For ratings, disclaimers, warnings, explanations, dedications and rants please see the first chapter.
Author's Note: I would like to thank everyone for their enthusiasm. I did not expect it and it has been very uplifting. Moving along, this chapter delves more into surrealism and questionable character actions and behaviors. Bear with me through the conclusion, which has been edited and rewritten and re-edited and rerewritten and so on, that will be posted by Monday evening before passing judgment. Again, this chapter has suffered through my own corrections but not those of any other eyes, so any issues are my own.
Most of all, please enjoy.
Chapter Two: Emotional Matters
He dreamed of his mother holding him when he was young, petting his head and running her fingers along his features. He felt her kisses on his cheeks and the warmth of her skin as she coddled him. She seemed so big, and he so small, perched on her leg as she laughed and smiled and felt in a way that he could not. He could sense that this saddened her-- his cold detachment-- but she never let it show when he was around. "I love you for who you are," she said to him, kissing his cheeks and then the tips of his ears. "You are perfect just as you are. Emotions, none, human, Vulcan, I would have you no different. You are my special boy."
He wanted to tell her that he felt the same about her, that he loved her just as much as she loved him and that he was proud to have a mother who could feel so openly. But she started to melt away from him, falling into the distance and his childish hands could not catch her. He did not call out to her, only grasped at the empty air and felt the disaster of her complete disappearance. His heart thudded in his chest, his throat swelled closed and the emotion he felt was not to be shoved away.
"I'm sorry," he said, leaning against her shoulder when she reappeared. "I'm sorry."
"For what, my darling?" she asked.
Tears dripped down his face. "For everything."
"Oh, my dear one," she whispered in his ear. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you just the way you are." Hearing it again hurt just as much as all the times before.
"But I rejected that part of me that was you," he cried. "Instead of learning about both sides of myself, I pushed it-- you-- away. I--I lost my chance to learn how to be like you."
She smiled and held him close, kissing away the tears. "My baby, my dear Spock, just because I am gone does not mean you've lost your chance. From what I can see, your chance is still before you."
In his mind's eye, he saw Nyota's warm brown eyes and felt her lips upon his own. Then Kirk was there instead, grinning that cocky grin. He winked at Spock and gave a patent half-assed salute. After him there was Scotty cuddling his tribble and McCoy muttering something about hobgoblins under his breath and Sulu and Chekov and so many others that he had interacted with on the Enterprise.
"You still have many, many years to learn." Somehow, he was an adult again, standing. She had to go on her tiptoes to plant the kiss on his cheek. "I love you, my son."
Then his eyes opened to the real world and he stared up into a pair of blue eyes, quite unlike his mother's but similar in their care. They held an array of emotions that he knew but only ever experienced in pieces: concern, fear, and anger. As soon as they comprehended his awareness, they brightened considerably, comforting him. Of course, he reasoned as he became more aware, he would never let the owner of those eyes know that. The teasing that resulted would be unbearable.
"Don't move," Kirk warned him. There was red blood dripping from his left eyebrow and pooling about his eye. "Just managed to get us wedged in a corner so we won't get tossed. Not to mention, my bandaging job isn't too good. How you feeling?"
He blinked, orienting himself to their new surroundings. They were sitting at the bottom of a clear, circular object, dusty and filled with rocks. The landscape outside swung back and forth and he knew they were moving but how, he was uncertain. The rocking motion was strangely reminiscent of being on a boat but there was no water in sight. The thought of water caused his mouth to dry out and his voice ended up raspy. "What has happened?"
Kirk sat back on his heels, chewing his lip. "Got scooped up in a jar like a couple of bugs. I'm pretty sure the guy who's got us is one of the monkeys from the lab." Spock noticed the phaser he held in a green covered hand. "Luckily, I've taught him to keep his hands to himself. Don't worry. Got a plan." He tapped the phaser against his head which did not reassure Spock at all.
Spock closed his eyes, steadying himself against the pain and the rocking before struggling upwards. Ignoring Kirk's protests but accepting his steadying hand, he leaned against the clear wall of the prison. He had no interest in being an invalid, forced to watch as his Captain inevitably did something stupid and dangerous. His hand instinctually braced his side which burned and throbbed all at once. He could feel broken bones rubbing inside the cut and wondered what exactly had hit him to cause so much damage.
Kirk tugged his hand away, scowling at him. "Don't touch it. You'll screw up my work."
The bandage had been wrapped clumsily, sagging already but seemed to be working. Spock did not see any fresh blood. "My apologies, Captain, I would not intentionally do so."
"It has to last until Bones and Sulu get here. I mean, not too long. They're on their way," Kirk told him. "It'll all work out."
