Hello my lovely darlings! I'm finally back with a nice hearty chapter for ya'll since you've been so good to me. :) I'm so glad I've got some followers for this story and even though its not as popular as my others, I'm dedicated to finish what I've started, even if its little by little. :)

Warnings: I hope you're ready for Spirk Drama. Because that is it. Hurt!Angry!Confused!Jim and poor Spock who's caught up in it. :)

The bars of Iowa were almost the same as he remembered them.

Cheap.

Dirty.

Forgotten.

'All the things I deserve.' Jim thought heavily as he threw his head back to finish the dregs of his glass and wiped his sleeve across his mouth in a slow, sluggish movement.

The calm and serenity of his bond with Spock was muted by the alcohol, causing the edges of the foundation to fray and distort fuzzily, its usual smooth fluidity feeling murky, boggy, and sickeningly thick as he tried to wade through its parameters and close it behind a door. He felt Spock's soft probing presence that was trying to ask for him, to feel that Jim was ok and have proof that his bond mate didn't need any assistance, but Jim twisted the lock firmly against the invasive feeling and retreated cowardly from his own mind as he accepted another straight whiskey from the bar tender.

And as he perused the rest of the bar, his gaze glinting dully in the dimmed over head lights, Jim was amazed at how human everything seemed in that moment. After visiting clubs on planets in different galaxies, Jim had experienced it all. Dance floors filled with writhing alien bodies, the air thick with the varying pheromones of the aroused extraterrestrials, a kaleidoscope of colored drinks that tasted like the tongues he had sampled them from, while other places were more muted, though not unlike an assault on the senses as he basked in the golden glory that came with being a celebrated young captain, all the politicians vying for his undivided attention, the women flittering pettily about him with champagne flutes and glittery laughter as men in suits looked at him with intelligent, sparkling eyes, their strong hands sometimes grasping at his shoulder, a knowing wink bring a startled, good natured laugh from him.

But here, without his Command yellow and well-earned decorations pinned to his uniform, Jim Kirk faded into the backwash of society, and it was here that he saw the truth.

None of it mattered.

Saving Earth had painted him in the lime light beautifully for a few months, the public enjoying the gossip around him and his loyal crew, but after it all died down and he spent a few years out in the black, everyone forgot all about the young, handsome Jim Kirk.

Everyone but the Brass who kept riding his case each mission Jim completed. Their words still churned his stomach as he pictured their old, weathered faces and heard the condescension color their voices as they berated and nit-picked the results.

He wiped the residue on his glass and tried to draw pictures on the polished bar wood, but couldn't get the voices out of his mind as he let himself wallow in his self-pity.

'You're inconsistent, Kirk, and its that kind of record that leads to suspensions-'

'You were lucky the whole damn plan didn't blow up in your face-'

'Twelve casualties? This was supposed to be an easy endeavor, how do you lose twelve men-'

'The boy is riding on faith and prayers, and I don't want to be in your shoes, Pike, when you have to tell him he's getting put on a freighter bound for deep space while the rest of his crew separates to research vessels-'

Jim scrubbed his callused palms over his eyes as he let the sting of each memory hack at him, that last one churning his stomach more so as he thought of losing his beautiful silver lady and the family he had sloppily stitched together in it.

But in the end, as he nodded thanks to the barkeep and paid his tab, Jim Kirk felt expendable, fleeting, as if every second that he breathed was one more closer to the day he'd have to give up his home.

The Enterprise wasn't just a ship.

She was where Jim had sought comfort after life had dragged him through hell. His Captain's quarters were a beautiful controlled chaos, where his antiqued books with their dog-eared musty pages sat leaned against Vulcan artifacts, red drapes lining walls, a small bookshelf that held gold boxes of dried tea leaves, the bed covers smelling of heavy incense and Jim's cologne.

The Enterprise was home.

And as Jim opened the door to the hovercraft, a dark blue model his mother had bought when he was sixteen, he dreaded the thought of stomaching the house that lay at the end of the gravel road, the one that should be solace and comfort, but instead simply gathered dust over its creaking old hinges and waited for the doors to close so the memories could start.

'I still need to pick up a few things for dinner.' He mused a bit dazedly, turning the key and revving the motor. The sound was clean and digital almost, instead of the delicious oil and gear gridding of old modals, and yet, feeling the wind whip through his hair and watch the empty earth speed past him compensated for the absence of feeing the thrumming exhaust and dirt beneath rubber tires. Jim scoffed, 'The things we give up for feeling better.' His fingers tensed white knuckled against the wheel as he thought of how he had left Spock in that old creaky house with the broken doll of his mother.

But he couldn't help it. After he had stepped up the stairs and breathed in the familiar scent of old whiskey, felt her coarse hair against his cheek and tried not to relive every other time he had to take care of her, Jim was simply amazed he hadn't gotten sick all over his own boots. There was a stagnant, sharp pain that lingered in the house and after years of basking in the freedom of Starfleet and the vast open skies of other worlds, Riverside felt like a rusted cage.

