A/N: What if Parmen had broken Spock during their first altercation? Here's a look at how events might have played out. Response to 'The Choice' challenge at Ad Astra. If you haven't seen the episode 'Plato's Stepchildren,' this story will make little sense.
Many thanks to T'Paya, whose input, as always, helped to make this better. :D
Breakable
The pain in his ribs was agonizing, white-hot. Muscles that had never been used in this manner before were screaming in protest, his diaphragm contorted by uncontrollable spasms, his throat raw from the unaccustomed sounds being ripped from it. Just when he thought he could endure it no longer the throbbing ache disappeared abruptly, shifting from his abdomen to be replaced by a building pressure behind his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, a pulsing in his temples. Inexplicably, his cheeks were suddenly wet, hot streaks burning a trail down his face, new sounds escaping from his already-abused throat.
In a fog, he could hear voices in the background; one defeated, broken, pleading for an end to the torture, the other forced out through clenched teeth, edged with pain but both commanding and compassionate, directed at him, begging him to hold on, to not let them break him.
He was so tired, so incredibly weary, no longer able to resist the sheer force of will battering against and finally conquering his own. His head began to sag, his back to bow, and he felt rough fabric beneath his cheek as a soothing hand came to rest on his shaking shoulders, offering a much-needed modicum of comfort amid this unimaginably dark nightmare. Little by little his world faded to black as the sounds around him slowly dissipated and he knew no more.
oooOOOooo
"Bones, can you help him?" The three of them were huddled over Spock's motionless form, stretched out on his back on a low, padded couch. McCoy was chewing his lower lip, scanner whirring in his hand, Alexander gently caressing a now-still shoulder as Kirk glanced over at his CMO in utter exasperation, his tone belying his concern.
"Not here; not without further diagnostics to tell me exactly what's going on inside that Vulcan skull of his." McCoy shook his head in defeat.
"Then give me your best guess." Snapped out, eyes returning to the pinched face of his First. "Is he in pain? And if so, is there anything you can give him for it?" Beseeching. Helpless. Kirk jumped to his feet and began pacing the confines of the room, the staccato of his heels echoing in stark contrast to the sound of his boots as they scraped across the marble floor.
"It's not a physical pain. There's no indication of any bodily injuries, or of Parmen doing irreparable damage to his brain, but I have no idea how to break through the mental barrier he's put up." The resignation in his CMO's voice only added to the Captain's distress.
"Then let me try." Kirk had returned to Spock's side, squatting next to McCoy, his fingers closing around the Vulcan's warm hand where it lay on the couch.
A touch to the Captain's forearm startled him and he turned to meet worried blue eyes. "That may not be wise, Jim."
"Why? We can't let him go on like this, suffering alone, locked away inside himself." Kirk's gaze drifted back to Spock and he opened his mouth to speak to the Vulcan, but McCoy's next words stopped him cold, sending a shiver of fear coursing through him.
"I don't have enough experience with the Vulcan mind to know if this is normal or not."
Kirk whipped his head around to face McCoy, his features distorted with disbelief. "Normal? How can you possibly think this is normal?"
"What if it's a defense mechanism? A way to prevent any further emotional damage? I can't be certain, and Spock sure as hell can't tell me at the moment, but I'd bet my last credit that this is an attempt to keep Parmen out of his head, a way to stop that sadistic son-of-a-bitch from forcing Spock to do anything else against his will." He searched Kirk's face, the concern visible there mirroring his own. "But don't get me wrong, Jim. I'm not saying this is a weakness on Spock's part – hell, he's been through emotional trauma in the past and managed to work through it, but this is by far the worst we've ever seen him undergo."
"If it's not weakness, then what exactly are you saying it is?" The disbelief had given way to confusion.
McCoy rose to his feet, tugging Kirk with him and gesturing to a far corner of the room. Kirk turned to the diminutive Platonian. "Stay with him, Alexander," the Captain instructed, following closely on the doctor's heels.
Once they were out of earshot of the other two, Kirk confronted McCoy in a hushed whisper. "All right Bones, let's have it."
McCoy's look was thoughtful. "What if it's a way to keep us safe?"
"Just what the hell is that supposed to mean, Doctor? If I didn't know better I'd say Parmen has gotten to you, too and is influencing your mind even now." Anger creeping back into the Captain's voice.
"Please Jim, just hear me out. When you were lying helpless on the floor and Spock was doing the Irish Jig around your head, do you realize how simple it would have been for Parmen to have made him kill you? One wrong step, one misplaced foot, and he could have easily crushed your skull." Brutally honest.
"But he didn't. Spock resisted," Kirk argued, casting a hurried glance over his shoulder to where the Vulcan lay.
"Exactly, but at what cost? It was obviously a difficult mental battle, so much so that when Parmen finally released Spock's mind our unflappable Vulcan collapsed to the floor despite his superior mental abilities. He didn't even have the strength to stand anymore."
The Doctor watched as Kirk carefully evaluated that observation.
Taking a deep breath, McCoy continued assertively. "Parmen didn't give him a moment to regroup, a chance to prepare himself for the next onslaught, which was visibly painful for him. On top of protecting himself from any further emotional trauma, maybe retreating into himself like this is a way to ensure that Spock won't hurt us, either."