"Your optimism in the direst of times always strikes me as foolish," Spock whispered. Upon seeing Kirk's expression, he added, "I find it to be an… endearing quality."
"Endearing?" Kirk repeated. "That's all I get? Endearing? How about heroic? Or Captainly? Or Manly? Endearing is for puppies and chubby, little brothers and old ladies."
And Spock started to chuckle. It hurt, in more ways than one, but it felt good at the same time. Here he was, on an unsympathetic planet with a human he both loathed and loved cut off from his people, without his mother forever, separated from the woman he adored and desperately injured; it only made sense to laugh, the human side of him decided. The Vulcan side of him was worn thin by everything, unable to stop the laughter escaping him. It sounded, the logical side of him noted, near hysterical and quite unlike him. It was probably brought on by blood loss and the heat, this side of him reasoned. It ought to be controlled. But one look at Kirk, who seemed frightened, confused and completely stunned all at once, set him off again.
"This isn't some part of the Vulcan death ritual right?" Kirk asked, eyes wide. "You guys don't suddenly loosen up and become normal on your death beds ? Oh shit, you're delirious aren't you? Shit, shit, shit…"
Spock placed a hand over his eyes and kept laughing. Between gasps for air, he managed, "Captain, I have come to realize that if I must die like this, there is no one I'd rather do it with than you."
Jim simply stared.
He laughed until he passed out, drifting in a half-conscious state filled with pleasant dreams and terrible nightmares. Sometimes, he was safe onboard the Enterprise, watching space trickle by on the bridge. Other times, he was in the days of his youth and the school boys goaded him until he attacked. Every now and again, he lay in bed with Nyota curled up against him, her dark hair splayed over her curves and his neck. In between, he stood trial befofre his father's race who demanded explanations for his betrayal, his sudden loyalty to humanity and his inability to save them. During those dark moments, he often had Kirk standing next to him, energized and defensive and Nyota holding his hand; but, sometimes, he was alone.
He reached consciousness sometime later, his one side stiff and sore and his other too warm to be pleasant. Kirk had settled next to him, his body radiating unnatural heat, and at first, Spock thought him asleep, until he raised a finger to his lips and pointed to his ears. He was fully alert despite his closed eyes and listening to the murmuring voices from a nearby room. The light above them was unnatural and low, the light common to this planet's indoor areas. The swaying momentum had stopped and their jar had been placed on one of the tables left standing in the room. The rest of the area was devastated, decorated with wires and chunks of metal. They were back where they started.
"…Kirk and Commander Spock," a familiar voice rumbled in the distance. "We were told that they came here. I am concerned because Captain Kirk is a diabetic and needs his insulin."
"Heh," Kirk chuckled.
"I'm afraid that Captain Kirk and Commander Spock departed some time ago. They claimed to be returning to your ship in order to begin treaty negotiations." This voice belonged to the Scientist, Karling, who had gotten them into this situation. He'd started off as friendly enough but when the machine backfired and put Kirk and Spock in their current state, he'd shown a dark, experimental tendency that did not coincide with his previous attitudes.
Sulu spoke next. "But they didn't come back. Do you mind if we look around? To see if there are any clues as to where they've gone?"
"I can assure you, they did not leave anything for you," Karling hedged, sounding uneasy.
"Too obvious," Kirk muttered.
"What may seem like nothing to you, may mean something to us," Sulu recovered swiftly. "There are certain objects we are trained to look for and that lead us to immediate decisions about how we will interact with a planet. I assure you we don't think you are involved with their disappearance-- we merely want to double check that the Captain and Commander didn't find something that would lead to further, unplanned travels. As Doctor McCoy said, Captain Kirk is long overdue for his insulin and diabetes is not something to be taken lightly."
There was an unsettled pause. "Of course, I apologize for sounding unconcerned. We had an accident here earlier today and I have a great deal on my mind. Allow me to show you around the lab-- we are currently repairing and I would not want you to come to harm."
"C'mon, guys, be sharp," Kirk muttered again. His face had a hollowed out look to it. "C'mon."
The room suddenly became brighter and the voices became much louder. Kirk visibly winced at the change in lighting and the increase in sound but it did not deter him from getting to his feet. The warmth left Spock and a chill ran down his spine. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted gigantic versions of McCoy and Sulu stepping through the doorway after Karling. Karling's flat face was pale and sweaty, and he pulled at the collar of his tight jacket frequently. He shuffled in front of the table where Kirk and Spock resided, attempting to block the jar from sight as inconspicuously as possible.
