TITLE: Our Dearest Blood
CHAPTER: Complete
Originally published in KiSCon 2015 - The Official Zine. KiSCon 2015, Oct 30 - Nov 1. Seattle, Washington
In loving memory of Leonard Nimoy, who brought Mr. Spock to life and created not just a fascinating character, but also a legend. "He's not really dead, as long as we remember him." —Doctor Leonard McCoy
"And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion."
Oblivious to the rain battering him like a hail of bullets, Captain James T. Kirk held himself at rigid attention outside the Trauma Center of a remote Star Base. He watched a team of pararescue medics remove a stretcher from a dark unmarked shuttlecraft. Handsome usually mobile features reveal nothing of the turmoil churning within. He is the captain of a starship, and it wouldn't do for him to break down.
After all, death and loss are his constant companions. He's lost crew, friends, loves and family. But this, this is different. This, is a line he cannot cross, a loss he could not endure. The preternatural fear of it rises in him, threatening to take him by the throat. They've hurt his friend. They've hurt Spock. The medics nod as they pass. He managed a curt thank you for their efforts at rescuing his first officer from the terrorist prison camp. Forcing himself to remain motionless, he managed to ignore the instinct to lift his friend from the stretcher and carry him into the ER himself. Their movements slow as they reach the rain-slicked loading ramp.
"Precious cargo, gentlemen. Let's get him inside, please."
The medics know exactly who's speaking to them, so they take a fresh grip on the handles and quicken their pace. Jim Kirk feels his composure slipping when he sees the pale, quiet face of his friend and first officer under layers of thermal blankets. Blood seeps through the field dressing around his head. Intellectually he knows what happened. The reports were quite thorough. That knowledge does not prepare him for the sight of Spock lying so helplessly restrained to the antigrav stretcher. The rain and the wind pull the blankets, and they slip enough for Kirk to see with his own eyes that Spock is lying on a gel mat to ease the pain of the bloody stripes on his back. Their presence revealed by the green curving marks around Spock's arms and shoulders where the whip wrapped around his torso when it struck. He forces himself not to look away as bile splashes into his throat.
Mental torture, beatings, and starvation. Sleep deprivation and they'd kept him from meditating by spraying him with water from a high-pressure hose. A smashed right knee and a broken arm from the torture sessions. He's missing two teeth. They'd tried to make him give away classified Intel. Kirk knew they had the wrong man. Spock would die before revealing Starfleet secrets. He'd almost succeeded. The medics pause and Kirk takes the moment to smooth the dark bangs.
"Sorry," Kirk says quickly retrieving his hand.
"It's alright, sir. We got him stabilized. Captain, if he could hear your voice, it might help remind him he's safe and no longer alone. I'm not the doc, but don't miss this moment, it may not come again." Kirk reminded himself these people are professionals and bent down to whisper into Spock's ear.
"It's Jim. I'm here, and you're safe." Then his voice betrays him, by stumbling over unexpressed emotion, so he lets his lips linger over Spock's cheek while his hand cups the only part of the Vulcan's face that isn't injured. Driven to touch Spock and let him know he isn't alone; did he just kiss his first officer?
Kirk pulls away almost apologetically. One of the medics squeezes his forearm as they pass.
A man in a dark uniform redirects Kirk from his vigil. "Captain Kirk? Captain James T. Kirk?"
"Yes?"
"An honor to meet you, sir. The debrief is scheduled for tomorrow morning, but I thought you'd want to know. Commander Spock wasn't the only prisoner we liberated. The camp is destroyed, the Spooks are going over it and should have some information to share with us by morning. I'm sorry sir. This just makes it… I'm sorry. Apparently they weren't searching for Spock specifically. They only grabbed the easiest marks they could get their hands on. Your first officer was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Inside the trauma center, that moment may truly be over and quite possibly forever when the team surrounded the gurney. Captain Kirk swallowed hard and forced himself to take the time to thank the medics and shake their hands. They nod and one of them attempted a salute until Kirk waved it away.
Tearful thanks come with their job. For them, it's all in a day's work. They know how close these two are. The exploits of Enterprise and her crew are legendary, and this is the team who make it happen. He felt their eyes on him. Are they impressed by his control and professionalism? What they cannot see is his heartbreaking or the rage he badly needs to unleash. He's grateful for the information the agent shared. The location of the planet where they found Spock is still classified. But he will find it, and he will destroy it, and he doesn't care if they are Klingons, Romulans or fucking Tellarites, he will destroy them all.
