This story draws inspiration from the weird. Some aspects might make you feel squeamish. For example, The Pit (containing an unknown number of animal and human corpses).

The word Aura relates to the presence they leave behind. Like a little calling card. This is how Spock finds/tracks his marks. With training they can hide their personal 'signature' however it's not something most can master.

Spock looked around, dark eyes travelling over the dilapidated buildings lining the small alley he'd materialized into. The high arched windows and rusted iron skirting told a tale of grandeur and neglect. Spock wouldn't have to reach out and touch the crumbling red bricks to feel the terror and despair of the citizens of this isolated village.

If he was brought up as less than Vulcan, Spock surely would have snorted. Isolated didn't even begin to cover what had happened here. And if he was being truthful, which as a Vulcan, he always was, Spock would admit that he was disgusted at the state of the place. More precisely, how long the council of Elders had taken before deciding to send Spock to retrieve the child who caused... this.

In one elegant motion, Spock turned on his heel and began walking to the centre of town. He could feel the congregation of Human minds, touched by another. The other was a being like him. A race divided not by their planet, religion, skin tone(s) or any material quality but rather, by their talents. Or, as some in the universe believed, their curse. On days like today, Spock gave their point serious consideration. It was people like the one who'd ripped this village off the face of Earth and smacked it down in the nether that gave Auras their bad name. Not that anyone was blaming the child. If Spock's calculations were correct, which they always were, they had only been a few minutes old when they'd uprooted their home and sent it here.

Now it was Spock's job to find this person and help them control their talents, teach them until they no longer posed a threat to society and then offer to mentor them further. If they took up his offer he would take them back to Ahk'ihs, the Aura capital closest to Earth where they would begin the gruelling training to become his partner. His ne ki'ne. His shield mate. It was something every Vulcan, talented or no, aspired to. Something almost as powerful as t'hy'la.

First, this other needed some control. And Spock needed to evaluate their power. It was clearly immense but it had to fit well with his own for any of the council's plans to come to fruition. They needed to be able to meld, to join in the ancient warrior ways. Without this, Spock may as well just bring the chunk of land and its inhabitants back to Earth by himself.

Shifting around a corner, Spock caught sight of the commotion currently well under way in what looked like an unused outdoor shopping mall. Gravel and weeds crunched under clumsy Human feet as they jostled for the best position to view the person currently standing on a dried fountain. His hand rested on the petite angel's face, keeping his balance on the uneven edge.

Spock could feel the tension like a live wire under his skin. Even without his considerable talents, he'd be able to get a clear reading on this group. They were angry. Angry and scared. This did not bode well for his assignment. The faded sandstone beneath his feet provided him with the details. It troubled him that the ground held so many negative emotions. Ceaseless arguments with no clear solution. The people were practically helpless against the boy who terrorized them.

Spock felt his brows rise as he began to extract individual memories from the cool stones. This child, this young man, had been left unchecked much too long. He'd never seen a case become as desperate as this. The sheer number of casualties, lives Spock could have saved had the council permitted it, stunned him. The fire in his Vulcan blood boiled, rolling in great waves across the lagoon of trapped emotions. He would have to find a safe place and retire soon. Meditation would calm the maelstrom in his katra.

Turning, Spock glanced over his shoulder one last time, ebony eyes catching the pale blue of a blonde woman. Her eyes latched onto his, widening minutely as she failed to recognize his features. In such a tiny place it would be impossible not to know all your neighbours. Surprisingly, none of her other features gave away her reaction to his presence. Nor did she try to stop him or call attention to him as he walked back down the alley and faded into the shadows.

Searching for a more secluded resting place, Spock made his way out of the sparse congregation of buildings and into the open corn fields. He could only feel the lightest of life signatures out here. All innocent, uncomplicated thought patterns and instinct. The soft touches of life out here made an ideal backdrop for his meditation. There was also certain soothing feelings brought forth by the gently swaying corn stalks. It all combined to loosen Spock's muscles and allow him to sink into the first stages of a meditative trance.

