It's that time of year again. Red and green decorations, mistletoe, carols, presents…

"Merry Christmas!"

Jim cackles as he darts away from the poor ensign he just startled half to death, drunk out of his mind and loving every second of it. The Christmas party is in full swing and the members of the Enterprise are in high spirits after the fourth year of their mission. Jim is whistling jovially as he hunts for his best friend. He spots a mop of curly hair and changes his course.

"Chekov! Hey, I – " Jim stops.

Um. Whoa.

Jim never knew Chekov could dance like that. Wow, he's really flexible…

Jim shudders.

Bad thoughts! Bad!

Jim smacks his forehead and turns away, veering off towards the back wall where he hears a very grumpy voice that he knows anywhere.

"Look, here he comes now, probably drunk off his ass," he hears, and he smiles endearingly as he approaches the doctor and Uhura. The communications officer shakes her head and then spots Scotty trying to climb onto one of the decorations. She sighs and makes her way over there, leaving McCoy to handle Kirk.

"Bones! I can't believe you're still here!" Jim exclaims, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders. McCoy would scowl, but he's kind of buzzed and kind of liking it. Instead he shrugs.

"Me neither. But I have to say, it's entertaining to watch you fools jump around like rabid monkeys."

Jim explodes with laughter. To Bone's amusement, he keeps on laughing, doubling over and gasping for breath. After two minutes where Jim is still laughing, the doctor frowns.

Really, it wasn't that funny. Maybe Jim's finally gone of his rocker.

Took him long enough.

Jim leans against the wall, chuckling absently as he watches the lights play over the swaying bodies of his crew. God, he loves his job. He's captain of the perfect ship with the perfect crew…everything is perfect.

"Bones…Bones, we're really lucky."

The doctor nods. "I know." He pats Jim once on the shoulder and ambles away into the crowd. Jim continues to lean on the wall, bobbing his head along to the music. He accepts a few drinks from his friends with a good natured grin, getting a few smiles in return. It's good to see his crew relax and have a good time. This really was a great year, probably the best in his opinion. Jim had never felt like he fit in anywhere growing up, but here, he finally feels like he belongs. Like he's home. Everyone is comfortable with each other, and it shows during their missions. Jim has never witnessed true loyalty until he took command of this ship.

He doesn't know how long he stayed against that wall, but when he comes out of his reverie the party is winding down and a significant number of people have already left. He pushes himself off the wall and stumbles, his arms pin wheeling to stop his fall. A firm but gentle grip on his arm pulls him upright and he finds himself staring into the dark eyes of his first officer.

"Hello, Jim."

"Spock! Wow, you've never stayed this late before!" Jim immediately latches onto Spock's arm and begins to march them towards their quarters. "You have to make sure I don't pass out in the hallway or something. Last year Sulu pulled a really mean prank on me when I did that…"

Spock listens to Jim's ramblings with a patience developed over the last four years. His captain likes to talk, even more so when he is as drunk as he is now. The Vulcan finds that he really doesn't mind. There isn't much he wouldn't do for Jim, including ensuring that he got to his room safely without being pranked by crazy sword wielding helsmen.

They reach the door and Jim's so out of it that Spock has to key in his code and order the lights to thirty percent. Kirk is babbling in his ear about warp core mechanics and sehlats and Spock resolutely ignores this in favor of dragging the inebriated man to his bed.

"I wanted a sehlat…I'd name it Bo Peep," Jim comments dreamily as Spock deposits him on the bed. The Vulcan decides not to comment on the odd revelation. Spock removes Jim's boots and the human wriggles his toes. "You're so nice to me, Spock. No one was nice to me…before…"

Spock feels a stirring of interest. Jim never divulged information on his past, a topic that Spock has been curious about ever since the night that Jim ran into him in their bathroom. He decides to try his luck.

"Before what, Jim?" he asks as he sets his captain's boots in their place by the bed. Many would think otherwise, but Jim keeps his quarters impeccably clean. Spock looks at Jim, who is staring at him solemnly, all good cheer washed away from his features. He looks down and picks at his blankets.

"Before Starfleet."

That was only seven years ago. Surely Jim can't mean that no one cared about him before that?

"I don't blame them," Jim continues, his voice quiet. "I wasn't a good kid growing up. I didn't deserve it."

If Spock were human, he's pretty sure his jaw would have dropped. Jim not deserving kindness? Jim? The man who has risked his life time and time again for his crew? The man who saved Earth and helped the survivors of Vulcan with their new lives? His friend, who has proven to be one of the best friends Spock could have ever asked for? Spock feels anger lick at his insides at anyone who has done James Kirk wrong in his life. He kneels in front of Jim, who is still picking at his sheets.

