Chapter 9
This is what it's like to be Spock.
You open your eyes slowly, painfully and are surprised when you are met with pitch black. You wait for a moment, trying to adjust to the darkness when you realize it's not the room. It's your eyes.
A flash of panic overwhelms you before you manage to push past it. You first have to ascertain your current physical condition. At the thought, though, a wave of irrational fear strikes you, almost as if it were a physical blow. The fear clutches to your heart, as it beats wildly out of control in terror. You push past it, but now the fear takes hold of your lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
You're choking on your own fear.
And for one, very brief, un-Vulcan-like moment, you wonder why, why me? You don't really believe that the universe is out to get you, but sometimes it certainly seems that way. But you know better. The universe doesn't care about you one way or the other. Whether you live or whether you die, the universe simply cannot be bothered. It's a disconcerting thought that only adds to your thinly veiled panic.
No, you're stronger than this, better than this. So you reign in your overwhelming emotions and lock them away, as you have been taught to do. This frees you to use your other senses to determine where you are, approximately, and what exactly has happened.
You shift slightly and are stunned by the shot of pain that goes up your side. You know you shouldn't be surprised, as the Klingons are notorious for their creative torture methods. If only you could remember what happened. But you know that you passed out shortly after being chained from the sheer pain of...
Of what?
Oh...that's right. The memory comes rushing back with a vengeance and you brace yourself against the onslaught of your own mind. Jim woke you up, but it hadn't been Jim. And you should have known that. But you didn't, so you had followed him. It hadn't taken long for the Klingons to overpower you, efficiently chaining you. Then there was a knife, cutting into your flesh, dragging across your chest, your arms, your hands, your face, a trail of bright green blood emerging as a cold blade carved into your body.
You've lost a significant amount of blood. It makes you feel disoriented, weak. In your weakness, you feel a strong desire for Jim to be here. You want...no, you need him right now, and not just for the inevitable rescue. Over the past few days, his presence has become a comfort to you, even as your mind tells you that Vulcans don't feel comfort.
Your mind lies to you. It usually does with matters of the heart.
Part of you doesn't understand the Klingons motivations. This isn't typical behavior for Klingons. They tend to kill first and ask questions later. The fact that you are still alive is, in itself, something of a miracle. Even if you don't believe in miracles.
They don't want you dead, they want you dying. And they have succeeded.
Without your sight, you are useless. Without your emotional control, you will never be welcome back on the Vulcan colony. Without Jim, you know, somewhere in the heart that you so often deny, that you will have lost any hope for the one friendship that is supposed to define you.
You'll have nothing. You'll be nothing.
As it is, all you can do now is wait. Wait for a rescue that might not happen. Wait for a death that might be desired. Wait for something to change, anything to change, for better or worse. And for once in your life, you find it nearly impossible to wait.
But you don't have a choice, so you'll wait, drowning in your thoughts, suffocating from your emotions, and bleeding from your wounds.
Waiting for a death that will never come.
~*00*~
Jim and McCoy had searched just about everywhere and had seen no sign of the half-Vulcan. By the time they went back to Spock's room, just to see if he'd come back on his own, the sun was starting to come up. Jim figured that this was probably for the best, as he had a sneaking suspicion that one of the Organians was behind this.
After all, they were capable of shape shifting. Wouldn't that mean that they would be able to take the form of whoever they wanted? To be honest, Jim wasn't entirely sure that this was how shape shifting worked, but right now it was the only clue that he had to this mystery. Someone had tricked his first officer into following a fake James T. Kirk. Which meant that someone had to be capable of taking his form with such precision that it could fool an overly observant Vulcan.
But that didn't explain the dream.
Jim sighed and decided to stop thinking about it. Potentially false accusations weren't going to help him find his first officer. "We should contact Scotty and see if he can find his signal," Jim sighed, feeling despair in the pit of his stomach. He pushed it away though and watched as Bones opened his communicator to make the call.
Scotty answered almost instantly and Bones quickly relayed the request. They only had to wait a few seconds before Scotty's response came over the comm. "Sorry, I can't find his signal anywhere."
Bones thanked Scotty and cut the transmission, turning to look at Jim expectantly. Jim turned away from him, not wanting to see the worry in his friend's eyes. If Bones was worried, odds were that the situation was pretty bad. It took a lot for Bones to worry about the seemingly indestructible first officer.
"Come on," Jim said, standing up. "We should look for one of the council members. Maybe they'll be able to help us."
Bones nodded, and stood up, following him out of the room and down the stairs. Jim hardly noticed, plagued by his own thoughts. Spock had been missing for too long. Anything could have happened to him.
Jim's pace quickened, as a newfound sense of worry overcame him. Spock could be hurt, he could be broken. He could be dying.