It wasn't long before Spock had regained control over his more volatile emotions. With an ease which spoke of long hours of practice, Spock delved deeper into his mind and began to sift through the emotions, memories and thoughts he'd been able to collect so far.

The townspeople feared Jim for good reason.

Unable to defend themselves, the people had given in to all of his petty whims. The boy was spoiled. No one was able to think in his presence, lest they accidentally upset him. No one was allowed to do anything other than what he gave them permission to do. No one was to judge what he gave them as anything less than perfect. No one was allowed to be unhappy. The children were never to be thought of, let alone mentioned within his presence.

When they complied with his wishes, they were able to live in relative peace. When they upset him however, they paid the price.

One man, an uncle called Frank, had spoken ill of the weather many years ago. Despite their blood relation and Jim's apparent fondness, he'd changed him. Since that day, so long ago, Frank had been unable to speak anything but the truth in a world where the truth would have you killed. Like the child Gary. Before the people had known to keep Jim away from other children, a boy named Gary, the child of the butcher, was introduced to him. Apparently Jim didn't take a liking to him. His body disappeared and had yet to be found. A man named Finnegan, wanted to listen to a record rather than Mr. Pearsons playing the piano. A woman, Karen, now mute after an argument with her husband. Pets had gone missing. Native predators vanished. The mouse population was only kept down by Jim himself. It seemed that he liked to play with them. To hunt and chase and change things around.

Once Spock had gone over every detail, he stored the memories and emotions in a vault and locked it away, deep inside himself. He now knew, without a shadow of a doubt that he would be exactly what James Kirk needed. Someone smarter and stronger to pull him into line and teach him how to interact with the world.

Spock could see the ways Jim tried to reach out. The demented ways he tried to show he cared. It was clear, when one tilted their head and squinted, that he craved approval, love, acceptance and belonging. Spock was more than willing to provide this. To help and heal and get this town back to its rightful position. To get Jim to his rightful place, wherever he chose that place to be.

Spock shook his head and ran his fingers through his straight black bangs. This was clearly the beginning of a very long assignment. It was possibly going to be the most difficult one he'd ever been assigned.

Jim sat in the cellar, hands gently combing through the damp dirt. It clung to his skin and lodged under his short fingernails. His mother had been distressed when she left this morning. Sure she'd been thinking mundane, happy thoughts but Jim could see right through her. He wasn't really sure when it started. The mantra of 'everything's perfect' or 'what a lovely day' that everyone continuously thought in his presence. It was slightly insulting though.

Why wouldn't he know that they thought they were tricking him? They simply assumed he wouldn't notice that their thought patterns changed when in his presence. They were yet to realise that there was little he didn't know.

He knew they were scared of him. All he did was try to make them happy. Fix their problems, the little complaints which popped into their minds. The things he read in the sky and the dirt and the lines on their faces. It seemed that no matter what he did, it was never good enough. He was never good enough.

They were worried about the crops and having enough food over winter. He tripled what they had in the storerooms. Someone's wife talked too much, said things she shouldn't. He made it so she couldn't. Snakes attacked someone's child. He killed them and sent them into The Pit.

Everything he did was for them. Everything he did just seemed to push them further and further away.

He pouted and flicked the dirt at the wall. It was rather cathartic, watching it hit into the concrete and rain back down on the inky black floor. The dirt belonged in the cellar. Like the birds in the fields. Jim didn't belong. The others, they weren't like him. They didn't understand. They were weak and needed protection. He wanted to provide that. He wanted it so bad he could taste it.

The air around him snapped and crackled. Jim's head shot up. He expanded his senses, feeling for something. He wasn't sure what, never in his seventeen years had he felt something like that. It whispered of power, perhaps even greater than his own. Something was here and it was coming for him.

