The flock of bats pursued, threatening to overtake James Kirk as his energy waned and the path before him became shorter. The creatures carried a blanket of darkness behind them like a sprawling net, ready to consume anything in its path.
Just as he felt the air from their wingbeats on his neck, Kirk was thrust into a hospital room in sickbay - one he knew all too well.
He could not look away even if he wanted to. Spock was lying in the bed screaming in agony. Spock's body started mutating and shifting in unnatural ways, causing fear to practically seep from Kirk's pores.
Bones was nowhere to be found. Nurse Chapel was weeping in the corner. He was paralyzed, stuck in stasis and forced to watch as his friend's body became a hideous monster.
"Jim," came the last audible sound before the mouth disappeared. His friend - his best friend - was wasting away, and there was nothing he could do. All the power at his fingertips and he was forced to watch his friend die.
"Spock!" Kirk shouted once he had his voice back. His eyes were wide open and found himself not in sickbay, but in an officer's quarters. He was soaked in his own sweat and gasping for breath, trying to ease his racing heart and bring his mind back into reality. Spock was alive and well. The spore had been cured before there was any permanent damage. Still, his friend had almost died, and although it had happened many times in the past, it never got easier. If anything, it got twice as hard each time, because it could be the time when their luck ran out.
Kirk ran fingers through his hair, only just realizing how soaked he really was. He might as well have jumped in the swimming pool. Judging by the stickiness, he had been sweating for a while. He now noticed the room was a good five degrees warmer than he was used to. Why would he do that? Who could sleep in this oppressive heat?
Kirk's heart started racing again. He knew exactly who could.
For the first time, he noticed the red curtains and the crackling fire pot which signified Spock's quarters. He also knew he was naked - a state he never woke in unless he had a bed partner the night before. Vague memories started coming back of a desperation to be with his friend after almost losing him mere hours before. Then there was sharing a drink, getting drunk, kissing, grabbing, making love.
Oh shit.
Kirk looked immediately to his side to see the other end of the bed was empty. The faint smell of sex in the air was present. His cock definitely had an oily coating, as if it had been lubed recently.
Oh shitty fucking shit.
He put his head in his hands and let out an audible groan. He had done it again. He had ruined yet another friendship with sex. Even if he had preferred men over women, he knew he and Spock could never be anything. They were both married to their work. Kirk was madly in love with a Silver Lady. Spock only had sex once every seven years - unless drunk, apparently. They were friends - practically brothers. They had one of the best working relationships in the fleet. They could practically read each others thoughts, even without the aid of telepathy. Spock's friendship was the most important thing in the world to him.
Now that was all gone - shot to hell by one night of one stupid night of passion.
Kirk jumped when he heard movement in the adjacent living area. He glanced at the chronometer and saw it was a good forty-five minutes before shift started. Of course Spock would be up and headed for work despite being near death a mere thirty-six hours earlier.
"Are you awake, Jim?"
Spock sounded relaxed. Too relaxed. Was he not freaking out, too? He had to be, but was hiding it better. Kirk knew Spock well. They had to have thought the same things about this night.
Kirk found his discarded clothes and started pulling them on. He tried to not be so quick that his desperation to leave was obvious, but he knew he was failing.
Spock emerged from behind the divider fully dressed in uniform. God, he even looked relaxed. Even in his most tightly controlled moments, there was at least some hint of tension, but not now. It was as if the captain being naked in his bed was the most natural thing in the world.
"I apologize for not being present when you woke, Jim," Spock said. "I know it is customary on Earth to do so, but I needed to get an early start. I must complete logs on the spore I contracted, as well as Dr. McCoy's antidote. I am the logical choice to do so since I had the most intimate encounter with it."
Why did he have to say intimate encounter? Kirk thought as he winced.
"No harm done, Mr, Spock," Kirk said, immediately hating himself for using such a formal name. This situation called for anything but formality, as mistaken as it was. Although his eyes were not on his first officer, he could tell he was being scrutinized and assessed by the other man. Whatever test Spock was currently placing on him, he was surely failing.
Kirk finally looked his friend in the eye and decided to rip off the band-aid. After all, Spock clearly did not intend to pretend this never happened. "I'm...sorry about last night. I'm not totally sure what I did, which is why I never get drunk. I guess I went a little crazy when I thought you were dying. The thought of using...er...losing you...dammit."
He knew he was blubbering. This should not have been so hard. He had done this many times before.
But not with Spock.
"The point is I should not have slept with you. It was a mistake. We are officers on a starship, as well as friends. We're heterosexual men who should have gotten random experimentation out of our system. I know you're probably thinking the same thing, but in the interest of our friendship and professional relationship, it needs to be said aloud."
Kirk did not know exactly what he expected, but it was along the lines of Spock giving a detailed logical explanation of how human emotionalism could lead to such things, or how fraternization between officers could not happen, or how the spore made him a bit crazy as well.
He did not expect hurt.
The facial expression lasted a fraction of a second, but it was unmistakable. He had hurt Spock with his words. Did Kirk not know his First Officer as well as he thought he did? Did Spock...have real feelings for him? Was that why he was so relaxed? Had he finally released built up sexual tension he had been keeping tightly controlled for years?