With chest heaving and his control slipping from his grasp, Kirk lingers by the door because he has nowhere else to go. Nowhere else he can be, but here by Spock's side.
One of the doctors finally noticed him and gestured him over. "Sir, if you stand right here."
Gratefully, Kirk enters the room, and they clear a spot for him to remain close to Spock. A hand on his shoulder and concerned eyes above surgical mask reassure him they are doing everything they can.
The medics were very concise in their report. Sleep and meditation deprivation weakened both his mind and his body. Yes, Vulcans go longer without food and water than the average human. But not this long, not six months of continuous deprivation and torture. For Jim Kirk, it was six months of searching while one lead after another went cold. Kirk bent double over the exam bed, as emotion washed over him like a wave of phaser fire.
The doctor is quick to act. "Captain Kirk, trauma injuries are often terrifying, especially when it's someone close. Pararescue did an excellent job of stabilizing him, and we'll do the rest. We'll have him cleaned up and comfortable very soon. Sir, I wonder if you could take hold of the Commander's arm and hold it still while I set the bone." Kirk dragged in a ragged breath. Yes, he can do that.
"Thank you. You're a big help, sir. We only have so many hands around here. First thing, you'll carefully remove the temporary splint. Hold his wrist with one hand and pull open the Velcro straps with the other. That's it. Just let if fall away. Perfect. Okay, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his wrist."
Kirk stayed perfectly still while the technicians moved the machine that will knit the fractured bones over Spock's right arm. Why didn't they have one of these on the Enterprise?
A groan from the bed turns Kirk's attention back to Spock. If the Vulcan is regaining consciousness, that is a good sign. "It's okay, Spock. They're fixing your arm. Lay still. I've got you."
Another sound forced itself from Spock's throat, dark eyes flashed open and with the last of the Vulcan's strength, he called out.
"Jim!"
Monitors shrieked and Spock collapsed back to the bed while Kirk watches the last of the color drain from his face. Jim doesn't need to move his hand to Spock's side to confirm what the alarms tell him. The shine of the Vulcan's bright intellect faded during his last look into the hooded eyes. Light and air go out of the room as Kirk's mind zeroes down to the now silent Vulcan. The flesh under his hand is cold and thin, stretched too tight over sharp-edged bones. He willed the heart under his hand to start up again.
Spock.
The medical team responded with quick and purposeful movements. The doctor gave orders in a calm and clear voice. "Emergency life-support. Get to it."
One of the technicians takes his arm from behind and pushes him out of the room. "Sorry, sir. Let us work."
The once transparent window turned opaque and sound diminishes when the pneumatic doors hissed shut. Jim Kirk began to wonder, for the first time, how he might manage without Commander Spock at his side. Stumbling backward, his heart beating frantically Kirk searches for a chair while his hands and feet turn to ice. There is no air to breathe while the edges of his vision blacken. His calves hit the edge of something, he falls into the chair and buried his head in his hands. That may be the last time he will ever see into those reflective brown eyes or hear Spock say his name. Jim attempted to imprint the memory. Other memories crowd in and stream through his mind, distracting him until he wants to shout for them to stop.
Miri, the children, and the sickness that kills them hour by hour. Spock's eyes smiling only at him, 'And I do want to get back to the ship.'
Spock hanging from a tree, laughing and smiling, 'What is it that you want, Jim?'
'I shall do neither, for I have killed my Captain and my friend.' That day, Spock grabbed him by the arms and grinned. Grinned, and called him by name.
'Jim!'
With his head still resting in his hands, Kirk allowed himself to sink into that memory. The day Spock could have died. The day Kirk appeared to die at Spock's hands. And the ruse had worked for the hour or two it took them to get back to the ship. That day was the pivotal point in their relationship. A relationship neither of them could accurately define. It all changed the moment Spock saw that Kirk was alive, grabbed him by the arms, and shouted his name. That was a year ago and today a different touch drew him back from his memories. The cold walls and shiny hospital floors focused and an arm around his shoulders tugged him close. A familiar voice soothed him, not with words of hope, he noticed, words meant merely to comfort.
"Bones, please." Kirk raised his head, tears shining on golden lashes.
"They're doing all they can."
"I can't lose him."
"I'm here for you. But, Jim, I think you must prepare yourself."
"No!" Kirk broke free and began to pace. He's surprised that his control has finally snapped and scared of the fear bubbling up in him. He's not afraid of a damn thing. Nothing rattles him, and nothing intimidates the Captain of the USS Enterprise. It's his heart that cannot accept losing Mister Spock. His voice raw, hazel eyes wide and brimming, Kirk takes a few steps away and then turns on Doctor McCoy. "I won't give up on him. I know he's stretched too thin. I know what they did to him. I'll stay with him. I'll help him!"