Jim's eyes darted around the room, brilliant blue slowly darkening as he flashed himself out of there and into the yard behind his old white farmhouse. Corn stalks bent in the cool breeze, sharing secrets. Jim wished he knew what they did. Whatever he felt, it was getting closer.

All at once, it appeared before him.

He was tall, with midnight hair and pointed ears. Black clothes covered a leanly muscled body. He was older than Jim, of that he was sure, and the three inch difference in their height attested to it. Overall he was beautiful and exotic in a way no one else had ever been. Although that could have something to do with the liquid onyx eyes staring straight into his soul. Or the barrier around his mind which Jim couldn't breach. Either way, Jim was speechless and rather impressed. This stranger changed everything.

Jim shifted wearily, dark blue eyes tracking every movement of the thing in front of him. Without his usual ability to know everyone's intentions and desires, he felt blind. He couldn't tell if the stranger was friend or foe. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. His instincts screaming to run. Regardless of intent, this was about to get bloody.

The stranger moved, crouching in one smooth motion, those eyes never leaving his own. It unnerved Jim. He swallowed, feeling trapped. He didn't like this. Not at all. His automatic reaction was to lash out.

Wave after wave of power gathered around him, tearing through the ground and ripping apart the very fabric of the sky. Without thinking about it, vicious bolts of lightning surrounded Jim's body. It arched off his skin and lit up the quickly darkening area.

Despite the fearful display, Jim could feel his courage failing. The man before him did nothing. Just watched without a single expression crossing his aristocratic features. It was unnerving and Jim just wanted him to go away. This was his town. They were his people. He would keep trying until he got it right. Then, they'd all be happy.

Jim called upon the wind, the elements to help him flush this other out. Wind roared in his sensitive ears, thunder grumbled as the lightning clung to him like a second skin. The heavens opened up and rain drenched them. The ground beneath their feet opened and swallowed whole trees.

"Fascinating." With that one word, the other moved. He jumped and dodged every obstacle in his path. Nothing seemed to be able to keep him back.

Jim raised a hand and directed the wind, slanting the rain into an almost horizontal wave to keep him at bay. For a few moments it seemed to work. At least, Jim watched as the rain spat right in his pretty face. Except, there was something odd about his skin. It was almost like it soaked up the moisture.

No matter what Jim threw at him, at one point a whole window pane, uprooted willow trees, boulders, a kitchen table, a number of rodents, nothing seemed to keep him back. All the while he kept murmuring about 'generating excess electrons' and 'changing the molecular structure' or whatever. Jim didn't get it. If it wasn't for the few English words he could understand, he'd have thought they spoke completely different languages.

Within moments of his first move, despite Jim's most desperate efforts, he was close enough to touch. So close Jim could count the number of dark lashes framing his eyes.

A pale hand reached out and rested on Jim's shoulder, smoothing out the crinkles in his shirt before tightening around the base of his neck.

Spock caught the boy, Jim, before he could fall. Spock could feel how undernourished the teen was. Fingers shifted over ribs, feeling the sharp contrast between each one. It was difficult to see any living being in such a state. Especially the boy with lightning in his eyes and a le'matya's fighting spirit. The ferocious beasts of his home world would be proud of the comparison.

Without a backwards glance, Spock carried his burden into the house, restitching the wall behind him. He took the stairs two at a time and trailed his fingers along the ceiling until he found the latch. One hard tug and the ladder unfurled.

The attic was a dark and dreary place. Old newspapers crunched under Spock's boots as he made his way toward the nest of blankets under the gabled dormer window. He hesitated before gently placing Jim on the pile of musty old blankets.

Taking a moment to survey his surroundings, Spock looked around. The place was in the same state of disrepair as the rest of the house, the rest of the town. Old spider webs clung to the walls, between old cardboard boxes, in the frame of a rusted bike. The former inhabitants had been gone a long time. At least there weren't any other occupants in the room. It was what Nyota would call a relief.

