A/N: This is my first spirk fic I've written since I was 11. I've written them a lot though, both unfinished, roleplaying, and other pairings. But this idea wouldn't leave me alone, even it's been done before.

The title's from "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron, which you should all listen to because it's literally gorgeous.

If there's one thing Jim doesn't want, it's another first contact mission. He knows those are the whole point of this five year mission and usually, he's all for meeting new species. It's exciting, knowing that you're the first human to set foot on the planet; the first human to greet them. Everywhere you go, you're setting records. That's the sort of thing Jim was born for. But lately, he's getting worn down. The last month has been hell and if he doesn't get a break, he's afraid his eyes are going to fall out of his skull. In that month, there's already been three new contacts.

The first one wasn't too extraordinary. There'd been a feast involved, plenty of drinking. They'd even invited some of the crew to see their apparently legendary gardens. And Jim had to admit, the gardens had been beautiful. Everything had been bathed in shades of purples and pinks, vibrant and arching above their heads. In his excitement, Sulu had nearly combust right then and there. Spock hadn't been much better, even if he was better at hiding it; Jim knew he was just excited as the rest of them. The only downside to the mission was after they'd already left orbit. Before they'd beamed up, they had wrapped a wreath of flowers around each of their necks in farewell. Although Spock looked vaguely affronted, they'd left without a hitch. Until, of course, it turned out Jim was allergic and Bones had a hissy fit. But there wasn't anything new about that.

On the other hand, the second had been frustrating. The species hadn't quite developed linguistic skills, bizarrely enough. They'd relied almost entirely on written language, aside from a few grunts here and there. A language none of the crew could read. When even Uhura failed and the natives looked increasingly confused, Jim was ready to turn to Bones's coping skill of drinking as much as could, as quickly as he could. Eventually, they'd gotten around to communicating that Spock would have to meld with their leader. Actually getting that across was a feat that Jim thought ought to go down in history books. Uhura definitely got a shining mention in his log for that. After nearly a day of negotiations and Spock getting slightly more agitated with every hour, they'd worked out a pretty good deal and gotten them to agree to joining the Federation. And best of all, they'd thrown together a book of simple translations for the meantime. Jim felt like patting himself on the back, but instead he recorded his log and flopped into bed for the next twelve hours.

The last had been, by far, the worst. And the most unexpected. They were on route to the nearest starbase to pick up supplies and a couple of new crew members, when things had completely gone to shit. It started with system failures, leaving them dead in the water. Then came the illness that swept through the crew, finding them shaking and wide eyed, unwilling to move with a fever that reached increasingly concerning levels. The few of them that remained coherent reported an incessant ringing in their ears, so loud they could hardly think. When Bones had finally come up with a cure for it, things got even worse. As the crew started to recover, the Enterprise fell apart even faster. The cure stopped working a few hours later and Jim managed to catch the bug. He's not really sure what happened after that, but from what he's been told, they'd found out the true cause was a sentient species, microscopic in size. They'd been curious, Spock had told him, not realizing that their presence would have such disastrous results. When the cure had started to kill them off, they felt threatened, and so acted out. Apparently, they'd purposefully gone for Jim. Which was pretty awesome. Somehow, they'd gotten the damn things off the ship, though they were all being weirdly vague on the details. Jim didn't pry.

That was all well and good, but it left Jim bedridden for a week. Most people who'd been infected were out for a few days, but just his luck, as he'd been the target, it was even worse for him. He couldn't argue that he needed it. It hurt to move, his joints protesting when he so much as tried to get up to piss. His ears were sore as an after effect of the ringing he could barely even remember for how long he'd been completely out of it, and he had a bitch of a migraine every few hours. Bones had graciously supplied him with hypos for that, but half the time, Jim couldn't even get up to get them.

So, it's understandable why when his comm beeps, he glares and throws a pillow at it.

It beeps again.

He groans, burying his face in the remaining pillow before finally answering.

"What?" It's snapped, his voice hoarse with disuse.

"Captain, we have received a distress signal from a nearby class M planet." He can practically feel the eyebrow raise.

Jim huffs, rolling over onto his back. "Yeah? And why can't you deal with it?" He's aware that he's being childish right now and that quite a few of the bridge crew can hear him whining, but he doesn't care. Dammit, he has a right to whine every once in a while. Most people his age aren't up in space, being diplomats, fighting aliens, dealing with anomalies, dying then coming back to life... And definitely not dealing with some illness slash alien life form invading their bodies. It's fun, don't get him wrong. He loves what he does. It's the only thing that makes him feel alive. But damn, if he doesn't want a break sometimes.

