"Doctor's log

I don't even know what day it is. I've been seating in this room for too much time doing nothing. Damn it. I don't even know why I am doing my log…

Anyway. It has been almost five days since Jim… Died. We still don't have any signal of him getting better or worse. I think I shouldn't be concerned by now. We knew it would take long. Yet I can't lie to myself saying that I didn't wish he had opened his eyes when we first injected the blood on his vains.

Damn it Jim! You are taking too long. Scotty is always in a bar drinking. I have no idea where Sulu or Chekov are. Uhura keeps coming here every day and always ends up crying. She saw you dying, you know. I am quite… Glad… That I didn't. I wouldn't be able to think. I would've opened the door. I would've killed everyone. And this… This would be useless.

Spock has been acting weird. Crazy, even. He watched you. You know he did. He was beside you when I wasn't. I guess that makes him your real best friend, doesn't it? And who would guess that the green-blooded pointed-eared bastard would have feelings? He wanted to save you. He wanted to open the door. He almost did. But his last drop of logic didn't let him, I guess.

Yet, he is starting to worry me Jim.

Without you here, we are not taking any other missions. Spock, Scotty, Uhura and I are staying around. Around you. On Earth. And those people you told me about one night, that you were sure that didn't care about you? Guess what? They came. Your mother came. She talked for hours about how sorry she was. How she should have treated you better. It doesn't matter anyway. She left as soon as she found out that you were indeed, alive.

Spock and I have been here since you were put on this hospital bed. The other doctors and nurses tried to take us out for a walk, saying that you would be fine, be we can't Jim. We don't have that power anymore. To leave you. Because we couldn't help you before and now we are trying our best, but it isn't going anywhere. I can't do anything else and neither can he. But we keep trying. Searching. Learning. Studying. Reading. Talking. Thinking.

It isn't enough, and we both know that you wouldn't want us to be like this over you death. Doing everything possible to cheat it for you. But you taught us exactly that. There aren't no-winning scenarios. And we both took the lesson very seriously.

Spock keeps worrying me, though. I sleep, sometimes. I haven't seen him sleep or meditate for days now. Sometimes, when he thinks I'm sleeping, he talks to you. To himself. Saying that he was sorry. That it should've been him. That you shouldn't have done that alone. I almost hear him crying. But obviously he doesn't. He is not weak. But he isn't so strong either. His half-human part is showing too much this last days. He doesn't even worry anymore about letting me see his disappointed face when he comes back and you are still down. Or his sad face when he takes your hand in his and you don't squeeze back.

Please Jim. Please. Just wake up. I want you alive and, for the first time in my life, I want Spock well. Logical. Cold. Because I can't deal with his face anymore. He is too broken, just like I am. Just like you once were.

Wake up Jim. Please"

Everything was dark for a moment. Jim looked around in that darkness, but he couldn't bring himself to be scared. He wasn't. He was calm, in peace. He felt like floating. Everything was good. Nothing could harm him. He let a smile appear on his face while he gave his first step forward. Then, a light appeared, and his eyes narrowed so he could get used to it. He didn't feel fear. Pain. He felt safety. Kindness. Love.

He started walking to the light, slowly, but not hesitantly. He didn't know where he was, but it was somewhere he could trust. Like his home. He breathed deeply, and grinned even more, continuing to walk. It got bigger and bigger, until the time when he saw himself on his quarters. He frowned in confusion. His quarters? He looked around, and someone that reminded him too much of himself was sitting on his bed. He got closer to him, sitting in the chair next to the man. The man smiled kindly to him. Jim smiled back.

"Hello Jim. I am James T. Kirk" the man said, his voice calm and warm. Jim smiled to himself and nodded.

"Me too Captain. Me too" he said vaguely, his eyes tracing his older self's face-lines. Jim was a curious person, so it didn't take long for him to ask "What are we doing here? I thought I was dead"

Jim didn't get his answer. The other Jim chuckled, and shook his head. "Your time hasn't come yet" he said, before Jim was once again pulled into the darkness.

"Spock's log.

Star date: 4282.7.

Place: Captain's Kirk hospital quarters.