It was actually not the worst place Spock had stayed whilst on missions. There had been the one time when he collected a boy named Pavel. They'd both had to sleep out in a Siberian forest for a week. During a blizzard. It had not been the best experience of Spock's career. Especially waking up half frozen. Literally. Anything other than an Aura would have perished. Luckily, Pavel could run pretty warm. More like, blisteringly hot. The scared seven year old had set himself on fire in his distress. Even now, almost three years later, the boy was like a shadow.

Spock sunk to the floor beside Jim with a sigh. Pavel would be worrying about him. He'd be driving Nyota insane with questions she couldn't answer. Spock gave himself a moment to feel guilty before suppressing the emotion. Kaiidth; what is, is.

Elegant fingers trailed over the rough material which made up Jim's bedding. Negative feelings, self doubt, hatred and loneliness began to flow into him. It was profound, the effect this boy had on him. Never had he been so moved by another.

Underneath his fingers time seemed to rewind, the blankets gaining colour and a new life. What was once little more than a large pile of rags, were now soft sheets, a few quilts and two duvets, all scrambled together under the curled form of James Kirk.

The sight made the corners of Spock's lips twitch. The boy was certainly cute. With some good food and a bit of training, there was little doubt he'd fill into his features.

Spock contented himself with running his fingers through the tangled mess of Jim's honey locks. It would be a while before he awoke from the nerve pinch and Spock really had nothing else to attend to. He'd already decided he would be staying with James at all times. Later they would figure out a solution to the food problem. It should be a relatively violence-free activity to get to know each other and see if their gifts would work together as seamlessly as Spock suspected they might.

The next few days were spent getting to know James Kirk. He was smart and eager to learn, even if he did doubt Spock.

Their first task had not gone well. One might even coin it a total disaster.

Whilst still in physical contact with Jim, Spock had felt him stirring and the headache he'd acquired from the pinch. No sooner had he finished dissipating the pain, Jim had awoken to attack him. Spock had simply held the struggling Human down until he calmed. It was unfortunate that he happened to mention the apparent similarities between Jim's reaction and that of a le'matya cub.

Jim had tried to use his powers but, due in part to Spock's 'altered' sense of time, nothing happened. Which had pissed off the teen beneath him. Jim hissed through his teeth in anger and frustration which, once again reminded Spock of a little baby le'matya. Telling this to Jim, including the word cute, was in hindsight, a bad idea.

The boy had wiggled and squirmed and Spock had let him. Displaying the ease at which he could fully disable Jim would do him no favours. Nyota always told him that it was better to give them a little wiggle room. So he did.

Eventually, the boy exhausted himself and Spock was able to explain the reason he was there.

Which hadn't been met with the best of reactions. One part of Jim visibly calmed while another raised his shields. There was hope there though. And so they'd begun.

The food situation, when they'd finally worked their way through the locals, was worse than Spock had previously thought. For years they'd been living off a base diet of corn. Supplemented by a few eggs every other week and some chicken once or twice a year. The only fruit and vegetables were grown in three gardens. There were four orange trees, three rows of carrots, a large number of potato plants, pumpkins, beans, cucumbers and tomatoes. One family even had a number of common herbs, such as basil, oregano, thyme and sage.

For the first time, Spock wished he was Human. His fingers itched to rub at the point between his eyes where he could feel tension forming. Unfortunately, despite not knowing much about Auras, the townspeople were aware of Vulcan cultural practices and such a display would be unbecoming of him. It was a shame.

It was little wonder James was so short. Without the proper nutrition during his formative years, he would always be a little behind the level of his peers. Theoretically, he could probably change that. Probably. He'd never attempted to use his powers on a living being in such a specific way. It was definitely something to think about. Not that he would ever try to change James. Spock found himself quite fond of the boy.

After Spock had spruced up the town, to the joy and amazement of Jim and the suspicion of the townspeople, they'd headed back to the house. Spock had spent the next three days watching Jim's every move. He mentally recorded every time Jim used his powers. The, often unconscious, way he relied on them. It was peculiar, what he chose to do himself and what he didn't. It was clear that he'd never really found the limits of his gifts. He just didn't seem to use certain talents when he could.

