A/N: Erm, so, yeah. I realise that I really seriously suck at actually updating, my bad. RL turned absolutely manic, and it took me like 3 months just to get half of this written! However, fingers crossed I will be back with the next chapter, and a couple of other fics, really soon seeing as this time next month I'll be off college until mid September! Oh well, I just hope you all enjoy this, and I want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has followed this fic in my disappearance! You all rock hardcore :)
As always, any and all reviews/critiques/opinions are happily received :)
No, I still don't own any of the pretty people I write about... *sobs*
Enjoy guys!
Inhale.
One. Two.
Exhale.
Heavy steps echoed around the empty corridor as Spock made his way to the lift.
Inhale.
One. Two.
Exhale.
A skip in his pulse. A throb in his gut.
Spock was almost painfully aware of his bodily responses, tuned to the increasingly stronger variations from the norm. It had gradually been getting worse since he had left the observation deck, since he had finally decided to go and see Jim. A human would recognise these as signs of nerves, distress skirting the edge of a full blown panic attack, but Spock ruthlessly quashed the idea beneath the thick layers of control that he was trying to cultivate.
Inhale.
One. Two.
Exhale.
The soft metal whoosh of the lift opening was briefly acknowledged, but Spock was too absorbed in the tremor that had gripped his hands as he wrung them behind his back to do much else than step inside. The lift closed, but didn't move; for a second, Spock found himself illogically hoping that there was some kind of equipment malfunction before he realised it was actually because he hadn't told the computer where he wanted to go. He almost didn't want to.
To admit out loud that he was going to Jim's quarters, to come face to face with the one being in the universe that had made Spock feel unimaginable depths of love and horrifying explosions of pain, was something that Spock could barely contemplate as a sudden fist squeezed around his heart, making it hard to breathe for a moment or two. He wasn't entirely sure if he could do this. He couldn't bring himself to the door of a man who hated him without remorse and expect to leave with his sanity intact. James Kirk had destroyed men stronger than him.
Inhale.
One. Two.
Exhale.
"Officer's Quarters," Spock intoned, his voice cracked and hoarse in a display that would have been impossible to stand for any other Vulcan.
A strange sense of loathing settled ominously in the pit of Spock's stomach; if the last few days had taught him anything else, he certainly wasn't like any other Vulcan. He couldn't work out whether to be pleased or utterly distraught at that thought. As he stared into the metal surface opposite him, Spock felt like his entire world was narrowing down to the simple act of breathing. He wasn't sure he could do more than that without literally going insane. He refused to even try and think about the potential ramifications of what he was doing. The silvery strand that extended, limp and tattered, beyond his own mind into that of his Captain's - his T'hy'la, he moaned painfully – pulsated with agony with every heartbeat, and Spock tempted to dare poke at the rawness that was enveloping his mind and soul.
Inhale.
One. Two.
Exhale.
The walls of the lift were becoming oppressive, boxing Spock in as he felt the sudden rush of bile roil and churn in his gut. He could feel Jim's hands upon him, his lips against his skin, his entire body breaking into a cold sweat at the hypersensitive memories. It was too much. His heart was beating out of his chest. He doubled over on himself, his hands burning with the psychic overload as he clasped them over his ears, desperately trying to block out the sounds of anything other than his own stuttered breathing. Tears were stinging at his eyes, the monitor bracelet around his wrist flashing into life once again. He couldn't control the flare of emotions that were clawing through him; rage, anger, shame, disgust, and fear, all-encompassing and all-consuming fear that was threatening to rip Spock apart.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
The lift stopped, the door sliding open, and Spock all but flung himself from the claustrophobic cage, gulping the blast of fresh air like he was a starving man. He screwed his eyes shut, barely able to resist the overwhelming urge to release a very unVulcan scream of frustration. He was relieved that it was too late in the evening for anyone else to be lurking in the corridors; after the Sickbay incident, he didn't think he could stand letting another member of the crew see him in such a shameful state of disarray and vulnerability. It was illogical, he thought sharply as he rested his forehead against the wall, desperately trying to reign in his suddenly out of control bodily functions.
He had no reasons to perceive himself as vulnerable. Terrified? Yes. Worried about his future? Without a doubt. But vulnerable? What was there about going into the quarters of a man who he had psychically assaulted, who now held Spock's life in his hands, and almost certainly expecting the harsh, numbing blow of rejection that could render him at all vulnerable? A split second, and a slight bittersweet smile twitched his lips despite himself; sarcasm, he believed Jim called it. The second that that thought flitted through his mind though, Spock's face became hard again, an uncontrollable tremor running through his hands as he pushed himself from the wall with what nearly constituted a sigh.
