Title: Star Trek: Two Hearts, One Soul
Author: Goddess Blaque-Rose
Pairing: Kirk/Spock, Scotty/Uhura

Prologue

The eight months he had spent on Amerind have changed him, inside and out. Inwardly, he was more centred, calmer and more in control of the immense physical power he had gained from the transfusion of blood from Khan which had saved his life. Outwardly, he was fitter, his skin sun kissed from daily toil, his hair longer and worn in his adopted people's fashion. Braided over each ear, the ends held with leather thongs and decorated with semi-precious stones, the centre teased up into a Mohawk. His eyes lined with a blue paint, which complemented their natural colour. He forgoes the headband which once marked him as Medicine Chief. He left it behind, unable to wear it after the loss of his wife and unborn child. It's been six months and it's all still a little too raw.

He runs a hand down the front of his dress shirt unnecessarily; it clings to him now his body is more muscular and is at little risk of wrinkling. He can't help the small smile that graces his lips. He's not the only one who's noticed he's filled out. A beep at the door breaks off his train of thought. "Enter." Spock steps in right on time.

"Lieutenant Uhura has received a confirmation from the surface. Co-ordinates have been forwarded to Main Transporter Room."

"Thank you Commander Let's be going then." They sweep into the hall moving in sync. Jim is more aware of it now than ever before. How he and Spock move together like this. Like they are two halves of one, the perfect Command Team.

The Transporter is working for once and they beam down into the Courtyard of a large Palace Complex where they are met by the King and his guard. After pleasantries are swapped they walk to the temple where the High Priestess will speak to the Goddess to decide whether the mining contact the Federation seeks with the Heliosian Empire will be fruitful for both parties.

"Federation Representatives, step forward and kneel," the aging Priestess orders without even turning around. Spock and Jim obeyed silently. She turned, golden bowl in hand, something inside is smoking. She stepped to Spock first, dipping her fingers in the bowl and painting a line down the centre of his forehead. She then moved to Jim and repeated the gesture. Once the bowl is returned to the altar, the Priestess sings. Her voice is strong for someone her age. It isn't long before the hairs on Jim's arms and the back of his neck are standing on end due to the static electricity in the air.

"The Trial of Fire and Ice," she announces suddenly and there's a flash of light.

Even though the sun has almost sunken beneath the horizon, there is still a lot of heat in the air, he notices. As far as the eye can see, in all directions is sand, desert sand. He realises pretty quickly that he's clearly pulled the fire straw and dearly hopes that the ice trial does not overwhelm Spock. He knows all too well how his First Officer hates the cold. The first and only time he ever heard Spock swear was during a night trapped in an ice cave after an ionic snow storm (the first in recorded history) trapped them about 18 months into the five year mission. He starts to pick himself up off the sands when he notices something familiar. Almost instinctively, he cups his hands together and brings the hot sand up and draws in a deep breath of the scent it holds. The sand falls in a rush as Jim gasps. 'Impossible!' Again and again moves, taking a handful of sand and taking in its scent again and again, always with the same result. It smells like Spock. The sun disappears beneath the horizon completely and Jim lifts his eyes to the night sky. Above in the distance, throwing just a little light is Delta Vega. To one side of it is the constellation Lanka-Garukh, 61 Cygni.

Vulcan. As impossible as it is, he's on Vulcan.

It's cold, freezing cold and the whole world is white. He stumbles left and right as his muscles protest their usage in such temperatures. Minutes draw together until he knows if he doesn't find shelter soon, he will die. And suddenly a figure appears.

He is barely able to register it as his rescuers half drags him into shelter. His legs buckle beneath him but instead of hitting a hard stone floor, he falls upon furs. His rescuers uses a firm hand to strip him of his clothes, wet through from the snow collected on them. The air is warm but his bones are cold. The last thing he registers as he loses consciousness is a weight pushing down on him.