"He's my friend, too." McCoy stopped Kirk's frantic pacing. "Jim, on advice from the doctor, I contacted his parents." Then softly, knowing this might be a truth the Captain could not face. "Sarek and Amanda are on their way."
Captain Kirk shoves his fist into the wall. "No!"
~o~
It all began innocently enough, on a perfectly ordinary day, when Spock began acting strangely. For Nurse Chapel to venture into the intensely private man's quarters was proof enough something was going on. Helpless, to turn away from the scene unfolding before them, Kirk and McCoy stood outside the Vulcan's quarters. Then with his own eyes, he watched the screeching and scrambling form of the Chief Nurse running from Spock's room followed by a tray and a bowl of soup. There was no denying it something was going on.
Once the door to Spock's quarters slid shut — had he ever heard Spock shout with such anger? — Kirk shoved the doctor into his quarters. The doctor poured himself a glass of Kirk's good scotch and made himself comfortable. Kirk waited for the explanation, but the doctor seemed more content with enjoying his whiskey.
"Bones?"
"He won't tell me, Jim. But I will say this, his vital signs are all over the place, his body is pumping hormones like a teenage boy on prom night. Jim, he can't go on like this. The biological pressures are killing him. If it were you or I? A stroke or heart attack," the doctor inclined his head, "yesterday."
Kirk knocked back a glass of whiskey. "I'd better talk to him."
"You're the only one who can. I won't even repeat what he said to me."
Kirk looked at his friend with a fond smile, "Something about breaking your neck?"
The Doctor shrugged and took a deep sip. "So you knew about this."
"Not all of it. I hoped he'd come to you or me."
"That's our Spock, isn't it?"
Kirk tugged his uniform shirt into place, took a breath, and headed full charge out the door of his quarters. Behind him, McCoy raised his glass.
What he found in Spock's quarters startled him. The Vulcan's hands were shaking, his face pale and drawn. As if he were lost and didn't know which way to turn. The sight of his immutable friend in this condition tore at his heart. His hand reached out to the trembling blue-clad shoulder.
"Don't touch me," the Vulcan hissed through clenched teeth.
He had to get through to him, "Spock, you've been called the best first officer in the fleet. If I have to lose that first officer, I'd like to know why."
Kirk waited, minutes, hours; it may have been days later when the Vulcan finally spoke. "It is a thing Vulcans do not speak of. Even among ourselves." Spock slipped out from under the Captain's hand and put his back to him. "It has to do with biology."
"Vulcan biology?" Kirk asked suddenly not liking the sound of this at all. With his hands locked behind his back, Kirk forced himself to stillness and listened. If an embarrassed Vulcan was a physiological possibility, then Kirk was standing next to one. How could he make this easier for him? He'd listen, and then he'd act, but while Kirk thought of the positive actions he would do for his friend he wasn't hearing him until Spock said the words, take a wife or die.
What?
Raw adrenaline pumped into his system, flooding his blood and raced along his nerves. The force of it twisted his hands into fists and raising him up on his toes into a fighting stance. A wife…? They had…they had each other, didn't they? And this ship. This ship was his wife, but Spock could take a wife? A woman. Soft and warm. Comforting.
Jealousy? He was jealous. No, that wasn't right. He had to get out of here and away from this tortured man, so he said the first thing he could think of, "I haven't heard a word you said. I'll get you to Vulcan somehow."
The Captain fled the Vulcan's quarters like a coward and never heard Spock's plaintive, "Jim?"
T'Pring, Spock's betrothed. The bridge crew watches the view screen too much in shock with the news and too curious as to the identity of the beautiful woman. She's as beautiful, untouchable, and cold as a marble statue. His fists clenched, he will not allow Spock to join with that woman. His friend was warmth, kindness, and subtle humor. Kirk reminded himself this was not his business. He knew next to nothing about the cultural pressure and expectations of Spock's family. The friendship they'd forged between them was genuine. In their world, whether they were playing chess, fighting, or an unbeatable diplomatic team, he knew Spock's every mood. The ice queen on his viewscreen knew nothing of the heart of his friend. With his feelings stuffed safely away, Kirk and McCoy accompanied Spock down to Vulcan for the ceremony. In a confusing spectacle of confrontation, anger, and political correctness, Kirk found himself dying at the hands of his friend. The hot sand burned his skin and blinded his eyes. Spock, stop. Please stop… then everything faded away.