"Spock wouldn't do that – he'd die first! And besides, it's not like him to give up. He'd do everything he could to resist, to help us fight this madman." Adamant. Defensive.
"And what if he sees this as the best way to protect us?" Quiet. Steadfast.
"How can his being totally incapacitated help us in any way?"
"Don't you get it, Jim?"
"No; frankly I'm not following you at all." Confusion had turned to exasperation.
"Well, think about this, then. Spock is much stronger than either one of us, and could kill us with very little effort if forced to," McCoy explained matter-of-factly.
"It wouldn't make any sense for the Platonians to force him to kill you; if they did, they wouldn't have the doctor they so desperately need," Kirk argued.
"Precisely, but they could certainly force Spock to kill you."
"Why? All that would do is make you even less inclined to join their warped version of Utopia. Parmen'd have to know that as a doctor you could certainly retaliate – you have the means." Calmer now.
"I agree completely. But while Spock has always been able to reign in his greater strength when dealing with us fragile humans in the past, that last little mental altercation showed him how little control he really has over the situation. He could seriously hurt or even kill you without meaning to. At least I think that's how Spock sees it." The doctor pursed his lips before continuing. "In a way, I believe he's trying to spare me by making sure I don't have to witness him killing you." A beat. "Again."
Shock registered openly on the captain's face.
McCoy continued, softer now. "Besides, when he thought he'd killed you once before on Vulcan it had the potential to destroy him. To my mind he doesn't think he'd be able to bear it if he were forced to do so again. Much as he likes to pretend he doesn't, even Spock has a breaking point." McCoy's voice wavered slightly.
"But what's to stop them from making me kill Spock in front of you?"
"Well, of course there's the retaliation angle on my part, but the way Spock is now there'd be no sport in it. If there's one thing we can say about Parmen, it's that he's a showman. He thrives on the drama. I think Spock was counting on that."
Their conversation was interrupted by the hum of the transporter. Both men watched in horror as the forms of Uhura and Chapel solidified, shock and fear evident on the women's faces. Within moments the Head Nurse and Communications Officer were dragged against their will by an unseen force to another room in the complex before any of the four of them could say a word.
Kirk's lips twisted into a grimace. "I guess we weren't sufficiently…entertaining." He swung his eyes back to McCoy. "We need to come up with a plan before the party really gets underway. I'd suggest we start by talking to Alexander."
oooOOOooo
He felt soft lips on his. They were hard and insistent, and not altogether unpleasant. But just as he was beginning to appreciate the unfamiliar sensation, the logical thought sliced cleanly through it all. Just whose lips were these, and why were they on his? Unexpectedly, without warning, the lips were withdrawn, the sudden coolness making him shiver slightly.
Gradually, sounds began filtering in out of the darkness – snickering and taunts from the crowd, a female voice attesting to fear (was that Lieutenant Uhura?), the even, measured voice of his Captain offering comfort and support, and soft pleas from McCoy commingled with steadfast promises to never acquiesce. However, over this background din muffled sobs and whispered words of apology were emanating from above him, the voice definitively belonging to Nurse Chapel.
Refusing to open his eyes, he listened as the sobs became quieter still, moist lips pressed to his once again, this time flavored with the salty tang of human tears. He could feel cool hands on him, exploring, probing, touching him in places he'd rarely been touched before, and in a manner he hadn't experienced since he'd been with Leila. Much as he tried to stop it, his body responded to the solicitous caresses, only serving to compound his deepening shame.
Add to that, thoughts and emotions that were not his own filtering into his mind through the unavoidable tactile contact. Rage competing with fear and utter humiliation. I'm so ashamed! Please, someone make them stop! For so long I've wanted to be close to you, but not like this. Now all I want to do is crawl away and die. God, I hope you're so out of it that you don't remember a thing once we're finally light-years away from this hell-hole of a planet – I don't think I could take it if you were aware of what they're making me do to you. I wouldn't be surprised if the Captain kills that bastard with his bare hands given half the chance…that is, if I don't get there first…
He was failing again. Just as he'd almost done serious bodily harm to his Captain, he was now guilty of inflicting crushing emotional pain on Chapel. Convinced this was the only way he could help, Spock retreated behind the mental barrier he had created once again, effectively cutting him off from the sensations, sounds and strong feelings swirling around him.
oooOOOooo
They'd been back on board the Enterprise for over a day and a half now, but despite their best efforts McCoy and M'Benga had been unable to snap Spock out of his catatonic state. Kirk had tried as well, his gentle pleas to the Vulcan soon being replaced by harsh, authoritative demands, but to no avail. After consulting with a Vulcan healer via subspace radio, it had been decided to return Spock to his home planet at once in hopes that physicians more versed in Vulcan mind disciplines would be able to tear down the wall Spock had erected around his psyche.
The ship was currently en route to Vulcan – a journey which would take three more days despite the fact that Scotty had assured the Captain his lads would do whatever it took to maintain their present speed of warp six for the duration.
Save for occasional trips to the bridge to ensure that they were proceeding on course, on schedule, Kirk had not left Spock's bedside, talking quietly to him, offering a steady stream of support and encouragement on the off-chance that the Vulcan could hear him. This was where McCoy found the Captain, seated in a chair, as he approached the First Officer's biobed.