"Look at me, Jim."

The human meets his gaze and Spock continues.

"You are the most honorable and compassionate being I have come across in my travels. I am awed by your intelligence and your good will towards others who are in need of it. You are one of a kind, James, yet you simply ask for a rock when you could have the world. You are worth it, and you do deserve it." Spock's voice holds an unwavering conviction that carries through Jim's alcohol ridden brain, causing the younger man to blink dumbly at his friend who might as well just confessed his undying love for him.

Then Jim begins to doubt. He's done it all his life and this time isn't any different. But Spock wouldn't lie to him, would he? No, if he said it, then he meant it.

He doesn't know the real you. How many people you've killed. How many you let die.

If Spock knew, would he still be by his side? If he knew, would he…leave?

"You don't mean that." Kirk's voice is barely a whisper and he stares at his lap, his brows furrowed. "You don't mean it."

Spock tilts his head at this, studying Jim's face intently.

"Why do you not believe me?"

Jim doesn't respond at all to Spock's question. His eyes are glazed over as he stares at a point on the floor. Normally Spock would try and get Jim to sleep, because his friend is very drunk and not himself right now, but something tells him that this moment is very, very important. Crucial.

So he stays.

He rises and sits next to Jim on his bed, not saying a word. Together they just sit and breathe in the quiet, and even through the murky haze in Jim's brain he feels the small and simple joy of companionship, of having someone who is like you and yet so very different next to you, and of being able to peacefully exist with one another in a comfortable silence. Quite suddenly, everything clicks to place in Jim's mind.

This is Spock.

The acceptance, the friendship, late nights playing chess, witty banter, barely concealed jokes and sometimes too human eyes (more human than any soul Jim's ever encountered), it's all Spock.

Just Spock.

Jim takes a breath and exhales slowly.

"I remember the flowers."

Spock looks at Jim, but the human is staring ahead, a far away look in his eyes.

"I remember looking at them and thinking about how colorful they were. That's when I heard the screaming." Jim pauses, still staring at nothing, caught up in the past.

"I ran to the house and I saw men with guns dragging my aunt and uncle out. I tripped and fell and hit my head on a rock. When I woke up, the men were gone and my aunt and uncle were dead. After I buried them I was scared and I wanted to stay in the house, but I knew it wasn't safe. So I kept walking. That's when I met…" Jim trails off, and Spock's entire body is taut with the knowledge that Jim is finally letting him in, after four years of dodging and cryptic answers and fake grins. "Kevin."

Spock keeps silent.

"He was young, and confused. His parents were dead. So I took him. Took his hand and never let go." Jim lowers his gaze to the floor. "I'm not sure how long we walked. When we got to the city…it looked like something out of a horror movie. There were bodies everywhere. I'll never forget the smell. I kept out of the street because there were still the men in black patrolling. After a while I found a little girl in an alley. Her name was Mary."

He smiles briefly, a wisp of a thing, and it's gone a second later.

"I took her too. And any other kid I saw. Most were older than me and some were too young, but I took them. I didn't know what I would do with them, but I knew I had to keep them safe. By nightfall I had twenty three. I led them away from the city and kept them out of sight in the forest. The next morning I went back to the city for food. Corpses were baking in the heat, I had twenty three other people to look out for, and I was barely thirteen. Tarsus chewed me up and spit me back out, Spock. The good parts of me died along with those kids."

Spock still sits quietly, looking solemnly at Jim, who still hasn't met his eyes. He observes the man he has grown to respect over the years, and once again he finds himself wishing that he could take away his pain. After a few moments of silence, Spock briefly touches Jim's shoulder.

"I grieve with thee."

Jim turns his head, and their gazes lock.

Striking blue meet soulful brown, and Spock realizes that Jim is crying.

"Jim..." Spock was never good at comforting people and right now he wishes that he was. Jim is important to him and he wants to help in any way possible. "It was not your fault. You were a child and you were put in a situation you were not meant to handle. I am sure that – "

"Shut up, Spock."

Spock closes his mouth.

Jim stands and moves toward the door. Spock thinks that he might leave, but then he turns around. His face is shrouded in shadow but his eyes are bright, boring into Spock's with a wild kind of intensity.