The scent of cooking meat draws him over the next dune. A camp has been set up next to an oasis. But he doesn't enter lightly. He watches for more than an hour as ancient Vulcan warriors drink and dance, fight and fuck and eat. Only when the camp falls quiet, just before dawn does he dare enter. He steals a kilt and cloak from the S'haile, along with a water bag, food and a riding beast. Before he leaves he burns his uniform and the thoroughly destroyed remnants of his phaser and communicator in the largest fire. He's risking the timeline just being there. He won't risk contaminating it too.

A sandstorm covers his tracks.

His body is still heavy from the cold but his loins are heated and warm his blood. The body above him rocks in a motion as old as time. Deep down somewhere he is a little amused by the situation he finds himself in. There is admiration too, towards the one who he knew was saving his life with her intimate actions. Sharing body heat would only warm the main part of the body, the torso, whereas sharing intimacy warmed the blood, therefore warming the entire body including the brain.

He lifted a hand. It first met fur, a blanket covering them and holding in the precious heat, then skin. He shared with his nameless lover the feeling of gratitude. To his great surprise she sent back her feeling of pleasure. Suddenly his blood stopped feeling warm. It burned.

He's a man on a mission. He has no idea why he was sent here in the first place but he won't waste the opportunity he's been handed. He travels collecting seeds, and literature. He even dares to collect hair and scale samples from as many of the animals as he can find, or dare approach. Every now and again a Vulcan dares to approach him; he's asks them for some of their hair (with roots). After only six weeks he has a large chest full of samples, seeds and scrolls, almost too heavy for his super strength to handle. He senses his time on Vulcan has come to an end. But before he returns he takes the last stones from his hair, uses it to barter for a large lidded stone jar and some wax. He scoops handful after handful of sand into it and seals it tight. With jar in one hand and chest in the other, the flash of light that bought him here returns him to his own timeline.

After a week of only meat, he feels weak and lethargic. He couldn't imagine living off meat for as long as his companion has. She too is not in her natural timeline, trapped in the past with only primitive tools to survive. Once enough of his strength has returned she takes him on a tour of the cave system she calls home. There's a cavern as cold as the outside world where she stores the meat she has hunted. Another where a stream of water runs through and an enormous domed cavern which shelters an ancient forest where she collects wood for smoking meat and feeding fire. She shows him a store of seed that was sent with her but she's never been able to devise a way of growing them.

He throws himself into devising a way to grow them fresh vegetables, only stopping to tend to his needs. Needs that now seem to include hours of lovemaking. He finds himself near insatiable in her arms. Her empathy and his touch telepathy cause a heady loop of passion between them.

Its six weeks before his work shows the first sign of success. Ninety-eight percent of the seeds planted have thrown out shots of green and red. Something the air changes and he realises that his time here is coming to an end. He throws himself into one last night of passion focusing on giving her the greatest of pleasure. As she sleeps exhausted on her bed of fur, he dons the now familiar fur clothes she made for him and walks out into the blinding white.

"What just happened?" Uhura started as they reappeared suddenly. "Are you both alright?"

"They have faced the Trial of Fire and Ice and they have succeeded," the Priestess turns to Spock first. "The method of growing plants that you have taught that young woman, she will pass on to her offspring, who shall take it and teach it to others and secure food enough to save a dying people for millennia to come." There's something in Spock's expression, a sort of shock. "And you Captain have saved something of a planet now lost. The items you have collected will help to heal them survivors. All of them." There was something unspoken mingled with those last three words. He turns to Spock.

"I was on Vulcan. I travelled T'Khasi for six weeks. It was beautiful," Jim kneels beside the chest, gently placing down the jar before opening the first. Spock steps forward, an outreach hand shaking. Jim takes it and pulls him down gently beside him. He pulls out little bundles. Opening one to show a length of hair, "I asked many for hair. Most were willing to give it. And see, they all have the roots attached so we can get DNA. I was able to do the same with about a dozen different animals too." He pulls out more bundles as the rest of the away team join them. "Seeds, fruits, vegetables and flowers. They were the easiest to find. I had to barter all my hair decorations but I got about 270 different species. And here, scrolls and books. Some songs but mostly epics and poetry."

Uhura kisses him, noisily on the cheek. "Oh, I hope I can have a chance to translate them."