"Jim, you really should get something to eat, and some rest. You can't help Spock by driving yourself into the ground, you know." McCoy rested a hand lightly on Kirk's shoulder.
The eyes that turned to meet his were as bleak and forlorn as McCoy had ever seen them. "We're losing him Bones – I can feel it."
A quick glance at the panel above Spock's head told McCoy the Captain's fears were unfounded. "The readings show no change in his brain activity, Jim, and while his other vitals are low, even for him, they haven't gotten any worse over the last twelve hours. You're just overly stressed at the moment. According to the instruments he's stable for the time being."
"I don't care what the readings say – he's slipping away from us…from me." Spoken with unshakable conviction.
"And just what are you basing that clinical diagnosis on, Jim? I'm the one who doesn't trust technology as a rule, but I've seen nothing to indicate that he's in any imminent danger."
Kirk started to speak but stopped suddenly, looking away. Their Captain was a very private man, and McCoy could plainly see the internal struggle currently raging within him. Obviously he knew more than he was letting on. This certainly went well beyond Kirk's proven intuition with regard to understanding the unique being that was Spock.
Gently now. "What Jim? Tell me how you know. Then maybe there's a chance I can help."
Kirk's gaze returned to Spock briefly before coming to rest once again on McCoy. Softly. "I don't know how to describe it exactly, but there's been a mental connection of sorts between us for a number of months now."
"What? What kind of 'connection?' You mean like a meld? Like he's inside your head all the time?" McCoy shuddered involuntarily. Aside from the brief, rather superficial contact he'd had with Spock's mind on Melkot, the only personal experience he'd had with the sheer strength of the Vulcan's telepathic abilities had been at the hands of Spock's alter-ego in the Mirror universe. The memory was not a pleasant one.
M'Benga, who had been working quietly at a terminal across the room, had now joined them.
"It's hard to explain, Bones." Kirk groped for the right words. "It's not like a meld – I can't hear words or thoughts in my head – it's more of a presence that comes and goes in the deepest levels of my subconscious. It's like a sense of connectedness, of unity; of knowing on some basic, non-verbal level what he's thinking and feeling at the moment."
"What you're describing is a mind link, Captain, specifically the mental bond that goes along with the Vulcan concept of 't'hy'la,'" M'Benga interjected. "It's a very ancient tie that often sprang up of its own volition between close friends or military comrades. Extremely rare in present times, I've never heard of such a link forming between parties who weren't both Vulcan." He thought carefully for a moment. "Have you and Mr. Spock discussed this link between you?"
Kirk sighed heavily. "No. Spock never mentioned it and I was unwilling to in case it violated some Vulcan taboo. If it was something we needed to discuss I figured Spock would come to me when he felt the time was right."
McCoy harrumphed loudly. "Par for the course for you two. Ignore it, pretend it's not an issue, and it'll all work out by itself somehow."
"Irrelevant, Doctor, since it does seem such a link exists between them." M'Benga turned his attention to Kirk. "Tell me, Captain – why do you think we're losing Mr. Spock? How are things different now from what they were before Parmen attacked his mind?"
Kirk struggled to make his point. "In the past, his presence always manifested as a soothing warmth floating on the edge of my consciousness – sometimes more pronounced than others, but there nevertheless. And from it I could tell his mood – if he was content or troubled by something, whether or not he agreed with a course of action I had formulated." Kirk stopped abruptly. "It doesn't matter – the underlying theme is that I always knew he was there, but now his presence seems weaker, and is fading even as we speak. I feel like soon he'll be so far away from me that there'll be no way to bring him back." The hopelessness visible in the Captain's eyes minutes before was now manifesting itself in his tone.
"But how can we be sure that isn't the norm in a case like this? Just because he's clocking out on you, Captain doesn't necessarily mean he's clocking out altogether." Other than the fact that he's cataleptic, which could definitely be seen as a way to cope with what he's been through, there's no indication that his life, or his sanity, are at risk." This from McCoy.
M'Benga took it upon himself to respond. "I don't think so, Doctor. This bond is akin to the Vulcan marriage bond in the way it functions – once firmly established, it's usually only dissolved by the death of one or both parties. While it can be broken, that often results in severe mental distress for each of those involved. The fact that it's weakening is definitely cause for concern.
"Besides, the Captain would be best equipped to know for sure if Mr. Spock has, in fact, given up. If he has, he may wind up retreating so far into the depths of his mind that even a trained healer won't be able to bring him out again." He looked askance at Kirk.
"That's not the feeling I get, gentlemen." Kirk was animated, somewhat unsettled. "Not that he's given up but more like he's lost and can't find his way back." A beat. "Time is running out and I don't know how to help him." Kirk had risen to his feet to pace the confined space between the biobeds, hands behind his back.
M'Benga considered their options. "A healer would initiate a meld and then work to lead him back to reality. While we don't have a healer, we do have someone who is linked to his mind – the next best thing. And there's one thing I'm sure of – the longer we wait, the harder it will be to help Mr. Spock find his way back." He glanced at Kirk expectantly.
"But I have no idea how to get him to let me in – I'm no mentalist." Frustration creeping into his tone as he halted his movements to meet M'Benga's eyes squarely.