"You don't know." Jim's voice is low and dangerous. "You don't know what I had to do to keep them alive. You don't know about the way another man's blood felt on my hands and you don't know how hard it was to find food and shelter and watch them fall like flies at my feet because I wasn't strong enough or fast enough and I wasn't smart enough to keep them alive – "

"Jim, stop –" Spock tries, standing up, but Jim shakes his head and steps back, and Spock can't help but stare at the glistening tear tracks down Jim's face and the sharp glint in his eyes.

"I did terrible things. I murdered, I stole, and I made choices that nobody else wanted to." He begins to chuckle and it sends chills down Spock's spine because this man in front of him is not Jim, those feral eyes are not Jim's and he realizes that this is what happens when you keep all of that emotion pent up inside for years, hot and acrid to Spock's senses.

"You know, we were looking after a baby, a boy we named Miles. One day we were running low on medicine and there wasn't any time for me to go out and get more. There was only enough left for two people. Seven were still sick, including Miles." Jim shakes his head and clenches his fists. "I let them die. I picked the ones I thought had a better chance and I let the rest die. Nina, Carl, Jack, Holly, and...and..." he trails off, his expression stricken. "I killed a baby, Spock. A baby. I'm a monster," he whispers, and if Spock weren't a logical being, he would have said that his heart broke. No man should have to carry a burden such as this.

"Jim…come here," Spock says softly, sitting back down on the bed. Jim stares at him, the once burning intensity drained out of eyes, leaving them empty and haunted. "I must show you something," Spock says, and Jim finally moves to slump down on the bed next to him. Jim's shoulders are hunched, every line in his body tense. Spock reaches for his face, pauses, and at Jim's nod his fingers find Jim's psi points.

This meld is isn't like any other they've done before.

Previously, Spock would meld with Jim if it was needed for a mission or an important task where it couldn't be avoided. But this, this is completely different. Jim's mind is chaotic, a mass of jagged sensations and horrific images that Spock cannot ever hope to sort through nor block.

Fortunately, he had no intention of doing any of those things in the first place.

He lets the pain and the anger wash over him, dragging him under a torrential wave of built up grief and loneliness. He sees what Jim has seen, feels what Jim has felt, and grieves for what Jim has lost. He sees rotting corpses, the sharp outline of bones on tiny and malnurished bodies, he smells the dried blood and sickness thick in the air, and he hears the hoarse screams and shouts of the dying. But most of all he feels Jim; lost, hurt, and angry in the center of it all.

Monster, that's all I am, all I'll ever be, you know now and you'll leave like the rest of them because I'm not worth it, never was – monster, monster, monster -

Spock fights back, taking control and rising out the staggering stream of Jim's thoughts.

It's his turn now.

He takes every good memory, every fond moment and emotion that deals with himself and Jim, and he shoves it at the human.

And for one, long moment, Jim's mind is completely silent.

Spock can feel uncertainty and doubt, and he goes deeper, throwing everything he has at Jim. His respect, his loyalty, his friendship, their brotherhood.

It's too much.

The meld is broken and Spock's brain vaguely registers surprise because Jim did that, and isn't he supposed to be psi null? It's still dark in the room but Spock knows that Jim's face is splotchy and red with tears because he himself is crying.

Emotional transference, his mind supplies, ever trying to add logic to every situation. He ignores this because Jim is looking at him like he's never seen him before. After another moment of staring Jim wipes his eyes and clears his throat, though his voice still cracks.

"Was…was that…" Jim stops, falling silent. Spock sits patiently, waiting for him to sort out his emotions.

I will wait a lifetime if need be, Jim.

When the blond tries again, his voice is quiet. "I…you won't leave? After everything I've done?" Jim sounds so uncertain, so hopeful that Spock can't help but nod once, his eyes earnest.

"I will not."

Jim is unsure as he looks Spock over. Finally, he seems to reach a conclusion.

"They always leave."

"I will not."

They stare at each other.

Spock studies the human, noting his slumped posture and tired eyes. The Vulcan stands and takes two steps away from the bed. He does not miss the brief, wounded look that flits across Jim's features.

"I assure you that I have no intentions of leaving you, Jim. However, you are inebriated and are in need of rest. I suggest you sleep at this time." Jim opens his mouth and Spock cuts him off.

"I am not above applying the necessary force, James."

Well. No arguing with that.

The exhausted human burrows underneath the covers and immediately his eyes begin to droop. He fights it though, leveling a serious look up at Spock.

"If you're lyin' to me I'll cut your balls off and feed them to Sulu's plants."

The corner of Spock's mouth twitches.

"Of course, Jim."


Ouchie. Spock better not be lying! :D