"T'hy'la," Spock reaches and picks up a book, the finest among all the collection. Its cover is a fine red leather and its title is embossed with gold. "There were two copies made by the writer. His own personal copy and another made especially for the Imperial library in Shi'Kahr some 5,000 years ago. The Imperial Copy disappeared without a trace before it had ever been read."

"Well, I guess you can be the first then," Jim bit his lip before giving him his brightest smile.

"Captain," they've almost forgotten where they are.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. May I ask how long we were gone?"

"Mere seconds for us here Captain. You and your First Officer are the first Outsiders to successfully complete the Trial. It would be my honour to join in an alliance with the Federation."

"It would be the Federations honour also, Your Majesty," Jim rises to bow.

Sometime later Jim is finally able to return to the ship. He carefully places the cloak and kilt over a chair before walking naked to the bathroom. Most of his body is covered in sand and he really doesn't want to wash it off, though he know he's being silly. There's plenty more, a whole jar of it. In the end he finds the water shower soothing. He dressed only in a towel when the door beeps. "Enter."

Spock has cleaned up and changed into uniform, the jar of desert sand held in his hands, the epic Jim extracted from the Imperial library seated upon it.

"Has Bones cornered you yet?" he asks light-heartedly as he finishes and ties the second braid before starting on his mohawk.

"He has Captain. I've have been given a clean bill of health," Spock replies, placing the jar on the desk and taking the book in hand. "Much to his displeasure."

Jim laughs, "Same. Have you read it yet?" He nodded at the book.

"I have not." There's that tone in his voice again.

"What is it Spock? What happened to you there?"

"I..." Jim signals for Spock to sit on the bed. He slips on his uniform pants before joining him.

"The Priestess mentioned a young woman. Are you concerned for her? It sounded as if she was on her own."

"Yes. She was on her own when I met her. But if I understand the Priestess correcting, she is not to be alone for much longer."

"Spock, what is it? I've never seen you like this before," Jim knelt before him, resting his hands on Spock's knees.

"I lay with her. Many times. I," Spock took in a deep, shuddering breath. "The Priestess said she would teach her offspring but there was no one else there. She'd never seen another living soul for years until I arrived. I do not understand how it is possible. Hybrids are well known to be infertile. Jim, I think she had my child. A child who has lived and died and who I will never know." He was weeping now. Jim silently gathered his friend in his arms and laid them both upon the bed and just held him as he wept.

"Where you ever tested?" Jim asks some time later.

"I was not. I see know that I was remiss."

"We can go to Bones. Whenever you're ready."

"I find I wish to know as soon as possible."

They made their way to Medical a few minutes later. Bones looked up, ready to make one of his usual greetings when he caught the looks on their faces. He listened silently as Jim explained the situation to him.

"My god. I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now."

"Heartbroken Doctor. And weary."

"For sure. Look, I can do the tests when ever your ready. I just need a sample."

"I ran the test three times. You have an average of 100 million spermatozoa per ml. The sample collected was just over 5 ml. About 92% were alive and they were swimming well. There were no noticeable deformities on any of the slides. In other words, I don't see any reason you couldn't father children."

Spock became very pale. "She said the child found others and became a teacher. He or she helped a lot of people to survive the harsh conditions."

"That is of some comfort."

"Spock, looking back through your records, you never requested any contraception while you were with Nyota," Bones was frowning deeply.

"That is correct Doctor, I..." Spock already pale face turned grey. "She did not use any either."

Bones pulled up her records. "Oh hell. Either of you know how to tell a woman she's possibly infertile? cause I don't have a clue."

"It's treatable, right?"

"Yeah, but it'll take time. Is she on duty?"

"No Doctor, she is not."

Spock finds he cannot speak, so Jim and Bones tell her as gently as possible. Scotty, who she's been romantically involved with for some months, is by her side to hold her as she weeps. The news is as bad as they suspected. Her egg cells are not developing properly.

She is grateful though and begins to undergo treatment just a few days later...just in case.

The Admiralty sends their congratulations on a job well done. Along with it comes their new orders.

Meeting on Babel, with a date and time that it would be a stretch to met and Jim can't help but wonder how this is his life.