Kirk, meanwhile, had pressed himself against one side of the jar and was crouching down slightly. He took in a deep breath and flung a rock as hard as he could against the opposite wall, causing the jar to shudder and ping. Kirk stood, swayed, found a new rock and repeated the action. This time, he lost his balance and fell, adding another ping just after the rock struck. Spock opened his mouth to protest, until Sulu spoke.
"What's that sound?"
Karling, unaware of Kirk's actions, seemed similarly confused. "Most likely a failing piece of equipment. As I said before, we had an accident today which led to the destabilization of this area. I suggest we depart soon."
McCoy inched towards Karling. "It seems to be coming from where you are, Mr. Karling. Best be careful." He was looking just over Karling's shoulder and Kirk waved clumsily. He grabbed the largest rock he could and tossed it.
"It's getting louder," Sulu commented, edging towards Karling from the opposite direction.
Karling's fingers were groping towards their prison. "Yes, well, we'd best be going then, yes?" His hand brushed the cup which began to tilt over.
Sulu pulled his phaser before Karling could move another inch and leveled it at the scientist. "Sir, I advise you don't touch that glass."
"Those are my boys!" Kirk crowed.
Karling's hands flew into the air and the cup fell onto its side, flipping both Kirk and Spock. Kirk landed awkwardly while Spock, who'd still been seated, merely slid and tumbled. The jostle still sent his body cringing but he did not want to consider how much worse it would have been if he'd landed on his injury.
"Please back away from the glass," McCoy requested. Karling obeyed and soon McCoy's huge face leveled with them. "Damnit, Jim, how do you get into these situations?"
Kirk shouted in return, wincing and holding his middle. "You said it yourself-- danger magnet, Bones. But, everyone's lives would be boring if I wasn't."
Sulu still had his weapon trained on Karling. "Doing all right, Captain? Commander?"
"Been better, Sulu," Kirk replied, crawling back towards Spock. "Love to be normal size if that's possible."
"Are you injured?" Bones asked as Sulu said, "Best to fulfill the Captain's request. He gets cranky when he doesn't get his way."
Karling appeared terrified. "I-- the machine-- it's broken. I--I can't reverse this."
"Well, best to get to work on fixing it," Sulu said pleasantly. He motioned with his gun. "But we aren't terribly patient, so hurry."
"Jim, are you hurt?" Bones repeated when neither of them answered.
"Spock's busted up, Bones, and we'd both kill for some water," Kirk shouted. "You got any?"
:"I'll see what I can do."
Spock drifted through the confusion, noting everyone's actions and processing them as unimportant. The warmth settled down next to him again, his shoulder pressed against another's. Kirk yawned and tilted his head towards Spock.
"Told ya it would work."
Spock managed a slight curl of his lips. "Yes, yes, you did."
Two hours later, they were in the sick bay, clean with access to food and water, but still tiny. McCoy, frustrated by circumstances and by Karling's inability to fix the machine, had taken the glass and been beamed up with them tucked safely in his hands. Scotty and Chekov had been sent down to see if they could help figure things out while Kirk and Spock had been whisked away with the promise they would be returned as soon as the machine was fixed. Issues began when McCoy insisted they bathe and that Spock's bandages be replaced. He could not help-- they were too tiny and everyone knew that even the gentlest touch could do further harm-- and Spock did not have the strength to do it himself. The duty fell on Kirk, who had wilted between their rescue and the travel. McCoy led him through the process but his hands shook violently and he had to keep stopping. Spock did his best not to say or do anything, only to help where he could and not to show the amount of pain he was suffering. By the time they were finished, however, curled up in torn up pieces of blankets, he was border lining on unconsciousness. McCoy had been encouraging them to eat and drink plenty and he had managed a sip or two of water but could not muster any food. It was slightly better than Kirk who had sipped the water and then vomited it in the corner of the box.
He felt disgustingly weak, both physically and emotionally, and it embarrassed him which only spoke further to his state. More than anything, he had the urge to shut down completely, despite his recent dreams and decisions to try harder with his human side. Accepting Kirk's help, though he had no choice, had been disturbingly difficult and now he had no interest in even looking at him. Even Kirk's presence nearby, close enough to feel his warmth, hurt, almost as severe as the physical pain. He swallowed hard against rising nausea. At least, Doctor McCoy had placed them in his office, away from prying eyes and overly loud sounds. The lights were dimmed here and the door shut. The only person allowed in was McCoy himself and he was very careful about how he spoke and how swift his movements were.
"How you doing, Spock?" Kirk mumbled next to him.
"No different than the last time you asked, Captain," Spock answered.
"Figured as much."
"Then why did you inquire?"
"Cuz Bones told me to," Kirk slurred, "and he knows when I lie so I gotta do what he says." Spock cracked an eye and watched Kirk slump down. "He's a fuckin' sadist."