"The planet has not answered our hails, Captain. As it would be unethical to simply return to our course, I have deemed it necessary that we beam to the surface. You have shown a propensity for wishing to be present for such missions, unless you wish to resume our previous heading."

So either way, he had to wake Jim up.

"Awesome. Give me a minute and I'll head up to the bridge. Meet me in the ready room. Kirk out."

"Acknowledged, sir."

Jim stares up the ceiling, examining his life choices carefully. Hopefully, this won't take long, and he can come back and nap as long as he wants to. But knowing his luck, it'll take another day at the very least. Jim closes his eyes, breathes in through his nose. This is what he signed up for. No backing down.

With a small sigh, he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and lingering a moment. He blinks the fog away from his eyes before standing and stretching, arms arching above his head as a yawn escapes his lips. It hurts to move, but he'll deal with it. Shaking his head, as if to dispel the tiredness like beads of water after a shower, he pads into the bathroom. A sonic shower can wait, so he only runs a comb through his hair, brushes his teeth, and grinds his jaw as he injects a couple of hypos for the headache and joint pain.

He's dealt with worse pain than this. He's died, for fuck's sake. This isn't going to be a walk in the park, but he's pretty sure he'll be just fine. Still, he stares himself down in the mirror, mentally telling himself off for all the decisions that lead him here. In a week, he'll probably be back to being convinced this is the best thing to ever happen in his life, but right now, he kind of wants to punch young Jim Kirk in the face for saying yes to Pike.

As soon as he hears the turbolift doors open, Spock is standing. "Mr. Sulu, you have the bridge."

In decisive steps, he reaches Captain Kirk's side, his hands folded at the center of his back. Kirk gives him a short nod, evidently not in a mood for conversation. There is a sense of wrongness to that, but Spock does not examine it further. Together, they walk to the ready room without speaking a word. As soon as the door slides closed, it is as if Jim has deflated completely, slumping into a sitting position on the conference table. Spock merely arches a brow. To worry about the Captain's state of health is only logical, as both a friend and a first officer. But he will not ask on it, as experience has taught him that Jim does not take kindly to such questions.

"So, what do we know?"

Spock moves to stand slightly closer, still with proper posture, hands folded. Though he feels relatively comfortable with his captain at this point, it is no reason for him to relax as Jim does.

"The species is one the Federation has not encountered before. From what our scans indicate, they are carbon based, and likely humanoid. As this is a first contact situation, we should err with caution. I would suggest having at least one security officer on the away team. I would also request to be on the away team as well, as I might gain some measure of useful scientific data from the planet."

He can see Jim absorbing the information, a hand on his chin and his brows furrowed slightly. "Granted." There's a pause. "No idea why they sent the signal?"

"Negative, Captain. We cannot find any natural cause that might have compelled them to send the signal and they have not answered our hails."

Jim sighs, nodding slightly. Illogically, Spock regrets having called upon him. He knows that Jim would be displeased if he weren't involved in this, but still, he cannot help but feel feel regret at causing the captain more stress than he's already under.

"Alright. Assemble a team. And bring more than one of those security guys. You're dismissed, Commander."

Spock can hear the strain in the human's voice and he wonders if the Federation has not been pushing him too far, too fast. They only just started their five year mission and Jim had gone straight from the Academy to Captaincy. While he has more than proved himself as a commanding officer, it still would have been a much easier mission to undertake with more years of experience. The same can be said for a majority of the crew, including himself. With a slight nod of acknowledgement, he turns on his heel and does just that.

By the time they're beaming down to the planet, the aches in Jim's head and joints have subsided. Thank god for Bones, he finds himself thinking, a not entirely unfamiliar thought. Although he hopes he doesn't need it, he has a phaser hooked to his belt, and on instinct his hand hovers over it. As the landscape materializes around them, it's breathtaking. Although their sensors indicated this was near the central population, for miles he can't see anything but trees. It's more of a forest, less of a jungle (and seriously, the amount of planets with those is getting annoying), all shades of awe inspiring blues. The air smells crisp, clean. In the air around them, there's a faint sound of buzzing insects, and an almost melodic hum that seems to be coming from a cluster of bright purple flowers to their right.

He glances over to Spock, finding his First looking just as intrigued as he is. Maybe he's not so openly in wonder as the rest of the away team, but Jim can tell. He can always tell. He wonders if it has something to do with being in the older Spock's mind. When he catches Jim watching, he blinks as if slightly startled. And with the blink, he's back to looking just as blank as ever, pulling out his tricorder. Jim looks away.