"And you may not have to be. Your minds are already attuned to one another. It may only be necessary to touch him, open your mind and allow him to find you."
"This is crazy, Geoff." McCoy's gruff voice served as a glimmer of rationality amid the current wave of lunacy. "The Captain is virtually psi-null and not a telepath by any stretch of the imagination. How can you think this could possibly work, or help?" He turned accusing eyes on M'Benga. "Let's contact the healers again, at least get their input before we let the Captain try something so drastic."
"There's nothing else for it, Bones. If we don't do something – and soon – we'll lose him for sure," Kirk argued. "At the rate his mind's receding from mine, we'll never make it to Vulcan in time, so in my book it really doesn't matter what the healers say." Stated with absolute certainty.
"And what if by some miracle this does work – only once you get in there you screw things up so badly that you wind up being trapped along with him? You have no training, no experience with this. We could lose you both!"
Once again, Kirk glanced down at the still face of his best friend. Resolutely. "It's a risk I'm willing to take, Bones – I can't stand here and do nothing, and condemn him to his fate."
"Naturally there's some danger involved, but we can monitor them, separate them if necessary at the first sign of trouble, Leonard," M'Benga added. "Breaking the physical contact should at least allow us to get the Captain back."
"But will there be any permanent damage to Jim's mind? Do we even know the answer to that question, Geoff? We have no idea what's going on inside Spock's head at the moment! What if he launches a mental attack on Jim? The Captain doesn't know how to protect himself in a situation like this – something a healer would surely be trained to do!" McCoy looked from one man to the other, his eyes flashing, both concern and anger present there.
"The fact that their minds are already linked should work in our favor," M'Benga reasoned. "Mr. Spock should be able to recognize the Captain's presence and respond positively to it, to trust him if you will. Protection shouldn't be an issue. The real question is whether or not the Captain will be able to lead him out of wherever it is that he's gone."
"I've got to try, Bones." Kirk's tone was as close to pleading as McCoy had ever heard it. It seemed the Captain was determined to proceed with this course of action regardless of the personal cost.
The CMO licked his lips, his eyes unfocused, a fist pressed to his chin. "Okay, but I want you both to know I'm agreeing to this under protest." He raised his head defiantly, his mouth compressed into a thin line, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
Decision made, the Captain was unwilling to waste any more time. "Then let's get started. Dr. M'Benga, what do I do?" Kirk asked, settling once again into the chair beside Spock's bed.
"Place your fingers here," M'Benga instructed, guiding Kirk's hands into position on Spock's face, "and clear your mind. If he's in there, and is able to respond, he'll do the rest." As an afterthought he added, "There's no telling where he's decided to go, so wherever you find yourself, don't resist. Follow his lead."
Glancing up at his two senior medical officers, Kirk wasn't surprised to see that Chapel had come to stand behind McCoy's left shoulder, a tear shimmering on her cheek.
Looking once again into the face of his First he swallowed reflexively, feeling a slight tingling beneath his fingers. Closing his eyes, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow, he concentrated on driving all conscious thoughts from his head.
oooOOOooo
After a brief period of disorientation, Kirk found himself roaming the corridors of his ship. It was strangely devoid of personnel, but he could sense a presence ahead of him.
Spock? He called into the emptiness, and heard the hurried scrabble of boots on the decking, saw a shadow retreat into a dark side passage.
Picking up the pace, he loped after the apparition, but it always remained just beyond his field of vision.
Spock? Is that you? Silence. I'm trying to help you, Spock. He continued moving purposefully toward the ethereal presence.
After several minutes of chasing this elusive phantom through the empty corridors, he realized he was going about this all wrong. On an impulse he stopped, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to wander instead of his body...
oooOOOooo
Kirk was sweating profusely, his cheeks flushed, the perspiration running down his face in rivulets, dripping off his nose and chin to splash the edge of the biobed and the floor below. Other than that there were no outward signs of the mental battle currently being waged by their CO.
"The Captain's heart and respiration rates are elevated, blood pressure below normal," McCoy noted, frowning at the instrument in his hand, "obviously a testament to the effort he's putting into this – but they're still within acceptable levels. I am also registering increased brain activity on Jim's part – maybe a sign that he's gotten through to Spock."
"Mr. Spock's alpha wave rate is also on the rise," M'Benga commented, eyes trained on the diagnostic panel above the Vulcan's bed.
"You know, this cockamamie scheme just might pay off after all," McCoy added, sounding hopeful for the first time since this ordeal had begun.
Wiping a tear from her eye, Chapel found she was unable to stop herself from briefly resting a hand on Spock's forearm…
oooOOOooo
This was the Enterprise, he was sure of it, but for some reason he found himself unable to successfully navigate through her corridors, wandering aimlessly for hours on end. In all this time he had yet to encounter a single crewman. Had the Platonians managed to wipe out everyone on board? Hoping to discover their fate he'd tried heading for the bridge, auxiliary control, the engineering spaces, the rec rooms and even sickbay, but was constantly lost in a maze of ever-changing, ever-lengthening passageways. Just when he was sure he knew where he was he'd turn a corner, only to have the next corridor expand and elongate before his very eyes.
