spock found himself tensed to go after Jim. He settled back into his seat.
Nyota was still looking at him.  He could feel a slight flutter of
embarrassment at the back of his head, and knew that it was not coming from
himself. 
“You’re not going after him?” Nyota’s expression turned even more curious.
“That would be unwise. I would likely cause the captain more distress. I find
myself highly… agitated over the implications that someone is purposefully
trying to harm him.”
“So, basically you need me to help.” She thought for a moment. “I would like to
know for sure where the messages came from; through subspace or off of the ship
itself.” Nyota stood and crossed to his computer, swinging the console out of
his hands. Her fingers fairly flew over the keys as they struggled to keep up
with her brain.  Spock found that he was quite pleased with the quiet work
environment and soon immersed himself in his own projects, content.
 
**
Jim sat by himself at a table near the back of the recreational area.  He knew
he should probably go into his quarters if he was going to mope, but he was
pretty sick and tired of hiding in there. It made him feel weak.
And fuck him if he wasn’t sick of feeling weak. 
“You’re looking especially pathetic today.” Bones sat down in the chair across
from him, not bothering to ask permission. He plopped a tray down in front of
Jim, and one in front of himself.
“Hi Bones. What the hell is this?”
“Hi yourself. It’s called vegetables. So, first day back I thought you’d be a
little more… smiley. You look like someone just shot your dog.”
“Yeah. I guess. Just tired I think.”
Bones leaned over, tilting Jim’s chin up so that he could look over him.  It
was a gesture he’d done hundreds of times.  Jim was pleased that random touches
didn’t send him running down the corridor screaming, but it still made his skin
feel too tight.
“You don’t look too bad; better than I’d expect actually. Either you’re
repressing like a sonuvabitch or…”
Jim gently disengaged from Bones’s grip. “I think it was something they did to
me on New Vulcan. Ambassador Salkek was helpful. It’s a really weird feeling.
Like, all those emotions- being scared or disgusted... or humiliated are there,
but not really there. If you know what I mean.”
“No. I really don’t.”
Jim blew out a breath, trying to explain.  “Okay so imagine your everyday,
normal Vulcan.”
“I’d really rather not.” Bones smirked.
“How do you think a Vulcan would look at emotion?” Jim stole a fry off of his
friend’s tray.
“Logically?” Bones took a bite of his hamburger, interested despite himself.
“I think so.” He pointed the fry at Bones. “It’s like all that shit is there,
just waiting for me to examine it, but I can do it when I want instead of
having my memories jump up on me.  It’s like every day things have gotten
clearer and clearer.” 
Bones’s gaze narrowed.  “Okay, so why were you sitting there looking like your
dog just died?”
“Oh.”
He didn’t want to tell Bones about the three messages he’d received. He knew
that Bones would go nuclear if he knew what had been in them. Hell,his head was
about to explode. The first one had scared the bejesus out of him, the second
had started to piss him off, and the third had just made him sad. He was just
so tired of this. After his shift had ended, he had gone to Spock to ask him if
he would mind helping him track down who was sending the messages, but had
walked in on him and Uhura. That had just been embarrassing. He just wanted to
talk to the guy, not cockblock him.
“You know… I think when you get back into your normal routine you’ll start
feeling better.” Bones took another bite of his burger, then slapped at Jim’s
hand when he reached for another one of his fries. “Veg-ta-bles. Eat them. Or
you’ll be grounded again.”
“Yeah, well a certain evil bastard I know just recently allowed me to go back
to duty.” Jim stared at his tray, vaguely nauseated. He wasn’t sure what the
replicator had done to the mess of green... things…on his plate, but he was
pretty sure it wasn’t edible. He cautiously tried a green bean, trying not to
actually taste it.
“Yeah, well, this evil bastard only had your best interests at--”
“You know, maybe I do need to go back to my normal routine. Get drunk. Get
laid.”
“Well, that would just be fucking stupid. You don’t need to get laid after what
you just went through, emotional enema or not.”
 Bones was interrupted by Jim’s communicator.
“Bridge to Captain Kirk.”
“Kirk here.”
“Message for you sir. From a Mr. Riley. Kevin Riley.”
Jim felt his heart give a funny little flutter. “I’ll take it here. Thanks.”  
Jim saw Bones start to leave, but Jim shook his head at him, reaching out and
touching his wrist.  
“Kev?”  The man on the small screen looked willowy and pale. He was small in
stature. The eyes were the only thing that Jim recognized. Kevin was only about
nineteen years old, but he looked older than Jim, nothing like the little half-
starved boy Jim remembered taking care of.
“Hey Jimmy. Jim. Um, Captain Kirk.” Kevin smiled, and all at once, he wasn’t
someone so different after all. “I heard that you’re going to come and pick me
up with that badass ship of yours.”
“Yeah, something like that. We have a stop to make first. Do you remember
Erica?”
“Yeah.  She’s the one that told me you were looking for me. We keep in contact
pretty regularly.”
“Oh.” Jim felt the normal spike of guilt that hit him whenever he allowed
himself to remember his childhood. How he basically abandoned them.
“Well, I was just about to make your life a little easier. I’m on my way to
Wrigley. Maybe ten or so hours out?” There was the sound of another voice
giving an affirmative off screen. “Yeah. Anyway. Do you think you’d be
interested in maybe meeting up? Maybe dinner with me ‘n Erica?”
“That would be awesome, Kev.  Let me know when you arrive, okay?”
“Okay. And… Jimmy? It’s really good to see you again.”
“Yeah. You too, kid.” Jim smiled at him and signed off.
Bones gave him a minute after he ended the call before jumping back into his
previous conversation. “I’m serious Jim. Going back to that right now is a
pretty damn fool move.  Last thing you need right now is to be drunk.”
“I don’t know, Bones, I’m thinking it sounds pretty damn good. Maybe arrange
for some shore leave for the crew while we’re on Wrigley? Help out with crew
morale and all.”
Bones opened his mouth to argue with him, but was interrupted by his own
communicator this time. “Dr. McCoy you’re needed in Sick bay.”
“Damnit. Acknowledged.” He leaned forward onto the table. “You better not do
anything stupid, kid. I just worry about you. Come see me if you’re feeling
particularly like making any idiotic choices, okay?”
Riii-iiight. “Yeah, sure. See ya!”
Bones stalked off. Jim switched their plates and began happily munching on the
rest of Bone’s hamburger.  He decided that indeed the crew could definitely use
some shore leave. He licked some ketchup off of his finger and quickly gave the
orders. During the first month of his captaincy he had arranged a skeleton crew
for the Enterprise done on a rotation basis, so that everyone would have a
chance to enjoy their shore leave.
“Captain?”  Jim looked up from his task to see Yeoman Karidian standing
uncertainly at his table.  He smiled up at her. She blushed. 
“Have a seat.”
“Oh, thank you sir. That’s not necessary. I was just double-checking to see if
you needed anything specific in your quarters. I noticed that there was some
glass near the eating area a few days ago.”
“Yeah, I uh. Broke something. Sorry about that. I should have cleaned it up. I
just got too used to you taking such good care of me. And here, you’re going to
be the first to hear the news.” He punched in the code for a ship-wide
broadcast into the wall console.
 “This is the captain speaking. My bridge informs me that we will be arriving
at the planet Wrigley within the hour.  I’m pleased to announce a ship-wide
shore leave. Please access the duty roster for who is on duty first. See your
officer in charge if there are any questions.” He grinned at the whoops of
delight in the recreation area. Apparently people had not noticed him sitting
back in the shadowy corner. “Wrigley is known as a pleasure planet. Feel free
to double your pleasure; just don’t bring it back to my ship. Have fun. Kirk
out.”
Decision made, Jim grinned even wider up at the Yeoman who was now at least
smiling faintly.  “Would you please have a seat? You’re making me strain my
neck.”
She sat, blushing a little more. It had been so long since he had had a chance
to flirt with anyone that Jim found himself enjoying himself immensely. “Okay,
so tell me. How do you like it here on the Enterprise?”
“I, uh. Find it very nice, sir. There is quite a lot to do here.”
“Where were you stationed before theEnterprise?” Jim leaned forward. Her eyes
were downcast, but he could see how she was peeking up at him through her
lashes. It was rather adorable, actually. Her whole posture had changed,
relaxed as she conversed.
“My father is an actor, actually. So was I for awhile. He had to retire rather
suddenly and we found ourselves without anything to do. So I joined…”
“Captain.”
Jim was surprised at Spock’s clipped tone. He had left the bridge so quickly
that Jim hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to him. By the time he had made it to
Spock’s quarters to ask him what had set him off, he and Uhura were… occupied.
“Hey, Spock. What’s up?”
“I desire to speak with you.” Jim winced. Shit. Whatever he had done must be
pretty epic. He didn’t know how someone who frequently claimed to have no
emotions did it, but Spock sounded pissed.
“Oh. Well, I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Spock’s lips tightened. “Very well. I will wait.” His gaze flicked over Yeoman
Karidian and back over Jim, managing to make Jim feel like he had been caught
doing something rude during class.
Jim rolled his eyes. “Sorry about this Yeoman. Maybe we can continue this some
other time. Thanks for your concerns. It was nice to talk to a pretty girl for
a little while. Usually I can’t get away from him and Bones.” He smiled again
at her and was happy to see her blush at the compliment. 
She nodded.   “Yes, sir. Thank you sir. Have a good night.”
Jim grabbed his tray of untouched vegetables and Bones’ empty tray and dropped
it off on the way out of the room.
“I was not aware that you and the Yeoman were dining companions.”
“Yep. So, what did you need?” Jim found himself speeding up a little in order
to keep up with Spock’s long strides. He hadn’t realized that it was even
possible for a Vulcan’s footsteps to sound pissed.
“I find myself puzzled by your illogical actions.”
Jim blinked. “Really? Can you be more specific?” They paused for a moment in
front of the turbolift, standing aside as a few beaming crew members got off
before them.
“I find that statement will encompass most of your actions. Deck seven.”
Now wait just a damn minute. Jim hit the control that stopped the lift. “Now
wait just a damn minute! What the hell, Spock?” He reached out and grabbed the
Vulcan’s arm, trying to turn him towards Jim. It was like hanging onto a
particularly stubborn tree. Expecting that Spock would turn, Jim lost his
balance, having to take a quick step towards Spock before he fell over. The
movement brought them so close that Jim could feel the blast of heat from
Spock’s body. He could actually feel how angry Spock was through their
connection. Jim forgot that he had actually asked a question for a moment as he
stared into Spock’s eyes.  He felt his body start to respond, which was pretty
damn unfair. While it was nice to know that he still had a sex drive, this was
so not the time. Spock looked like he wanted to throttle him again.
 When Spock finally spoke, Jim could feel each separate puff of air from the
words against his lips. "Even in this corner of the galaxy, Captain, two plus
two equals four. Almost certainly, an attempt will be made to kill you. Why do
you invite death?"
Jim blinked, taking a hasty step back. He let go of Spock’s arm, and was
completely astounded when Spock took a step forward, back into Jim’s space. His
heart began to beat more quickly as adrenaline surged through his body at
Spock’s aggression. Part of his mind was screaming at him that he was stuck in
a very small space with an irate Vulcan who was about to become even more
emotionally compromised. Part was screaming that if he moved just thatmuch they
would be kissing.
“You are not unintelligent. Why would you allow a shore leave when we have not
yet caught the person responsible for your kidnapping?”
Oh. Well, fuck.
“Captain, I find that your apathy towards putting yourself in danger by your
unending desire to cogitate with your genitalia quite distressing on both a
personal and professional level.
 “I. uh…” Did Spock just accuse him of thinking with his dick? But before he
could respond with anything more approximating Standard speech, Spock was
moving away from him and back to the other side of the turbolift, as though he
couldn’t bear to be any closer to the human sharing the small space with him.
“Deck. Seven.” Spock bit out.
Jim tentatively tried to reach out to Spock through their connection, only to
find what felt like titanium walls slamming down between him and Spock’s mind,
cutting him off completely.  Somehow, that hurt more than Spock’s harsh words.
The rest of the lift ride was conducted in silence. Spock left on his deck,
walking purposefully towards the science labs. Jim noted, as the turbolift’s
doors slid shut, that the other crew members were practically throwing
themselves against the bulkhead in order to not be between the stalking Vulcan
and his destination.
Fuck.
Jim stood there for a moment, appalled. What was wrong with him? He had been
almost ready to jump Spock not three minutes ago. Even more troubling was the
sick, lonely feeling he had in his stomach.  Adrift.  All at once he was very
vividly reminded of walking alone in his mind, searching for something that had
been lost to him. Jim blinked again. Spock had been right, of course.  Jim
hadn’t been thinking about his own safety.
Three hours later found Jim in a much better headspace. Getting drunk had never
sounded so good. 
He had been unable to contact Erica Molson. He had tried to set up a meeting
with her but she had not yet returned his message. Spock had managed to
circumvent all of Jim’s attempts to discuss his mistake. Jim couldn’t retract
his shore leave without a damn good reason, and the fact that maybesomeone from
his past mightcome after him was not good enough.  He had an amazing group of
people working with him, and they deserved some time to relax. The last shore
leave had been a quick weekend on D’monici III, and cut short by a slight
diplomatic incident involving a not-so virginal Clan Chief daughter’s very
protective little brother. Actually, that little misunderstanding had been
quite embarrassing to explain in his report to Starfleet.
So, Jim found himself beaming down with the rest of his crew, walking the
streets until he found himself at a bar that didn’t look too dangerous. He
wasn’t in the mood to kick anyone’s ass today. Or have his ass kicked, for that
matter.
He darted into the bar and sat in the back. There was some very nice Romulan
Ale with his name on it, freedom from disapproving Vulcan first officers, and
many pretty women around who, Jim was sure, would be more than willing to help
him forget his little reaction towards his First Officer.
Two bars later, he was feeling pretty good.  Especially when he caught the gaze
of a familiar face. She wasn’t wearing her Regulations, but had chosen instead
something much more feminine. Her blonde hair shone in the dim light of the
bar. Jim made his way over to her, watching her out of the corner of his eye,
much as he had done with Uhura so many years ago.
“Yeoman Karidian! Are you gonna let me buy that drink for you now?” 
“Captain. How very nice to see you again.” Jim was just buzzed enough that he
could appreciate the difference between Yeoman Karidian and the off-duty
version. “You left so quickly earlier. We never got to finish our
conversation.”
“Aww, I’m sorry. Here, let’s go sit down and we can catch up.” He scanned the
crowded bar for a free table. Jim’s mind was thinking about all sorts of things
like: ‘contact unbecoming an officer’ and ‘sleeping with a subordinate’ and
‘maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all’ but the alcohol beat those
thoughts into submission. He was here, she was interested, and this shouldn’t
be that complicated.
“Why don’t you get the table, and I’ll get our drinks.”
Jim nodded and went off. He managed to snag a table before a particularly
inebriated Gorncould get its hands on it, glaring at him until it moved off. He
never could tell which was female and which was male.
“Here we go!”  She sat down several shots of something lilac in color.  “Drink
up.” He did, unable to help the smile that bloomed on his face. Take that
Bones. Getting drunk and laid was a damn excellentidea.
“You asked me how I enjoyed the Enterprise.” Her voice fairly purred now. “I do
find myself enjoying it very much. On the ship there’s all this power, surging
and throbbing. Yet under control. Are you like that, Captain?"
“You really should be calling me Jim.” Something very faint was starting to
warn him that there wasn’t something right, that he was forgetting something
important, but as the next shot of lilac alcohol slid down his throat the faint
thought completely disappeared. “And I guess you’ll just have to find out.”
 