"Captain, I am reading life signs in nearly every direction. It would be prudent to-" Before the words are even out of his mouth, or the security detail has time to pull out their phasers, they're being ambushed. Of course they are.

In the next moment, he's letting out an undignified yelp as he's dragged upwards. Fucking trees, obviously it's the fucking trees. He feels faintly dizzy as the world tilts from under his feet and he's shooting through the air, getting scraped by branches as he goes. There's no less than six arms wrapped around him in a painful grip, one clamped tightly over his mouth. The alien's skin is scaled, blue just like the surrounding foliage. They're hissing something in his ear, but he can't make it out. When they finally come to a stop, Jim only catches a brief flash of a blue science uniform before there's something being pressed against his neck and he falls into darkness.

Upon waking, Spock's first sensation is pain, his temples throbbing painfully. He finds himself squeezing his eyes shut against it almost as soon as they have opened. His mind is full of thoughts, swirling, crashing, too bright. There is too much, crowding into his head all at once when they should not be there at all. A part of him knows where he is. A part of him does not, almost terrified of the unknown and the unfamiliar weight of limbs, the youth in his blood. This part of him wonders at where he is, though almost immediately he finds the answer within the other half of his thoughts. He remembers beaming down to the planet and being ambushed… Yet he also recalls landing on the same planet when he is years older, met with friendly smiles and open arms, only for a disaster to arise and for the Enterprise to warp away as soon as it was able.

None of it makes any sense, his hands reaching up to clutch at his head. The hands are familiar, yet unfamiliar. They are his, but they are not. He has lived his entire life with these hands, has known nothing else but their youthful skin, but the last he remembers they were wrinkled with age and calloused with use. Half of him wonders what old age is like and how he knows what it is.

It's too much. But no matter who he is, though he can only be Spock, he needs to check his surroundings. Carefully, he cracks open his eyes to the daylight streaming through the blue leaves. That much, at least, is a constant. The planet is blue. Shifting his head carefully, he finds another constant. Still unconscious in a tangle of limbs and slow breath, lies Jim.

He is relieved to see his Captain is indeed alive. His breath is stolen from him at seeing him again, young and alive. It does not feel so long since he last saw this Jim, but it comes as a shock every time he does. And just below the surface, he can feel a familiar pull. Different than Delta Vega. His Jim. But he does not think of Jim that way. Jim is his friend, closer after the events following Khan. He plays chess with the Captain, they take their meals together, and sometimes they will converse on matters of no importance. But they do not share a mind, they do not leave soft touches on each other's skin, he does not find reassurance in the brush of the human's fingers against his own.

Finding himself confused and overwhelmed, Spock looks away, attempting to take in more of their surroundings. It is not hard to decipher what has happened. The elder Spock's memories have been transferred to him. His own consciousness has been placed in that of his younger self and he can only assume his body is still functioning, elsewhere in the galaxy, with the same consciousness. It is a situation that will have to be dealt with later. For now, he formulates a plan of escape.

They are in a cell of some sort, surprisingly technological for the tree-dwelling species. They may have reached warp, but they prefer a more natural approach to life. He remembers that from the last time he visited the planet. It is brand new information to him. A softly shimmering shield covers the entrance to the hole dug into the sizable tree. Outside, a guard is sitting on one of the branches, back ramrod straight, one pair of arms holding onto it, another crossed over his chest, and the last at the weapons around his torso. Above them, there seems to be hard, clear paneling, revealing more such cells reaching high up into the tree.

Perhaps when Jim awoke, they could used their combined strength to get through that way while the guard was unaware, and climb out through the unguarded entrance of the above cell. Of course, he could attempt to find a way through their own shield, but there was not much they could do for that while the guard was sitting outside. Or, perhaps-

Jim stirs. Spock can feel his alertness in his mind as he slowly returns from sleep, rolling onto his side before his blue eyes flicker open, meeting his own and widening.

"Spock."

A/N: Tell me if you like it or not :)

I'm planning on finishing this, but I'm literally horrible at finishing multi-chapter fics so I won't promise anything this time because that just adds to my stress and guilt. But I do really love this idea and I have a lot of plans for this one, unlike how I usually start a fic with no idea what direction it's going in. With this one, I have a plot mapped out and a dozen scenes in my head.

More about what happened and how will be in the next chapter. I've got the explanation all worked out, don't worry. It makes... some sense. About as much sense as most TOS plots do.

Other chapters will probably be longer.