So the moment Jim had lead Spock downstairs, he barely had the conscious nicety to lock off his poisonous emotional turmoil and whisper some mangled excuse as he jogged out to the car and sped off.

Running away like always.

-Page Break-

'He must be so pissed.' Jim weighed the idea as he grabbed a loaf of wheat bread and added it to his cart beside the assortment of fruits. He had closed off his side of the bond for many reasons, to keep Spock from seeing just how desperate he was to overcome all of the things that shouldn't be tormenting him anymore now that he was a grown man, to make sure his sudden emotionalism wouldn't sicken Spock's sensitive system, but mostly because having that centering, understanding presence inside his head was….

It was…

'Something you believe you do not deserve.' Spock had whispered once to him as they lay curled together in a tangle of warm bed sheets. 'But James, trust in me, you have earned this.'

He shook the tender memory away and mentally caressed the key to his locked mind.

"Jimmy?"

He started slightly at the voice, one he thought he wouldn't hear again after he had taken the shuttle to San Francisco.

"Maria," He gave his signature smile, the one that all the newspapers caught with the right flash, and looked at the woman, noticing her full curves and the same sweet taste of her perfume. She was just as beautiful as the night he had taken her to Prom, her dusky curls thick and loose about her tanned shoulders, hazel eyes ringed in dark lashes. "It's good to see you." He remembered how she had whispered that she had loved him.

Remembered the heavy, cold tears in her eyes after they made love and he couldn't find it in him to say 'I love you, too.'

She hadn't been a conquest, simply a lovely listener that never expected something great from him. Maybe he had sought her to cover the wounds his distant mother had left, maybe it was because he thought his body was a worthy trade for her kindness to him, but either way he had ruined everything.

And he had run from that too.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you back here in Riverside." She smiled with her eyes and a dimple in one cheek, something he had always found endearing. "What brings a Captain here?"

Jim shrugged good naturedly, the slight buzz of his few drinks making him feel light under her attention. "I had some time off for shore leave. I thought…" He paused for a small beat, dumbstruck on what to say. He couldn't say it was because he missed his mother. Or because he had unfinished business here. And for some reason, bringing up Spock and meeting the in laws didn't seem right, so he lamely finished with, "I just thought I'd catch up a bit."

Maria's face brightened, her cheeks darkening as she stepped closer and dropped her gaze a bit shyly. "Well, it's good to have you back in the neighborhood." Jim wondered if she still was sore about that night all those years ago, wondered if she had forgiven him for his fear. "You know, I bet 'The Crash Site' is still open, maybe you'd want to grab diner? I'd love to hear about what a Captain of his own starship has seen." Apparently she had.

"I'd love to." He confessed and promised to see her at the old diner after shopping.

And how wonderfully normal it had been to sit at the booth, enjoying the greasiest hamburger he could remember having and laughing over his memories. Jim had missed the naivety that came with living on only one planet, sheltered from all the gloriously odd things that the universe was capable of. Maria was amazed at everything he said, the gleam of her eyes as she sipped on a milk shake and laughed over one of the tales inviting and open. For a moment, he was timeless. In her eyes, he was the perfect poster boy that he strove to be.

He was admired.

He felt effortlessly young.

Wild.

"We just have to meet up again." Maria confessed after dinner had finished and they stood by his car, her laugh lines shadowed in the moon light. She was warm so close to him, was human, and flawed, he remembered how she had giggled when he first kissed her almost ten years ago. She was a woman now and, in the heat of the night, he felt inexplicably human too. "Don't be a stranger." She winked with a laugh and hugged him quickly before departing, leaving him feeling both heavy and weightless.

And it was with swimming thoughts that Jim drove home in silent contemplation, his heart sighing for the lock between the bond to be clicked open, while some blistering part of his blood pondered if Maria still had the same phone number.

-Page Break-

Even though Spock had welcomed him home with open arms, nuzzling his face into the crook of Jim's jaw, it only took a slight, cold moment for him to step away, as if burnt, his clinical eyes looking at him in slight speculation.

"You were out with a woman." Was all that came out of his mouth, as if some grandiose deduction, and Jim's heart sank at the tight threads of jealousy and, to his surprise, self-deprecation that twisted in their bond.

Jim sighed heavily and pushed past his mate as he made a bee line to the kitchen and dropped the bags of groceries before he entered this battle. "Wait a minute, I get to explain. I just had dinner with an old friend."

Spock stood still as ice then, immovable, as he searched through their bond and came across the same locked door of their connection. Jim witnessed the delicate skin under his eyes tighten in frustration before that clear voice spoke, "You have shut me out for almost an entire day." The observation was true, but Jim didn't know what to say, so instead he filled the silence with a guilty scoff and turned toward the pantry so he could put the food away. But as he reached for the top shelf, he felt cool, gentle hands smooth his shoulders, the strong fingers grabbing softly at the curls of his nape. There were lips then on his neck, calming and indulgent as the alien mouthed dryly at the exposed shoulder, drawing forth a slight, delicious ache of Jim's fading bond bite. "Jim, please, allow me-" Spock molded himself to his back, reaching with curious, tender finger tips for the three meld points that would give entry to his bond mate's psyche.

