As Jim had expected, he didn't sleep much that night either. Instead, he sat in the ready room, pouring over reports and procedures, learning as much as he could about his new duties that he hadn't picked up watching Spock and Pike.

Serik arrived on time as promised, returning at exactly 0500 hours, and he took the time to explain how he did the reports and why things had to be phrased the way they were. Jim only partially listened, having not slept the previous two nights, but he decided to award Serik anyway. From what he heard, Serik did the reports properly. He would allow Serik to go to McCoy for a blood transfusion for Sovik after Alpha shift. The other Vulcan was still teetering between life and death, the transfusion would save his life most likely. Some would call Jim's actions mercy. Others, manipulation, because that was what it was. To manipulate people's feelings and actions was to survive. Even Vulcan's weren't made of stone. Serik may care for little, but he did care for two things even if his expressions didn't explicitly state it.

When he finally left for a shower, his guard had been replaced with Vo who kept the ever-professional face. "Any news on the situation?"

"There are a few insurrections last night from Sulu's men, but everyone else had been rather quiet. Majority of the crew seem satisfied that the Vulcan captain was overthrown. There are a few who aren't happy with your background and a few who 'jokingly' stated that it'd be a cinch to get rid of you. We have a list of both. Chekov forwarded it to your PADD, and Phelps is keeping tabs on them through surveillance."

"I may increase your workload starting today," Jim stopped just in front of his quarters, turning to Vo. "I'm no captain, and it will be obvious after the first shift."

Vo looked annoyed as if Jim was nagging him for the hundredth time rather than the first. "I am well aware of that. You jumped into the deep end. You'll either sink or swim. It's my job to keep the sharks away while you do it."

Jim smiled a bit. "I'll hold you to that."

Jim went inside his old quarters, taking a shower to make himself look presentable and less tired. He had spent years learning to hide his fatigue, but four days was his limit, and he was quickly approaching it. He'd have to sleep tonight.

Putting on his new captain's uniform, he left with Vo, and now Phelps, at his side to the bridge.

Well, the first shift went about as well as he expected. There were a lot of things that he knew in theory but not in practice which came abundantly clear. Thankfully, the things he was stumbling on was more on the unspoken side rather than relaying orders, but he even gave some vague or confusing orders at times too. His only savior was Serik, who smoothed over his mistakes almost flawlessly and without waiting for Jim to order him too. Jim took careful notes on what Serik corrected and would copy him with better results, but he knew his mistakes would put ideas in the crew's heads. That he'd be easy to use or kill due to his ignorance. That they would make a better captain than him. His security knew this would happen, so measures were already in place against it, but if he didn't prove he could do this soon, the worse the situation would become. By the end of the shift, he had a fatigue headache, and his mood was turning sour, but he kept his confident smile and personality, bluffing his way through.

There was one thing he had to do before he could sleep however. There was another reason why he sent Serik to McCoy after alpha shift rather than during. After leaving the bridge, he went down deep into engineering. Scotty was insanely possessive about the area and let very few people into certain parts without permission from the Chief Security Head, the captain, and himself. Even his own engineers were restricted. So the empty, forgotten office in the lower decks was the perfect place to hide things.

Scotty let him in without a word, and he left his guards at the entrance of the engineering decks. Bones said he did what Jim asked, that the prisoner wouldn't die. Entering the rather dark room, the lights barely letting Jim see the slouched form of the Vulcan chained, the same way Jim had been in Spock's quarters, his wrists cuffed and attached to the shackles around Spock's ankles that were attached to a screw eye on the floor. The only difference was the chains used on Spock were thicker and much more difficult to break.

Spock was only in his trousers, stripped of his shirt, greenish bruises littering his skin from Sulu's beating. Blood was crusted onto his skin and his hair was matted down with the fluid as well. Even in the dim light, Jim could see how Spock's shoulder muscles strained from slouching forward to sleep. Having been restrained similarly in the past, Jim knew the Vulcan's extremities would be numb by now, having been forced to sit on his heels and having his arms pulled back unnaturally.

There was no sign of that discomfort on the Vulcan's face. He didn't even look up when Jim entered. His eyes were closed and the only sound was their breathing, echoing off the walls of the empty room. Jim could have mistaken Spock for sleeping or perhaps unconscious if it were not for the tensing of muscles when he had entered. Spock was so lean it was simple to see the slightest change even in this lighting.

Jim sat down in the only piece of furniture in the room, a metal chair that had been welded down to the floor. He sat regarding Spock. He had succeeded. He had beaten Spock, humiliated him. He had wanted to see him defeated. That's why he had come here for. He waited in silence for Spock to say the first words, to prove that Jim had won and admit his defeat.