 
_____________________________
 
“Okay, seriously what the hell is your problem?”
“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant?”
“Don’t you dare ‘Lieutenant’ me, Commander. We aren’t on duty. I want to know
what’s made you so mad.” Nyota sat across from him, eyes narrowed in a glare
that he hadn’t seen since he tried to assign her to another ship. Her arms were
crossed and her chin was stuck out at such a sharp angle that Spock was
privately 76.8 percent certain that she would strain something if it remained
in that position for too much longer.
He finished entering his last few keystrokes.
Nyota’s glare became even more pronounced.  Spock found it improbable that one
petite human woman could look so foreboding.  He sighed.
“I have several problems at the moment that need my attention. Perhaps this
instant isn’t the best time for a discussion.”
She made a sound under her breath. “Spock, are we friends?”
“We have discussed that since we are no longer intimately involved our
relationship is now that of friends, yes.”
“And what does that mean, exactly?”
“I do not understand the question.”
“What does it mean to you, Spock, to have me as a friend?” her voice was quite
without emotion, and the strangeness of hearing her speak in this manner caused
faint alarm bells to go off in Spock’s head.
“I value your intelligence. And kindness. And our camaraderie over a meal is
something I find myself looking forward to after a particularly grueling day.”
Spock detected a slight thawing in her body language.
“Thank you. I feel the same way. And I want to help you. But you have to
explain for me, Spock, because I don’t understand why fifteen minutes ago you
jumped up as though I had poked you and left in the middle of a conversation,
only to stalk back in here later looking like you wanted to kill someone.
You’ve been sitting there, punching those keys so hard that I know it had to
hurt; I remember how sensitive your hands are. And now, you won’t talk to me.”
She sighed, and seemed to slump in on herself. “I know you value your privacy,
but you’ve been so different these past few weeks. And you keep shutting me
out. I just want to help you.” She repeated, blinking hard, suspicious moisture
in her eyes.
Spock frowned. It had not been his intention to provoke such an emotional
response in Nyota. Friendship was a fairly foreign concept to him- other than
Nyota and the recent tentative forays with Jim he had none and hadn’t really
minded that fact- but he did not care for the fact that he had upset her.
He reached out and touched the back of her hand with a finger- a Vulcan version
of a peck on the cheek.
“My apologies, Nyota. It was not my intention to. . .” he searched for the
correct Human term, “. . . hurt your feelings. It is true that you will likely
be able to assist me with my current situation. I confess, I have wished to
have someone to discuss the matter with, but have not wished to burden you with
my own… weakness.”
Nyota smiled, looking down at his hand where it rested near hers. “Okay, so…
what’s up?”
Spock paused, gathering his thoughts. “I accidentally bonded with the captain.”
Nyota’s eyes grew wide enough that Spock reflected that he possibly should have
led up to that revelation.
“You…”
“Indeed. I do not know how I could have made such an error. I believe it
happened while I was on the ship with the captain. I initiated a meld with him
while he was–” Spock broke off, remembering for a moment the horrific sound
emanating from Jim’s throat, echoing off the walls of the ship. “Quite
distraught. Later, I had the bond removed.”
“You had the bondremoved?” She sounded more horrified at the idea of the bond’s
removal than by the fact that Spock had bonded to Jim in the first place. “But
a bond between a Vulcan and their mate is revered. Sacred even. That meeting of
minds… why, you would have everything in your mate.” She sounded wistful.
“You are correct, although I confess I am curious to how you came by this
knowledge. Humans are not commonly aware of the vital nature of a bond outside
of the occasional vague understanding of their existence.”
Nyota bit her lip and looked away from him.
Spock raised an eyebrow. He had taught enough human cadets to know what that
particular expression meant.
“Um…”
“Nyota, your hesitation would seem to indicate that you are not planning to be
forthright in your verbal response.”
“Well.” She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I was a cadet embarking
on a serious relationship with the only Vulcan in Starfleet. I, um, wanted
information so I…asked.”
“Who did you ask?” Spock asked the question but was 93.9 percent sure that he
already knew the answer.
“I uh... started a communication with... um… your mother.”
Spock opened his jaw to speak, then quite unable to find any words that would
adequately express the idea that he wanted to communicate, shut it again with a
small ‘pop’.
“I didn’t do it to embarrass you! Or anything else really; I just didn’t want
to do something . . . culturally insensitive. I told her that I was doing
research for a xenobiology project.” Her lips quirked. “And I was, just not one
that I ever got graded on.”
Suddenly a number of queries within the Academy correspondence between him and
his mother made much more sense. For a moment he imagined her face as she read
his letter, telling her offhandedly about Nyota.  Her amusement barely kept in
check when she smiled, the impish twist of her lips, her brown eyes fairly
dancing with suppressed mirth while she read both Nyota’s and his messages. As
he did, he found that for the first time in just over a standard year he could
picture his mother in some way other than at the moment of her death.
Nyota cleared her throat; face softening as she touched his forearm. “Anyway,
so yes. I understand what a bond is. But not why you would break such a… gift.”
The timbre of Spock’s voice was roughened when he answered, “Jim said much
while we were linked. He was most clear on the point: he did not want anyone in
his head.”
Nyota looked furious again. “That, that, insensitive, idiotic… bastard!”
Something twanged in the vicinity of Spock’s heart when he heard her words. “I
am quite certain that Jim’s parents had indeed been legally joined in the state
of matrimony prior to his birth. It is also… I did not…” It was Spock’s turn to
break her gaze and stare at the table.  “I did not tell him of the bond. There
was no need, as his feelings were quite clear.”
Spock had been looking away from Nyota, and therefore was absolutely astounded
when he felt the sharp sting of her hand on his shoulder.
“Did you just strike me?”
“You were in Jim’s head? After he was kidnapped? We don’t need the specifics
Spock; his crew had a pretty good idea what happened to him on that damn ship.
So after he is reeling from… that…and you… you didn’t even tell him?!”
Really, his hearing was far superior to that of a human’s. Spock felt it was
highly unnecessary for Nyota’s tone to reach quite that high a decibel level. 
Her arms were once again crossed in front of her, only this time her glare was
even more pronounced. “I have never heard of a bond being broken before. Are
you blaming your little man-tantrum on that?”
Spock blinked.  There was no reason for rudeness. He opened his mouth to answer
her, but she shook her head.
“Never mind. Just get on with the story. What does that have to do with you
stalking back into here like a particularly grouchy ten-year-old?”
“I have felt residual effects from the bond’s destruction. I can often sense
Jim’s emotions when he is feeling something particularly strongly.”
Nyota raised an eyebrow, just staring at him. Spock was beginning to understand
how annoying that particular expression was to others when he used it. “A
‘residual effect’, huh?”
“Indeed. I felt Jim when he got the first message. He had what Dr. McCoy
referred to as a ‘panic attack’ by whatever was sent to him. Similarly, I have
been assisting with discovering who had put Jim on that ship in the first
place.  But the captain, who clearly has no respect for his own safety, then
announced that the crew of the Enterprise would be allowed to go on shore
leave. I desired to find the captain and explain the folly of allowing this
without knowing the identity of his attacker.”
She spoke fast. “How is it logical that you can feel a nonexistent bond? If
there is no connection, then how do you explain what you were picking up from
the captain?”
Spock, who was fully capable of thinking on a number of subjects at once, found
his brain slide to a complete halt. That was it, the question he had been
skirting around for several days. How could he detect something that should
not, could not, be there? Several things slid into place at once.  He
remembered his counterpart’s disappointment that he would ask for his bond to
be broken.  He remembered the way his counterpart had casually insisted on
being the one to do the ‘breaking’. How he had put Spock into a deep sleep
before roaming Spock’s unprotected mind.
He was aware that his face must have communicated complete and utter shock by
the accompanying gentle, pitying expression on Nyota’s face. Before she could
speak, their computer console beeped.
Automatically, they both looked at the readout. The computer had narrowed down
the names of the crewmembers that had not been on duty or observed by another
crew member, with those who met the physical requirements. Nyota had also
cross-referenced the list with those who had shown a particular affinity for
computers, based on information from their personnel files. The list now had
five names on it. At the top, with a 76.9 probability, was Yeoman Lenore
Karidian.
 “Computer. Is Yeoman Karidian aboard the ship?”
“Affirmative. Yeoman Karidian beamed aboard the ship eleven-point-six minutes
ago.”
Spock started to rise, almost not feeling the restraining hand Nyota had put on
his shoulder.  “Wait. Wait, Spock.”
“What is the logic in waiting?”
Nyota’s hand tightened on his arm. “How can you be certain that it was her? Not
to be rude or anything, but you can’t just go in there without some sort of
plan. Right now she has no idea that we suspect-“
Spock interrupted. “I do not care for the way she stares at the captain. She
had access to his personal belongings. The computer’s findings only confirmed
my suspicion. Please stand aside.”
“Just- wait a second!”
Spock jerked his hand out of her grip and pivoted, tapping a wall console as he
did so. “Commander Spock to the bridge. Please raise the shields to their full
capacity, and lock down all transporter pads to unlock to my voice command
only. Do not activate the ship-wide alert system.”
“Uh...understood, sir.”
Spock was already striding down the corridor, Nyota trailing after him. “Wait,
Spock! Please!” She sounded so desperate that he stopped, turning to her. “You
just can’t go barging in there,” she repeated. “Not alone!”
“Computer, locate Yeoman Karidian.”
“Yeoman Karidian is in her quarters.”
“Location of Yeoman Karidian’s quarters?”
“Yeoman Karidian is located on deck fourteen, berth 27-A.” Nyota nodded at him
and they strode to the turbolift. It whooshed open.
“Computer, is the Yeoman alone in her quarters?”
“Affirmative.”
Nyota spoke as the doors shut behind them. “Computer. Is Captain Kirk on board
the Enterprise?”
“Negative. Captain Kirk disembarked two hours and twenty-three minutes ago to
the surface of Wrigley.”
Spock thought that every muscle in his body, save his pounding heart, froze for
a moment before dismissing the illogical hyperbole. Part of him wanted to go to
the transporter room immediately, while the other part of him knew it was
logical to interrogate Karidian first. He felt Nyota’s hand on his forearm and
looked down, having quite forgotten for a moment that he was not alone in the
lift.
“We’ll get information from her. You can have a security team start to look for
the captain.”
The rest of the lift ride was made in silence while Spock quickly weighed the
pros and cons. Spock waited until they were close to the Yeoman’s quarters
before summoning Security. “Commander Spock to Security Chief Georges. 
Security team A is to beam down and start a planet-wide search for Captain
Kirk.” He also ordered the bridge to unlock the transporters so the team could
beam down. “Security team B to Yeoman Karidian’s quarters. Remain outside while
I speak with the Yeoman.”
“Acknowledged, sir.”
 
Spock strode to the door and entered his override. The doors whooshed open, and
he quickly stepped in with Nyota behind him. The woman inside whirled and gave
a little scream, eyes darting between himself and Nyota. She had a number of
items clutched in her hands. It was clear that she was packing her personal
belongings. She began to laugh, setting the items on the bed.
“I suppose, as they say, the jig is up.” She moved her hands so that they were
visible. “Father would laugh to know that I got caught for sentimentality. But
I couldn’t leave my little trinkets, now could I?”
Spock, against his better judgment, glanced at the items on the bed. A stained,
ripped gold Command uniform shirt. A hairbrush.  A framed picture of the same
car, one beautiful and shining in the sun and the other destroyed. A broken
communicator. Spock heard a low growl, and only realized it was coming from him
when Nyota looked away from Karidian for a brief moment. She took a step closer
to the other woman.  Away from Spock.
Spock fought to get control of his emotions. He had never quite understood the
idiom ‘seeing red with rage’ until just that moment. He had the urge to rip, to
tear, to destroy. Even when fighting Jim on the bridge, his emotions had not
been stripped quite this raw. Then, he had reacted without thinking. Now, he
struggled to keep his hands at his sides and not wrap them around this human
woman’s throat.
“Where is Captain Kirk?” Nyota’s voice was cold.
The tittering laugh again, high and girlish. Karidian smirked at Spock,
ignoring Nyota as though she were not there. “Your captain. My father was most
displeased when I told him of your heroic rescue. He was quite fur—i--ous.” She
laughed again. "Come what come may…. Time and the hour runs through the
roughest day,” she sing-songed, delighted with herself. “He has his prize now.
Only two left. From five to two, five to two…” her voice trailed off as Spock
turned back to the bed, scooping up the items with a smooth movement. He
desperately needed to have his hands occupied right now.
“Where did you leave Jim?” Spock spoke tightly. This was an illogical waste of
time. Clearly the woman would not tell him. He was loathe to connect his mind
to this woman’s in any way, but would do it if he must, Starfleet regulations
be damned.
“That’s for me to know, and you to find out, silly!” The tone of her voice
changed again. “Those are mythings.” Her voice dropped into a hiss. “You will
never find him. My father will take him take-him-take-him, bathe in the sweat
from his body, in his blood and his seed and you …will... nevernevernever…”
“You Bitch!”  Spock turned just in time to see Nyota’s fist connect with the
insane woman’s jaw, sending her collapsing to the floor, unconscious. She
turned, taking a step towards Spock, flexing her fingers a couple of times
before placing her hands on his shoulders. He could feel her worry and fear. 
It hit him with an almost physical jolt, and he stepped back, clutching Jim’s
uniform in his hand. His control was imperfect and the kick of her emotive
state was stark. “You have to relax. Calm down, Spock. You found Jim once, and
you can do it again. You said he’s in your head.” She actually tried to shake
him. “Well use your head, damnit!”
Spock’s eyes closed. He reached out...
…and nothing. No feeling of ‘Jim’ whatsoever. He jerked away from Nyota and
stepped through the doors, stalking towards the turbo lift without a word. He
could feel a muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. Vaguely he
could hear her giving orders to the security team stationed out Karidian’s
door. He entered the lift.
“Deck seven.” Spock’s attention was so focused inward that he arrived in the
transporter room before he knew it. Why couldn’t he feel Jim? It was like there
was a wall—
A wall. Of course. He had been so furious at Jim while riding in the turbolift
that he had shieldedagainst him. “Beam me to Captain Kirk and Yeoman Karidian’s
last known location.” Logically, if she had destroyed Jim’s transporter, she
would have done so before moving him to avoid detection.  He strode up to the
pad and turned, tearing down his mental shields as he felt the pushpull of the
transporter, and reappeared outside of a crowded bar.  As on the ship, Spock
was walking towards the bartender without even being fully aware that he was
moving.
“I require information. A Human man in a Starfleet uniform- captain’s stripes,
blue eyes- was here approximately two and one half standard hours ago. He was
likely sitting with a human female out of uniform. Blonde hair.”
There was a chittering sound and Universal Translator translated the
bartender’s words into Standard. “Yes. I remember her. She was a big tipper,
she was. Loves the Lotus rum. Ordered enough to …” The translator even
translated the being’s chuckle. “Heh heh heh, have herself a nice night with
the man you described.”
Spock’s eye twitched. Orion Lotus rum had almost become a banned item for its
high alcohol content with a fairly powerful aphrodisiac. He looked around at
the patrons of the establishment. There was such a mix of different beings in
the small dim space that Spock found it difficult to maintain his shields
against the insistent pull of emotion. He had just begun to reinforce his
mental shields when he felt a slight shiver inside his head; then- an
overwhelming wave of abhorrence/want/terror/disgust/fear--
Spock stumbled, thrown completely off-balance by the strength of the mental
surge. He leaned against the bar, breathing heavily, hands curled into the
wooden surface so strongly that the metal reinforcements groaned. Jim. Frantic-
despondent-.
kill-you-kill-MYSELF-ohnoineedaway-away-oh-god-oh-nonoNO
For what felt like hours, but logically could only be seconds, Spock literally
couldn’t separate his own sense of self from the pulsating wave of Jim’s
emotional turmoil. There was so much, so very many nuances of panic there that
Spock’s mind reeled.  As though he were far out of his own body, he realized
that the bartender had cocked an eyestalk his way and was waving it
concernedly.  The universal translator was indicating that the bartender was
asking him something, but Spock found himself afraid to let go of the surface
that he grasped. It gave another ominous creak. Spock felt a sharp jab of pain
as a large splinter sliced the flesh of his palm.
He took a deep, shuddering breath.  Strangely, the pain from the splinter
caused his mind to focus. Dimly, he was able to nod to the bartender.
“Jim--”Spock could only do the equivalent of a mental gasp. He was aware of an
almost incapacitating nausea coming from his human, laced underneath with the
furious heat of… lust?
Through the bond, Spock could feel Jim’s utter shock, and then the wave of
relief crashed over him with almost the same fervor as the fear, making his
knees weak. Spock collapsed against the bar again.
Tentative, as though worried it wasn’t true- ‘Spock?’ Then, ‘Spockpleaseyou
have to help he’s here it’s Him and he--
-
‘                                                                                                                                     
‘You must calm yourself, Jim. I will come for you. But you must …’
‘Please-I-pleasehurryhe-‘ The mental feeling of a deep breath. The wave of
bright, excruciating emotion receded somewhat. ‘It’s… Kodos. He has me. He…’
‘He will not have you for long. I am coming, Jim.’
Spock took another steadying breath and opened his eyes.  The bartender was
helping another customer, but the eyestalk was still turned Spock’s way. Spock
let go of the bar’s surface and flexed his fingers. The cut on his palm stung
as the air hit the green blood that had welled up from the small wound. 
There was no time. Spock knew he must work fast if he were to find Jim quickly.
He shut his eyes, picturing the bond that he remembered from Jim’s head. It was
still sick-looking, although more solid than before. The knowledge of what to
do was just suddenly there, and with a muttered curse he could see the bond’s
aura when he closed his eyes. When they opened, it was as though he could still
intuit where the bond was. It stretched, almost gossamer thin. Faintly, Spock
could feel Jim at the end of it.  He spun on his heel and was off, doing his
best not to think too hard about the pulsating emotions that Jim was still
feeling. Spock followed the bond, around corners and through alleyways. He
didn’t anticipate it being all that far away. The yeoman would have had to
incapacitate Jim and get him to the rendezvous point for her father.
The yeoman. Spock walked faster, almost jogging now, furious with himself. He
had not wanted to identify the emotions that had taken over his thoughts. He
could still remember what he felt watching her touch his captain’s bedspread-
why had that one thing replayed over and over in his brain?- what he felt
remembering it afterwards; how no amount of meditation had claimed his
thoughts.  He had over-thought his own illogical behavior, not seeing what was,
to use a Standard colloquialism, right in front of his eyes. Spock had been
certain that his thinking of her as a suspect had been driven by his
irrationality, and had ignored his instincts.
Illogical behavior still ruled him. Starfleet regulations dictated that he
inform the security team of his whereabouts, but Spock did not care for the
idea of others seeing Jim, (his bondmate!) in such a state. The emotions he was
still feeling were growing stronger as he got closer to his destination. 
hate/disgust/lust/terror
The lust was stronger. Clearly the drink had started to take effect, beginning
to edge out some of Jim’s stronger emotions.  
Spock was in a run-down, dilapidated area of the city. He came to a stop,
surveying the area, knowing that Jim was close. Spock took off his outer
Starfleet tunic. If Kodos had posted guards, then seeing one lone Starfleet
officer running pell-mell for the area would likely set off alarms, even with
the substandard intelligence taken into account with whomever he had hired.  He
stashed it in a crate, hidden behind what smelled like a garbage receptacle of
some sort, and slowly made his way around the corner.
From the front, there were no discernable signs that anyone was being held
hostage. It looked innocuous enough, one building in the many other commercial
buildings in the area. Perhaps some sort of warehouse?  Spock listened
carefully, but could not hear any signs of movement. There were two bright
floodlights that shone down onto the front door of the building, and Spock
could clearly see the recording device scanning the perimeter. That was
logical. In a neighborhood such as this, posting many guards would fairly
scream to the locals that you were protecting something valuable. 
He paused again, impatiently, having to build even more shields between him and
Jim so that he could function. It was becoming more and more difficult. Spock
needed to be in there, now.  It was child’s play to use the fence to access the
window on the second story. Spock hunched his long neck as far down as he could
so that the paleness of his skin wouldn’t be as obvious as he climbed the wall
and hoisted himself up. His black uniform and hair rendered him practically
invisible. Spock quickly broke the glass, and stepped inside the building. It
was dead quiet. Continuing to listen for sounds that he had been discovered,
Spock followed the bond down into the basement.
He walked slowly, making not a sound. Two of the doors were locked and easily
hacked into opening.  When he saw the third door, the bond gave a particularly
solid movement as though settling into place, sending Spock reeling. He could
hear a noise through the thin composite of the door.
It sounded like a wounded animal.
Spock saw red.
Something was roaring, the sound echoing off the walls of the small hallway. A
hideous screech of metal being pried open and then he was inside.
Jim lay on the bed, turned over onto his side. He was wearing his Starfleet
trousers and nothing else. The top part of his uniform lay in tatters around
his torso. Spock could smell blood, Human blood, Jim’s blood over the sharp
scent of fear and the musky odor of semen. His vision tunneled onto Jim’s form,
as he writhed on the stained mattress. He could see one eye, the bright blue of
his gaze boring into him before he was rushing towards the bed. There was a
scream of sound, and Spock felt something whiz by his cheekbone and clank
against the wall. A knife. He turned his head.
The man standing there in the bathroom slammed the door shut after throwing the
dagger, cutting his terrified face off from Spock.
For a split second he was torn. Go to Jim? Go to Kodos? It wasn’t much of a
decision. Spock was at Jim’s side in an instant, yanking on the bindings that
kept Jim lying on the filthy mattress.  He heard glass crashing from far off.
No matter. The universe was not big enough to hide that man from his wrath.
Spock found that tremors in his hands were keeping him from efficiently untying
the captain from his bonds.  Blood from a small wound near Jim’s neck had
spilled down his torso, making the ropes slippery. Jim turned his head, and
Spock could see it: a perfectly formed circle of teeth marks in the meat of
Jim’s shoulder. He froze, unprepared for the onslaught of possessiveness he
felt upon seeing that someone else had marked his mate.
“Spock….” Jim’s voice, broken. Terrified.
Spock leaned forward, and very gently licked at the bite mark.
Which, upon later reflection might have been a mistake.
 