He felt like he was a child again, seeking the affection and contact from his mother after an emotionally trying experience with his peers, affection that he would indulgently revel in despite the frown of disapproval from his father at such a human, tactile behaviour. This time though, his mother wouldn't be there to comfort and reassure him if his Captain turned against him; his father wouldn't be there to argue the rational steps that Jim and he should take should… when this conversation and their relationship deteriorated. There was no safety net around James T. Kirk, and that sent a very real shiver of fear down Spock's spine as he started walking towards his Captain's quarters, his feet seeming to drag with every step.
It disgusted Spock as to how much of a slave he was to Jim's illogical genius, to that startlingly dynamic mind, to those feather soft lips and rough hands that promised so many things when they brushed against his skin… Spock balled his fist tight.
Inhale.
One. Two.
Exhale.
He couldn't let himself reminisce about fleeting touches and dirty little secrets that they held between them. He couldn't let himself remember just how whole, how complete he had been when Jim's mind was embraced with his, their bodies locked together in some primal dance of lust and power. He just couldn't. He knew that he was going to lose it all; remembering those all too brief moments of ecstasy would only make it harder. A heavy ball of despair and agony settled in his gut, fisting his heart like a vice; how could he call it ecstasy when his T'hy'la was unwilling? Psychic assault was comparable to rape on Vulcan. Rape. He had forced his T'hy'la, mind and body, forged a connection that was destroying them both, and yet he could only focus upon the way Jim had screamed his name, how Jim had tightened so beautifully around him, how his eyes had become blown with sex and lust and a million things that Spock had been unable to define at the time.
Now he knew what those things were. Hatred. Pain. Loathing. Fear. Unadulterated anger.
Spock barely managed to hold back the bile that suddenly burned his throat. How could he have the nerve to ask Jim to give him something that Jim had never wanted to have in the first place? He wasn't sure he could even look Jim in the eyes without descending into a pit of misery and insanity. What if Jim asked Spock to justify himself? What if Jim wanted Spock to wrench the bond from his mind? What if Jim wanted him to suffer out of spite and revenge for what he had done?
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
It was getting harder to breathe again, his pulse increasing 32%, his vision going dark around the edges as Spock fought against the panic that was rearing its head again. He took a step backwards, and another, and another, his body tense and ready to launch Spock back down the corridor into his corner of safe, quiet cowardice. The bracelet around his wrist was flashing and beeping with every sort of alarm McCoy could possibly ever give himself grey hairs over, yet Spock could barely bring himself to care. He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready to throw away his life, Surak teachings and Vulcan etiquette be damned. Jim would eventually understand. Maybe Jim would grieve him, if Jim wasn't already in the void with him.
Jim. His Captain. His T'hy'la.
In a split second, the atmosphere changed. Jim's soothing voice was massaging over the strained bond in his mind, softly caressing it like a cautious child approaching a Sehlat for the first time, and whilst Spock knew that it couldn't be more than a fragile hallucination his conscience was creating to protect himself, he fell for it. Opening his eyes, it was like the real world had broken through the cracked and ancient holovid that had been playing out before him, and it was like he could finally breathe again for the first time in an eternity.
Inhale.
One. Two.
Exhale.
Whilst sceptical of the absurd notions of fate and signs, Spock couldn't help but revere whatever had relieved the moment of madness. He couldn't run away from this. He owed it to Jim, if nothing else. At least if Jim rejected him, he could walk forward into the fires with his conscience clear, his sense of identity intact even if the rest of him was in complete ruins. The fear was still roiling in his gut, pulses of abject terror clenching around his heart, but as Spock took a step forward once more, closer to Jim's room, he felt it become easier to quash it all down beneath the control that was beginning to reassert itself once more. It was weak, tenuous at best, but it was there at least, and when Spock heard the faintest melody wrap itself around his senses at the rippled sound of Jim's voice emanating from within his quarters, Spock was more than thankful for it.