All of a sudden he became aware that he was no longer alone. Parmen? How did he find me? I must not allow him to reach me; I must evade him at all costs, otherwise it could mean Jim's life. He began running blindly, not caring where he was going, so long as it was away from the presence chasing him.
After several long minutes he realized he was no longer being pursued. At the end of his physical and emotional endurance, he sagged against a bulkhead, sliding slowly down the wall and coming to rest in a crumpled heap on the floor, the decking cool and smooth beneath his cheek and outstretched hands. He felt his eyes closing as darkness surrounded him…
He was jolted back to consciousness by a voice coming over the ship-wide intercom system, booming from every speaker and comm unit.
Mr. Spock, I'm so sorry. I wish I'd been stronger. A hitched breath. I tried to resist them, I really did, but there was nothing I could do to keep them from making me kiss you, touch you. A stifled sob. I know this is all my fault, and now we might lose the Captain, too. I wish there was some way you could know how truly sorry I am, and how I'd give anything for this to never have happened. I can only hope that you had no idea what was going on.
Just as suddenly as the voice had appeared, it was gone, the deafening silence now ringing in his ears. He drew a ragged breath. Further evidence of the hurt he was causing those around him. Best to just close his eyes and let oblivion take him once and for all.
But out of the gloom another sound was growing, solidifying, becoming ever stronger. Soon he was able to distinguish individual words and finally sentences.
Spock, can you hear me? It's Jim. I know you're here somewhere – I can feel you. A beat. Answer me, damn it! The voice was edged with frustration, with desperation. We're no longer on Platonius, Spock – we're back on the ship. We got away and we're all safe, except for you. We can't snap you out of this trance you've put yourself into. That's why I'm here. Help me find you. Parmen can't hurt any of us anymore, so there's no need for you to keep running. Please Spock, let me help you get back to us.
It sounded like Jim but he couldn't be sure. What if it was Parmen, making Jim say those things? If he called out and was discovered, there was no telling what the end result might be. As he listened, starting to focus carefully on what was being said, the Kirk-voice tried a different approach. Did you hear that message on the ship's intercom, Spock? That was from Chapel. She's worried about you, too – we all are. If something happens to you she'll never forgive herself. Are you going to just give in, let her go on believing she's responsible? That's not like you, Spock – you always think of everyone else before yourself. Let me help you. Tell me where you are so I can get us out of this mess and you can tell Chapel yourself that she wasn't to blame.
That had to be Jim – the power-crazed Platonian leader certainly wouldn't be concerned with Chapel's emotional welfare. He raised his head, trying to get a fix on his Captain's location. But as he listened, he realized the voice was growing fainter, moving away from him. He pushed himself up on wobbly arms.
Jim? he called weakly, the sound echoing down the empty corridor. No response. Determined to be heard he called out again, stronger this time, and was relieved when his Captain answered.
Spock! Don't move! Tell me how to find you and I'll come to you.
Propping himself up against the wall, Spock waited for what seemed like an eternity, helping to guide Kirk to him, offering instructions – turn here; proceed for twenty meters; yes, that is correct; take that side passage to your left – until finally he saw a shadow moving along the wall, accompanied by the distinct sound of boots on the ship's metal decking. At last a form dressed in gold burst into his corridor, began running toward him at full speed. He closed his eyes briefly, catching his lower lip between his teeth.
"Spock! Thank God I found you." Kirk was reaching down, hauling him gently to his feet. "Are you all right?"
Quickly, his relief turned to fear instead. "Jim. It is not safe. You should not be here."
"And neither should you," his Captain fired back, "so what do you say we get the hell out of here?" Kirk had slipped an arm around the Vulcan's waist, drawn Spock's arm across his shoulders.
"I have tried, Captain, but to no avail. While this looks like the Enterprise, I have been unable to locate key areas on the ship." Spock's gaze was intent upon Kirk's.
"Then we have to get off her – we'll go to the transporter room," the Captain responded simply. He began moving decisively down the corridor, tugging Spock along with him.
"But Jim, I do not know the way." His voice flirting with panic, the Vulcan's eyes were wide.
Calm. Reassuring. "I do, Spock, just trust me. I'll get us out of here."
But Spock remained agitated, planting his feet firmly, halting their forward progress. "You are forgetting about Nurse Chapel – we cannot simply leave her here, Jim. We must locate her as well." The Vulcan turned, attempting to return the way they'd just come.
Kirk stopped him, made an effort to catch his First's eye. "She's not here Spock – not really. You and I are locked in a mind meld and I think she got caught up in it unintentionally for a moment – maybe touched one of us by accident or something. I don't think she even knew she was here. She's waiting for us in sickbay, along with McCoy and M'Benga. Come on," Kirk tightened his grip around the Vulcan's torso. "We've got to get back there."
Spock allowed the Captain to choose the direction once again, following his lead. After several more minutes of walking in silence, comforted by the warm presence at his side, Spock looked up as the doors before them swished open and they found themselves in front of the Enterprise's transporter unit. "Someone must operate the controls, Jim, and there is no one else aboard. One of us will be trapped here." The panic was slowly building again.