***** Part II *****
 
________________________

Sensation.
 
The fiery heat of Jim’s lust hit him with an almost a physical jolt. The
contrast of Spock’s hot tongue against the cooler skin of Jim’s
shoulder made him want to repeat the experience. He did, flicking the very tip
against the dip in the torn flesh, just starting to bruise.  He traced the
mark on Jim’s skin before pressing his own mouth to the spot, tasting
his sweat and the faintly metallic undertone of the blood that had trickled
over the bite. His teeth flirted with pressure, and then Spock sucked sharply
on the skin under his mouth, pulling away with reluctance when he heard a
garbled sound as Jim gasped his name.
Jim moved on the bed, twisting so that Spock’s mouth broke away from his
shoulder. Spock’s gaze traveled down the front of Jim’s body. He
could see the bulge of Jim’s erection behind the tight trousers. The
faint wet spot on the front of the material drew his eyes like a magnet. 
The musky smell fascinated him. There was a light sheen of sweat on
Jim’s torso that glinted in the dimness of the room’s light.
Spock reached out his hand, stroking lightly over Jim’s heat and
hardness once before pulling away and holding his hand over the heat radiating
from him. Jim’s body arched on the bed, feet braced solidly on the
mattress, trying to maneuver his cock back into Spock’s hovering palm.
The small touch had caused the bond to almost pulse with awareness. For the
first time, Spock met Jim’s gaze directly.  His breath caught. Jim
had been gagged with part of his Starfleet uniform, the material tied tightly
enough that the bottom part of his jaw was pale, a stark contrast to the rest
of his ruddy complexion.  He could feel Jim’s emotions swirl around
him through the bond. The almost incapacitating fear from before had bled away
to confusion/lust/relief. 
Spock yanked his hand back, appalled.
Jim made a frustrated sound.  Reason slowly trickled back into
Spock’s brain. Jim was bleeding, hurt. They were in a room whereupon
anyone could come along at any time. While at the bar, Jim had consumed a
number of drinks; all of which contained a fairly strong aphrodisiac.
Jim was not himself.
Spock pushed away from the bed, carefully shoving his own disgust at his
behavior away, rebuilding his shields as best he could. He was revolted by his
own behavior. Every emotional barrier he had spent his lifetime perfecting had
crumbled like sand in the wind.  He turned, feeling the mattress shift as
Jim protested his movement. Spock cast around for the dagger that had been left
on the floor and scooped it up, turning back towards Jim. His step faltered for
a minute as he watched the man on the bed. 
Jim was still arching up into nothing, unable to touch himself or turn fully to
rut against the mattress, the drug in his system making him desperate for some
sort of friction. Spock could discern a high-pitched whine emanating from
behind the gag. Jim’s eyes were shut, shoulders tensed against the
surface of the bed as he strained against his bindings.  His face was
flushed. The wound in his neck had stopped trickling blood, but traces still
lingered against his skin, mixing with the sweat from his body.
Spock felt his body respond, and the flood of shame he felt at his response
made him look away from his bondmate.
There was a cry from the bed, muffled by the gag. Spock hung onto his faltering
shields with metaphysical tooth and nail, took a deep breath and reached out
with the knife. Jim was looking at him, blown pupils obliterating the normal
blue intensity of his gaze.  Spock looked away and slid the knife between
Jim’s cheek and the ruined uniform.  Jim cried out again at the
feel of the cool metal on his skin. Spock reached out with a shaking hand to
pull the gag away from Jim’s lips just as Jim turned his head, brushing
his chapped lips against the last two fingers of Spock’s hand.
He caught his breath at the sensation, rough, cool skin against his smooth
heated skin.  His startled eyes met Jim’s.  Jim nuzzled
against the last two fingers with his open mouth, reaching out with his tongue
and tracing Spock’s fingernail before drawing the two fingers into his
mouth and sucking, drawing his wet lips back and forth over the hot skin.
Spock watched for a moment, mesmerized, feeling his cock twitch at the
sensation of Jim’s mouth on him, before jerking his hand away once
again.
Jim groaned again, a needy sound in the silent room.
Spock must get him back to the Enterprise. The aphrodisiac was too deep into
Jim’s system. It had clearly been a strong dosage, making him act in
ways he normally wouldn’t act with his First Officer.  Spock
grabbed Jim’s shoulder, gritting his teeth against the surge of
Jim’s emotions. He roughly turned him over, cutting the ropes in one
smooth motion. Jim’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, twisting as he
pulled Spock down on top of him.
Spock heard Jim’s cry as his undershirt and trousers came into contact
with Jim’s over-stimulated skin. Then Jim’s mouth was on his,
holding him firmly in place. The Human way of kissing had always surprised
Spock with its intimacy. Mingled saliva, the feel of a tongue against
one’s teeth, stroking against the walls of a mouth, the contrast between
his body temperature and the much less heated human’s had always
initially overwhelmed Spock. It had taken him quite awhile to get used to doing
this with Nyota.  With Jim, there was only a slight moment of awkwardness
before he could feel what to do through their connection. He was still
overwhelmed, but he couldn’t seem to summon the will to protest.
Jim pulled his mouth away from Spock’s, pressing little biting kisses
against Spock’s jaw. Jim moved again, reflexes quicker than Spock had
anticipated, and flicked his tongue against the very tip of Spock’s ear.
Spock’s whole body shivered. A guttural moan broke the near silence of
the room as Spock felt every nerve ending he had quiver at once. He knew his
mouth was open slightly as he panted, feeling each swipe of Jim’s wet,
cool tongue against his ear, down the edge, and swirling lightly around the
ridges. He moved back up and tugged on the tip with his teeth.
“Don’t move… I just. I need to…”
Jim’s voice was almost unrecognizable. The desperation in it made Spock
huff out his breath in another moan.
Spock thought his eyes were going to roll back in his head. As it was, his
logic deserted him when Jim pushed him back onto the bed, following him with
his body. He could hear Jim’s heavy breathing; feel the strength in his
bondmate’s fingers as he undid the button and zip, roughly pushing down
Spock’s trousers. In no time at all, still reeling from the sensations
of Jim’s lips and mouth, Spock found himself staring dazedly at Jim
while he knelt in front of him, looking down at his cock with an almost fierce
grin. Jim licked his lips.
There was nothing tentative about the way Jim swallowed down his cock.
Spock was not stupid; he knew about most of the standard sexual practices
Humans frequently indulged in with one another, but he had never imagined this
particular act would be so incredible. The wet, tight, cavern of Jim’s
mouth, sucking and lapping at the liquid that trickled down his shaft, holding
his hips down to the bed (Spock could have easily broken Jim’s hold and
fully intended to do so… soon.) and bobbing down onto him so deeply that
Spock felt the head bump against the back of Jim’s throat. Jim was
moaning around Spock, and the small vibrations made Spock flex his
fingers.  He was dimly aware of the small sound of the mattress tearing.
When reading about this and other standard Human sexual congress, Spock had
always been mildly disgusted.  Now though, he found his thighs tensing as
he tried not to move, afraid that he would hurt his bondmate. Spock could feel
Jim enthusiastically rubbing himself against his thigh as Jim licked against
the underside of his cock, up against the very sensitive ridge, and over the
head. : He bobbed back down, still moaning against Spock’s cock, and
pulled off again, long strands of salvia and precum staining his chapped and
bloody lips, over his chin. Spock managed to tilt his head and look down to see
that Jim was undoing his own zipper, lifting out his own cock and fisting
himself almost roughly.  The one hand on Spock’s hips was digging
painfully into the flesh there, holding Jim’s weight as he went back
down on Spock’s shaft sucking hard, and moving so quickly that Spock
almost fell completely from his mouth before plunging back down, over and over
and overandover and….
Spock heard himself give a muffled groan as he came.  He could feel
Jim’s own release through the bond, triggered by his. He looked down
once, meeting Jim’s intense stare, before shutting his eyes.  It
was like an endless wave of pressure and pleasure, feeding on itself as Jim
felt what Spock was feeling and vice versa, each sensation increasing their own
excitement.
They were both quiet for a moment, breathing heavily. Spock became idly aware
of the undignified pose he must present, shirt rucked up over his stomach, one
arm thrown over his eyes, hand fisted with the torn cotton and fibers of the
mattress still settling against the skin of the back of his hand.  He was
dimly aware of his trousers and pants around his ankles as Jim, completely
spent, sprawled against him still breathing heavily and shivering from little
aftershocks.
A sudden wave of absolute disgust and shame at his own actions caused
Spock’s eyes to spring wide open, where they had been drifting shut
during his post-coitus contentment. There was a small, almost drowsy flutter of
confusion from the bond and Spock sat up, pulling away from his bondmate and
slamming up the strongest shields he could muster, horrified and aghast at his
own behavior.  He rolled off the bed and made his way to what were clearly
bathing facilities off of the main area.  The door shut behind him with
hardly a sound.
**
Jim was trying not to think.
He carefully didn’t think about how hard his heart was thundering in his
ribs. He didn’t think about the fact that he was hard again. He
didn’t think about the fact that he had just assaulted his friend and he
definitely didn’t think about how he could still taste Spock’s
release, salty but strangely sweet, on his tongue.
Only each of those thoughts kept chasing themselves around his head. His head
pounded. The air in the small room was stifling. He slowly sat up, holding his
forehead. There was a strange echo in his brain, as though each thought had a
faint reverberation, like a piece of metal that rang after you stuck it.
There was something else.
Whatever that thing that had connected him to Spock was, it was back. He had
felt Spock’s utter disgust with him so strongly that Jim had physically
recoiled. It wasn’t the faint, almost fluttery feelings that had echoed
down to him before; this had hit him like a phaser blast.
Jim rolled over and did up his uniform pants, stuffing his cock carelessly back
inside, ignoring his arousal as best he could. The pathetic neediness he had
felt from earlier was gone. That in and of itself was a shock. He felt tired,
sated, horrified… and still horny but not in the desperate way he had
been earlier. Jim didn’t know what to do.  He was standing there,
staring awkwardly at a mottled bruise on his wrist when the bathroom door
opened suddenly.
It took more courage than he thought he possessed to look up at Spock.
He needn’t have bothered. Spock wasn’t wearing his blue tunic,
but he looked every inch a Starfleet officer. He stood as he usually did, with
his hands clasped behind his back. His posture was more like that of his early
hours on the Enterprise, not the slightly less formal Spock that Jim had gotten
to know over the past year. His friend. His…
Oh god. He had… he hadhehad… no.  Better not to think about that.
He would have plenty of time for self-recrimination when he turned himself in
to security and was thrown in the brig.
“Captain. We should go back to the ship.”
Jim couldn’t help it. He flinched, completely at a loss for words. 
He opened his mouth, stood there for a moment trying to think of where to start
apologizing, and shut it with a little snap.
“Spock…” His voice trailed off, breaking a little on the
last sound.
Spock had turned smartly on his heel and had crossed to the door. If Spock
didn’t want to talk right now, well. How could he blame him?
Jim’s shoulders hunched a little as he followed. He glanced quickly into
the bathroom, seeing the basement windows that had been shattered. He could
just barely detect the pavement outside.  Kodos had clearly decided not to
stick around and discuss his version of poetry with the irate Vulcan.  Jim
felt a quick flash of adrenaline; remembering the panic attack when he woke up
with Kodos gently, almost lovingly stroking his face.  He shook his head,
hard. Nope. Not thinking about that now.
Jim took a shaky breath as he walked behind Spock, keeping his eyes on the
floor. He felt shivery, like some kind of insect was crawling just under his
skin. He instinctively tried to touch the new part of him- or would that be
part of Spock?- in his head and felt his mental “fingers”
absently swatted by a much larger “hand.”
“Please do not attempt to use our bond. Until your mental signature is
confirmed by Doctor McCoy, the use of such a high amount of psi energy could
hurt you.”
Good.
He made the way out of the room in silence, still trying not to think. They
walked for a few feet, stopping near a stack of crates as Spock retrieved his
uniform shirt and communicator. Why would he…?
“I thought it illogical to go into an unknown situation alone, making it
clear that I was a Starfleet officer.”
“Of course,” Jim said, attempting to sound as though he
hadn’t just committed at least ten different crimes against his
conversational partner. 
Spock’s shoulders straightened even more as he walked purposefully. Jim
found that if he pictured an energy field around the bond (or at least the part
of the bond thathurt when he thought about what he had just done to Spock) the
hurt went away. He frowned, idly going down some steps. His concentration was
shot when he had to adjust himself.  The friction from walking in the
tight trousers and having them rub against him was creating a low buzz of
arousal, distracting him from his thinking. He took a quick breath. Jim
pictured the energy field in the place where Spock had searched for the
memories of Karidian and made the field opaque. Immediately the feeling of
duality was cut off. He shivered in the cool air. The alley they were in did
not smell particularly sweet, but Jim could detect his own scent swimming above
the rotten garbage and stale alcohol.
His stomach clenched. They walked a few more feet, Jim still carefully not-
thinking, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Spock stopped in
front of him, opening his communicator.
“Commander Spock to Enterprise. Two to beam up.”
Jim and Spock reappeared on the transporter pad. 
“Jesus Christ, Jim can’t you go anywhere without
supervision?” Bones looked exasperated.
Jim forced a smile.  “I guess not.”  
He flinched away when Bones laid a causal hand on his forearm. 
He’d come back from missions before numerous times with his shirt ripped
in various ways, usually signifying the amount of danger he’d been in at
any given time, but this time was different.  Jim didn’t want the
two transporter techs staring at him. Or Bones.  There was a surge of
something dark from the bond, and Jim winced.  Great. Spock probably
thought that he was flaunting his body again. 
“Bones, I’d really like to get to my quarters.”  To
compose a few messages before I end my short-lived career.  “You
can visit me later.” In the brig.
Spock stepped down off of the transporter and, with a nod, walked towards the
doors.
Bones’s sharp gaze zeroed in on the mark on the back of Jim’s
shoulder. “A bite mark? Jesus, Jim, I told you that getting shitfaced
and finding some random piece of ass to screw was a bad idea!” His
whisper caused Spock’s shoulders to straighten. He paused for the
briefest of seconds, and then left the transporter room without a sound.
“Oh my God, Bones just shut it, will you?” Jim pushed past him
and walked out. He was able to catch Spock’s gaze for just a moment
before the turbolift doors shut. He wasn’t sure what had been on his
face, but Spock had deliberately looked away upon seeing it. Jim walked at a
much slower rate towards the lift.  He heard Bones’s step up behind
him and rolled his eyes.
“Bones. Seriously, I’m okay. Quit it already.”
Bones made a noncommittal sound as he punched in a sequence on his tricorder.
Bones’s lips were tightly pressed together. Jim winced again, knowing
that he was in for it as soon as they had a modicum of privacy. He remembered
that look from the academy- when Bones was actually so pissed off that he was
having trouble figuring out which thing to bitch about first.
Great.
Bones stopped the turbo lift as soon as the doors slid shut.
Jim was still too numb to react with much surprise.
“I didn’t say anything about the shit that you took—though
what the fuck possessed you to start swilling Orion joy juice? It should be out
of your system in a few hours, anyway. I also didn’t say anything about
you coming back to your ship and assuming your command covered in blood and
sweat and come. You’re an adult,” here his voice made it clear
that he was highly doubtful of Jim’s adult status, “and can do
anything you damn well please. I can’t believe I’m actually
saying this, but when Spock goes ballistic- well, ‘ballistic’ for
that green-blooded hobgoblin- and sends down a security team to find you, then
just about sprains something going down to look for youhimself I would think
you would be a little more grateful and understanding of the position you put
him in to find you doing god knows what.” Bones stepped out of the lift
and walked away.
It turned out that Jim wasn’t as numb as he thought. His heart…
ached.
When he could move again, he made his way blindly to his quarters and sat
down.  There were two messages on his console.
One from Uhura, and the other from Ambassador Salkek.
Fucking awesome.   He stared at the little blinking light that signified
Uhura‘s message had been waiting for him for a long time.  He
hadn’t even thought of Uhura. There hadn’t been much thought at
all. She and Spock had kept their relationship quiet enough that Jim really
hadn’t thought about it, other than to tone down the endless flirting,
pretty sure that Spock wouldn’t appreciate the running joke they had
between them.
 Now though… his eyes shut. He was suddenly exhausted. 
Really, he couldn’t have fucked things up more if he had written out a
script beforehand.  He looked at the message from the Ambassador, briefly
wondering if he could get away with ignoring her. Coward. He pushed the button
sharply, as though to punish himself.
‘Captain. I would like to discuss something with you off the record.
When you’re ready, no rush or anything. I’m glad Spock was able
to find you. He was really worried. Oh and attached is the paperwork for that
Karidian woman. I don’t suppose you’d believe she slipped and
fell into my fist?’
Jim blinked. He had no idea what she was talking about. He scrubbed his hand
over his face quickly, wincing when he realized that he could smell Spock on
him. He pulled up the other message.
“Captain Kirk. In the past five days since your departure from New
Vulcan, my counterpart has sent me no fewer than three missives regarding the
possibility of residual effects of breaking a bonding between mates. I wanted
to offer my services if you have any further questions regarding this matter. I
am sure that you do, old friend. Please feel free to contact me at any time
should you wish it.” The on-screen older Spock saluted him. “Live
long and prosper… Jim.”
Jim didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or burst into tears.  He
could just imagine that conversation.  Yeah so we might have bonded for
real. Or again, or whatever. After Spock saved my ass from my own
stupidity,again, I thank him by raping him. Spock didn’t do casual
touches. Jim hadn’t let him stop. He remembered at once the look of
utter shock on Spock’s usually unemotional face, and the brief selfish
feeling of wanting to see what else he could make Spock reveal with his
mouth.  His touch.
He had told him not to move.
Jim jumped up from the chair and made it to the fresher just in time, sliding a
little on his knees before vomiting into the toilet, heaving so hard that the
little spots behind his eyes sharpened with a bright burst of light before
fading.
Well, Jimmy. You’ve despoiled a few virgins in your time. Actually in
another time too if you what Spock showed you in that meld was true, ha-ha.
Looks like you have another notch to ...
“Oh,stop.” Jim whispered the words, uncaring that he now seemed
to be having a conversation with himself.  But the thought wouldn’t
go away. Spock hadn’t just been surprised at the fact it was a man who
was touching him.  He had obviously never hadanyone touch him like that
before. Jim had an irrational spurt of anger at Uhura, which made him hate
himself more.
He wiped his mouth with a towel and stripped, stepping into the shower. He
waited for a moment with his head against the cool surface before turning on
the hot blast of water.
It hadn’t taken him long to realize that the little smile on Yeoman
Karidian’s face was horribly wrong.  He had been so smug, so
pleased with himself at being off the ship and in the company of a beautiful
woman, that he hadn’t even realized what he was drinking until the first
punch of dazed want hit him in the gut. When he was a kid coming back from the
diplomatic clusterfuck that was Tarsus IV, it had taken him a long time to want
to be around people again. He had been so proud of himself for not freaking out
that he had ignored his good sense. Karidian’s smile had suddenly seemed
less seductive and more like a shark who knew where the tasty school was
hiding. Then she had started talking about her father, and the little,
screaming voice in his head has started to really worry him.  He had even
started to get up to leave and find something else, when the world had titled
crazily and he had stumbled onto the table.
He had woken up to humming. And heat. His body had felt like it was on fire,
the skin too small. His eyes were closed, and the slightly off-tune humming was
familiar. His heart had started to pound, and it was a fight to keep his body
from tensing up.  The feeling of wrongwrongwrong was stealing his breath.
The light stroke continued, from his collarbone down over his hip, his groin,
and down his legs. He remembered the same pseudo-soothing touch along his body
while he had been chained- right before he’d been whipped, or bitten, or
hurt in other ways.
“Jimmy. I know that you’re awake.” The hand moved up his
body and stroked his cheek.
Jim had squeezed his eyes shut; a child who believes the monster isn’t
really real if only he can’t see it. 
The bed had dipped and he felt a whisper of sound near his ear. “You
made me so angry last time we were together. So defiant. So… hateful.
I’m afraid I let my temper get a hold of me.” A sweet, chaste
kiss on his cheekbone next to his eye.
That’s when Jim had panicked and reached, anguished and terrified, sick
at the way his body was responding to the slow, caressing touches.
And realized that Spock was close. Looking for him. There had been an almost
physical click and something in his head snapped together like the last two
pieces of a puzzle.
That had given him the strength to open his eyes. To engage Kodos so that he
didn’t notice Spock when he found Jim.  It didn’t matter
what he did. Spock was coming.
And then the door to the room had slammed open, Spock standing there coldly
pale except for the   olive tint  high on his sharp cheekbones,
eyes narrowed on Jim’s tied-up form.
That was the last thing that Jim clearly remembered before the drug in his
system took over all rational thought.
 