But the split second before their katra slipped into place, Jim felt trapped.

With a sharp shoulder roll, he pushed back, struggling a bit as he felt Spock untangle himself, an awful, sickening wave of black anger roiling between them then, but Jim swallowed the feeing and shouldered his way past the Vulcan.

"Go to bed, I'll be up in a minute." Kirk quipped, and to his surprise their bond went completely numb as Spock left him alone, turning abruptly out and gliding up the stairs, his footsteps not once echoing in the old corridor.

And as he stands still, hands clenched in tight fists of exasperation, he feels like screaming because even now, he feels like he's running away.

-Page Break-

The first level of meditation was difficult to wade in as Spock sought inner peace, his legs folded beneath him, hands feeling knotted and locked as he tried to uncurl them from their frustrated, white knuckled grip on his knees. His anger flared white hot and explosive in his chest as he tried to breathe through it, a ribbon of jealousy twisting with the sparks and igniting something new.

The scent of the woman on Jim had opened up something that Spock had stitched and cauterized years ago, the idea of how he would never be good enough to keep the Captain's attentions still aching him like an old wound. James T. Kirk had been promiscuous, well loved, and highly sought after, but their coupling had assured him that Jim loved him. He would be enough to keep him sated.

But kneeling here, on the rough carpet of Kirk's old room, Spock felt like maybe he had missed something in the glorious, passionate blur hat had been their first months as a couple on the Enterprise, the year that followed their bonding proving to have simpered to a stalemate. This homecoming was supposed to awaken Spock to all the little manneraisms that made up his beloved, but so far he had only solidified the idea that Jim was unstable and the imbalance was deeply rooted in his childhood. And while Spock understood the detriments of adolescent baggage, so to speak, he at least had a caring mother.

To which Jim had nothing.

Spock repositioned his hands again and took another inhale, the air of the room still thick from being closed for so many wasted years, and let the predominant emotions present themselves.

Anger. At his mate's weariness of him, at the woman who had subtly marked Jim, at the spiced scent of arousal that James had after seeing her-

He felt his blunt nails digging into his palm and set his jaw against the myriad frustrations.

Let them go. They have no power.

'Think of the emotions as lights.' Sarek had said to a young Spock who had straightened his back at his Father's correction and tried not to think of the pull in his crossed legs. 'You must governor what flicks the switches on and off. If you let others turn on your lights without permission then they control you-' Her mind was steeping in the thick musk of the incense's smoke and his voice reverberated like cello strings as he envisioned the lights and tried to turn them off, tried to place their switches behind a glass casing.

It usually worked, for the most part, but Jim had always had a way of turning on lights.

And behind the anger had been…

Shame. The clawing, sly feeling that Spock maybe loathed in the moment worse than any other emotion, because it had bridled him his entire life. Shame at his heritage, at his practices, at his childish confusion at every turn. But now it was driven toward a force that he never thought possible.

His mate had turned from him.

The burn of his disappointment was like a scar, one he self-consciously felt as if everyone could see, even though he knew it was all imaginary. The old scripts of his ancestors were descriptive with what was still permissible to upstanding Vulcans and the Meld was the greatest intimacy, when shared correctly, equally. To pull away or reject it was a like a curse, a plague, like bodily rejecting a sacred communion.

Spock's shoulders slumped at the thought of Jim's slip up. Of course the human didn't quite understand how vital the mental connection was to Vulcans, but his ignorance hurt Spock in ways that felt demeaning, degrading. Something that had once been easy and lovely between them, strengthening them, had now disgusted Jim, Spock had felt it in the flash of hurt before Kirk pulled away, and the entire night closed in on him then, his lips trembling as he opened his eyes and broke the meditation trance.

His cheeks felt wet, eyes stinging and throat feeling raw as he tried to count his breathing, and he felt the vicious circle complete itself as he saw the time.

It had been four hours and Jim still hadn't come up to bed.

And even though Spock's fluttering psyche sought comfort in his mate, to quell the imbalance that was rewiring the sensitive, broken chains in him, his pride kept him stone faced and kneeling on the floor.

'If he wishes to he alone, then I'll grant him that.' Spock had thought as he closed his part of the bond downstairs, but now he didn't even try to reach out to the small inkling of apology he felt seeping under the cracks of Jim's shields.

Instead, he simply eased back and waited for a light sleep to pull him into oblivion, focusing all thoughts on peace, calm, clear, when a horrid, terrified scream rent the charged air.

Oooooh and the plot thickens!

I do hope that you guys are enjoying this. I'd enjoy feed back, either good or bad, so that I may make these stories enjoyable for all my readers. Feel free to review or PM me for anything, I'm open to suggestions, ideas, and comments! :)

With love, from your loyal author,

Castion and Clockwork