It was refreshing, in a way. Spock had never been one to use his own powers frivolously. He was Vulcan and as such, employed control at all times. If he didn't, he'd be far more destructive than anything Auras had ever had to deal with before. Spock was a genius. His warrior instincts, born and bred in the harsh deserts of Vulcan, were impeccable. Add in his powers, which were extreme, and you had a weapon like no other.

Hence why he was here with James. At the moment, all anyone could tell of his powers were that they were extensive. Spock could teach or, if the need came, terminate the other Aura.

For the moment however, he had to focus on James. Or rather, on the hand stretching towards his ear. No matter how many times Spock tried to explain the meaning of boundaries, Jim kept trying to touch him. Teaching him about Vulcan customs didn't work. The faithful touch telepathy was laughed off. Personal discomfort with physical contact just made James look at him part horrified, part pitying. Spock was about ready to explain the way some of his more deadly talents worked. One glance at determined blue eyes and the way the tip of his tongue stuck just past the edge of his lips and Spock knew he could do little to stop the inevitable. They would eventually have to cross this barrier regardless. Spock had just hoped that it would take a lot longer.

"James. We're going out into the fields." Despite the clear warning in his tone, Jim just smiled at him. It sometimes surprised Spock how quickly James had taken to him. He couldn't recall another being feeling so at ease with his presence. Even his oldest friend, Nyota could still be a little jumpy around him. Not to mention how often Leonard told him he required a warning system. Or a bell. Or both, preferably.

"Are we finally gonna do something cool?" Jim whined, even as he stood and got ready to leave.

At the very last moment, a tanned hand whipped out and grabbed onto Spock's own. His eyes widened. Jim's thoughts, feelings, buried desires, memories all flowed through the link.

They arrived, landing on a soft mat of grass between an impressive willow and a softly gurgling stream. Both boys fell to their knees, the link stripping away their strength. Spock knew Jim could feel himself being extracted through their point of contact. He didn't need to see to know the moment blue eyes widened and Jim realised the trouble he'd gotten them both in. Once an extraction had begun there was no way to stop until it was complete. Jim's whole life was flashing before Spock's eyes, over his senses and he couldn't break away without hurting James. Which was not an option.

So, for the next immeasurable amount of time, they stayed together. When the extracting finally ended, Spock carefully gave Jim everything back without focusing on any particular moment. He wanted to take away the hurt, the loss and loneliness. Such an action would be unfair, cruel even, to James. It was the only thing which stayed his hand. James was strong. He didn't need Spock to fight his battles. He needed support and Spock was more than happy to give that to him.

"What the fuck was that?" Jim shouted, pulling away as soon as Spock's vice grip released.

"That was exactly what I have been warning you about. You can't just do everything you want without thought of the consequences." Spock said, voice in a perfect monotone as he struggled to control the emotions the extraction had bought to the surface.

Spock watched as Jim paced, running his hands through his scruffy blonde hair. Agitation rolled off his form in waves.

"Jim, I did not try to invade your privacy. I cannot help what I am, what I do." Spock spoke slowly, pushing down the guilt and hurt.

"No, I know that. I didn't mean. It just scared me, is all. I'm not exactly used to being on the other side of all this." Jim gestured between them before laughing in what Spock now knew was a self deprecating manner.

"At least I know why you don't want me touching you." Jim smiled. It was small, hesitant as if he was waiting for Spock's rejection.

"You recall when I explained that Vulcans don't touch anyone outside their clan and the additional sensitivity of our hands. We convey... affection to our bondmates through our hands." Spock paused, thinking of a way of explaining without his cheeks turning green. Jim was not the only unsuspecting Human to touch Spock's hands. It was not even the most intimate thing they had done. Effectively downloading someone's entire life was much more personal. Nor was the touch particularly unwelcome. From Jim's memories, Spock knew he was held in high esteem and affection. It had been nice to feel such thoughts and emotions directed at himself.