________________________________________________________

The bite mark on his shoulder stung.
Jim shook his head a little, not sure how long he had been standing there in
the hot water. He was ashamed at how his body had responded again while he
remembered.  He started to touch himself, but the memory of the disgust
Spock felt as he rolled off the bed hit him all at once, and he jerked his hand
away, ashamed.
There was so much steam in the room that he couldn’t see outside of the
glass door of the fresher. He blinked as water ran into his eyes and reached
for the shampoo and soap. His mother had always laughed at him for his
insistence on using what she called ‘an old fashioned beauty
regimen’ but Jim actually preferred it when he could. Water
wasn’t in that short of supply, and if he wanted to take a long, hot
shower, then damnit he was the captain and would.
Well, not that he would be the captain for much longer.
He took a shaky breath and squared his shoulders, washing the shampoo out of
his hair. Enough dicking around.  He needed to talk to Uhura, and send a
message to the Ambassador. Then he needed to talk to Karidian. He also had to
find Erica and Kev. Jim’s pulse skyrocketed as he remembered his orders.
God, how could he have forgotten them, even for a moment? Most of all, he
needed to talk to Spock. His apology might not mean much, but Jim was desperate
to give it to him. He would…
There was a whistle of sound at the bathroom door. From Spock’s side of
the bathroom door.
Jim thought his knees were going to collapse.
The whistle sounded again, even more insistent. If a door chime could be
insistent. Okay, so maybe Jim was projecting. He shut off the water, proud that
his hand was only shaking a little. He reached for a towel and wrapped it
around his waist, stepping out of the shower.
“Enter.”
The door swished open and Spock was there, looking his usual implacable
self.  They stared at each other for a moment and then spoke at the same
time.
“Your shower of twenty-seven point five minutes would seem to indicate
you are unwell.”
“Spock. I… I don’t even know where to start, but I need to
say this…”
Spock held up his hand and gave a small shake of his head. “The fault
was not yours. You had no control over your actions. Please do not concern
yourself over semantics.”
Semantics?!Jim almost dropped the towel. 
“We have much to discuss. My ship’s duties are in effect until
the end of the beta shift. Will you be available then to speak?”
“I. Yes. Of course, Spock.” Jim reached out to him without
thinking. When Spock flinched away from him, Jim felt his heart give a tiny
flutter. Well what did you expect? Idiot.“I am so fuckingsorry,
Spock.” His voice broke, the steam from the shower swirling around him
in the draft from the open door, causing him to shiver a little.
“There is no reason to be sorry.” Spock hesitated at the door.
“Captain, I deeply regret my own actions. I acted illogically and those
actions culminated in the… events that followed. We do have much to
discuss.”  Spock looked back at Jim as he repeated the last
sentence. He kept his gaze on Jim’s chest, unable or unwilling to look
him in the eyes. Jim could see that he wasbothered, despite his words; Spock
fairly twitched in place as his desire to leave fought against his desire to
speak.
Jim also turned to walk out into his own room, to spare Spock being put into an
uncomfortable position again.  He was so confused. Spock hadn’t
even mentioned the bond. Was it even a bond? Did it really mean what Jim had
been told or guessed from his xenocultural studies?  He took a deep breath
and slung the towel over on his bed.  He walked to his closet and got
dressed, avoiding the Starfleet uniform, and instead finding a pair of jeans
and one of the black undershirts that went under his gold shirt.  They
were comfortable as hell. It was the actual command shirt that seemed to be a
blend of every itchy fabric in the galaxy. He found some boots and quickly
dried his hair. 
“Kirk to Lieutenant Uhura.”
“Uhura, here Captain. Glad to have you back.  We were a little
worried about you.”
Jim blinked.
“Captain? I’m in my quarters. I can’t believe I’m
saying this, but your place or mine? I don’t think what I have to say
would do either of us any good if it were overheard.”
Well, lovely. That sounded a lot like: ‘I know what you’ve been
up to and I don’t want witnesses to your grisly death.’ 
“Sure. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Jim left his quarters and made his way to Uhura’s. They weren’t
too far away from his. He was too preoccupied to do much more than smile and
nod to the passing crew members he saw on his way, before announcing his
presence.  The doorswooshed open and he stepped inside, feeling more than
a little out of his depth. 
He wanted to look around and simultaneously look at the floor so as to not make
eye contact. Her room was decorated in various shades of blue and purple. 
Jim could see some sort of musical instrument in the corner, and what looked
like several different types of statues collected on a shelf near her
bed.  His eyes  quickly darted away from her bed. Shame warred with
nausea in his stomach. Their friendship was so tentative that when he broke it
Jim was pretty sure that it would never be a way to fix it again. He gave
himself the mental equivalent of a slap on the face and looked up, smiling at
Uhura as she typed in something on her console.
“Hello, Captain.”
“Uhura.”
She gestured to the table and Jim made his way over there, sitting down. 
Uhura looked a little nervous.
Which was just all flavors of weird.
“Thanks for meeting me. I was guessing that you haven’t heard
yet. About my conduct unbecoming.” She spun in her chair and looked
directly at him, although Jim noticed that she was playing with the end of her
ponytail.
Jim blinked. “Your conduct? No, Spock didn’t … ah, get a
chance to fill me in. What did you do?”
She sat down, playing with the tablecloth. “The thing is, sir?
I’m not really sorry for punching her.”
“You punched someone?”  Jim thought for a moment that maybe
he was still lost in his head somewhere, dreaming.
“Yeah, I was afraid Spock was going to kill her. He was sort of...
growling, and she was nuttier than a Christmas fruitcake with all her taunts. I
mean who taunts a Vulcan? … And, well, I had time to think, ‘this
chick needs to shut it’ before wham! My fist sort of found her face.
Hard.” She showed him her first two knuckles which were faintly bruised.
She grimaced at them and tried something approximating a smile towards Jim.
Jim’s brain had stalled at the idea of Spock growling, and it took him a
minute to catch up with the rest of the conversation. Clearly, from his
reaction some of that drug must still be in his system.  He shifted in his
seat, more uncomfortable than ever. “O..kay. So you put the smackdown
on... whom exactly?”
“That crazy bitch. Karidian.”
A flood of memories hit him at her mention of that name. Karidian’s
smile as she flirted with him in the dingy bar. The look she gave her father as
she handed him over to Kodos. The way she had been there, watching when he woke
up. How tightly she had tied his gag.  Jim shook his head, aware that he
was starting to sweat.  “You knocked her out?” Was his voice
breathier than normal? He could feel his heart start to beat faster. His mouth
seemed extremely dry.
“Yeah. One punch.”
“That is... the sexiest thing I ever heard. I should put a commendation
in your file.” Trying to sound like ‘Jim Kirk’ when he was
feeling the beginning stirrings of another panic attack was rather ironic, he
thought.
It was Uhura’s turn to blink.
Jim swallowed his dry throat. “Okay, so Karidian is on my ship? In the
brig, I presume?”
“Yes. I made sure of it when Spock hightailed it out of there. He was
really worried about you, Captain. Are you okay? You’re sweating a
little.”
“I’m fine. I think with the circumstances your exploration
of… differences between a subordinate and yourself can be overlooked. It
sounds like I have a lot to thank you for.” I really wish you’d
call me Jim.” He took a deep breath, and another, forcing the fluttery
burst of panic back into the dark place it lived. He did not have time for this
now.
“Keep wishing. And don’t thank me. Spock was the other thing I
wanted to talk to you about.”
Jim winced. “Ah. Well, anything you’d like to tell me I would be
happy to hear.”
Uhura snorted and stood up, crossing to the replicator and ordering some food.
“Well, I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to
say. Do you want something to eat? You look a bit pale.”
That was the understatement of the century. Surely it couldn’t be a good
sign if she was stalling. “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”
He ignored her concern about his health.
He watched as she programmed her choice. It wasn’t that he was checking
her out, exactly. He’d pretty much gotten that out of his system once
she had made it clear that she was with Spock. He had a moment of complete
cowardliness. Spock had said that there was nothing to apologize for. Maybe he
was planning on telling her what he’d done so that Jim wouldn’t
have to? That did seem like him; he’d been really protective of him
since finding him on that ship. Jim sighed. Surely he could quit being such a
girl and spare Spock at least that.
Jim was interrupted from his inner thoughts, smiling a little when Uhura turned
around and he saw the two club sandwiches on a plate in one hand, and what
looked like two brown bottles in the other. He wasn’t really hungry, but
she looked so proud of herself.
“Crispy. Bacon.” She said this in the tones of someone who had
just discovered an entire new world. “Scotty figured out how to get the
replicator to give you specifics.”
“Never underestimate the focus of a Scotsman and his pursuit of sandwich
nirvana. What’s in the bottle?”
“Taste it.”
Jim raised an eyebrow (not nearly as high or as impressively as Spock could,
but in his mind it looked much more debonair) and tried a small sip.
“Root beer? Wow, I’m coming over for dinner more often!”
He took a large gulp, loving the taste as it bubbled in his mouth.
Uhura chose that exact moment to speak. “I think Spock has bonded with
you.”
Jim chocked on the root beer. The bubbles were not nearly as tasty when they
came back up through his nose. What the fuck, could people ever talk about
bonding when he wasn’t drinking something? He glared at her, the effect
somewhat ruined by his face, covered in the sweet drink and bright red from
coughing.
She was talking quickly as though she wasn’t sure that she could get all
the words out. “He keeps talking of this ‘residual’ bond,
and that doesn’t make any sense. He said he could sense you, and you
could sense him. I don’t know what caused it, but those things
don’t just go away. I know you probably know nothing about what a Vulcan
bond means, so I thought that I would try to give you a crash course.”
“Wait, you want to help me to bond with your boyfriend? Uhura you have
no idea how despicable that thought even is; no idea what I’ve done to
him. Believe me he wants nothing to do with me.”
He watched Uhura's eyes narrow at the word 'despicable'. Uhura deliberately
finished her little triangle of sandwich and wiped her mouth and held up one
finger.  “One. He hasn’t been my boyfriend for months now.
But he is my friend and the two of you seem to be complete idiots about getting
anything sorted out between the two of you. Obviously you need help. Lots of
help. Two. I can imagine what you’ve done to him. You were on shore
leave. You didn’t have any way of knowing that he could feel it when you
have sex with someone. You are bonded. That doesn’t go away, and
whatever denial land Spock was living in it probably didn’t shield him
from it. So, yeah you might think you've done something 'despicable', but he
will understand." She smiled a little. "He's pretty logical that way.  And
three.” She took a sip of root beer and then cocked her head so that her
brown eyes met Jim’s wide blue ones. “He’s wanted
something with you for a long time.”
Jim just sat there, staring, not sure what part of her speech to process
first.  He absently took another sip of root beer. “How does
everyone know about this bonding deal but me? Did I miss out on some sort of
extra-credit class at the Academy?”
“Um, not exactly. I asked his mother.”
Jim realized he was sitting there with his mouth open. He shut it with a small
‘pop’ of sound. ‘You really do go after something
directly, don’t you.” 
Uhura blushed. “Spock had the same reaction when I told him.  But
Amanda was very helpful. I mean, she was the first Human to ever marry a
Vulcan! She’s definitely the expert on the subject. Her vids were
actually kind of hilarious. She explained to me about the history and customs
and… well. I think I can help you if you want me to.”
“Uhura are you trying to set me up with Spock?”  Jim wanted
to be clear on this subject.
Uhura laughed. “Captain, you’ve bonded to the only Vulcan-Human
hybrid in existence. Trust me; you’re already ‘set up’
with him. I’m just trying to help so that you don’t kill each
other.”
“And that’s not weird for you?”
She looked away from him and down at the table. “It… maybe. I
don’t love him like that anymore. But I don’t want him
hurt.” Her eyes were piercing as they caught his. “I know you,
Jim Kirk. Without my help, you will do something stupid.”
His stomach clenched. “You’re acting like we’re in love
with each other or something. We’re not. Yeah, maybe we have this bond
thing, and maybe we don’t. I can’t feel him right now, anyway so
it hardly matters.”  He stood up, hand clutching the root beer hard
enough that his knuckles were white. It was too late. He had already done
something stupid; something beyond shitty and… he had to get out of
there. Now before he started crying or something other pathetic thing.
“Look, thanks for the lunch. I have to go.”
“Wait a minute…at least let me send you some stuff. Will you
promise to read it at least?”
Jim nodded, set down the bottle and left feeling every inch the coward he was
as he scurried back to his quarters, unable to face her for a single moment
more.
He staggered against his desk, holding onto it for dear life as he felt his
chest start to close.  His stomach wasn’t happy with the choice of
food, and for the second time in as many hours he just barely made it to the
toilet before getting sick. He grabbed his towel from his earlier shower and
wiped his mouth, not wanting to move too much from the floor. He sat there a
moment, breathing slowly, trying to get his body back under control. 
When he was smaller, the panic attacks had been much worse. In school, when he
had been about sixteen, one of the counselors had taken him aside and shown him
how to slow his breathing, center himself, becoming hyper aware of every breath
that he took, every heartbeat, every pulse of blood in his system.  It
helped to remind him of who he was and that had kept the panic attacks away.
That trick worked now, but did nothing for his mental state which fairly
whirled around; thoughts beating against one another. He’d thought that
meeting with Uhura would be bad because of her reaction to what he had done.
And he hadn’t even had the courage to explain the specifics. What she
had told him had only confirmed what he knew: that what he had done was
unforgivable.
Only Spock didn’t seem too worried about it.

He acted as though he had been at fault and not Jim.  For the first time,
Jim allowed himself to think about what they would talk about when Spock got
off of his shift in few hours. Spock had seemed jumpy. Well, for Spock anyway.
And how horrible was this whole situation for him, anyway? Being bound to
someone who had hurt you? Who would probably hurt you again? Uhura had been
right. He would fuck this up; hell, he had fucked it up already.  During
their tentative friendship, Jim had very carefully tried to keep his more
lascivious thoughts away from his First Officer. True, he hadn't had all that
many, but occasionally the low light in his quarters would show his cheekbones
just so, or he would say something in that prissy way he had that would crack
Jim up, and he would think, 'if only'....