Damn it all to the ninth circle of hell, right into Lucifer's fucking mouth.
The stoic Vulcan features returned immediately, although the relaxation was now gone, further confirming Kirk's fears. "Understood, Captain. I agree it would be a mistake to undertake again."
It was not said, but Kirk heard it loud and clear from body language: Am I now one of your conquests, Jim? A notch on your bedpost? I thought I was more to you than that.
This was not supposed to happen, Kirk would have said, Spock was never supposed to be just another one he loved and left. He was the solid object in his life he counted on more than he cared to admit. However, Spock would never admit any hurt he felt. Sure, Kirk could goad it out of him, but this would only cause a further retreat into that insufferable Vulcan facade. He could not handle having to start from scratch with his friend, especially after all they had been through. As things stood now, he might already have to do that.
"I'm really sorry, Spock," Kirk said, now fully clothed and standing.
"No need to apologize, Captain."
"Spock, we're off duty. It's Jim. Please, I...need to know we're okay."
The other man paused, and looked to the ground. "I am afraid I will not be able to accompany you in your exploration of Alpha Virginis II. I will likely be immersed in the logs for the remainder of the day."
"So I'll take that as a no," Kirk sighed, showing a little disdain. "You know, Spock, I thought our relationship was good enough you were able to actually talk to me. Clearly, I've hurt you."
"I am a Vulcan. Your arguments were logical and therefore acceptable. There is no reason for hurt, so there was none."
"Bullshit!" Kirk said, abandoning any care he would have taken. How could he be calm when Spock was being so maddening? "I can't lose what we have, Spock. I'll fight to the bitter end to get back whatever we lost last night." He walked up to Spock and grabbed his forearms, making the other man visibly flinch. Before Kirk could get a word out, Spock shook out of his grip.
"Captain, it is time you abandon the notion you can fix all things." The words were delivered so coldly, Kirk felt the chill even in this warm room. Before he could get over his shock, Spock was out the door.
For the first time in years, Kirk punched a wall. The wall did not give, but a wave of pain shot though his arm. Based on the throb on his knuckles, he must have broken his hand. He would have to get his bones reset before he went down to the planet today. Between that and showering off the copious sweat, he would be able to avoid the rest of the ship until then. He knew he would have to get to sickbay within the next half hour in order to avoid Bones, who would know something was wrong immediately. Kirk did not feel like rehashing the latest horror his uncaring dick had unleashed.
Kirk rushed out the door, looking forward to the boring survey mission awaiting him.
oOOOo
"The damage was on the cusp of being irreversible, and making noticeable changes to my physiology which would have inevitably killed me. However, the genetic therapy Dr. McCoy discovered restored the use of my vital organs and neutralized any further effect the spore might have had. Make note to utilize this treatment should any other being with Vulcan physiology encounter this spore. I will be under close observation for the next two months to ensure there was no other effect which has not been detected yet. For now, thanks to the ingenuity of our Chief Medical Officer, I am fully recovered. End entry."
Spock reluctantly shut off the recording device which rested in his lab. Logging his ordeal should have taken more time, but it barely filled two hours. He expected to avoid the bridge - specifically his Captain - for the remainder of the day. Although the landing party had been gone for only twenty-seven point two minutes, the chair still would have an illogical effect on him - as it always did when Kirk was away. There was always the unacknowledged fear he would be forced to occupy the chair permanently sometime soon.
Logically, he knew he could not avoid the bridge all day. He had told a minor untruth to the captain this morning. There was nothing so pressing to prevent him from taking the conn in Jim's absence.
"Jim," Spock breathed, letting a flicker of emotion show in his features as he said the name. While his friend clearly had only vague recollection of the events last night, Spock remembered them vividly. He recalled every touch, every breath, every surge of pleasure he experienced with his intoxicated captain. The only moments not recalled completely were those of actual intercourse, likely because of the overwhelming pleasure. True, he had indulged in some alcohol of his own which helped lower his inhibitions, but not nearly enough to blame his willingness to surrender on the intoxicant.
Spock truly thought what they had was real, but now he recognized it as the shameful state of wishful thinking. Well, maybe it was not entirely so. His captain had confessed so much to him last night. With rare tears in his eyes, he admitted how dependent he was on his First, and how he could not fathom living without him. He had initiated intimate contact, and Spock responded.
Somehow, this led Spock to believe the feelings would overlap. Never mind Jim's first emotional instinct always involved sex, or that love was never mentioned in his speech. There was still hope that the feelings which had grown and blossomed into a nearly uncontrollable beast over the years would finally be reciprocated.
How wrong he was. Jim loved women. He made this clear on many occasions. He also regretted what had happened between them. Jim had not wanted to hurt him, Spock knew this. He had also not wanted to sleep with him either. Yet Spock reacted like Jim somehow planned to rip his heart out of his chest (Spock balked at the human idiom the moment it crossed his mind). Kirk had been genuinely worried their friendship was ruined, and Spock played right into those fears.