Jim tried not to think about it. The thought of any of his crew dying was terrifying to him. As a captain, he was responsible for the well being of every single person on the Enterprise. While they hadn't undertaken too many missions, they had already faced a few casualties. Each death had struck Jim like a sharp blow, and he regretted that he didn't know every single one of his crew members personally. He knew that, with 400 crew members on board, it was more or less impossible, but he still felt like he should have a connection with the people who were serving under him. Especially if he was continually asking them to put their lives on the line. Jim felt a wave of guilt at the thought.
No one likes asking someone to die for them.
Jim saw a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and he looked up to see Ayelborne.
"Ayelborne," Jim called out as he saw the Organian walking down the hall in the same direction that they were headed. The urge to yell out accusations swelled up again, but Jim bit them back. He wanted answers, not more problems. The Organian turned to look at him, and for an instance, Jim would have sworn that he'd seen guilt flash across his face.
"Captain," he greeted, coming to a stop and spreading his hands in a welcoming gesture. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Actually, there is," Jim responded, his sneaking suspicion deepening when he noticed that Ayelborne seemed nervous. "Sometime during the night, my first officer went missing. We have searched for him and attempted to find his signal, yet as far as we can tell, he has vanished."
No, there it was again. The guilty expression had taken up permanent residence in Ayelborne's eyes. This hadn't been an accident, this had been carefully planned and executed. Whatever the motivation, the Organians had taken part in the disappearance of Spock, Jim was sure. With any luck, they would confess and then Jim could go about retrieving his friend without any further problems. Next to him, Bones stiffened. Jim could only assume that he too had noticed the man's odd behavior.
Ayelborne hesitated before shaking his head and turning away from the two Starfleet officers. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he muttered. "I am sorry."
Jim felt anger overwhelm him, an anger so strong that he felt like he understood what Spock had to have felt that one day on the bridge when he had been emotionally compromised. All he could see is red, the red of the man's blood running cold on the floor. The red of a fiery inferno that could destroy them all. And Jim didn't care. He just wanted his first officer back, and this man, this being, was responsible for a long, sleepless night of panic and worry. James T. Kirk didn't panic or worry and those who induced those kind of emotions deserved to be on the receiving end of his wrath.
"Where is Mr. Spock," Jim growled, his hand inching subconsciously to his phaser. He knew that Bones was looking at him with something similar to surprise. He knew that whatever drastic measures that Jim was about to take would be incredibly detrimental to their attempts at diplomacy, but Jim didn't think he would stop him. At least he hoped Bones wouldn't stop him.
"You already know where he is, Captain," Ayelborne responded calmly. He seemed unfazed at the amount of anger that Jim knew he was exuding. It was taking every fiber of his being to not lunge at the Organian man. He couldn't explain this anger, this surge of protectiveness towards Spock, but he was going to blame it on a lack of sleep. He and Bones had spent the entire searching for the man and had both only gotten about an hour of sleep. It was understandable that he was not completely in control of his emotional outbursts. "You have been given what you need to find him, all that you must do is retrieve him."
That was it. Jim didn't have the time or patience to deal with his cryptic hints. He pulled out his phaser, ready to stun the man, but was surprised when it would not fire. Instead, Ayelborne looked at him sadly before a bright light temporarily blinded Jim. He blinked and closed his eyes, surprised to find that the Organian was emanating the light. He supposed that he shouldn't be really surprised at this point. Moments later, the Organian was gone, vanished into the flash of light.
"Sheer energy?" Bones asked beside him. Jim turned to look at him and noted his dumbstruck expression. "They transcended a physical form for sheer energy?"
"It looks like it," Jim responded, equally stunned. He hadn't expected the species to have vanishing tricks. He supposed it was for the best, seeing as he had just been about to do something ridiculously stupid. It still didn't help them find Spock, though.
"What the hell did he mean?" Bones asked, still staring at the spot where the man had once been. "How are we supposed to find him?"
Jim shrugged and started to walk again, his pace taking a slightly frenzied state. None of this made sense. The Organians were supposed to be a peaceful people. It wasn't in their nature to instigate violence or to interfere. This entire situation was completely out of character for them. Something else was happening here, but he didn't have all the pieces to the puzzle yet. All he could see was a convoluted conundrum. And it was giving him a headache.
"Wait," Bones said, stopping mid-stride. Jim stopped as well, turning to look at him. "You said you saw where they led him in your dream."
Jim almost groaned, realizing that his friend was right. He did know where the other Kirk had led Spock in his dream. Or at least the general area. He felt like kicking himself. If they were relying on a dream, he would have to pay attention to the details. That should have been the first place they'd checked. By now, it was quite possible that Spock had already been moved elsewhere.
Regardless, it was best to check, just to make sure. Which meant that they had to go back to Spock's room so that Jim could attempt to retrace the path from his dream. It shouldn't be so hard as it was currently engraved in his memory.
Frustrated, Jim turned back to head towards Spock's room, fairly storming about. Bones followed him, passive in comparison. Each minute that they spent wandering around aimlessly brought Spock closer to...well, Jim wasn't really sure what was happening to his first officer, but he was willing to guess that it wasn't pleasant. Now if only he could find the damn door that his dream self had led Spock through.