His entire world had become narrowed down to that nondescript grey door, to the low hum of a conversation he could make out was taking place, and it was like the rest of the galaxy had ceased to exist. His hand was clenching almost convulsively at his side as he wrestled to keep a lid on the torrent of emotions bubbling away below the surface, nails leaving neat, precise crescents in his palm, but the occasional scratch of pain was enough to keep Spock focused as he came within metres of Jim's door. Jim's voice was more pronounced now, and Spock felt almost like a voyeur at the conflicting tones that laced Jim's words. There was confusion; a lot more confusion than Spock could understand from his position in the corridor, but that wasn't what caught Spock's attention.
There was hurt. There was an inordinate level of pleading. There was concern and determination. There was Spock's name. Spock heard his name. He suddenly froze in place. Jim was talking about him. He heard his name mentioned again, no heat or anger in Jim's voice, and Spock decided that Jim was obviously talking to Dr. McCoy. Dr. McCoy was most likely fulfilling his duties as Chief Medical Officer and informing the Captain as to the status of his First Officer. Just because Jim sounded relatively worried didn't necessarily indicate that Jim actually cared about Spock.
Spock pushed down on the illogical twist of pain that wrapped around the silvery thread and squeezed hard, before admonishing himself. Eavesdropping was an unethical, underhanded method of obtaining information that inevitably led to misunderstandings and arguments. Jim deserved at least a modicum of privacy in what was obviously a personal communication. Taking a respectful step back, standing at parade rest to hide the trembling in his hands, Spock waited. He certainly wasn't prepared for when the entrance to Jim's quarters abruptly slid open, and he certainly didn't feel his heart jump into his throat when Jim appeared in that same doorway.
Jim's hair was tousled, his eyes bright and burning, his uniform clinging so enticingly to the smooth skin that Spock knew intimately well, and Spock felt his face flush as he quickly dropped his eyes to Jim's feet. His hands were wrung so tight that Spock knew his knuckles would be glowing an eerie green hue, but Spock knew that he had to keep them there; he didn't trust himself to keep his hands to himself, not right then. He saw Jim's feet take a step closer, could feel the heat of Jim's body closing around him, and when Spock finally dared to lift his gaze to Jim's chest, he could feel the wispy puffs of air that brushed against the tip of his ear.
It was driving him insane. It was almost like Jim was choreographing the perfect Vulcan seduction, until Spock remembered the reason he was there in the first place and felt nauseous, the silvery strand screaming at the prospect of being so close to its recipient, yet never being so far away. This was crunch time. Spock thickly swallowed down the lump that was clawing at his throat, never once lifting his eyes.
"Captain."
"Spock," Jim replied, and Spock was convinced that if it wasn't for the years of control engrained in him he'd have drowned in the mellow, honeyed tones of his T'hy'la's voice near whispering his name. It was enough to remind Spock of everything that he could gain. Of everything he could and almost certainly would lose from coming here tonight. Tears suddenly sprung to Spock's eyes, a sudden coldness throbbing through him as his words wavered.
So sickeningly human.
"Captain, there is something I need to discuss privately with you."
It was a loaded statement, and the sudden ripple of tension that gripped Jim's abdominal muscles emphatically told Spock that Jim knew it too. Jim obviously didn't want him there. Jim was angry with him. Jim was preparing to rip Spock's world apart where he stood. Jim was-
"Of course, Spock. Come in."
Spock certainly wasn't expecting that. Jim didn't sound spiteful, sarcastic or vengeful; if anything, Jim almost sounded caring, like he had been waiting for Spock to come to him. Spock violently crushed the glimmer of hope that rose in his chest. This was all pretence. This was just Jim lulling him into a false sense of security before destroying him piece by painful piece. But Spock had never been able to resist any order from his Captain. From his T'hy'la. That certainly wasn't going to start now. Taking a deep breath, sincerely hoping that he looked more confident than he felt, he took a step inside Jim's quarters. There were certainly never going to be anymore fond memories created here after tonight, no moments of quiet joy or private smiles.
He couldn't run away now.
Jim waited until Spock had walked past him into his quarters before letting out a deep breath, his body slumping slightly as he lost the air of bravado and confidence that he'd grasped on to for Spock's sake.
It had been almost impossible to resist dropping down to his hands and knees and begging for forgiveness the second his door had slid open; to see such a proud, strong Vulcan reduced to a bundle of agonised fear and tension was almost more than Jim could stand. The Ambassador had told Jim very patiently that the calmer and less guilty Jim appeared to be, the easier it would be in the long term to get Spock to open up to him, but Selik had obviously never been on the receiving end of a near suicidal Vulcan's hatred.