"It is similar to the Human practise of kissing." Spock could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, despite his best efforts. He'd though the usual blunt delivery might spare him some embarrassment.

"Oh." Jim looked at the ground, ears flushing pink. At least they were both in the same boat.

After that afternoon their lessons went spectacularly. Jim knew it was, in part, due to Spock's knowledge of the way he worked. The way they fitted together, complemented each other almost perfectly, was unnatural. Even Winona commented on it, when she thought the Vulcan couldn't hear. It was a shame her time away from Starfleet had dulled her memories of the species.

There was nothing they could hide from Spock. Now Jim could see why the villagers were so frightened of him. It was eerie and awkward knowing someone else had privy to his thoughts. Which was completely hypocritical, he knew, but it was creepy. Jim just fervently hoped Spock wasn't still picking up on his thoughts. How did one explain the inappropriate dreams that kept Jim tossing and turning at night? Or the sudden heat which would pool low in his gut when Spock came too close. Or the million other things which made Jim want to jump into his lap and never leave.

Possibly the worse thing though was that everyone knew. Winona made suggestive comments all the time. Frank had outright told Spock. Needless to say, their next lesson centred on undoing everything he'd changed in people.

All in all, the last seven months had been the best of Jim's life.

He now had a family who didn't feel the need to walk on eggshells around him. The postman, who had once despised his job, now visited every other day bringing Jim any books he could find lying around town. The other villagers were warming up to him, slowly but surely. Mr. Davis promised they'd come around. Best of all, he finally had a friend, someone like himself who accepted all of him in a way no one else ever could.

Swept from his thoughts, Jim wiped the sweat from his brow and forced his concentration back on the task at hand. Spock was trusting him with this. He couldn't let him down. He refused.

Jim gathered himself and focused on his core, his innermost lifeforce. Spock had told him his katra was like eddies of heat and colour. That, at every level of his being, he blazed through life. Now he had to imagine that, see it clearly in his head and bend it to his will.

Theoretically, he could shape himself into anything he desired. However, everyone had limitations, weaknesses. Jim was fire. Heat. Warmth. Energy. Life giving and stealing. He could protect or he could destroy. Which was why Spock was sent to help him.

Spock, who was one contradiction after another. People saw him as Vulcan, as emotionless and distasteful of the expression of feelings. Yet Jim saw the longing in his eyes, had felt the touch of his mind against his own. Spock felt. More than anyone in Riverside. The intensity had scared Jim more than the loss of himself.

Spock didn't feel happy or sad or angry. He felt euphoric or inconsolable or furious. Everything was pushed to the extreme and then magnified. Some of the things Jim had felt, he knew there was no Human expression. He was glad Spock seemed to have an endless amount of patience when it came to him, unlike some of the more distrusting people in town.

Nothing was more frightening than a Vulcan losing its cool. How Spock had managed to repress what had shown across his face was impressive. More than impressive. It had been the nail in the coffin. Jim liked him. A lot. He couldn't deny it. Not when the Vulcan was so perfect. He just hoped, when Spock was finished teaching him, they'd still be friends. Jim couldn't imagine a life without Spock there to temper him. Tether him to reality. It was inconceivable.

Feeling the bubbling magma of his essence flow through his limbs, Jim let it seep from his skin. The heat pooled at his feet, reaching down deep into the earth and finding the roots of their floating landmass.

He kept calm as he extended his reach. The red hot mass spreading out, forming an intricately woven net.

Beside him, Jim was vaguely aware of Spock. He was seated in the lotus position, mind deep within himself as he readied for their journey. This enterprise would take a lot out of them both. Spock had made it clear that there was a high possibility they wouldn't be able to walk, let alone use their gifts, once they'd gotten Riverside back to its rightful place. How Jim had managed to get them out this far was beyond the knowledge of the sharpest Auras.