"What do you suppose this building is for?" Jim asked Bones, hoping that conversation would take the edge off of his worry. Bones looked at him and shrugged.
"I'm not sure. At first I thought it was a hotel of some sort, but I haven't seen anyone here but the Organian elders."
Jim nodded. "Nothing here makes sense. Wouldn't Starfleet have been alerted to any illegal Klingon activity? And if they had, shouldn't they have warned us?"
"I guess since Organia isn't actually a member of the Federation, it's not considered illegal activity." Bones gave Jim a measuring look. "Do you think the Klingons are behind Spock's disappearance?"
Jim shrugged. "The Organians are a peaceful people, that much I learned from the negotiations. It's not in their nature to interfere in anyone else's business. I don't see what they have to gain from taking Spock."
"Christ, Jim," Bones exclaimed. "Ayelborne all but confessed that he had taken him. What other proof do you need?"
"I'm not denying that they took part in it, but why?" Jim shook his head, not finding a good answer and knowing that he wouldn't get one. Suddenly he came to a halt in front of a door. He was pretty sure that this was the door that Spock had been dragged through in his dream. Bones stopped as well and looked at him expectantly. Pushing the door open slowly, Jim wasn't entirely surprised to find that there was only a staircase behind it. This was the room then and gesturing to McCoy to follow him, both men slowly walked down the stairs, each of them silently hoping for the best, yet still expecting the worse.
~*00*~
This is what it's like to be James T. Kirk.
Horrified. Terrified. Infuriated. Helpless. You're assaulted by your emotions, one after the other, colliding into each other so you can't differentiate one from the other to make sense of it. You want revenge. Revenge on the Organians, the Klingons, the whole damn universe. Someone has to pay for this, someone has to suffer the way you know Spock has suffered. Damn morals to hell, it doesn't matter.
But it does, and your inner captain is yelling at you, trying to remind you about its importance.
And in the end, the inner captain wins because it has to and you manage to calm your lust for enemy blood. Revenge isn't the answer, and you know this. Right now, it doesn't even matter. Right now, all that matters is Spock.
The rest of the world fades as you rush over to Spock's side, hesitating before gently tracing a cut on his cheek. His blood, bright green blood, stains his clothing. There's so much of it. Spock moves his head slightly into your touch and you almost cry for the relief that overcomes you. Dark brown eyes blink open and look up at you. And you're so happy that you could kiss someone.
But it is a short-lived joy.
"He's blind, Jim," you hear McCoy whisper from somewhere to your right.
Your heart constricts and you forget what it is to breathe. Spock can't be blind. McCoy is lying. He's lying and all you want to do is lash out at him, stop his endless stream of falsities. Perhaps he senses this because he stands up, muttering, "We have to get him to the Enterprise. He's lost a lot of blood."
You nod and your brief anger towards the doctor ebbs away, leaving a numb shell in its stead. Carefully, you and McCoy lift Spock to his feet and he sways. Spock never sways. He is always certain in his step and stable in his demeanor. You feel a pang of regret shoot through you as if being shot by a phaser. The pain of seeing the first officer like this is far greater than it ever has been when faced with the corpses of good men.
This isn't a nameless crew member. This is Spock.
You feel a wave of guilt. No life is worth more than another. Spock's life is no more important than the ones that have already been claimed on past missions. But it is to you. And you can't help how you feel, even if you know you shouldn't feel that way. Oh well, you'll think about your blatant favoritism later. Right now, Spock is all but whimpering from the pain as you and McCoy attempt to move him from the dank room.
He shouldn't be walking, you decide, so you stop.
"It'll be alright," you whisper, pulling your friend into a tight embrace and he stiffens. You tighten your grasp slightly, not caring enough to loosen your hold and caring too much to let go.
For a moment, you're struck by how right he feels in your arms. How he kind of just fits.
But it means nothing, and you know it. So you ignore it and lift him easily into your arms, mindful of his many wounds. Everything will be alright, because it has to be. You don't know what you'll do without Spock's logic to balance out your irrationality. So you save him for your sake as well as his. And you figure that motivation doesn't matter as long as the end result is the same.
And as you and McCoy leave the room and beam onto the Enterprise, you're struck by a thought. Only the universe would be so cruel as to attempt to take away one of the few people that you actually care about. But you're not going to let the universe win. You have too much to lose, and someday, the universe will learn to stop fucking with Captain James T. Kirk.
You just hope that no more lives have to be sacrificed in the process.
A.N.
I hope you guys are enjoying this thus far. I am not particularly fond of this chapter, but it does what it's supposed to, I guess. I've decided that Bones is hard to keep in character too. Haha, so they're all hard to write. So thanks for reviewing, it means a lot. Once again, I extend the invitation to point out any horrible flaws so that I may attempt to fix them. Thanks guys!