Counting to five - a force of habit whenever he felt nervous – Jim pulled his shoulders back, hoping to radiate a certain degree of confidence and strength as he finally followed Spock in. It almost fled him completely when he saw the Vulcan; he was standing at near flawless parade rest in the centre of what constituted Jim's office space, his head bowed and a curtain of black hair obscuring his eyes, but he was shaking. He looked cold. He looked completely lost. If Jim didn't know any better, he would've said that Spock looked absolutely terrified, and it was that fleeting thought that made Jim's blood run cold.
He hadn't exaggerated to Selik when he'd mentioned how his First Officer now watched him with an equal mixture of fear, depression, anger and heart wrenching pain, but he now felt like his analysis of Spock to Spock's own alternate counterpart was grossly understated and simplified. He felt his own nerves and inadequacies start to turn his stomach; he knew what he needed to do, Selik had given him every answer he could hope for and more than enough insights into Spock's mind to guide him through every possible reaction his silent Officer could respond with, but he wasn't sure that that would even be enough.
Walking into the centre of his quarters, Jim cleared his throat softly, cursing himself even more when Spock started, his shoulders jolting and the muscles in his back tensing spasmodically in a rare lapse in his control. "Computer," he spoke softly, keeping his eyes fixed on the trembling Vulcan. "Engage privacy locks and deactivate all overrides bar Medical. DND unless under red alert until I say for it to be turned off. Deactivate all communication links bar emergency Medical bay, and raise the current ambient temperature and humidity to that of Commander Spock's personal quarters."
The computer gave a slight hum of ascent as it worked its way through the commands, and when a sudden wave of sweltering heat permeated the room, Jim gave a slight smile when he saw the tension visibly start to melt from Spock. Baby steps, that's what Selik had told him; gain complete trust over Spock, make him comfortable and reduce any and all boundaries. It wouldn't make Spock putty in his hands, but it would be enough to show Spock that Jim was at least taking the situation with a severe level of seriousness. After all, if what Selik had told him was even partially true, then serious didn't even begin to describe what was happening to Spock.
Jim had sat completely stoic as Selik had detailed exactly what was happening between him and Spock. He'd had to recall every single part of his Command training in order to keep the emotion off of his face as Selik told him about every possible ramification that could happen to Spock because of one night.
Madness. Self destruction. Death.
Jim failed to restrain the shudder that went down his spine as he stared wistfully at the still silent Vulcan stood in the centre of his quarters, remembering with startling clarity the words that Selik had spoken:
"He has chosen you, as I myself chose your counterpart. I understand that you did not necessarily seek this path, but you should not let your false anger and pride lead you to make mistakes that you will regret for the rest of your life."
"But what if I can't make things right?"
"You are his bondmate. You can make more right than wrong if you decide that that is what you want to do. If you decide to hide behind cowardice, then you will never know. Spock's life is at risk; if you are like my Jim in any way, you will not be able to let any harm come to him."
"But I always end up hurting Spock!"
Selik had smiled bittersweetly at him, his aged face softened with concern and hidden knowledge.
"If you do not make things right, you will hurt yourself just as much, if not more."
Taking a deep breath, Jim tried to relax, failing to release the tension in his shoulders as he slowly crossed the room to stand in front of Spock. The shadow in the back of his mind, the echo of Spock's thoughts and emotions running through his consciousness gradually became stronger until it almost seemed like he had physically become Spock. Spock's eyes were shut, but his body was so rigid that he was shaking, his face deathly pale. It took all of Jim's strength not to impulsively raise his hand to Spock's face and stroke away the tension he saw there, but he knew that that would be counterproductive at this point. Jim swallowed away the lump forming at the back of his throat.
"So, what was it you wanted to talk about Spock?"
Jim's voice was quiet, gravelly, barely a glimmer of its usual confidence and tone, and Jim could see the way that Spock tensed at the question. The room became deadly silent, only the sound of their soft breaths breaking the atmosphere as Jim watched the muscles in Spock's throat spasm, almost like he was fighting to speak.
"I-I…"
Spock took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes, Jim's heart feeling like it had frozen solid in his chest as he saw the war taking place beneath the tears that were forming in Spock's stare. Then to his horror, Spock fell onto his knees, his voice ragged as he tried to contain himself.
"I have come to ask for mercy Captain."
Jim could only stare as the Vulcan's gaze lowered back to the floor. Nothing that Selik had said mentioned the idea that Spock would fall to the floor and beg for mercy. Jim smiled bitterly; nothing Spock ever did, despite his logic, was ever predictable, even to himself.