"El-tor tu-shai, nam-tor Jim." Spock's voice pierced through his concentration, yet didn't diminish it. It was odd but then, that's how they were. They complemented each other in the most unexpected ways. Spock always made Jim stronger, no matter that he had absolutely no idea what he was saying. Without the slightest ability to speak Spock's language, Jim could hear the meaning loud and clear. He was being encouraged. Spock believed he could do this. They were doing this. Butterflies danced in his chest.

Jim let his web fold outwards, unfurling until it's gossamer threads burnt into every crack and crevice, every pockmark of land. He held it in his hand, like he must have done unconsciously, more often than he knew, over the years.

When he was confident with his hold, Spock began his part of their arrangement. Where Jim was fire, in all its various forms, Spock was the dark vacuum of space. Untouchable, sucking the life from anything whilst simultaneously providing everything life needed to occur. He was the beauty of the deepest recesses of space. Something Jim had only ever seen through other people's eyes. It was little wonder he was enamoured by Spock.

Time seemed to stop, fracture and rip apart. Beneath them, the ground shook and, if not for Jim's net, would have shattered, ripped away by this new force. The sky opened up, any condensation in their mini atmosphere vanishing into the misty nether. The groan of splintering wood pierced the air as the very world came to a halt. Small animals tried desperately to stay in their homes or find a safe place to wait out the commotion.

Jim squeezed his hand to keep the web tight. He was shaking, trying to keep everything together while Spock brought them home. And then everything shifted. One moment they were in the middle of nowhere and the next, Jim was on his back looking at a blue sky.

"Matches my eyes…" he murmured to himself, stretching out his cramped muscles. When he couldn't summon the energy to do anything more, Jim simply laid where he was, looking at the sun for the first time. A shadow darkened his vision.

"How you're even standing is beyond me." Jim said, unable to stop the bright grin which graced his features. Seeing Spock alright made him feel deliriously happy. They'd pulled it off.

The grin faded as he continued to look at Spock. There was something wrong. He could feel it, an aching in his chest.

"Spock? What's going on? Why are you looking at me like that?" Jim asked, pulling strength from somewhere and sitting up. He watched as a brief frown marred Spock's features before the emotionless mask fell back into place.

"Jim, ni'droi'ik nar-tor. I thought we would have more time. I am unable to teach you. If you wish to continue you lessons I can call a friend. Leonard would be… helpful." Spock looked down at Jim, eyes focused over his shoulder and voice full of regret. It wasn't fair. Jim didn't want to pout and cry and act like a spoiled child yet, at the same time, he could feel the tears spilling down his cheeks. His throat hurt. His heart hurt. Spock was leaving him.

"But I don't want anyone else."

"Oh t'hy'la, it is not my wish to leave you." Spock crouched in front of him and gently wiped his tears. Lithe fingers flowed over his face, tracing invisible patterns. Memorising his features and the feel of his mind.

Jim let out a sob when they finally rested against his own lips, unable to stop the sound. Those fingers were warm against his skin. Warm and strong and inhuman.

'Vulcans kiss with their hands.' Jim recalled. He poured all his love and longing into his skin, Spock's reaction immediate.

Brown eyes darkened as Jim was pulled forward into a kiss. Lips met and moved with urgency. A sharp nip and low growl accompanying Jim's moan. A hot tongue swiped along the seam of his mouth as hands entangled. Jim opened, giving himself freely. It was heady, intoxicating and he never wanted them to part.

"I will be back, ashaya." Spock breathed onto Jim's pink cheeks. He could do nothing but nod as Spock gently extracted himself from the tangled mass of limbs.

He briefly nuzzled into Jim's hair, kissed his forehead and disappeared.

Jim flopped back on the grass.

Despite every instinct which warred within him, Spock didn't give into the urge to check on Jim as soon as he arrived. Time spent in Shi'Kahr was always tense and it was in the best interests of everyone that he had time to unwind. A cranky Vulcan was a danger to everyone. Better they continue to believe him void of emotions than to learn the truth.