But Spock had Uhura, Spock wasn’t into men, and he for damn sure
wouldn’t be unprofessional enough to take sport in a little off-hours
fooling around with his captain.
Because everyone knew that Jim didn’t do commitment.
And everyone knew that Spock didn’t do casual.
So how must it be for Spock to know that he was tied to Jim…permanently?
And, even more horrifying, to know that it was a mistake. A stupid mistake made
with consequences that were so far-reaching that he’d be feeling them
for the rest of his life.
Jim rubbed his forehead. Getting sick had given him a headache. Plus, he was
exhausted. He got up from the bathroom and washed his face and hands, brushing
his teeth and tossing the towel in the laundry.
He looked at the chronometer.
Maybe he had time to contact the older Spock? If there was any way to break
this thing, it would be great to at least have some good news for his Spock
when they met later.
There was a beep from his console as he thought of it, and he crossed to his
chair and sat down, entering his personal code for his messages. A message from
Uhura: ‘Vulcans for Dummies’. Cute.He scanned through it,
noticing with very little surprise that it was extremely well-organized and
well-written. It wasn’t very long, detailing the specifics of much of
the history of Vulcan before Surak.  There was some information that had
been written by Amanda Grayson- mostly little anecdotes about Spock as a child,
no different from what any mother would share. It was very clear how much she
loved her son. He made a mental note to give Spock a copy of the transmissions.
 Jim stared at that for several moments. He had tried to apologize to
Spock when they were on their little jaunt in his mind, but really there was no
way to take back the horrible things he had said. Jim swallowed hard, his dry
throat making a little clicking sound, a phantom remembrance of Spock's hands
around his throat.   He read on.
There was some mention of Vulcan anatomy being fairly close to Human anatomy
(Jim actually blushed when he remembered how close), but different enough that
Spock had been the first of the hybrid created.  There were a couple of
mentions of sensitive areas: the hands and ears were apparently quite
responsive, which explained why Spock had been appalled at him trying to reach
out and grab his hand when in his quarters a few days ago. 
There was an entire section on bonds, and bonding, but nothing that he
didn’t already know except that it was based on compatibility. Jim
pursed his lips as he read the last part over again. The strength of a
Vulcan’s bond with his or her bondmate was almost completely dependent
on how attuned the two were.  Jim winced.  In respects to the
Enterprise, they were a well-oiled machine. They complimented each
other’s idiosyncrasies almost perfectly. Spock was there to keep Jim
from flying off the handle as he settled into the rigors of command. Jim liked
to think that he helped Spock learn how to accept some of his own humanity.
They seemed pretty damn compatible.
He sighed, logged off and sent a quick thank-you to Uhura for taking the time
to send him the information. Then he used the code Ambassador
‘Salkek’ had given him when he wanted to contact the Vulcan
across space. It took a few minutes to connect through all the subspace
frequencies, and Jim pressed his fingers to his temples to try to stave off the
headache he felt pounding behind his temples.
“Jim. I trust that you are well.”
Spock’s rich voice filled the room, causing Jim to smile as he opened
his eyes. “I wouldn’t say ‘well’ exactly, old
friend.”  Again, Jim couldn’t explain why he felt so at ease
with this man, when he was usually at such odds with his younger self.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Were there complications from your time here
on New Vulcan?”
Jim had the horrible urge to laugh outright. “You could say---“he
trailed off as something occurred to him. It clicked into place with the
certainty of  the ship sliding into a spacedock. Spock was an experton
Vulcan minds and the bonds they shared with their bondmates.  There was no
way that he would have a made a mistake when breaking a bond. Spock had alluded
to the fact that his counterpart did not make mistakes when it came to this
particular subject.
Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Why you sneaky son of a bitch.”
Spock’s lower lip twitched in a way that Jim took to understand that he
found his statement hellaciously amusing. “I assure you that my mother
was not a member of the canine family.”
Jim leaned forward, eyes narrowing even further as he put it together.
“You didn’t break the bond! What, did you hide it somehow? That
would explain that whole ‘residual effect’ thing. Spock thought
it was broken when in fact you had just done some sort mind trick.” His
voice lowered as he stared at the viewscreen, not really seeing the man who was
sitting there, the ghost of amusement still on his face.
“So why can’t I feel him now? Why was I able to…”
He squeezed his eyes shut as he once again remembered the wild look on
Spock’s face as Jim had looked up the length of his body before
swallowing him back down.  “Why would you do that?” The
question came out in a whisper.
Spock’s expression turned slightly smug. The slight emotional tells were
never overt, but just imperceptible enough to suggest what Spock was actually
feeling. Jim still found the differences between the two Spocks fascinating. He
couldn't help but compare the two.
“The bond was there, formed by my counterpart at a time when you
were… compromised. It would have been illogical to sever such a
connection at a time when you both were in need of its comforts. Your
timeline’s Kodos’ actions had scarred your psyche, Jim. My
younger self acted quickly, and perhaps foolishly, but kept you from
splintering apart. What is the logic in doing away with something that has the
potential to bring both of you such joy?”
Jim wasn’t sure what expression his own face was showing, but Spock
frowned at him.  “Explain what you mean by the fact that you
‘can’t feel him’ now.”
Jim jumped up, anger burning deep inside him.  “What do you
mean,explain? You manipulative old bastard, you should have just broken it when
he asked you to! Now I’ve done… I …” Jim ran his
fingers through his hair, frustrated. “I hurt him! Me. He was so
disgusted by the thought of being with me that he actually… fucking
dammit!”
Jim was leaning forward when he heard the other Spock’s calm,
“Please explain your statement. You should be able to feel your
bondma—“, and he cut off the connection with a particularly sharp
punch of keys.
Oh fuck. This was so beyond fucked up.
He sat down again, holding his head in his hands. His headache was worse. It
felt like he could feel the pounding in his back teeth. Jim was a little leery
of going to see Bones before he had a chance to explain what happened. The
headache was bad, sure but the feeling of him jamming hypospray right into his
neck was much worse. Especially after the last thing Bones had had to say to
him, he wasn't interested in any deep conversations with his best friend.
He went to the replicator and ordered himself a coffee. It appeared in a blue
mug, and he held it gratefully, the heat seeping into his hands.  Enough.
He couldn’t think about this anymore.  He was still on leave for
another day and a half, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t
start accomplishing some of the things he had left to do. 
He quickly pulled up the file for Kevin Riley and found where he was staying on
the planet.
“Hey, Jimmy!”
Jim had to smile. “Still up for that dinner?”
“Ooh, Captain. It sounds like you’re asking our boy on a date,
here.”  The sultry voice sent his eyebrows up to the top of his
head.  Kevin’s face turned quite red.
“Erica?!”
The sound of smoky feminine laughter and she leaned into view of the small
viewscreen. She was beautiful. Tall, with deep black hair and smiling hazel
eyes. Her body had the willowy, supple grace of a dancer.
Kevin’s grin was sheepish. “I told you we saw each other a lot.
Um. I actually just… asked her to marry me.”
Jim’s eyes widened. “That’s the best news I’ve
heard all day!” It was. “How about this. Maybe you two can have a
little honeymoon, courtesy of the USS Enterprise. The thing is, we need to
talk. Even if it’s only for a day or so, I’d like you two where I
can see you.”
“Jimmy, Starfleet was exceptionally vague about what has been going on.
Can you tell us?” Kevin gasped. He darted a glance at his fiancé.
The muffled giggle drew Jim’s attention to the fact that he
couldn’t see Erica’s hands. His lips twitched. The look on her
face was the blandest of innocence, but the look in her eyes was positively
wicked.
“Maybe that should wait until I can tell you in person.”
“Ohhh, ah. I mean, yeah. Maybe.” Kevin’s voice was
slightly hoarse. Jim had to bite his cheek.
“Look, I have your coordinates. I’ll just have a security team
beam down there and escort you back to the ship when you’re ready. I
don’t want to lose track of you now that I’ve found you again. We
had tried to reach Erica before your shuttle landed and hadn’t had much
luck.” Jim realized that neither of them were listening to him. 
Ah. “So, have fun. And I’ll see you in a couple hours.”
Erica spared an impish look at the screen, then she disappeared out of view
altogether. Jim had just a second to see Kevin’s eyes practically bug
out of his face, which was turning a very interesting shade of red, before he
cut off the communication. Jim contacted security and sat back in his chair
feeling slightly better about life in general. Those two had been so cute. The
idea of Kodos getting his hands on either one of them filled him with a spurt
of anger so strong it caused him to wince.
He sighed, looking over at his bed.  He still had to meet with Spock and
Karidian in a few hours. He had just enough time to take a nap. His body craved
rest. Jim sipped his coffee, yawned and made his way over to his bed. It
didn’t take him long before he was out, the echo of Erica’s
giggles making him smile faintly into his pillow.
When the turbolift doors whooshed open on the nearly silent Bridge, Spock
acknowledged his own feeling of relief.  He had arranged for two humans of
Jim’s acquaintance to beam aboard the ship, and had spent a good bit of
his time composing his own notes to Starfleet. He could testify that Kodos had
kidnapped Jim for the second time, but had hesitated for sending the missive,
unwilling to discuss what had happened after he had made the split-second
decision to go to Jim instead of to Kodos.
 
He had found himself unable to cease thinking of Jim. Doing so brought forth
some highly inappropriate reactions while sitting in the command chair, so
Spock had spent a good portion of his shift seated at his science station,
working diligently, glad that Nyota was not on duty to comment on the very tips
of his ears being slightly green-tinged.
 
. When they had first beamed back to the ship, and Jim had been still covered
in sweat and smelling of him, he had not liked the covetous glances the
transporter tech had sent under her eyelashes. Spock like the dark spike of
jealousy and possessiveness he felt with Jim. Neither of those emotions were
particularly logical. He remembered very clearly a conversation with his mother
when he was younger after he had been baffled by some of the things that he was
feeling, and shamed that he was feeling them.  She had taken him aside;
her soft hands startlingly cool on his face, and had explained that feeling
emotion was not a sign of weakness. Spock still felt guilty over his
transgressions. That wasn’t particularly admirable either.
 
While theEnterprise had orbited around Wrigley, he had had quite a few hours to
think while working at his science station.  He had seemingly made mistake
after mistake with his human. It was quite disheartening to realize that he was
fallible. It seemed like such a juvenile mistake to make; how did a Vulcannot
realize that he was bonded? However, once he had the time to sit and think
about it, there was a flood of knowledge that came to him on the subject. Given
the absolute dearth of response from his older counterpart, it had been quite
obvious what had occurred.  He could recognize his own thought patterns
and detect that the other version of himself had implanted knowledge on bonding
as well as his hypothesis of what had occurred. Spock was saddened that even
after proving himself over and over in his earlier studies on Vulcan; his
elders had not valued his contributions enough to educate him on the most
simple basic matter of bonding. His own father had shown him what to look for,
and had explained the particulars, but had clearly assumed that he had been
trained in the Vulcan manner.
 
Prejudice in any form was completely illogical. So was hypocrisy. He had been
astounded to attribute either Human emotion to his Vulcan teachers.
 
Still, he had not known that he didn’t have all the facts. It had never
occurred to him that he would be able to bond with anyone. Certainly, it had
not occurred with Nyota. When he thought about it, which wasn’t too
often, he had simply assumed that his humanity would keep him from that last
bit of his Vulcan heritage.  Truly, after hearing the accounts of all the
severed bonds after his planet was destroyed, he had thought himself fortunate
for his human half.
 
That his counterpart had acted against his own wishes was… well. In a
way it was as though Spock himself had done it. His initial reaction had been
anger that his other self would be so presumptuous. Spock had made it very
clear that he wanted the bond broken. That, Jim wanted the bond broken.
Only… Jim was the one that seemed to accept the ‘residual’
effects with no trouble, once he had gotten over his initial shock. It had been
Spock who had stubbornly refused to see what was right there in front of him.
 
He saw Mr. Scott enter through the turbolift, and realized that his shift was
up. The engineer was looking rather pale. He sat down gingerly at the command
chair, nodding over at Spock. “Hello, Commander. You’re
relived.”
 
Spock nodded back, and rose to walk across the bridge. It was quiet, the
skeleton crew taking over for those who had served on Spock’s shift
looking hyper aware and ready to work.
 
Duty completed, he made his way to his quarters where he compiled the very
brief command shift report, then stripped and stepped in the fresher.  He
had not had a chance to do so earlier, having dropped into meditation almost
immediately after he returned to the ship. His fastidious nature had been
appalled that he could still smell Jim’s scent, but doing so calmed
something primitive in his soul.  That certainlyhadn’t helped him
control his body’s responses as he remembered various sensations from
Jim and his physical encounters with him.
 
When he had intruded on Jim’s shower he had been completely unprepared
for the pure lust that had practically curled his toes at seeing his bondmate
wrapped in only a towel, beads of water running slowly down his skin.  He
might have admitted to himself that Jim was one of the most aesthetically
pleasing humans he had ever seen, but having all of that muscle and sinew
within touching distance had had an effect on his resolution to stay away from
Jim.
 
Spock had been quite distressed by his own reaction; equally wanting to step
forward and pull Jim to him and run away from him again. He had been so ashamed
at the memory of his behavior- against his bondmate!- that Spock had been
floored by the knowledge that Jim thought that he was somehow in the wrong. He
could clearly feel the slight sliver of anguish that the thought caused his
bondmate, and had responded in the most cowardly way imaginable- by reinforcing
his shields so that he wouldn’t overwhelm him with another surge of pure
want.
 
Spock quickly cleaned his body, preferring the sonics to getting wet. He had
promised to meet with Jim after his shift, and he did not intend to be tardy.
He had so much to try to explain, and to hopefully apologize for.
 
When he had finished, he crossed quickly to his closet and dressed in another
uniform. He knew his hair was still slightly damp, but he did not want to be
apart from Jim any more than he had to. 
 
Which is why it was quite a surprise when the man didn’t answer his
door.
 
Spock’s eyebrow twitched. He hit the chime again, and waited patiently.
There was no response.
 
“Sir?”
 
Spock looked around, spotting a rather bubbly looking ensign clutching a PADD
to her chest and looking at him eagerly, as though she desperately wanted to
help him. “Yes, Ensign?”
 
“If you’re looking for the Captain, he went into Lieutenant
Uhura’s quarters earlier. Perhaps he is still there.”
 
Spock nodded, refusing to admit to himself that keeping his face impassive had
taken an effort.  The proclivities of such a closely knitted group of
people included gossip, but he had never before been so unhappy to hear it. He
waited until the corridor was clear before crossing to the wall console and
calling up Jim’s location.  The computer showed him in his
quarters. Spock wasn’t sure if that knowledge made him feel better or
worse.
 
He could not override the Captain’s own quarters’ entrance code
without having to make several explanations, but he did have another way to
enter without causing so many questions. Spock went back into his room, trying
to not feel so desperately jealous. Jim had been forced into bonding. He was
free to spend his time with whomever he wanted. He—Spock took a deep
breath and told himself to cease acting so illogically. There were at least
forty-three different, completely innocuous reasons that Jim would go to
Nyota’s quarters. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and
crossed into Jim’s quarters via their shared bathroom.
 
The lights in the room were dim. Spock could clearly see Jim’s huddled
form on his bed, sprawled across the mattress on his stomach.  Spock moved
silently over the carpet, crossing to the bed. He debated for a moment before
kneeling on the floor beside the sleeping man. He couldn’t explain why
he felt it necessary to look at Jim from such a close proximity, only that he
wished to do so.
 
Jim’s face was slack in sleep, and Spock found his lips twitch in a
minute smile to see that there was a small line of saliva that had pooled on
the sheet near his mouth.  Jim made a small discontented sound in his
sleep, and Spock reached out to touch his brow as a reflex, stroking the cool
skin with two fingers, smoothing out the furrowed forehead. He caught vague
impressions of dreams, but nothing tangible.  The slight touch caused his
own shields to shiver with awareness. Spock felt it inappropriate to remain
shielded against his bondmate, but overwhelming the Human with Spock’s
confusion at this time would also cause more damage to their already frayed
relationship.
 
Jim’s eyes opened slowly, and the sleepy smile he gave Spock caused his
breath to catch in his chest. Jim’s expression changed abruptly and he
almost recoiled from the edge of the bed.
 
Spock stood, shutting his eyes for a moment at his own inadequacies.
“Jim. I am sorry to have awoken you. If you would like me to come back
at a later time I will be happy to do so.”
 
The mattress shifted and squeaked as Jim sat up. Spock tried not to blush at
the inordinately intimate sound. He carefully took a step back, keeping his
gaze carefully off of Jim so as not to infringe on any more of his privacy.
 
“No, of course not. I guess I slept longer than I had thought. Lights,
standard.” Spock blinked in the sudden light, watching as Jim winced and
held his head.
 
“Are you unwell?”
 
“What?” Jim blinked at him a few times. Spock was quite aware
that Jim did not often wake up immediately at his best, and crossed to the
replicator to order their customary tea and coffee.
 
“Your head. You grabbed it and winced. Are you having an adverse
reaction to your time on the planet?”
 
There was a cough and Spock saw Jim rubbing his hands briskly over his face.
“No. I’m fine.”  Jim sat down in his customary chair
and nodded his thanks at the steaming, sweet mug of coffee. “I wish I
had a shot of bourbon to go with this. I have a feeling I’m going to
need it.”  Jim’s voice was raspy with sleep. Spock swallowed
once, hard.
 
“I too believe this conversation might benefit from some… liquid
courage.”
 
His dry tone, combined with his use of the colloquialism, caused Jim to smile,
which had been his intent. Spock sat down across from Jim, sipping his own tea.
 
“You said that you don’t get drunk from alcohol. Is there
anything that does make you little goofy?”
 
“I assure you, Jim, that Vulcans are never ‘goofy’. But to
answer your question, yes. There is something that affects me in a similar
way.”
 
Jim’s blue gaze settled on Spock’s, surprised, then amused.
“Really?”
 
“Indeed. I have not experimented fully, but alcohol does have a slight
effect on my physiology. It just takes larger quantities to get me…
inebriated. There is a more efficient way.”  He found himself
pleased at the rapt way Jim was staring at him.  He lowered his voice,
leaning in slightly. Jim mirrored his action without realizing it.
“Chocolate.”
 
Jim’s bark of laugh was also pleasing. Spock found that he had missed it
of late.
 
“You get buzzed on chocolate? Oh man, I would love to see that. I bet
you’re… ah.” Jim stopped speaking, hastily adopting a more
somber expression. “But you’re not here to talk about
that.”
 
“On the contrary. We can discuss anything you wish to discuss.”
 
Jim muttered something into his coffee. He set the mug down and moved his hands
to his lap. Spock could hear it as Jim nervously slid his palms against the
denim of his jeans.  He had no explanation for his illogical response to
the sound.
 