"For what, Spock? You haven't done anything."
Jim held his breath as the echo in the back of his mind suddenly seemed to scream at him, the words bloody and sharp as Spock's feelings poured into him UselessWorthlessWrongWrongRapeWrongWrongSickMonste rWrong…
"But I have Captain," Spock's voice was less than a whisper now, and Jim could see the way his shoulders were trembling in an effort to suppress guilt and pain Jim could feel raising inside him. "I have done something unspeakable to you, something I cannot ask forgiveness from."
Jim struggled to hold back the wave of nausea that was beginning to roil in his stomach; he now remembered something Selik had mentioned, a worst case scenario for Spock's negative reaction towards him. He briefly remembered utterances of "rape," "unwilling" and "execution," and he knew with what now felt like sickening perfection what Spock was thinking. He wanted to make Spock stop, to save him torturing himself with his guilt, but he couldn't. He had to wait.
"On the evening of Stardate 12.04, I committed a grave crime against your person, a heinous act of invasion and violence against your mind. I-I established a link between both of our minds without your permission or your willing consent. I launched a Psychic attack that has caused you great agony and pain and I…"
Spock stopped, his breathing becoming near hysterical, and Jim could not stand it any longer. Dropping to his knees in front of the distressed Vulcan, Jim reached out, tightly clasping both of Spock's shoulders within his grip.
"Spock, stop!"
"I cannot hide the truth!"
Spock looked for all the world like a wounded animal caught in its death throes as he stared almost wildly at Jim, tears starting to freely fall down his flushed face. "I launched a Psychic Assault, comparable to rape in my culture, against you. I falsely cultivated a bond that could cause irreparable damage to you, and I viciously compromised a ranking Starfleet Captain to selfishly fulfil my own-"
Spock choked on a sob, his eyes blazing with self-hatred and exhaustion as he stared helplessly at Jim, and Jim felt like all of the warmth in his body was being leeched away by the empty void kneeling in front of him. To think, he had spent the last few weeks doing nothing more than tormenting the Vulcan over their encounter that night, playing him off against himself purely out of spite. Jim felt sick. Selik hadn't prepared him for this. Selik had warned him that Spock might show some emotion, that Spock might act out of character, and that he might experience some discomfort depending on whether or not Spock could adequately shield his side of the Bond from Jim during their discussion, but Selik hadn't told him that Jim about the all-consuming guilt and wretchedness that he'd feel.
Jim felt it was almost perversely poetic that he was finally getting a chance to see the side of Spock that Spock had been hiding from him, but it didn't help. Taking a deep breath and trying desperately to slow down the frantic beating of his heart, Jim slowly massaged his thumbs into the curve of Spock's collarbone, his fingers teasing softly under the edge of Spock's Science blues. Spock's ragged panting gradually started to calm, his wide dark eyes staring straight into Jim's, and Jim could see the conflict brewing; the desire to lean into that touch and savour whatever scarce moment of peace and affection Jim was willing to grant him out of sympathy, the urge to rip himself from Jim's grasp and disappear into the bowels of the ship where he hoped no-one would ever find him, and the mistrust that this was just more of Jim's mind games.
Jim said nothing, trying to project some sort of calm through his touch as he waited for Spock to, hopefully, begin to relax and allow Jim to explain himself. It seemed like an eternity, Spock's glassy stare never once straying from Jim's as the tension thrumming through his taut frame very slowly began to dissipate, and Jim finally built up the courage to let his palms rub up and down Spock's arms, gradually working their way down until they rested on the crook of Spock's elbows, not daring to go any lower until he had explained what he knew.
"Spock," Jim sighed sadly, drawing one of his hands up to gently raise Spock's chin when he ashamedly turned his head away, taking a deep breath as a ripple of fear ran through his First Officer.
"What happened between us… I made you meld us. I-I was willi-"
Panic seemed to fall over Spock's face as he ripped his cheek from Jim's grasp, whimpering roughly when Jim straightened his face again. "No! I forced you into our joining, I invaded your mind, and now some fear of my person means you do not wish to acknowledge my part in this despicable act."
"Spock," Jim growled out, trying to get through to the Vulcan. "I. Was. Willing. I knew what I was doing that night! I willingly participated in that meld! You didn't force me into anything!"
Spock's lips seemed to curl into a snarl at this point, his eyes black and his voice pained. "Do not attempt to make this seem better than it was! I took advantage of your anger an-"
"And I took advantage of you!"