Until he opened his eyes in Sickbay to the grinning face of Dr. McCoy. Spock! Where was Spock? Kirk heard the door to Sickbay open, but McCoy stopped him from going to Spock. Instead, he listened to his First Officer turn himself over to McCoy and give orders for Commander Scott to take command. He couldn't get his uniform on over his head fast enough. Then he walked quietly behind Spock. "Don't you think you should check with me first?"
Once they made their escape from Sickbay, and the nosy Doctor McCoy and Nurse Chapel, Kirk pulled him into the first conference room he came too. After ordering Scotty to the bridge, he retrieved them each something to drink from the replicator. Kirk made Spock sit down with him. They talked about simple things and then about the ship and crew until finally Spock relaxed back in his chair and began to express his fears and concerns. They talked for hours. Spock had answered his questions about T'Pring and shared what he could. Finally, when they had to return to duty, Kirk held out his hand to his first officer.
They rarely touched, or rather, Kirk often touched him, but this was the first time he made a deliberate request. When the Vulcan's warm hand slipped into his Kirk stopped breathing. Skin to skin, it burned like a phaser set on stun, but he couldn't let go. It became a tug of war as to who would let go first. While Kirk stared down at their clasped hands, Spock used his other hand to tilt the Captain's chin. What the captain saw in the dark hooded eyes, was better than a smile, better than a grin, better than one of their take-no-prisoners chess games.
What he saw there mirrored what he felt in his own heart. At least, he thought it did. But he needed more because Jesus fucking Christ he'd almost lost this man today. So he tugged on the hand and pulled his first officer into an embrace and to his delighted and terrified surprise the Vulcan hugged him back. "I thought I'd lost you to her." Realizing that nothing felt so warm and sure as blue velour against his cheek and long aristocratic fingers spreading over his back.
"Jim, I killed you with my own hands. How can you ever forgive me?"
Hesitant at first, then long arms slid around Kirk's shoulders, and he felt the Vulcan's breath on his cheek. They'd stayed that way, silent and still, just holding on to each other until a summons from the bridge forced them apart.
Stark hospital walls solidify around Kirk when the sound of footsteps on the highly polished hospital floor rouse him. It is the doctor heading their way. Kirk shakes himself from his musing. As he draws nearer, Kirk notices the sweat soaked surgical gown and the bloody streaks where he must have wiped his hands. It is the sight of those bloody green stripes, which takes Jim Kirk to a place of panic and sadness where he'd never been before. He searches the doctor's eyes for clues, but he cannot move his feet. Fortunately, Doctor McCoy intercepts the surgeon. They speak quietly, and the surgeon places a hand on McCoy's shoulder. Then he walks away with his shoulders rounded and his step an exhausted shuffle.
Stripped of every defense and barrier he's ever learned, nothing prepared him for this moment. Not command school, the academy, or his diplomatic training. Doctor McCoy is walking toward him, yet Kirk cannot look into his eyes.
"They got him through surgery, Jim. He's breathing on his own. They're just trying to build him back up."
"I want to see him. I have to see him." Kirk turns on his heel and heads down the corridor. McCoy's hand on his arm stops him like a tractor beam.
"They won't let you in. He's sequestered. They want to create an environment to help him go into a healing trance. And before you ask, Ambassador Sarek is bringing a Vulcan healer with them."
"No, he needs me. I know him. I know how to help him."
"Jim!" McCoy takes him by the arm to stop him. "Leave him alone. He needs time. He's been ripped open body and mind. Let him be."
He slaps McCoy's hands away in frustration and leaves one of his closest friends standing alone in the corridor.
"You just don't understand, Bones!" Kirk shouts over his shoulder as he hurries away.
"No, Jim. I understand all too well." The man will never know there are just some things he can never bend to his will. But that's what made him a great starship captain wasn't it?
The hospital corpsman didn't dare stop him. The nurse, a handsome young lieutenant with a shock of blond hair and dark blue eyes completely taken in by the golden-eyed smile Kirk tossed his way simply nods. Then two doctors meet him at the entrance to Spock's room. Kirk isn't above pulling rank when it suits his needs. However, he noticed as he pulled his headlong rush to a halt that the two doctors outrank him by a couple of rates each, and one of them is a Vulcan.
Shit.
"Good evening, Admirals." Another golden smile, the Vulcan is having none of it.