"Don't worry Spock – I'll set the delay. We'll be fine. Wait here, I'll be right back," Kirk said, settling the Vulcan on one of the steps leading to the platform. He returned a few seconds later, helping his First to stand and steering him onto one of the pads. "Hold on, Spock," Kirk said, a hand around the Vulcan's bicep serving to keep his friend in an upright position as the machine hummed to life, "We're almost there." Spock felt his body begin to dissolve as the transporter effect took them…
oooOOOooo
"Doctor! He's awake!" Chapel screamed.
McCoy glanced down from the monitor over Spock's head in time to see the Vulcan's eyes snap open as Kirk's hands slipped bonelessly from his friend's face, the Captain's eyes squeezed tightly shut, his head now slumped against Spock's chest.
McCoy grasped his CO's shoulders, pulling him upright and shaking him slightly. "Jim! You okay?" In the background, he could hear M'Benga speaking softly to Spock.
"Sir, do you know where you are? Do you know what's happened? Can you tell me the current stardate?" He could hear Spock respond, but the answers were weak, unintelligible to his ears.
Thankfully, Kirk stirred in his arms. "Bones? I was in the transporter room with Spock. We were on our way back here…"
McCoy looked first at M'Benga and then at Chapel. They were as confused as he.
Kirk was suddenly on his feet, a huge grin splitting his face as hazel eyes came to meet soft brown ones. "Spock. You're back." A beat as they held onto the moment briefly. "How are you feeling?"
Spock closed his eyes, opened them slowly, his gaze never leaving his Captain's face. "Very tired." A pause. "And safe. Thank you, Jim." His tone gentle, muted.
The grin deepened, Kirk's features softening. "For what? You would've done the same for me."
Without warning Kirk paled and his knees buckled. McCoy caught him before he hit the floor. "Whoa, Jim, that meld – or whatever it was – took a lot out of you, too. You should rest. Come on, let's get you into bed," the Doctor said, all business now, laying Kirk on the bed next to Spock's."
"Bones, I'm fine, really." But the normally strong voice was faltering, "I don't … need …" And with that, the Captain was out. McCoy quickly activated the diagnostic panel above Kirk's head and was relieved to find that his CO was merely sleeping, all his vital signs now skirting the edges of the green zone.
A hasty glance in Spock's direction showed that the Vulcan had fallen into an exhausted sleep as well.
"Well that was easy – I didn't even have to argue with them, or threaten them with sedation for a change." Smiling to himself he stepped over to Spock's bed, inspecting the readings displayed there in an effort to reassure himself that both his friends were well, and out of danger.
Convinced that everything was back to normal, he turned to M'Benga and Chapel. "C'mon, let's let them rest," he said, shooing the others out of the ward and dimming the lights. "Lord knows how long this will last, but I'm sure it won't be long enough."
oooOOOooo
He'd been lying here awake for several minutes, considering his options. A quick look to his left had told him the Vulcan was still in the bed next to his, the steady rise and fall of Spock's chest consistent with unfettered, natural sleep.
A hurried survey of the room confirmed that he and Spock were the only current occupants – no sign of McCoy, M'Benga or Chapel, and the other diagnostic beds were empty. He took some satisfaction in that – it meant that, for the time being at least, his crew was safe, and whole.
Turning his attention to himself, he felt fine other than the fact that his stomach was rumbling loudly and he was a little ripe, even to his own nose. If he were going to beat a hasty retreat, now was the time to do it.
His feet had just hit the floor when a deep baritone caused him to start guiltily. "Jim. Dr. McCoy was quite clear when he stated you needed rest."
He raised his eyes to meet the Vulcan's and wasn't surprised to see Spock pushing himself to a seated position, an eyebrow slicing toward his hairline, his look a curious mixture of concern and reproach. However, Kirk couldn't find it within himself to be annoyed with the man. Quite the contrary, an affectionate grin spread slowly over his face.
"Et tu, Spock?" he teased. "I thought at least you'd understand my desire to slip out of here undetected. If I wait for McCoy to release me, I could wind up being here for days." And yet, somehow escape didn't seem all that important anymore. He pulled up a chair and seated himself beside Spock's bed.
"While I readily grasp the sentiment, you took a grave risk today; you should allow yourself time to adequately recuperate. Bringing a trained telepath out of a self-induced altered mental state can be a dangerous undertaking, even for a skilled healer."
Kirk's look became somber, the playful mood vanishing in an instant. "It couldn't be helped, Spock. I knew for a fact we'd never get you to Vulcan in time. I wasn't about to stand by and do nothing." Forcefully; his feelings unusually close to the surface.
His First dropped his eyes at that, and Kirk instantly regretted his words. "I'm sorry, Spock, I didn't mean to snap at you, but I simply couldn't let you go without a fight."
"It is not you, but I who should be apologizing, Captain."
"For what? For being tortured by Parmen? For handling the situation the best way you knew how?" Kirk's tone held no disapproval.
"Parmen's mind was simply too strong. He could have caused me to seriously injure you, possibly even kill you. The course of action I chose represented the only option open to me to prevent that from happening." Spock looked away, visibly troubled. Softly. "But it also left you and Dr. McCoy alone to fend for yourselves."
Kirk rested a hand lightly on the Vulcan's forearm. "Spock, you know I've never doubted you. I know you had a damn good reason for doing what you did. Bones made sure I understood, and—"
"McCoy?" Spock couldn't totally mask his surprise.