Jim all but screamed back at Spock, his chest heaving and a film of tears starting to obscure his vision. Spock suddenly fell silent, his skin paper white as his hands began shaking on his knees, and he flinched back when Jim's palm came back up to cup his face. Jim felt a sharp stab of guilt flood through him when Spock recoiled at his touch, and his voice audibly dropped as he tried to calm his tone, the shadowy echo at the back of his mind throbbing with a whole gamut of unnameable feelings.
"I came to your quarters that night. I physically provoked you. I made you meld me. And sure, the Bond scared the hell out of me to begin with, I almost thought I was going crazy but…" Jim's voice dropped, nervous to admit to Spock what he had finally been made to see when he was talking to Selik. He didn't hate Spock. Okay, so he didn't love him either, but he certainly didn't hate him. He took a deep breath, leaning closer into Spock as his voice turned whispery with his admission.
"But, I can't ask you to risk your life because you think it will make my life better. And… And I don't want you to."
Spock was visibly shocked, and Jim cut in as Spock started to vocalise every protest that Jim could feel bubbling up through his mind. "You can argue, but I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I was the reason you gave up, or ended up torturing yourself over something I can't really blame you for."
"You obviously know nothing about this," Spock fiercely remarked, his eyes beginning to darken again with anger rather than self-disgust, although his body was betraying his words, leaning into Jim's hand like the touch starved child he used to once be. "You cannot possibly give me what it is that I need. It is foolish for you to think that prolonging this… this agony makes it any better."
"I'm trying to help you."
"False hope is no help. It is cruel," Spock shot back, although the inflection in his words was making it harder for Jim to believe that he was actually turning away from Jim now.
The devastating pleading in Spock's eyes was making it hard to breathe, the glistening of tears coming to the forefront once more as Spock's chest rose and fell haphazardly with the effort to keep himself calm.
"Cruel is you denying yourself the chance to realise I can help you. I may not be able to give you everything you need, but," Jim briefly paused, the hand resting on Spock's elbow trailing down Spock's forearm until the tip of his fingers were caressing the back of Spock's hand, "but, I can give you something. Just trust me when I say that I know what I'm getting myself in for with you."
Twisting his hand in Spock's, Jim twined their fingers together, giving a slight smile at the shiver that Spock was unable to hide, the maelstrom of emotions from the shadowy echo in the back of his mind beginning to recede for the first time in weeks as Spock let out a soft gasp of what seemed like relief. Jim tried to resist the urge to force Spock to make that noise again; Selik had informed him about hands and contact and different levels of comfort and propriety between Bondmates, and whilst Jim couldn't deny that Vulcan sexuality sounded like it could be an interesting path to explore, Selik had strongly insisted Jim not to push Spock too hard or too fast too soon.
After all, Jim silently reminded himself, Spock was still highly vulnerable, and Selik's warning about being able to make things worse depending on his actions made Jim force his body to stop trying to get ahead of itself. Spock still looked like that wounded animal, mentally weak and terrified of Jim's intentions despite the relaxing of his body, the haunted glint in Spock's eyes reflecting the deep uncertainty and mistrust that Spock held for Jim. Jim remorsefully tried to bury his own guilt and disappointment at the way Spock obviously didn't believe what Jim was saying, but he couldn't bring himself to force the Vulcan more than he needed to.
He was starting to build bridges. He huffed out a smile; Bones would be rather proud of him he thought.
Spock very slowly moved forward towards Jim, wavering slightly as nerves shone brightly on his face, before tentatively leaning his head against Jim's shoulder with a shuddering sigh. Spock was shaking, and Jim softly drew the Vulcan in closer, resting his free hand on the back of Spock's neck as he felt Spock almost collapse against him, his breaths stuttered and uneven as Jim felt the damp warmth of now silent tears soak into his Command shirt, the Vulcan succumbing to the mental and emotional exhaustion that Jim had wrung out of him.
Closing his eyes, Jim buried his cheek into the crook of Spock's neck, deeply inhaling the musky scent of his First Officer that made the shadowy void in the back of his mind clear, revealing a faintly shimmering glint of silver that gently glowed under Jim's attempted affection.
"It's okay, Spock. We'll work something out, I won't make you suffer anymore. I'm sorry."
It was a start.
Jim just hoped he'd be able to work that something out soon before all of his efforts crashed down around him.