“Spock…” Jim trailed off.  “I don’t
quite know how to say this, exactly, without embarrassing you. But… I
need to.”
 
Spock nodded, trying not to tense. Clearly his bondmate truly felt he needed to
say what was on his mind, and Spock could not deny him. He owed him that much.
 
“I… I’m sorry. I know that isn’t enough, and if I
could change what I did to you I would.” Spock opened his mouth, but Jim
shook his head. “I need to get this out, okay? I know you weren’t
very experienced, and that you had never been intimate with a man before. If I
could change... I mean if I could make that different…”
 
“You were not at fault.”
 
“How can you say that? I wouldn’t let you stop! I ordered you
to…fuck!”
 
There was a beat of silence. “Technically, Jim you did not order me to
‘fuck’, just to stay still.”
 
Jim’s eyes grew huge.  His mouth dropped open covered it quickly
with both of his hands.  It seemed as though he was momentarily incapable
of speech- the sound that emerged was a cross between a particularly irate
c’hik and the mating call of a haurok.
 
Spock sighed slightly he stood up, moving around the table. His hand a blur of
motion, he reached out and grabbed Jim by the waist, bending and lifting him in
an instant. There was a startled squeak of sound. Spock held him up for a
moment, hardly even winded. “Jim. As you can see, I was more than
capable of stopping your advances if I truly wished to.” Jim’s
hands drifted from his mouth down to steady himself on Spock’s biceps,
looking down at him in shock.  Spock lowered him slowly, keeping several
inches between their bodies, not breaking eye contact.  “I did not
wish to.” He let go of Jim and moved out of his space, watching him
carefully to make sure Jim was not off balance. Indeed, he swayed in place for
a moment as his balance was restored.
 
“Oh.”
 
“Indeed. Our bond was not intended by either of us. Yet, I cannot
disparage something that allowed me to find you bothtimes you were taken
against your will. If anything, I wish that I had not acted on my own desires.
I find my own actions reprehensible in light of the fact that you could not
truly stop yourself. I still do not know how much of what occurred was the drug
that remained in your system and how much was the bond’s instance at
being consummated in some way.”
 
Jim rubbed his head again, absently. He reached out and took a drink of coffee.
 
“As to my lack of experience, I will endeavor to do more for your
enjoyment, should we ever elect to repeat the encounter.”
 
There was a startled cough and choking sound. Spock heard a muttered,
“Again? Really? …Never drinking again.” and hid a smile.
Shocking his human was such … fun sometimes.
 
“However, we do have several things that need our attention. I assume
you’ve seen the Yeoman?”
 
“Ahhh. No.” Jim had set down his coffee and walked a little away
from the table, stripping off his coffee-stained shirt.
 
It was Spock’s turn to look a little flustered as he observed the play
of muscle on Jim’s back.  Jim rummaged in his closet and grabbed a
full uniform, walking into their shared restroom to quickly change.
 
Spock found himself licking his lips. He shook his head, appalled at his
behavior.
 
“I was kind of hoping that we could interview her, together. You know,
maybe play good cop, bad cop?”
 
“Indeed.” Spock thought the whisper of fabric against skin in the
other room was inordinately loud once one calculated the distance. He gave his
head a small shake. He was not acting appropriately. Jim emerged, pulling the
gold shirt down over the black undertunic. Spock’s gaze drifted over the
clothes that Jim had dropped where he left them after changing. Jim followed
his gaze and picked up the jeans, tossing them on the bed, and putting the
stained shirt in his laundry basket. The look he gave Spock was quite easy to
decipher.
 
“Shall we?”
 
“Um. Yeah. I guess.”
 
Spock’s eyebrow rose. “By the lack of enthusiasm in the
inflection in your voice, I can only assume that you truly do not wish to speak
to her.”
 
“Yeah.  But it’s kind of my job.”
 
“Indisputably. However, your reluctance is perfectly logical. I am sure
that you are aware that two of your childhood friends are currently on the
ship. If you would like to perhaps discourse with them- to ‘catch
up’, I believe the correct term is—this would not be remiss. I
confess I find great satisfaction in Karidian remaining in the brig, awaiting
your decision.”
 
Jim turned to look at him, smiling faintly. “Yeah. Her cooling her heels
in there is nice. Now if we can only catch her dad.” 
 
Spock felt his features harden. “Indeed.”
 
They took the two steps necessary to cross to the door to Jim’s
quarters, shoulders brushing just slightly. Spock’s communicator beeped.
“Dr. McCoy to Commander Spock.”
 
“Yes, Doctor?”
 
“I need to see you for a few minutes if you could make the
time.”  Spock saw Jim raise his eyebrows, from which Spock surmised
that ‘when you could make the time’ truly meant
‘now’.  He raised an eyebrow at Jim, who shook his head,
shrugging slightly.
 
“Yes, Doctor. I will be there presently.”
 
“Fantastic. McCoy out.”
 
“It’s kind of nice to hear him take that tone with someone
else.” Jim smiled faintly.  “How about this. You go find out
what Bones wants, and I’ll go find something to eat. Maybe some caffeine
will get rid of this damn headache. I’ll catch up with you in a half an
hour.”
 
Spock nodded, and the two parted ways.
 
Sickbay was eerily empty. Usually on a ship this size, there were all manner of
medical issues that needed taken care of. Spock saw McCoy’s head pop out
of his office.
 
He did not trust the toothy, too-wide smile for an instant.
 
“Commander. So pleased you could make it. Please have a seat.”
 
Spock did, warily.
 
The Doctor’s smile turned, impossibly, even wider. Spock was reminded of
a Vulcan ikh’kom right before it eviscerated its prey.  He
remembered with sudden clarity each grievance committed against Jim’s
person… and how much time and effort this Human had invested in that
same person.
 
“When were you planning on telling me that you bonded with him, you
green-blooded son of a bitch?”
 
Spock had always despised that particular colorful phrase.
 
“I do not see how that is any of your business.” Spock managed to
keep his own emotion out of his voice, but it took effort.
 
“None of my business?!” McCoy stood up and started pacing around
the small office, hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. “It took four
hours of surgery to repair what that animal did to him! We found fucking
slivers of metal inside of him. Don’t even get me started on rebuilding
his wrists. It’s not bad enough that the worst thing out of Jim’s
nightmares comes back and breaks him, but in the middle of all of this he has
to deal with some sort of what? Mental rape?”
 
Spock went cold. Shock was the only thing that kept his hands from around the
Human’s throat.
 
“I didn’t even put it all together until I analyzed the readouts
on that fucking tricorder. The way his brain patterns changed. The way you two
can’t seem to help touching each other. Jim can’t even stand the
idea of me touching him anymore, did you know that? I’m his fucking
doctorand it’s my job, and every time I even get close to him he tenses
like I’m about to hurt him. Hurt him!”
 
Spock was reminded of the mental image of the two of them, writhing together in
the Academy dorm room. He gritted his teeth, trying not to hear the words
practically crafted to eat away at his control.
 
“Perhaps then, the fault is with your medical practices.”
 
McCoy whirled, fists clenched. He took a step towards Spock and then visibly
seemed to restrain himself.  He expelled the air in his chest with a burst
of air. “Shit. Shit.This isn’t how I wanted to do this.”
He brought his hands up to his temples in a way that reminded Spock starkly of
Jim. “Okay. You’re bonded. It’s just… Jim
doesn’t have anyone but me. I get… oh goddamn. I’m sorry,
Spock. Can you tell me exactly what that means? I need to…
understand.”
 
“A bond could never be anything like a rape. To telepathically share
that anguish would be…” Spock broke off, horrified by the
prospect of even the idea that someone would force that kind of connection on
another being. That McCoy could think him capable of forcing Jim.
 
McCoy winced.  “That was a poor choice of words.”
 
Perhaps the understatement of the century.
“But, I would appreciate. . .” McCoy stopped. He crossed back to
his desk and sat down. McCoy licked his lips and then forced himself to make
eye contact with him. Spock could clearly see that he felt remorse for his
angry words.
 
He didn’t particularly care.
 
“Spock. I need to understand this. I know I am probably the last person
you want to discuss this with at this point. Let me give you some of the facts.
Jim’s brain is human.  What records I could get my hands on were
completely null for anything worth reading on the subject, because your parents
are the only test subjects. Even someone of your physiological makeup, bonding
with a full human could have different effects, but frankly that’s the
best I could come up with.  I didn’t think you’d appreciate
me mucking about, trying to get Ambassador Serek’s information, so I was
hoping that you could enlighten me.”
 
Spock knew his eyebrow rose at the mention of Serek. He would like to see this
Human try to get private information from his father.
 
“Most humans are psi-null. There’s an occasional aberration
floating out there. Hell, my Gran had a damn uncanny knack for knowin’
when I was stealing her hootch. Whether that was just honed intuition or some
latent psychic ability I don’t know. But Jim… has always been
slightly abnormal in that way. Well, you probably know his mind better than I
could explain it.”
 
Spock gave a terse nod.
 
“This information is my best guess based on just how Jim has changed in
the past two weeks. And on your last physical, of course. It isn’t
hurting him…. I don’t think. I’d have to get him in here
to be sure. But that much telepathic activity slammed into a brain that
wasn’t designed for it…”
 
Spock was loathe to discuss his bondmate with this particular man. He and Dr.
McCoy had never been friends. He did not see that ever happening at this
juncture. Yet, his medical acuity was beyond reproach. If there was even the
slightest possibility… Spock’s lips twisted in a tiny frown.
 
“So, how is this going to affect his command? How will it affect yours?
Is it just a…”
 
“Security to Commander Spock It’s the Captain! Come to the brig
containment immediately!”
 
Spock was jumping up almost before the message had finished. He dimly heard the
doctor acknowledging the message as he ran out of the door and out of Sickbay.
He didn’t have time for the startled crew members who were trying to get
out of his way, gaping at the sight of a Vulcan sprinting down the corridor to
the turbolift. He heard McCoy cursing behind him, but keeping up with his pace.
They didn’t speak except for the clipped sound of Spock giving the deck
number for the brig.
 
TheEnterprise had not had much of a chance to use the facilities in the year
that it had been commissioned. To date, there had been two crew members sent
there to sleep off particularly inappropriate bouts of inebriation, but nothing
dire had come up since Karidian was sent there to await the Captain. Was it
possible that the containment shield had somehow malfunctioned? How could this
concern the captain? Why was Jim even there …without him?
 
The lift doors opened, and Spock and McCoy were running again almost before
they slid all the way open.  Spock had dropped his shields… and
almost stumbled when he realized that he could not feel Jim. Where Jim should
be was… a complete blank.
 
When the doors to the brig opened, they were met with a scene of utter chaos.
There was no logic to what he saw, and it took him a moment to actually process
the images in his head. Two humans sat in the corner, clutching each other. One
male, one female. The female was crying silently, large dark eyes streaming
with tears. She alternated between looking terrified at her companion’s
raw, oozing burn wounds and looking at the scene behind the containment
field.  One crewman in security reds was clearly dead. His body lay
slumped against the controls of the station, most of his body burnt away. The
smell of cooked flesh was cloying in the small room. Spock could feel his
stomach roll.
 
The scene inside the containment field was the most bizarre.  Jim knelt in
the center of the small room, situated so that he could see out of the cell.
His eyes were enormous in his pale face, hands trembling on his thighs. Spock
couldn’t tell if his bondmate was really seeing him or not.
 
Kodos stood behind him, pointing a phaser at his head. Karidian sat on the
bunk, swinging her legs back and forth like a child, grinning up at her father;
a child besotted.
McCoy cursed and went to the injured human. Spock hadn’t even noticed
that he had his medical case with him. He roughly pushed the woman out of the
way, working on the younger man with single-minded intensity.
 
Spock did not understand how he could have completely dropped his shields and
still could not feel Jim, separated from him by a mere thirteen feet of
space.  Kodos’ empty hand trailed over Jim’s hair, sifting
through it gently, tangling in the short strands and yanking sharply, baring
Jim’s throat.  Jim gasped Spock’s name, the sound strangely
loud in the quiet tableau.
 
Spock turned towards the console, noting without surprise that it had taken a
phaser blast to the main motherboard, melting wires and components together.
 
“You will not get to us that way.”  Kodos’ voice held
amusement, as though Spock were a particularly precocious child who had just
done something pleasing.  “I don’t believe we have been
properly introduced. I have seen you of course. And my darling daughter
described you in full detail.” He twisted a little, bending slightly to
kiss his daughter on the lips, pulling Jim’s head to an uncomfortable
angle.  His fingers scraped lovingly over the faint bruises there. Kodos
took a step closer to Jim, tugging him by the hair until he stood.
 
“What is it that you want?” Spock’s voice was tight with
fury. The very fact that he was there was completely illogical, yet
indisputable.
 
“Want? Well, isn’t that obvious?” Kodos chuckled, turning
Jim’s face and kissing him on the lips, as sweetly and chastely as he
had just kissed his daughter. Jim, in the process of standing up, flinched and
recoiled so hard that he would have fallen over had Kodos not had such a strong
grip on his hair.
 
Spock felt a shiver of their bond. Had he been alone, he would have succumbed
to the very human gesture of slapping himself in the forehead.  The reason
he couldn’t feel Jim was that his human had somehow managed to raise his
own shields against his bondmate. There was no time to feel anguish or remorse
that Jim would have felt it necessary to do such a thing to protect himself.
 
He heard McCoy ordering something behind him, and was dimly aware of others
taking the hurt boy and the dead body out of the small space. “Computer,
this is Commander Spock, First Officer of the Enterprise, S 179-276 SP. I
hereby relieve Captain James T. Kirk of command duty and take control of this
vessel.”
 
There was a dry chuckle from the brig.
 
Spock was completely astounded to hear Jim speak, voice reedy and on the verge
of panic. “Spock. Don’t open this cell.
Plea—“  A hand came down over Jim’s mouth muffling
the rest of his pleas.
 
His hand hovered on the override. “Commander Spock to Lieutenant Scott.
Report to the brig immediately.”
 
“Aye, sir.”
 
“Wise decision.” Kodos tossed the phaser to his daughter, and
leaned in to kiss Jim again, turning him so that Spock could see the possessive
hand on his back, performing.
 
Spock could hear his teeth grinding together as though the sound came to him
from some long tunnel. He took a step forward.
 
“Hmmm. I don’t think your Vulcan likes that much.”
 
“Don’t hurt him. Them. You promised.” Jim winced as Kodos
leaned in to bite his jaw line, under Jim’s ear.
 
“So I did.”  Kodos leaned in again. He looked over to his
daughter who was watching the two of them entranced. “Darling, if he
doesn’t respond to my advances, please shoot his friend there.”
 
Spock felt their bond shiver again. He silently urged Jim to break his shields,
knowing it was futile. So far Kodos just seemed intent on his performance. Jim
was not hurt. Physically.
 
Spock did not understand why Jim did not try to fight either of his captors.
Logically, he knew that Jim would be frightened by their presence, but his
order to not open the cell had been panicked, worried. Clearly there were other
things going on here of which he was not aware.
 
Kodos pulled Jim’s hair back, twisting his hand sharply. Jim cried out,
the sound causing Kodos’ breathing to quicken. Spock growled, low in his
throat, watching as Jim bit his lip, then submitted to Kodos’ mouth on
him, body tense, each muscle quivering as he suppressed his instinct to flee.
When he tentatively kissed Kodos back, Spock felt their connection give a
lurch, as though Jim’s shields had cracked.
 
“Sir?”  Mr. Scott’s voice was shocked, glance
flicking to the scene in the brig quickly before keeping his gaze
professionally on his superior officer.
“See what you can do to undo the damage here. I want in that containment
cell.”
 
“Aye.” Then muttered, “Aw bugger I dinae
ken…” before Scott turned to the mess of a console and begin
assessing the repairs.
 
“How long until you can break in?”
 
“Twenty minutes, sir. Fifteen, perhaps. Some of the wiring will have to
be bypassed.” Scott already sounded distracted by the puzzle.
 
Spock’s attention was drawn to the way Kodos was rubbing against his
bondmate. He took another step forward, feeling the energy from the containment
field buzzing along his body, although he did keep a scant inch of space
between his skin and the raw energy.
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Jimmy, my dear one. Perhaps you should tell your…
friend… why that would be a bad idea.”
 
Jim’s voice was like some broken, wingless thing when he finally
spoke.  “That disease. He has… something. In here with us.
He will use it when someone breaks in. It’s stronger than the other one,
more concentrated.”
 
Spock’s eyes widened. If the microbial disease were released in such a
small space, in such a pure form, it would ravage Jim, Kodos and Karidian, not
to mention anyone else who was in the area before they had a chance to contain
it.  It would reign freely through the ship.  He heard a gasp behind
him, and McCoy’s muttered curse before the doctor disappeared.
 
“Very good, my love.”
 
Spock noticed Karidian stiffen sharply on her bunk, gripping the phaser with
white knuckles.
 
“Yeoman Karidian. Your actions to this point would seem to indicate that
you have some affection for the Captain. I find myself surprised that you would
allow this behavior. It is clear that he does not wish to be with your
father.”
 
Karidian’s eyes flicked to him, then back to her father and Jim when the
later made a small pained sound.   Kodos was cupping Jim’s
hips, fingers digging into the bones and flesh, marking him.
 
“Computer. Isolate the ventilation system to bypass the brig and
surrounding area for at least fifty feet in all directions.” Spock
thought quickly. “Commander Spock to commanding bridge officer.”
 
Chekov’s voice was shaky when he responded. “Ensign Chekov,
sir.” 
 
“Ensign, start an immediate ship-wide evacuation of non-duty
personnel.”
 
His voice sounded very young when he responded, “Yes sir.”
 
“Spock out. Mr. Scott, how long?”
 
“Unknown, sir.”
 
The doors swished open, a winded McCoy stepping in the room, dressed in a
containment suit. He threw one to Spock and one to Scott. Spock dressed himself
quickly, pacing back and forth in front of the containment field.
 
Kodos looked perturbed for the first time.  “It is of no matter.
They will not save you in time. How fitting that we shall die together? They do
not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run
smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but
Love.”
 
Spock barely had time to flinch before Karidian was firing the phaser. 
Jim dove away from both of them, turning and landing hard on his shoulder.
Spock could clearly hear the crack as it slammed onto the hard floor.
 