The grin returned. "Yes Spock, McCoy. For as hard as the two of you work at trying to convince the rest of us you don't like each other, I happen to know better. And he knows how your mind works a lot better than he lets on."
Incredulity, coupled with mild shock and a grudging respect flitted across Spock's face. It seemed McCoy deserved more credit than the Vulcan was sometimes willing to give him.
"I'm not angry, or upset, or disappointed in you. I get what you were trying to do, and it worked – we all made it back in one piece, but it seems you were the one who suffered the most. And for that, I'm sorry."
"There is no need, Jim. You could not have prevented events from unfolding as they did."
"Bullshit! From the moment we got there I had a bad feeling about Parmen. I saw right away what a cruel, thoughtless bully he was. Despite McCoy's concerns I should have insisted we return to the ship immediately." Alive with self-recrimination.
"You know as well as I that would have proven unsuccessful, Jim – Parmen would not have allowed us to leave under any circumstances. We were trapped the moment we responded to the distress call." A pause. "I am curious, though – how did you manage to escape?"
"Bones compared a reading of Parmen's blood to Alexander's, and discovered unusually high levels of Kironide were responsible for the telekinetic power. McCoy gave each of us double the dose in Parmen's blood, and after a few hours I was able to defeat him in a battle of wills." He didn't dare say anything more – he had no idea how much Spock actually remembered.
"I trust Lieutenant Uhura and Nurse Chapel were not injured during the ordeal?"
"You know about that?"
"As I was attempting to end my self-induced hypnosis I found myself in the midst of the next phase of Parmen's unorthodox endeavor to change the Doctor's mind. I could hear Miss Uhura speaking to you, and Miss Chapel was in such emotional distress I thought it best to retreat once again rather than subject her to the knowledge that I was cognizant of what was happening. Besides, Parmen could have caused me to harm her, or Miss Uhura, as well." Spock dropped his eyes.
"I'm sorry Spock – hell for both of you. I at least hoped you had no recollection of what went on, for both your sakes." Softly, but suffused with an undercurrent of anger.
"She must never learn the truth." Spock's voice was tight, strained. He glanced at his Captain, wearing a look of grim determination.
"Agreed. She doesn't need to be made aware of that." Hoping to spare his friend any further anguish, Kirk changed the flow of the conversation.
"How are you feeling now, Spock?"
"Surprisingly well. And you?"
The corners of Kirk's mouth jumped. "None the worse for wear, despite my foray into that for once not-so-well-oiled mind of yours. A most interesting place, that." Light, teasing, eyes twinkling.
Spock pondered that briefly. "Hmm, I would have believed you to be quite familiar with such an environment, Captain." Said with a perfectly straight face.
"Huh?" Kirk wasn't sure what to make of that. As he was considering his response, they were startled to hear a crusty voice from the doorway. "I don't recall giving you permission to get out of bed, Captain. Would you mind explaining yourself?" McCoy had walked over and was now standing at the foot of Spock's bed.
"Seriously Bones, I feel fine – Spock does, too – and we need to get back to running the ship," Kirk quipped in his best, rapid-fire command tone.
"You may think you're fine, but I'll be the judge of that," McCoy announced, his scanner instantly appearing in his hand.
Kirk resigned himself to the unwanted scrutiny, trading a long-suffering look with Spock and waiting none-too-patiently for a verdict.
"Hmm, all your vital signs have returned to normal, Captain, as has your brain function. There's nothing like a good eight hours of sleep to cure what ails you."
"What?" He gaped at McCoy in total disbelief. "Were we really out that long?"
"Yes, hard as that is to believe." A smirk appeared suddenly. "That's the longest either of you have ever slept for me here without sedation. Maybe I should start prescribing mind melds whenever you two refuse to follow my medical orders." An evil gleam in the Doctor's eyes now joined the smirk.
Kirk didn't respond, just shot McCoy a look that told him exactly what the Captain thought about that idea. He steered the conversation back to its original course. "So have you reached a conclusion, Doctor? Can we get the hell out of here?"
"Okay Jim, you're free to go, but to your quarters. I don't want to see you on the Bridge for at least another eight hours." Upon hearing that, Spock flung back the covers, made a move to swing his legs to the floor.
"Hold it Spock, I only meant Jim – you aren't going anywhere just yet." This statement was met with an arched eyebrow, arms stubbornly folded across the Vulcan's chest as each man attempted to stare the other down. Not surprisingly, it was McCoy who won.
"Dr. M'Benga just finished a subspace consult with a Vulcan healer, who said you should be kept under observation for the next twenty-four hours, just to be safe."
"Aw c'mon Bones. Look at him – he's fine. At least let him go back to his quarters, too. I'll keep an eye on him, and see that he rests – scout's honor," Kirk informed the Doctor earnestly, smiling with the innocence of a child, a hand raised in the traditional three-finger salute.
"Yeah, because I can always count on you two to come to me when there's a problem." Dripping with sarcasm. He glared first at one and then the other, enjoying immensely their obvious discomfiture.