"Captain Kirk, your first officer is stable and receiving the best care we can provide. A Vulcan healer is on his way here with Spock's parents. I suggest you rest. You may visit him in the morning."
Why does Captain Kirk sound so much better on board his ship but ground side it might as well be Ensign Kirk? While Kirk takes a breath and tries to figure out a different strategy, he notices Spock through the ICU window. Spock, so still and pale. A long-fingered hand rises, they lock eyes across the space between them. It could have been a galaxy or just the ten or twelve yards that separate them, but Kirk feels the pull of his first officer's fear, hears the sound of his name as Spock calls him.
"Aye, sir. I can see he's resting comfortably. I'll head to the VOQ and get some sleep. Thank you, sirs."
Just after midnight when the night crew settled in for their shift, dressed in civilian clothes Captain Kirk entered the ICU suite from a side entrance. The medical staff is gathered around the desk discussing the previous night's basketball game. Good. Although, he never figured out the attraction to that particular sport. Silent feet take him to Spock's side. A quick assessment indicated he should sit on the far side of the bed near Spock's head so he can't be seen from the nurse's station.
With firm hands, he reached for the Vulcan. Spock doesn't need his emotional turmoil or his fear to add to the Vulcan's suffering. He's seen Spock perform this many times; he can do it. Without a doubt in his mind that he can reach his friend, Kirk stills himself, breathes in and when he let the breath out places his fingers on the psi points of Spock's face. All his hard-won control melts away when his mind bumps against Spock's. The man's cry of agony ultimately undoes him. He falls back on the only thing he can think of, what he's trained for, by compartmentalizing the emotions of rage and grief, and stood firm against the onslaught.
It's okay, Spock. I'm here. I'm here. You're safe.
Jim! Hide me. Let me die. I'm lost without refuge.
Not true, my friend, my heart…you have me.
The agony in Kirk's psyche grows with each breath. In moments, his head feels as if it is imploding. His flesh burns with the pain of torn flesh and exposed nerves.
"Oh, God, Spock! Spock!" Kirk buried his face in Spock's pillow to quiet the sounds of his weeping. It is the double agony of Spock's pain and shame bleeding into Kirk's mind, washing him in the Vulcan's blood.
Hush, Jim or they will make you leave. I-I am thankful you've come to say goodbye. You must let me go now. You cannot endure…I cannot endure.
We can do this! We can do this together. Kirk moved onto the narrow hospital bed to lie alongside the Vulcan and wrapped his free arm around the Vulcan's chest.
I cannot sustain this meld. You were foolish to try. It's too dangerous, Jim. You will die with me. You are dying now. For the sake of what makes us the entity of Jim and Spock, please let me go.
And that is why I will not allow you to go. I will not…cannot…allow the one who holds my heart to leave me alone in this world. This is not the time, Spock. I know someday we will grieve, but not today. This cannot be the day.
Always so impetuous. Jim… I am broken…
Not broken. Together we will heal you. Trust me to help you. There is nothing we cannot do together.
Jim. My Jim. I am dying now. Can't you hear the alarms? My heart is fibrillating. Jim, do not. Please do not…
I can be nowhere else, Spock. I gladly follow your lead. Take us into the darkness, where I will tell you what's in my heart. There's so much I want to say.
Jim, no.
Kirk sensed in the meld that Spock lacked the strength to push him away. He allows himself to become lost in the swirl of their minds. He doesn't fear the sense of loosing his identity. He is Spock, looking into warm hazel eyes, the place where the Vulcan has always found his anchor, his solace from the world and the love he could never have anywhere else…with anyone else. In the arms of his Captain, a vortex of warmth and acceptance buoy him, sweeping away the pain. Each moment strips the shame from him until a golden void of acceptance embraces his battered body. When he lifts his head from the golden chest, a mouth touches his. Firm and gentle, the lips move over Spock's cracked lips, gentling him, loving him.
Jim, no. This is…
The medical staff finds them lying side by side on the narrow hospital bed. Kirk lies peacefully with his head under Spock's chin and a protective arm over the Vulcan's chest. Their hands are clasped between them in a two fingered touch. No one knows what it means, except perhaps for the Vulcan doctor who abruptly excuses himself from the room.
The machines monitoring the Vulcan's life signs are silent.
The handsome blond nurse wept silently.
Doctor McCoy stumbled from the room with hot tears blurring his vision and straight into the startled arms of Spock's parents.
~o~
Jim?
I'm here, Spock. Always.
"And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion."
—Dylan Thomas, Death Shall Have No Dominion. 1993