“He said he would love me best.”  Karidian looked down at
her father, whose face was frozen forever in the gentle expression of adoration
he wore as he had stared down at Jim.  Her voice sounded like a little
girl’s, uncomprehending of the evil in the world.  She did not seem
to notice the phaser until it smoked in her hand, clearly malfunctioning. She
whirled and threw it at the containment field, which buzzed sharply and smoked
as it was destroyed. “ME! He said it was me!” Furious she
advanced on Jim, who held up a hand as though to ward her off, trying to
scramble back out of her reach. He stopped just shy of the containment field.
Spock, whose hand was now gloved and protected against the disease, could have
touched him by mere inches. Karidian whirled, screaming once, sharply, pulling
at her own hair in her grief.
 
“Ten minutes, sir. Less.” Scott whispered under his mask.
 
Karidian fell to her knees besides her father, bending over and kissing his
cheeks, closing his eyes and kissing the eyelids. She bent to his mouth last,
tongue flicking gently against him. She looked up at Jim who was watching,
seemingly unable to process everything that he was seeing. His own breathing
was heavy, body starting to curl in on itself as another panic attack took over
his rational thought.  Karidian giggled and licked at her lips. Her hand
was on her father’s chest, rooting in the pocket.
 
“He tastes of you.” She whispered, grinning manically. She moved
her hand quickly, holding up a small vial of black liquid that glinted in the
lights of the cell. 
 
“Good bye, Captain.” She whispered, uncorking the vial and
drinking it in one swallow.
 
“Jim!” Spock couldn’t help the sound as it ripped from his
throat.
 
Jim flipped so that he was as far from Karidian as possible.
“No…” he whispered it, as though reality had crashed down
on him. “Nonono… no!”
 
He turned frantically locking eyes with Spock.  Karidian made a horrible
choking sound.  Her body spasmed twice, blood fairly spraying from her
mouth and ears. She closed her eyes, opening them once as a cough shook her
body. They were red with blood.  She fell down on the floor, still
writhing in pain, black patches already starting to form at her lymph nodes.
She curled up by her father, reaching down to clasp his hand.
 
Spock felt his world tilt as Jim’s shields came down. He was bombarded
by his bondmate’s fear/rage/terror/regret.
 
“Spock…”  Jim hauled himself up to his knees, trying
to breathe shallowly. He held up his hand, hovering right over the containment
field, his shattered shoulder rendering his other arm useless.
 
Spock dropped to his knees, mirroring Jim’s position.
 
“Goddamnit get us in there!” McCoy fairly screamed at Scott, who
was working furiously. Spock’s own mind was caught in an endless loop of
denial, staring only at his bondmate’s eyes. Jim started to cough, eyes
streaming tears, faintly pink tinged.
 
‘Spock. I’m… sorry. But you saved the ship’.
 
‘Do not be ridiculous. You must save your strength. Focus on breathing
shallowly.’
 
A faint feeling of rueful laughter. ‘I just realized something.’
 
Spock could hear McCoy besides him, readying medical instruments, waiting for
the field to come down so he could try to save his friend.
 
‘Tell Bones I’m sorry’.
 
“You will cease talking like that.” ‘You must
…’
 
Jim coughed again, wheezing, turning his face into his bicep as though to
smother the cough. Spock’s heart gave a funny flutter when he saw the
red blood; too much frail, human blood staining his bondmate’s uniform.
Small flaky patches began to form on his neck, looking like large bruises.
 
‘Tell him, he’s my best friend. And you. You’re…
I… I love you, Spock. God my timing is pathetic. If I were anyone else I
would laugh at myself.’
 
Spock heard a sound, a moan of despair, not realizing it was coming from his
own throat. Jim’s coughs continued, one after another as his lungs began
to shut down. He fell against the containment field, uncaring of his singed
flesh, helpless in the throes of his body’s spasms.
 
There was a shout, and a muffled electronical whine as the containment field
shut down. Spock sprung forward, seizing Jim as he fell into his arms. Jim was
clearly trying to hold his breath, reaching up to touch Spock’s mask.
 
“Love…” 
 
Spock was numb as McCoy shoved him aside, falling on Jim like the proverbial
bird of prey, working frantically.
 
_________________________________________________________
The muffled beep, repeated over and over on the edge of his consciousness, was
just annoying enough that he swam fuzzily up out of sleep. He was wrapped in
something warm and heavy. Other senses came to him now: the smell of
disinfectant, the slightly nubby feel of a blanket, a rumbling, purring sound-
the muffled sounds kind of giving him a sense of place. Sickbay.
 
Wait, purring?
 
Jim cracked open one eye, cautiously. Instead of the thermal blanket he
expected, he found his First Officer spooned against him, legs tangled in his,
arm wrapped firmly around Jim’s stomach. Jim must have tensed or
something, because the arm flexed, pulling him in tighter to Spock’s
comforting,   heated body.  The deep, repetitive purring sound
was coming from Spock. Jim shivered a little as soft, dry lips nuzzled a little
under his ear. Jim’s heart jumped in his chest as he moved his head so
that he could look at Spock. His Spock. His bondmate.
 
In sleep, Spock looked completely contented. His lashes were dark, spread out
under his eyes. His hair was slightly mussed, giving him what was, for Spock, a
tousled look.
 
Jim really couldn’t be held accountable for the adjectives that sprang
to mind, words like ‘adorable’ and ‘cute’.
 
The doors to the small cubicle whooshed open with a slight displacement of air.
Jim turned slightly so that he could see Bones as he strode in, blank
expression on his face.  Jim licked his dry lips and made a little kissy
face. “Didja miss me, Bones?” Jim’s whisper was soft, the
barest hint of sound. His throat burned when he spoke.
 
Bones’ placid expression cracked. “Miss you? Hell, this is your
own personal wing of this place. The dust gets lonely if you don’t come
and disturb it every once in awhile.”  Bones’ own response
was soft out of necessity- not wanting to wake up the Vulcan currently wrapped
around his patient. But his eyes, usually a warm good-humored hazel, held such
a note of concern that Jim was immediately ashamed of himself for making light
of the situation. The doors started to open again, but Bones turned and,
blocking most of the view of the bed with his body, nodded his thanks to the
nurse standing there and took the items from her hands.
 
He walked to the bed, and gave Jim the glass of water. The straw that was in
the small glass made Jim smile. The antique bit of plastic was bright red and
bent into all sorts of weird shapes, so that when he sipped he was able to
watch the liquid travel around and around, up and down in spirals and curls
until it hit his mouth.  Jim had been so delighted when he saw it the
first time that he had hardly responded to Bones’s dry remark that it
had been a present for his daughter, Joanna. It only came out on occasions
where Jim had been particularly hurt. The water was quite cold, and was heaven
on his agonized throat.
 
“Idiot.” Bones smiled a little, watching as Jim drank, but the
smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Jim’s head flopped back on the bed, the effort of moving to drink having
completely exhausted him.
 
“Okay so … hit me with it.”  Jim spoke softly, not
wanting to disturb Spock.
 
Bones’ arms crossed across his broad chest.
 
Uh-oh.
 
“I’m not even going to ask what the fuck possessed you to go into
that situation. I’m sure your explanations will be fascinating. Spock
will really like to hear that by the way. I’m sure he won’t be
disappointed in you at all. Medically? It’s a damn miracle, Jim. Most of
your organs had shut down. If that crazy bint hadn’t taken that shit
like a shot then you would have been dead.”  Even spoken in a
furious hiss, Bones’ words caused Jim to wince.
 
The purring stopped.
 
“With her swallowing it, it worked like a filter. She had to secrete it
through her body, and that slowed down the infection just enough that I could
work on you. But your body was too hurt, Jim. Too far gone.  Right in
fucking front of me, the disease was killing you too fast for me to do
anything.” Bones’ voice finally cracked, and he spun around, face
working furiously, shoulders tense.
 
“Then… how?”
 
“Our bond was open. I was able to guide you into a Vulcan healing
trance.” Spock’s voice was low, the feel of his breath as he
spoke hot on Jim’s neck. The hand on Jim’s stomach started moving
slightly, stroking very slowly up his stomach and back down to the waistband of
the sleep trousers he had been dressed in. Spock’s hand was so hot. Jim
swallowed hard as he realized he could feel what Spock was feeling, the
tingling sensitivity of having Jim’s cooler flesh against his hands
causing Jim’s own hands to ache.
 
“That’s… convenient.” He spoke a little
breathlessly.
 
Bones turned around, furious. “Don’t you dare lie there and try
to be funny. Your brain was weakened from your damnfool move of trying to
shield against your bondmate.” Jim could see Bones’s smirk at
telling him his brain was weak. The insult had the feeling of several years of
anticipation behind it; clearly Bones had been sitting on that little gem for
awhile, just waiting for his chance to use it.   “Figures all
this Vulcan mumbo jumbo would come and bite me in the ass eventually. It was
pretty easy to see why you were having such headaches and nausea. Spock said
that you’d done a pretty decent job for an amateur, but if you
hadn’t dropped your shields when you… did…” Bones
trailed off blinking suspiciously hard.  “You have no idea what he
did for you. He went so deep into his little voodoo thing that I almost
couldn’t get him out of it. He’s been curled around you for two
days. Two days, Jim. When I tried to remove you, you… he… well.
Let’s just say you’ve been sharing a bed for quite awhile. In
Vulcan culture, you’d practically be married now.”
 
Jim was distracted by Spock’s hand as it trailed over his hip and back
up over his stomach, but not distracted enough to ignore the way Spock’s
cheekbones were stained a faint green.
 
“The doctor speaks in error. There are several ceremonies that take
place before a bonded coup-mmmph!”
 
Jim only had to turn his head just slightly to meet Spock’s lips with
his. He felt their connection give a particularly satisfied twang, as though a
harp string had been plucked and soothed back into normalcy. The little gasping
sound Spock made went straight to Jim’s head, and he leaned into the
kiss, licking at Spock’s mouth. Faintly he heard what sounded like a
disgusted chuff of sound from McCoy’s direction, and Jim smiled a little
into the kiss at how quickly the doors whooshedopen and shut, signifying his
friend’s hasty exit.
 
Spock’s hand clenched once on Jim’s hip and he winced a little
bit, the memory of Kodos strong for one brief minute in his mind’s
eye.  Spock made another sound, much different from the first and leaned
over Jim, pushing him onto the mattress, taking over the kiss. Jim’s
head swam with sensation, but the feeling of Spock’s hand on his hip,
his legs tangled in his, holding him to the bed was all at once too much for
his exhausted body and mind, and he broke away.
 
Spock made a confused sound as he felt Jim’s sudden flutter of panic
through the bond. He shifted slightly so that his body wasn’t holding
Jim’s down. Jim had shut his eyes, shame and self-disgust warring for
dominance in his mind. Spock’s hand came up to cup his face, gently.
 
“You are my bondmate, Jim as I am yours. There is no time limit on our
interaction. While I confess that I find both your mind and body quite
distracting, I will endeavor to not… rush things. I forgot for a moment
that you are still healing.”
 
If he could have, Jim would have laughed at the sheepish expression on
Spock’s face. As it was, his throat closed up over the sudden lump of
emotion that blocked it. He blinked hard, smiling slightly at Spock, who
settled onto his back, pulling Jim so that he was draped over his body, instead
of being trapped underneath. Jim felt like there were things he should probably
say, or explain, but he fell asleep before he could figure out where to start.
 
 
***
 
 
It took several days before Bones would release him for duty. Even then Jim had
to endure him jumping out of random places with a tricorder, taking readings at
the most inopportune times.  Jim would deny to his dying day that he had
shrieked like a girl when Bones came out of freaking nowhere in the dining
room, appearing from behind him as nonchalantly as one could imagine. Uhura and
Spock, who he had been dining with at the time, were quite happy to point out
his error. Frequently.
 
He had spent a lot of time with Bones while Spock was on-duty. Bones had been
like a terrier, poking and prodding at his mind until completely satisfied that
there was nothing in his and Spock’s bond that would hurt Jim’s
wholly human brain. Bones was ceaseless in his questions about how the
connection worked. Could they hear each other’s thoughts? Could they
read each other’s minds? If one of them were hurt, what would happen to
the other?  Spock had finally been pulled down into their conferences and
while he seemed initially more hostile towards Bones than Jim had ever seen, he
did answer all of the doctor’s questions. Bones had seemed quite
apologetic when he spoke to Spock, but looked extremely nervous when Jim tried
to pin him down, asking for an explanation. Spock had also refused to discuss
the subject. Jim was pleased that his two best friends (because whatever else
Spock was to him- he was definitely his friend) seemed to have reached a
compromise of sorts… but he stillwanted to know what had happened
between the two.
 
 The night before he was released to go back to duty, Jim had called a
very informal meeting in his quarters, inviting Uhura, Scotty, Bones, Sulu,
Chekov and of course Spock so that he could catch them up on everything that
happened. These people had become his family, and he owed them the unvarnished
truth at the very least. 
 
Scotty had brought alcohol. It reminded Jim very much of the late-night study
sessions he and Bones had had while at the academy, only with more people
involved. Bones and Uhura had perched on the bed, keeping a very careful amount
of space between them.  Sulu and Chekov were sprawled on the floor. Spock
and Jim sat at their customary spots where they had played chess, and Scotty
took Jim’s desk chair, doling out the alcohol with a very serious face.
 
Jim was drinking coffee, in deference to Spock. Spock too, had declined any
alcohol, instead choosing to drink something in a tall, opaque glass. Jim did
not want to drink anyway. He wasn’t very comfortable yet with the idea
of his control being taken from him. He’d already cleared it so that the
rest of them could come onto their shifts a little later than normal, not that
he expected them to be that irresponsible. It was just one small way that he
could thank them for everything they had accomplished together.
 
“Well. I guess you guys have a lot of questions.”
 
There was a snort from beside him, and a few hastily hidden smiles around the
room. Oh they loved the way Spock was acting around him. Spock never did
anything inappropriate while on the bridge of course, and in public where other
crew members could see or comment, he was his normal, implacable self. Well,
possibly one that stood a little closer to Jim, or brushed against him a tad
more frequently, but nothing untoward, holding to his rigid Vulcan principals
of propriety.  Here in Jim’s quarters, however, he must have felt
much more comfortable, judging by the slow stroke of two of his fingers against
the back of Jim’s hand, down to his fingers hidden under the
table.  Jim knew what that meant now.
 
Jim shivered, and cleared his throat. “Ah. Yeah well, okay. Well, go
ahead.” He made a gesture meant to convey that they should ask
questions, but did so with his left hand as his right was currently involved in
a quite heavy Vulcan make-out session. Jim met Uhura’s amused gaze
briefly, and felt a blush flood his cheeks. He looked away, staring instead at
a spot on the table. Great table. Solid. Very… tabley.
 
“Keptin, if I may, I would like to know how on earth that wicious madman
got onboard the Enterprise?”
 
Jim bit his lip at the shivery feeling he was currently experiencing through
the bond. His own hands weren’t nearly as sensitive, but he could feel
an echo of the electrifying tingle Spock experienced each time their fingers
stroked together. “Well, we were able to trace his pattern to his
daughter’s room. Spock didn’t set the ship’s shields until
he was back on the ship. While we were on the planet, the shields were down. We
believe that K-kodos,” his voice stuttered on the name, “was able
to beam directly from the planet onto the ship. It was just a matter of hiding
until he found the right time to ambush us.”
 
“Kevin told us how he grabbed you guys at the table.”  Sulu
and Kevin Riley had apparently bonded over an extremely off-key rendition of
‘I’ll take you home again, Kathleen’during a karaoke
competition. Sulu had refused to recreate the experience for Jim’s
amusement while he was stuck in sickbay. Little did he know that Spock had
found the security video of the experience and had sent it to Jim. The visual
of Kevin and Sulu looking deep into one another’s eyes, singing
“Oh! I will take you back, Kathleen/To where your heart will feel no
pain/ had given Jim a case of really unrefined giggles. His heart rate had
skyrocketed enough that it had sent two nurses scurrying into his private
little cubicle.  He had high plans for that video come Christmas
time. 
 
Spock’s mild comment caused Jim to blink. “I confess that I find
myself quite interested in this part of the story as well.” His hand
stopped stroking Jim’s, and held it, pressing down on Jim’s thigh
slightly, his long fingers just slightly brushing against Jim’s cock,
encased in the tight regulation trousers. Jim blinked, remembering somewhat
belatedly that he was answering a question.
 
“Ahhh. Well. Um.” He coughed. “We were sitting there,
Erica, Kev and I just catching up. I mean, none of us really like to talk about
our childhood. About what happened. But they couldn’t wait to catch me
up on their wedding plans. They wanted to ask me to marry them, in
fact.” Jim ducked his head, still pleased by the request. It would be
his first wedding. It somehow seemed fitting, even more so now, that something
so good could come out of the most gruesome things ever to have happen to a
group of children. “Kodos just appeared out of nowhere. He must have
been in the dining room for awhile, but I didn’t notice. He just stepped
up to us and threatened to kill Kevin right there if I didn’t accompany
him.”
 
“I think you were wery brave.” Chekov’s voice held a note
of hero-worship.
 
“I don’t know about that. I was …” Jim trailed off,
remembering the way at first he had wanted to run, denial that this was
happening at the forefront of his thoughts. Then he got angry. This washis
ship, damnit. Kevin was his to protect. He would not allow him to be hurt.
“… well. Pretty surprised.” He grinned wryly. “We
made our way to the brig. Kodos was such an accomplished actor that no one
seemed to notice. Kevin and Erica were holding hands in front of him, just
behind me, and I wanted to turn my head to see…” Jim broke off.
 
“Well, you know the rest. Kodos killed the security guard and then had
me undo the containment field. He distracted Erica by shooting Kev, and then
stepped back into the cell.  He locked us in by frying the board. Let me
tell you, I was pretty damn shocked to realize that you could fire a phaser
though the containment field.”
 
‘Not for bloody much longer,” Scotty muttered darkly, throwing
back a shot of the whiskey.
 
Spock’s hidden hand was lightly stroking Jim’s thigh now, rubbing
in comforting little circles.
 
“So what happens, now Jim? With the ‘fleet?”  McCoy
didn’t sound drunk, but Jim noticed that he and Uhura were sitting
slightly closer and much less stiffly on the bed.  It was Jim’s
turn to shoot an amused glance at Uhura.
 