This irrational anger at his captain should not exist. Anger was always a secondary emotion, and in this case it likely stemmed from embarrassment. Although Jim had seen him at his worst, there was still a sense of shame in letting his shields fall and coldly reacting to Jim's pleas. First and foremost, they had to keep their working relationship. No matter what, an understanding had to be reached. Jim would never hurt him intentionally. Of course, he never meant to hurt anyone intentionally, particularly the multitude of women he left in his wake. Whether it was a product of nature or simple ignorance, the hurt was not changed or erased.
Then again, an admission of hurt would also be an admission of feelings. Spock hated the romantic notions he harbored for Jim. The last time he allowed this to happen was with with T'Pris on Pike's Enterprise. His feelings led to carelessness which ultimately led to her death. He had been so judicious to not let his emotions get out of control again - until Jim came along. After their first mind meld in the line of duty, he was lost.
A glance at the chronometer told Spock he had been thinking for more than fifteen minutes, and he still did not know what to say to Jim. Pretending like their encounter had never happened seemed to be the easier course, but it would be more difficult in the long term. There were still five months left in their mission, and their relationship needed to at least survive that long. Although he knew he was waxing sentimental, Spock was not willing to throw away a close relationship as if the years building it had never occurred. His friendship with his captain was the most meaningful and fulfilling aspect of his life. To sacrifice such a satisfactory relationship because of some dainty, unreciprocated feelings was illogical.
The com whistle sounded. Thinking he had found another distraction, he opened the channel.
"Spock here."
"Commander," Uhura said, sounding grave. Spock's heartbeat sped. There were few things which could cause her lively voice to lose it's luster. Something was terribly wrong.
oOOOo
Of the four who had gone on the landing party, only two had returned. They had split up to investigate the mineral deposits of the planet. Dr. Burrows, a geologist, led one party and Kirk led the other. Each were accompanied by a security guard. Only ten minutes after their split, Dr. Burrows was called on his communicator by Kirk's security detail, who sounded panicked before the line cut. By the time they made it to the designated coordinates, the other security officer's body was lying in pieces - every drop of blood gone - and Kirk's gold command tunic was lying tattered and covered in blood.
They beamed the pair up immediately, and scanned the entire planet for life signs. There was nothing. No sign of the creatures - likely unidentified hemovores - who did this, and no sign of the missing Captain. Study of the security chief's body showed it was not the blood-draining entity Kirk had met twice before. Not willing to take the risk of more deaths, Spock launched a probe to search the planet's surface for any signs of life. Again, they found nothing.
After sweeping the planet a fourth time and still finding no sign of humanoid life, Spock abandoned the search. Captain James Kirk was gone.
oOOOo
The hours of exhausting searches and even more of reports to the Admirality were over, and the aftermath had begun. Spock returned to his quarters with shields worthy of a fine military base. Once the doors closed, however, they fell as if made of shattered glass. The Vulcan collapsed in his chair with a heart clenching to the point of physical pain. Tears threatened to escape, but he would not allow them.
His best friend was gone. No, Jim was so much more than a friend. The romantic notions proved this. Now, Spock would never be able to reconcile with him, nor could he prove how the feelings he harbored went beyond sexual love. The Ancient Greek Terrans had a word called agape, which spoke of the unconditional, powerful love which transcended all reason. This was the only way Spock could describe the hurricane within. Jim was everything - the light in his life. Now it was gone forever.
It had happened again. He let a person he cared for get away from his protection and he died. It might have been somewhat bearable if his dismissal had not been out of anger and shame. Spock should not have been so petty. He should have expected Jim's rejection and continued their friendship. He should have never copulated with his captain. He should never have let himself love again. Whenever he strayed from the Vulcan way, only calamity was the result.
When the bell on his door sounded, Spock wanted nothing more than to ignore it. However, he knew there was only one person who would have the courage to come to his door so soon after this tragedy.
"Come," Spock said, allowing Dr. McCoy to enter his quarters with a bottle of Saurian brandy and a piece of chocolate cake.
"Want some company, Spock?" McCoy said as he plopped down in the chair beside the Vulcan.
Spock did not answer, so McCoy took this as an invitation to start pouring a drink. The Vulcan noticed McCoy's swollen eyes, and the hoarse tone to his voice. Although feelings for others were the source of his problems, he could not help but feel compassion for the doctor. He was not as close to McCoy as he was to Jim, but they were still fond of each other. They did not want to see the other in pain.
"Your company is always welcome, Doctor," Spock said is a soft voice. McCoy clearly caught the emotion infused in his words, because he closed his eyes and appeared to be fighting a new onslaught of tears.
"Thank you, Spock," the doctor said in return.
The two sat mostly in silence as they enjoyed each other's company. Occasionally, they exchanged stories of their exploits with the Captain, but stopped before going into too many details. McCoy eventually became so drunk he could barely stand, so Spock led him to his couch and covered him with a blanket so he could sleep off the intoxication. He looked back to his untouched piece of chocolate cake. He had never been so tempted to join McCoy's binges in their entire time together, but he knew poisoning his body in any way was not a good idea. Not right now.