A/N: So, here's another drabble for all of you guys. It's Kirk/Spock, though it can be read as either friendship or slash depending on how you see it. I apologise for the angst and emotional overload, but I've been having a bad day and this was the result. Fingers x'd that in a couple of days, all my happy smutty slash bunnies will return :)
Again, I'll appreciate absolutely any and all comments on this, just so that I can see what needs improving for the future. I hope you guys enjoy :)
This wasn't supposed to be happening.
Things like this weren't supposed to happen to him, not now; not when he was the captain, not when he was supposed to be the strongest one of them all. Not when it had been years since he had endured the horrors he was now reliving as vibrantly as if they were happening to him again.
When he had been offered the herbal tea by the elders, they had said it was a measure of the purity of someone's soul, a symbol of trust that they would refuse to sign the treaty without. Considering how hard Spock had worked to secure the fragile agreement, Jim wasn't going to blow it to pieces by doing something as stupid as turning down the offering.
It wasn't until he had finished it, until the essences of the tea began to tap into and reveal his memories as a measure of his trustworthiness that it happened.
His vision had gone black, his heart feeling like it had stopped in his chest, and as the sudden coldness enveloped it in his stranglehold, his worst memories were torn from him and played out like some sick hologram – but it was real.
Images of Kodos, of Tarsus IV, of seeing the death squads mercilessly kill and torture those who he loved as he hid away, trying in vain to protect the children who saw him as their only hope brought him to his knees as he screamed out in horror. He wasn't the captain anymore, he wasn't the poster boy of Starfleet doing what he did best, all he was was a child, desperately running for his life as those around him perished.
Suddenly, the child hit a hard, warm presence – one that scared, yet soothed him in equal measures. He closed his eyes, awaiting his swift, painful death; it never came. He felt arms, stiff yet determined, wrap around him, the feel of a rough, Starfleet uniform and the heat it encased surrounding him, and the recognisable baritone voice of Spock, much quieter than usual against the backdrop of hysteria, repeating his name over and over.
It was honestly scaring him, seeing the shadows of that hideous time laugh and dance around him tauntingly; suffocating him, but Spock kept him grounded. It wasn't until the terror faded, the memories retreating back behind their veil, that Jim suddenly felt himself pulled back into the present.
He could still feel Spock though; his voice in his mind, his unwavering presence shielding him from the darkness, and it wasn't until Jim dared to open his eyes that he saw Spock there, his fingers against his meld-points and his forehead pressed tight to his own.
The love, adoration and affection poured into Jim through the skin contact, but it wasn't until he heard the gentle whisper of "T'hy'la" that Jim finally broke down, burying his face against Spock's shoulder. That may have been his past, but at least Spock was his present and future.