They fell into an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the sick bay and the occasional sighs from Kirk. Spock tried to use the nothingness to find some sort of control but realized that it had fallen beyond his grasp. His only option now to escape it all was unconsciousness and he knew that neither Kirk nor McCoy would allow for that until they'd been resized. Dealing, however, was not an option either. His mother's voice echoed in his mind, and the images of his friends paraded across his eyes. The guilt he'd been feeling redoubled; here he was, finally able to have feelings, and he was shoving them away again. Kirk had dragged him around, saved his life and cared for him and all he could do in was be embarrassed.
"You should call me Jim," Kirk said suddenly.
He turned his head towards Kirk. "Why do you say that, Captain?"
Kirk seemed to struggle. "Someone told me that you would."
They had not discussed Spock Prime and Kirk still appeared to think that world altering consequences would occur if he even mentioned the older version to the younger. Spock had not initially seen a problem with this but now, he felt bad about it. He did not know the extent of Kirk's meeting with his elder self but Kirk had respected and trusted Spock Prime to the point of hanging a whole planet's existence on his opinion. Kirk, in turn, deserved the same respect.
"Do you mean my elder self?" Spock asked.
Kirk gaped at him. "How--"
"He and I have met and spoken," Spock informed him. Then he paused for a bit, trying to control the pain. "He said that the two of you met and discussed his past, my alternate future."
Kirk looked confused. "He told me-"
"He informed me that he implied our meeting or knowledge of each other would result in time-space issues. It was not true."
"Oh."
Spock's mouth had dried out and he wished the water was closer. "He called you Jim?"
Kirk was silent.
"Captain?"
"Yes, he said that was what he called me in his time," Kirk mumbled. "Said we were friends."
"I see."
"You should call me Jim."
Spock did not answer this and Kirk spoke again, "It was the truth-- the friend thing. I saw it when he did that mind-melding thingy."
This grabbed Spock's attention, charging him full of energy he did not think he still had. He sat up a little, ignoring the pain and tried to discover if Kirk was lying. The Captain's face appeared entirely serious, however. He was not looking at Spock but staring ahead, out at the room. His eyes were half-mast and had a glassy, distant look.
"Why did he do this?" Spock demanded.
"Too tell me about why things happened," Kirk mumbled. "Said it was easier to show me than to tell me. Showed me more than he meant to, I think."
Anger which he neither understood nor expected filled him. He had great respect for his older self, not due to egotism but because he viewed him as a completely different person and a person worth the respect. Now, he thought his elder self very foolish. Every Vulcan knew that to perform a mind-meld with any other being could potentially mean death for that being. It was far more logical to simply tell a story; using a mind-meld to save words or because one did not have the right words seemed completely ludicrous and unnecessarily dangerous. But why did it make him so angry? Was it because it was an older version of himself who had done it and he did not wish to think of himself making such a foolish choice? Or was it because it had happened to Kirk? The image of Kirk lying lifeless or brain dead entered his mind and he found his answer.
"It hurt," Kirk continued. "Sometimes I dream about it. About things he saw. About things that happened to him and the other Kirk."
"It can kill," Spock interrupted. "He should not have done that to you."
"He'd done it with the Kirk in his timeline. That's how he knew it would be okay with me," Kirk kept speaking as though he hadn't heard him. "Whenever I dream about it, I see things like I am that Kirk. He's not like me, really. I mean, he's sorta me, but not me. We don't think the same, really. He's… he's a different me; a me who had a real family growing up. He had a brother and a dad and a mom. 'S weird when I'm him because I sometimes would do things another way but I have no control over it. 'S weird…"
"Do you ever have these moments while awake, Captain?"
"And the other Spock, he calls the other me Jim. He's not you though; you guys are similar but really different, too. I think you'll get more different-- differenter? No, more different-- now because… his mom never… died. He called me Jim." Kirk paused and shook his head roughly. "Sorry, don't know why I'm saying this. Brain's gone all… fucked up."
His skin glowed in the pale light, ashen, his eyes sunken. "But-- I dunno. Just thought you should know."
"You should not still be having flashbacks," Spock informed him, not sure if Kirk could hear him. "Something must have gone wrong. If it goes right, it should go away."
Kirk's head lolled to the side. "Sorry 'bout your planet, by the way. Felt what he felt. Really, really sucked."
Why he did what he did next, he did not know. He lifted a heavy hand and let it drop on the side of Kirk's face, feeling overwhelming dry heat there. And then, he initiated a meld of his own, meant to heal whatever had gone wrong, meant to make things right.
"I will fix it, Captain," he murmured. "I promise."
I have an epilogue of sorts which will be posted by Monday. Thank you for reading!