The last three months he'd spent in and around Shi'Kahr were unusually long. If it weren't for his mothers bright presence, he wouldn't have stayed so long. His father was sick and she needed Spock's presence. The close proximity helped heal the immense strain their familial bonds had gone through during his time in the nether. It had given him plenty of time, between the diplomatic missions the council gave him, to tell his mother all about Jim. She'd been delighted, as had his grandmother, when she'd been informed.

It had been an interesting visit. He'd learnt many a new thing. His grandmother had a -literally- wicked sense of humour and liked to watch people squirm. His mother had made him engagement necklaces and laughed off his protests. His father had approved, a truly shocking event which shook the foundations of Spock's being.

Spock was a little more than glad to be home and eager to sleep in his own bed. He needed time to settle, rebuild his controls before he could function properly. Unfortunately, it seemed that wasn't an option. Judging from the look on Leonard's face, it wouldn't be an option for a while.

"You stupid, stuck up, self righteous, green blooded, pointy eared bastard!" Leonard growled as Spock walked up the stone steps towards his front door. The ornate cast iron banister creaked slightly under his hand. His emotions were running rampant and he was about this close to snapping. Preferably Leonard's neck.

"You listen here hobgoblin, whatever you've done to him, you better be able to undo it. Jim's a nice kid and he's been in agony since you left." Leonard punctuated each word with a sharp gab to the ribs. It was only the mention of Jim which kept Spock hanging onto the last dregs of logic. Jim was in pain. He couldn't help him if Leonard's body was floating down the conveniently placed canal just in front of his home.

"He didn't even tell me! Two months of soul crushing headaches and the idiot didn't even tell me. Did I get my medical license for giggles? He waited until they were so bad he started passing out from the pain to just casually mention it." The lecture continued as Spock's mind raced through the possibilities. It sounded like a bond stretched beyond its limit. What his mother would have gone through, if not for his father's stabilising mind to protect her.

If they were bonded, Spock's shields would protect him from the pain until the bond snapped. But Jim would be defenceless. Torn apart from the inside.

Eyes snapping open, Spock rushed up the steps, pushed Leonard aside and made his way into his bedroom. Now that he was open to it, he could feel where Jim was. How he tossed and turned, mind reaching for him even under heavy sedation. His mate looked pale, so small and fragile under the plush navy covers.

Spock dropped the bag he was holding, not bothering to spare a thought to where it landed. He pulled back the heavy duvet and crawled underneath, wrapping his body around Jim's. The shuddering frame stilled and with a sigh, Jim melted into his warmer body. The guilt bearing down on Spock dissipating in the same instant. He could feel nothing less than content now that James was within his embrace. Nothing could harm him now.

Through slitted eyelids, Spock watched as Leonard scrubbed a hand down his unshaven face and muttered under his breath. Somewhere, deep down, he knew the other male was uninterested in his mate. It didn't lessen the severity of the growl which rumbled from his chest.

"If this is what you're like on a normal day, I don't want to be around for Pon Farr." Leonard grumbled before he turned and closed the door behind him. Spock felt him move to the kitchen, grab his medical bag and leave, only relaxing when the lock clicked behind him.

"Missed you." Jim breathed, snuggling further back into Spock's chest. It drew an approving purr from his throat.

Tightening his arms around his sleeping mate, Spock drifted into a meditative trance.

Ok, so I meant for this to be a Halloween one shot, in celebration of my birthday and the Samhain festivities (festival of the dead/harvest/start of the new spiritual year) but it's become a two shot. Look out for the epilogue. That's what I'm gonna call it. Epilogue.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek nor do I make money from this little piece of my soul.

:D

El-tor tu-shai, nam-tor Jim: free yourself, be Jim

Jim, ni'droi'ik nar-tor: Jim, forgive me.

I think the other touches of Vulcan are pretty well known, feel free to ask. I can always add to my list of translations.