According to my calculations, there has been 13 days, 23 hours, 33 minutes and 56 seconds since Captain Kirk has been fatally compromised. I have been collecting the necessary information for a case of an unexpected fall down of the Captain's health. Until now all seems in complete order. Doctor McCoy and I have been in constant watch over the Captain, and I have realized that the doctor is not resting what is necessary for a good performance on a human being. As a Vulcan, I can stay well without sleeping for long periods of time, but I have been realizing that I might need a rest. Every time Tenant Uhura comes to the room, she tells me to go and rest, but I have properly declined every single one of said requests. My… Feelings… Don't let me think logically.

These days would have been extremely interesting if it wasn't the simple thought and vision of the Captain… Jim… Laid on the hospital bed, barely breathing, his pulse week and his body frozen. McCoy and I have been doing researches but they do not seem to be getting anywhere close to our incognita. Why isn't Jim waking up? This last days I've been in fully watch over the Captain, even when doctor McCoy is resting; especially on those times. I haven't been able to meditate and that is making my mind confused. My feelings are not being controlled anymore. I know that the doctor has already noticed. I see how he looks at me sometimes. Worried. Pitiful. And I can't bring myself to care. I feel tired and weak, and there is no reason for lying. To anyone. I miss Jim. More than I miss my mother. More than I miss my planet. More than I miss being logical. More than I miss being Vulcan. My world now turns around James Tiberius Kirk, and I do not know how that happened, but right now, I do not need to know. As a Vulcan and a Human, I want answers to my questions. But this, this is something beyond both world's comprehension.

This is why, this night, I will mind meld with the Captain. That way, I might found out if he is okay. If he is better or worse or the same. But I fear that, if Jim founds out, he might not want to see me again. I have to try. Keep holding on is illogical. I honestly hope he is alright."

Now Jim was in the darkness again. But now it was all he had always had in mind. It wasn't calm. Peaceful. Safe. It was chaos. Pain. Fear. Death. Hurt. Everything was passing through his mind so slowly, so painfully. Tarsus IV. Imminent death. Hunger. Fear. His family. Sam. His dad. Frank. His mother. Pain. Hurt. Not caring. Leaving behind. An then Pike. His death. The only good thing in his life that had left and he was dead. By Khan's hands. He would avenge Pike. But he didn't. He wasn't strong enough. He failed once more. With his mother. With his dad. With his brother. With Pike. With his crew. With everyone all over again. Because who was he? He was that lonely farm boy that would live an ordinary life with a wife and a lot of kids while watching the stars at night, because he couldn't reach them. Nero had killed his father. Khan had killed the only figure he had found to replace him. And when he gets to his ship, the only last thing that matters, he won't let her die. Not her. Not without a fight. So he runs. And runs faster than ever. He opens the door. He fixes the machine. He crawls back. It all hurts again. And for the first time since he entered Starfleet, he feels like he did something right. But once again, someone has to end that feeling. Because Spock is there. Looking helpless. Frightened. Lost. And there is glass between them and Jim can't do anything to help. And then, Bones is there. He looks like a lost puppy. Both of them look helplessly at Jim, lowering themselves and trying to connect with him in any way possible. By eyes. By talking. By touching the glass. But Jim knows it is useless. Anyway he reaches out for them. Because he was wrong. Pike wasn't the last person he would fight for. The Enterprise wasn't the last thing he would die for. No. He was very wrong. They were the real reason. Spock and Bones were the ones that made him kill himself so they could live. Bones lost everything, Spock lost everything, Jim wouldn't let himself lose them.

And suddenly the pain stopped. He breathed calmly. Normally. He heard Pike's voice saying: "Didn't you feel like you were born for something better? Something especial?" and Jim knew. He had been born for something better. Something especial.

Jim opened his eyes slowly, the daylight being already too bright for him to simply ignore it. He heard the rain outside, and heard the annoying sound of Bones' machines moving over him, examining. He stared at Bones, and Bones stared back. Their words were meaningless to Jim. He couldn't be happier to see him. And then Spock was also there. It didn't exactly surprise Jim, but he was happy. His best friends were there, with him, when he woke up.

The three of them had a quick talk, before warning the others that Jim had come back and he was fine. Sulu, Chekov, Uhura and Scotty appeared on the time they called, but the others came around the afternoon, when they could, and Jim understood. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted the chess games with Spock and the movie nights with McCoy and the drinking night with both and he wanted both just for him forever. They were one. He could feel it. They completed each other. It was a bond impossible to be known by any kind of world. It was theirs. And they understood. Because it was meant for them and them only. And no one could break it.