"You know, the fact that a link existed between you was an important bit of information you might have wanted to share with your friendly, country doctor. It's bad enough you didn't tell me, but you could have at least had the good sense to talk it over with one another." Both men colored, glancing first at each other and then at the floor, neither one offering an explanation or an apology.
Over the last few months McCoy had suspected something was different between them. They'd just seemed more attuned to each other. It went a long way to explaining why Spock so adamantly refused to leave Kirk behind in Tholian space despite the obvious danger to the ship and her crew. He sighed inwardly. Closed-mouth Vulcans and humans who were obstinate to a fault – would he ever totally understand them? It's a good thing I'm so fond of them, otherwise I'd have strangled them both for sure ages ago, he thought to himself.
"In light of that, it would seem you two have a lot to discuss, so I'll leave you to it." And with that, McCoy retreated to his office, leaving the Captain and XO alone in the empty ward once again.
Sensing the Vulcan's immediate discomfort, Kirk smiled warmly at Spock. "Not just yet; when you're feeling better. This isn't the right time or place. However, there's someone else you need to talk to more than me at the moment."
An imperceptible nod of the Vulcan's head told Kirk his meaning had been clearly understood. "I'm starved, and I need a shower. I'll be back to check on you in a little while." Climbing to his feet, the captain started purposefully for the door.
oooOOOooo
He'd been sitting up, reading something on the viewer next to his bed when he noticed Chapel rushing through the room. "Miss Chapel, you seem to be avoiding me."
Visibly startled, she turned, heading toward his bed. As she approached, her cheeks flushed a bright crimson. He could feel the heat radiating from her. "Now why would I want to do that?" she asked lightly, not looking at him, focusing instead on straightening a non-existent rumple in the sheet on his biobed. "It seemed like you were busy and I didn't want to disturb you." Finally she glanced up at him. "Is there something you need, Mr. Spock?"
"I sense that something is troubling you; something that has to do with me." He kept his eyes and voice flat, emotionless.
"Some things happened on Platonius." She wrung her hands, clearly struggling with the memories. "Awful things." She met his gaze, her eyes glistening with tears. "I'm so sorry, and I hope you can forgive me."
"To my recollection you were not even on the planet with us, so how can you possibly be in need of my forgiveness?" He was trying desperately to give her an out.
Guilt kept her talking. "After Parmen tortured you and the Captain, he forced Lieutenant Uhura and me to beam down as part of the next phase of the Platonians twisted idea of entertainment."
"I see. But as I remember nothing beyond my initial 'confrontation' with Parmen, I can find no logical reason why you would believe it is necessary to apologize to me." An outright lie. And yet somehow it felt right.
"But I do. They made me do things to you. I tried to resist but I couldn't. And I'm so ashamed." She hung her head.
He reached out and tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "There is no shame in failing to accomplish that which neither the Captain nor I could do ourselves. Do you not see? You are not at fault here, the blame rests squarely with them, and even were I to remember the events to which you are alluding, I would not hold you responsible."
"Regardless, I just want you to know how sorry I am. I'd never do anything to hurt you."
"I know that, Christine."
She smiled at that, pleased to hear him use her given name without prompting. She covered her delight by changing the subject.
"Are you hungry? I could bring you something," she said brightly.
"I do not wish to inconvenience you." They were now back in familiar, safe territory.
"Don't be silly – it's no trouble at all. What would you like?"
oooOOOooo
Left alone again now that Chapel had gone to retrieve his meal, his thoughts returned to his captain. He had known Kirk was aware of the link between them, but the two of them had been sidestepping the issue for months. His Captain would not press him at the moment, but it seemed discussing it in the near future was now unavoidable – McCoy would certainly see to that. And he was ready now. Seeing Kirk's unwavering faith in him made him realize his reticence had been totally unnecessary.
His initial reluctance to do so had stemmed from the fact that he feared his Captain might find the unsolicited mental contact intrusive; a legitimate concern that it might influence or even hinder his command abilities. He realized now he had been foolish not to trust Jim, to have faith in their friendship. It was true – his Captain had never doubted him, in this, or any other area of their relationship.
Unbidden, scenes from his time on Platonius sprang to mind. He had told Kirk it would be very gratifying to leave that place. While he still viewed the time he had spent there with loathing, in its wake was the potential to make a change for the better. It had given him the means to broach the subject of the link with Jim. Unbelievably, he found himself thanking Parmen. Had it not been for the events surrounding that surreal experience, there's no telling when, or if he would have ever discussed the link with his Captain, and most assuredly would not have mentioned it to McCoy. It seemed there was some good in everything, in any given situation, if only one was willing to look deep enough…
His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the doors to sickbay swish open, followed by a familiar, firm step.
"Spock, I'm back," Kirk informed him, entering the main ward wearing an infectious grin. "I ran into Chapel in the mess. She had some work to finish in the lab, so I volunteered to bring you your lunch," he announced, depositing the tray on the table beside Spock's bed. "And after you eat I thought we could play some chess." He drew the three-dimensional board and a case containing the pieces from under his arm, and dragging a mobile cart from across the room, pulled it beside the Vulcan's bed and proceeded to set up the chessmen on their appropriate spaces.
The corners of Spock's mouth turned up slightly as he watched his Captain, busy at his task. Yes, he had been foolish, indeed…