“Them? Oh business as usual. With Tommy’s murder, his family
refused to keep quiet—his wife in particular. Plus, with me officiating
over Kevin and Erica’s wedding- and Kodos and his daughter dead- well,
they have a readymade, heartwarming story all ready to spin to the public. Pike
wouldn’t say so outright, but he thinks that the way they’ve spun
it- as a feel-good end to a PR nightmare—is pretty damn low of them. But
with us just passing the first year anniversary Nero’s wrath, they need
the good vibe.” Jim shrugged. He could feel Spock’s flinch of
pain at the mention of Nero. It was Jim’s turn to stroke Spock’s
hand comfortingly with his thumb. He felt the jolt through the bond and Spock
stiffened slightly.
 
“Plus with the way you two have ambushed everyone with the cuteness-
Tribbles everywhere are shaking in their little balls of furriness, having
‘awww’ envy.” Bones, who had been looking at Uhura as she
spoke, straightened his back at the mention of Tribbles.
 
“I do not believe the relationship between the Captain and me is a
suitable topic for idle discussion.” Spock’s slightly miffed tone
was completely spoiled by the bright-green tips of his ears. He took an extra-
large sip of his drink and Jim almost fell off his chair when he could finally
smell the rich, dark, chocolaty scent that wafted off the cup.
 
Spock is drinking… chocolate.
 
The rest of their guests seemed to take that as a cue to leave. Jim was looking
at the table again, afraid that he would jump Spock in front of his
subordinates if he so much as peeked up.  They had not gone very far
sexually since Jim had awoken in sickbay, Jim’s fears keeping him fairly
unresponsive. That was the other thing that had changed. Spock had been…
well, flirty, in a careful sort of way. Jim knew that Spock would have cut off
his own hand rather than scare him again. Jim was learning to trust himself
again, and not just react to his frightening experiences. He knew how
intelligent and focused Spock was. Having all of that focus and intelligence
channeled into relaxing his skittish bondmate was… well. Pretty fucking
awesome, actually. Spock had been unendingly patient. It was Jim who had grown
frustrated with the way he would just shut down once Spock showed any tendency
towards aggression. This sucked, because the idea that he could drive Spock to
such a state was pretty much the hottest thing, ever. Only, once his brain
figured out what was happening, Jim would freeze.
 
Jim said his goodbyes, risking a look up towards his door, catching the looks
everyone was giving each other. Even Chekov looked amused as hell, his blue
eyes fairly dancing with mischief.
 
Finally they were alone.
 
Spock deliberately finished the rest of his drink, licking his lips. He raised
an eyebrow at Jim, lips twisting just slightly in a small smirk.
 
“Um... what does chocolate do to you, exactly?” Jim said, darting
his gaze back to the relative safety of the table. 
 
“I feel quite relaxed.” Spock stood up and stripped off his
shirt.
 
The table wasn’t that interesting. Jim watched him as he carefully
separated and folded each shirt, bending perhaps a little more than necessary
as he placed them on the nightstand near the bed. He sat, removing his boots
and socks, placing each neatly near the foot of the bed.
 
Jim licked his own suddenly dry lips. His brain seemed to slowly shut down,
completely overwhelmed by his usually reticent Vulcan stretching himself out on
the center of Jim’s bed, folding his arms over his stomach and cocking
an expectant eyebrow at his bondmate.
Jim swallowed hard. He certainly wasn’t feeling nervous now. The idea
that Spock was willing to let him… that Spock trusted him…
 
Jim had smiled down at potential lovers hundreds of times in his life. 
This time was… more. Desperately important. He stood and walked the few
steps over to the bed. He took a deep breath and knelt near Spock’s
knees. Spock reached up a hand and their palms met, sliding against each other
softly, fingers immediately twining together. Jim’s gaze darted between
their clasped hands and Spock’s face. His eyes were open, looking back
at Jim. Jim moved his hand a little, so that their hands slid against each
other again, and had the satisfaction of seeing Spock’s eyes slide
closed as though the sensations were too much to process.
 
Jim had a sudden clear memory of Spock’s fingers in his mouth as he
sucked on the long digits. Jim had brought his mouth to Spock’s hand
before he thought too hard about it. He started at the first finger, just a
light kiss, pressing his closed mouth against the tip, before sucking the very
tip into his mouth. He could feel Spock‘s muscles tense against his
knees. He sucked Spock’s finger lightly, stroking his tongue against the
front, sweeping against it in widening strokes so that most of his first finger
was completely wet. He sucked it into his mouth again, sliding his lips all the
way down, moving back and forth. Jim became lost in the sensations, moving from
finger to finger, moving over his palm and in the webbing between each digit,
able to feel the echoes of what he was doing as though it was being done to his
own hand.  He heard a soft moan and opened passion-blind eyes to see Spock
looking up at him, watching his movements with eyes blown black with pupil.
 
Jim moved down and met Spock’s lips in a heated kiss, losing himself for
a moment before pulling away and ridding himself of his shirt, sending it
flying off somewhere in his room. He wanted to feel Spock’s skin against
his. He moved back to kiss Spock again, moving his bondmate’s hand to
Jim’s own hip. Spock’s fingered flexed reflexively before
starting a slow, calming slide up the expanse of Jim’s back as they
kissed, tongues twirling together. Jim was dizzy from the lack of oxygen, but
he didn’t want to stop. He could feel the tension in Spock’s body
as he fought to keep still and had a brief moment of pure impishness, wanting
to see how far he could push Spock before he moved.  Which might not be
completely fair, considering.
 
“I assure you... I do not mind.”
 
Jim smiled. “That … mind reading …thing …is
… really … handy.” He said between kisses over
Spock’s neck and collar bone. Spock’s body was so much hotter
than his that Jim couldn’t get enough of the sensation. He moved so that
he was lying between Spock’s legs, pressing his sternum against
Spock’s cock, still trapped in his trousers. He flicked his tongue out
against the sight indentation of Spock’s belly button, sucking on the
small bump of skin.  He moved slowly up his body, tracing the musculature
of Spock’s stomach with the very tip of his tongue, dropping small
sucking kisses wherever he had the urge. He knew the friction of his chest
sliding against Spock must have been driving him crazy. Hell, he could feel it
through their bond, like a faint buzz of awareness. Jim had time to imagine how
that hard length of heat would feel inside him, before he froze completely.
 
He wanted Spock. He wanted to feel him slide inside him, feel his body around
him. Jim’s eyes flew up to Spock’s face. Spock’s eyes were
squeezed tightly shut, teeth caught on his lower lip as he tried not to respond
too much, tried desperately not to scare his bondmate from his bed again.
 
Jim quickly moved up to kiss at Spock’s mouth, trying to show him how
much he wanted him with his lips and mind. Clumsy as his mental attempts might
have been, Spock certainly seemed to get the point from the way his hands
rubbed on Jim’s back, pressing their bodies together. Jim wiggled so
that he was straddling Spock lap, grinding against him, loving the way
Spock’s face flushed and his breathing stuttered. 
 
Jim had the sudden realization that he could … touch. He was allowed.
Encouraged, even. All that pale skin, tinged a pale green from the flush on
Spock’s body, seemed to go on forever. He stroked over Spock’s
shoulders, dragging his fingertips in the whorls of crisp chest hair. Jim moved
his fingertips over to Spock’s nipples, darting a glance up at him from
under his lashes. Instead of touching the small buds, he lightly scratched his
nails down his torso, then down further over Spock’s stomach. He bent
down and flicked his tongue over the indentation of Spock’s navel (he
wasn’t sure if Spock would even have a belly button, but it was
sensitive as hell by the way Spock’s abs jerked with each teasing flick
of Jim’s tongue) and moved back up his chest, scraping his teeth here
and there, then soothing the small indentations with his tongue.  Jim
looked up at Spock again before licking around the actual nipple with his tip
of his tongue.
 
Spock’s gasp was loud in the quiet room. Jim swallowed hard, feeling his
own control waver.
 
When Jim slipped completely off of his body, off of the bed to stand just out
of Spock’s reach, it actually took Spock a moment to realize what had
happened. Spock’s brief look of alarm before he met Jim’s gaze
with his own caused Jim’s own heart to flutter sadly.  Spock was
standing next to him before he could speak, hands gently stroking Jim’s
shoulders, as though trying to calm a skittish animal.
 
“I have… we do not need to…” Spock’s voice
was roughened, the concern in his gaze palpable.
Jim smiled at him, placing one hand on his shoulder for balance, taking off his
boot with the other.
 
“You know, there’s not really a graceful way to do this. It
doesn’t matter how much experience you have, once you stop to take off
your clothes it just screams ‘awkward’.” He was babbling,
confusing Spock even more. He tried to get his stupid mouth to communicate
something much more important. “I don’t want to stop, Spock. I
want you.”
 
The words hung in the room for a moment. Jim switched shoulders to remove his
other boot. “I’m kind of slow sometimes. I can’t think of
any time that you have ever hurt me. Being afraid of one little thing- well it
seems so stupid. I trust you, Spock. I meant what I said in that damn cell. I
love you. I want this with you.”
 
It was Jim’s turn for his brain to stutter as Spock dropped to his knees
in front of him, hot fingers undoing the button and zip of his trousers. His
mouth was a whisper against Jim’s stomach, marking the skin with a rough
kiss, then soothing it with his tongue. “My desire to taste you has
occupied my thoughts almost incessantly since you and I were last together on
Wrigley.”
 
Jim had to laugh, his heart rate speeding up. To hear Spock sounding so much
like his First Officer was just funny. “What, no down-to-the-decimal-
approximation?”
 
“No.” 
 
Jim couldn’t look away as Spock lifted his cock out of his pants,
pushing them down to his ankles. Jim nearly lost his balance when Spock fisted
him almost absently, experimentally, licking his lips at the drop of white
liquid that spilled down his hand. He bent, and all Jim could see was the
graceful bend of his neck as his cock was engulfed in an indescribable wet
heat.
 
“Fuck, Spock!” Jim moaned, his head falling back, hands
scrabbling against Spock’s shoulders and head for purchase as his knees
threatened to collapse. Spock moved on him quickly; as though he really had
thought constantly about what Jim would taste like... feel like in his mouth.
With this too, Jim could feel what Spock was feeling, his enjoyment and
curiosity as he moved a certain way here, licked or nibbled a different way
there.  Sucking hard one minute, then gently the next until Jim was
moaning non-stop, as quickly as he could draw breath, understanding that Spock
loved each and every sound from his lover’s mouth as it burst out of
him.
 
Jim felt exactly the same way.
 
He almost felt embarrassed at how quickly he felt himself on the edge, balls
tightening up so sharply that the sensation in itself sent goosebumps on his
skin. He tried to warn Spock, but couldn’t get his throat to work
properly. Spock swallowed him down to the very base and Jim came hard, almost
blacking out at the feeling of the head of his cock bumping against the back of
Spock’s throat. Spock looked up at him once, licking the come and saliva
off his face with two sweeps of his tongue, catlike. He looked utterly
debauched.
 
Spock moved in one seamless bit of controlled grace, striping off his own
trousers and picking Jim up, hands gliding over the naked skin on the back of
his thighs, over his ass, pulling their bodies close and crashing their mouths
together, Jim’s spent cock trapped between their stomachs. Dizzy, Jim
quickly moved his legs so that they were wrapped around Spock’s waist,
causing the heat of Spock’s cock to slide against his balls and the
sensitive skin of his perineum.
Jim wasn’t feeling anything even remotely close to nervous as Spock
overwhelmed him with each stroke of his hands, each bruising kiss. He could
taste himself in Spock’s mouth, and licked at the flavor, causing Spock
to make a truly fascinating sound in the back of his throat. 
 
Jim pulled away to gasp in a breath, only to lose it again in a hiss when he
felt one hand on each globe of his ass spreading, rubbing, fingers sliding
against the heated skin between.  “S-s-spock. Fuck me Spock please
I need you inside, need to feel…” Desperate whispers near
Spock’s ear. Jim nipped at the very tip, stretching it just slightly
then sucking on the small bit he’d captured.
 
He landed on his back on the bed on with a small gasp of surprise. Spock bent
over to Jim’s bedside drawer, searching until he found the small
container of lube. He looked at Jim for a second, eyebrow raised, amusement
clear on his face.
 
“Oh shut up.” Jim groaned, reaching up to pull Spock back down to
him for a kiss, legs falling apart. “I thought you’d like the
idea of me touching myself after you kicked my ass in chess. I think I went
through two bottles of the stuff.”
 
Spock’s eyes flared. “You were not wrong.”
 
Jim choked on his smug smile as he felt Spock moving down the length of the
bed. Spock’s hands were on his thighs, spreading him almost obscenely
wide. The first burning sliperyslick feel of Spock’s tongue against him
caused Jim to jackknife up in reaction before flopping back, bouncing a little
on the mattress as he hit it again.
 
“Oh, fuck Wheredidyou… learn? Nuugh.!” Jim whimpered,
shivering at the feel of Spock’s tongue moving in small circles around
the small pucker of skin. Each swipe of his tongue, each pant of his breath
caused Jim’s cock to twitch in reaction at the shivery sensations that
seemed to spread out from where Spock lapped at him, playing with him.
 
Spock’s tongue grew a little more aggressive, leaving wet stripes behind
as he licked up and down, then all around again before penetrating just
slightly. Jim arched on the bed, trying to press himself closer to
Spock’s searing tongue. His mouth was open as he panted, concentrating
on each wet movement of Spock’s mouth. That tongue slipped in further,
widening the small, fluttering muscle; then Jim felt Spock’s hands on
his hips, tilting him slightly so that Spock had better access before plunging
his tongue all the way in.
 
Jim knew he was babbling, not even sure that what he was saying was
discernable, only aware that he was speaking by the way Spock enthusiastically
fucked him with his mouth, over and over, changing the angle of his tongue so
that Jim wasn’t so tight around him. Jim curled his toes, tensing,
unbelieving that he was about to come again,when Spock moved off of him
abruptly, breathing sharply against Jim’s thigh.
 
“Please Spock, pleaseoh please please your cock…
I…”
 
Spock was still breathing heavily, looking up the line of Jim’s body.
Jim heard the jar of the lube being unscrewed and felt the shockingly cold
sensation of wetness against his hole, a stark contrast between his own heat
and the heat from Spock’s fingers. Two fingers slipped in easily,
twisting just slightly, causing Jim to buck in place. He panted heavily,
waiting for Spock to finish preparing him. The third finger didn’t hurt
exactly, just felt blindingly hot and full as the three digits twisted,
stroking against his inner walls, hitting his prostate with the callused edge
of one finger. Jim bit his lip as light exploded behind his eyes. His cock
practically leaped, blood quickly filling it until it curved up, leaking
against his stomach. Spock would not be rushed, moving his fingers firmly,
stroking and twisting just slightly, stretching him open.
 
“Please, Spock fuckinghell, just fuck… I won’t fucking
break!” he gasped, almost at the end of his endurance.
 
“Jim, you are one of the strongest men I know. Naturally you will not
break. However, my research indicated that if you can still speak coherently
then I must be doing this incorrectly.”
Spock renewed his efforts, and Jim had one thought-- Research..? Ha! Bones- see
he does have a sense of humor, before his eyes rolled back in his head. The
fingers left him with a wet squilsh of sound and Jim felt Spock’s other
hand on his chin, tilting his head back to where Spock could stare at him.
 
“This is not an appropriate time to think of that man.”
 
Jim writhed on the bed, spreading his legs even wider, tilting his hips. 
There was another wet sound, and the visual of Spock’s hand flying over
his own shaft as it gleamed with lube in the light was just about the sexiest
thing ever. Jim would definitely be filing that one back for later use.
 
Spock moved, and the head of his cock bumped up against Jim’s entrance.
It was so hot that Jim cried out sharply. Spock slid in slowly, pressing past
the tight ring of muscle, watching Jim’s face carefully, hardly
blinking. He settled in place, and Jim moved his legs, wrapping them around his
waist again, moving his palms down slick, sweaty skin until they rested on top
of Spock’s ass. Spock’s eyes fluttered shut, tilting his head
down to rest against Jim’s for the barest of moments.
 
Jim clenched around him experimentally, smirking a little when Spock’s
eyes flew open as he rocked back on his arms. Spock moved so that his cock
started to slide out, then back in. Still moving slowly in the wet heat, once,
then twice as though making room.  Jim loved every deep breath that Spock
took, feeling his breath mingle with his as he stretched his neck up for
another kiss. Their tongues touched, and that seemed to break Spock’s
rigid control. Jim keened as Spock slid into him again, hard. He began to
thrust, and Jim arched against him so that Spock hit that small bundle of
nerves each time he pushed back inside.  Jim couldn’t speak,
overwhelmed with sensation, his mouth scraping down the sweaty column of
Spock’s neck and latching onto his shoulder, nipping him lightly.
 
“Jim, my ashal-veh, my ashaya…”
 
The sound of Spock’s control finally breaking was beautiful.
 
Jim’s moved a hand to his own cock, beyond speaking when Spock’s
still-slippery fingers curled with his around him, stroking quickly in time to
Spock’s unsteady thrusts. Jim grabbed his other hand, pulling it to his
face, trying to show Spock what he wanted. Spock moved then, flipping them so
that Jim was sprawled on top of him, controlling their movements.  Spock
needed both hands to reach up, pressing his fingers to Jim’s sweaty,
desperate face.
 
Spock gasped the words Jim only remembered hearing once before, words that he
knew would bring them together more closely than he ever imagined. They slid
together, minds lost in one another as their bodies broke apart. 
‘Parted from me and never parted- Jim- No, never parted. Never. Mine.Jim
could have no question of how much he was cherished, how much Spock needed him,
just as Jim needed Spock to balance out his exuberance with control,
Jim’s illogic with Spock’s logic, forever. Spock knew at once
that Jim truly did need him, and trust him, and love him with everything that
he was. There was no lie or deception between them, nothing that could go
unconquered.  ‘Never and always touching and touched-‘ The
words ringing in Jim’s head with sincerity and absolute conviction that
he would never be lonely, never want for companionship or love again…
 
…They were lost together, joinedtogether as they were destined to be,
across time and space itself.
 

....

Fin.
 
 

A/N I simply cannot thank[[info]]ladyblahblah enough for all her help on this
story. There really are no words for how much she helped me with ideas, with
nitpicky Trek science, and of course with my creative use of misplaced
modifiers.  Thank you, thank you and... thank you, BB.

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