Realizing that Jim had no intention of leaving, Spock slowly opened his eyes, sitting up from the position he had adopted to sleep in, straightening his back and holding his head high. Even defeated he held dignity without sign of humiliation or discouragement. It was the Vulcan's gaze however that made Jim's stomach squeeze unpleasantly. It was dead. Like a doll's. They held no emotion, not an inkling of what Spock was thinking. Even pain or discomfort was absent from his expression, as if he had killed his nerves from perceiving them. "Mr. Kirk, I commend you on your display of ingenuity during this match."

If Spock's eyes were ice, then his words were liquid nitrogen. Jim remembered those words Spock had spoken. They were the first words Spock had ever said to him, and the difference between them and now were startling clear. They sounded wrong. There should have been amusement or annoyance underlying his tone. Something he had always heard in Spock's voice. Even when he was hiding them, there was always something Jim could decipher and play off, but it didn't sound like he was hiding anything. There was just simply was nothing there.

"Child's play," he replied, falling back to an automatic response, the response he had given back then. "If you know how to play the game."

"Indeed." And that was it. Spock didn't say another word, just looking straight ahead right through Jim as if he wasn't even there.

Jim waited and waited, and the longer the silence stretched the more agitated he became. "Is that it Spock? Nothing else to say?"

"I have stated everything needed to be said," Spock said.

Jim stood abruptly, unable to take that stare any longer, taking to pacing around the room, finding it difficult to stay still. "You really piss me off. You know that?" He turned sharply to Spock, throwing him a venomous glare. "What gives you the right to look down on me? You're no better than me. In fact, you're in the same position as me, aren't you, Crowned Prince S'chn T'gai Spock."

He had hoped for some reaction for Spock at the use of his official title, but there was still nothing so he pressed on. "Surprised I know your little secret? A child born between the great Ambassador Sarek and his mistress Amanda Greyson. The Vulcans were so ashamed of your birth, they hid it from the registry. You're nothing but a disgusting half-breed, just like your Romulan bodyguards."

"They were so eager to get rid of you too. They didn't even hesitate to surrender you to the Empire as a hostage, in exchange for stopping the attacks on your people after Vulcan was destroyed." Jim laughed almost manically. "I always wondered why you never had a fucking spine, but now I know. You step out of line and New Vulcan goes up in flames."

There was still nothing, and Jim's patience was growing thin. What could he say to get something out of him? Make him hurt. "No one cares about you. Amanda loathes your existence and the crew would pay anything to see you suffer. Starfleet does the bare minimum to treat you as a prince, luxurious hotels and basic protections, but even they realize Vulcan doesn't care what happens to you. So, it doesn't matter if they get rid of you if they feel threatened by you, and Serik and Sovik are paid to stay by your side." Jim grabbed his hair, forcing Spock to look at him. "You are no better than me. You're scrambling to survive just like I am. The only difference is, I have the balls to challenge what I was given while you just roll over like a dead dog."

Nothing changed. Spock just looked through him in silence. Grinding his teeth in anger, he released Spock's hair and turned away to pace once again. "Even dead dogs have their uses. Despite everything, you still have property which your mother holds in your place." Jim stopped pacing, throwing a look over his shoulder. He didn't like that look on his Vulcan's face. "Doesn't mean you can't suffer in the meantime. What do you say to that?"

When nothing changed, when Spock continued to hold his silence, Jim stormed out wishing he could slam the door behind him. Who did Spock think he was? What right did he have to hold himself up like he was still in control, like he was the one still captain. Why wasn't he angry or fighting back or something? Anything?

"Jimbo."

Jim's head snapped up at the sound of Scotty's voice, the engineer standing in front of him with his hands on his hips like a disapproving parent. "What?" he snapped.

The engineer tilted his head towards the warp core. "I need some help with this beauty over here. If you got some time to spare from captaining, why don't you put your hands to good use."

Jim was ready to refuse, wanting to put as much distance between that room and himself as possible, but he didn't. Instead, he took off his uniform shirt tossing it to the side and picked up a wrench. "10 minutes," he muttered.

Grinning, he slapped Jim's back. "Course, Captain."

Those ten minutes easily stretched into an hour. An hour he needed to cool his head and work out his frustrations. He cursed at the wasted time he could have spent learning, but he also knew that Scotty had done this for a reason. He couldn't show his frustrations or mental weakness while still stabilizing his captaincy.

Whatever Scotty thought about Jim visiting Spock alone, he never spoke his mind or questioned Jim's decision. The fact he came for him was tell enough. Jim didn't want to dwell on it though. He didn't want Scotty's pity. In truth, he wished Scotty hadn't known at all even if it was Scotty jumping to conclusions that made the engineer cooperate with his plan.

He slipped away from the engineer's watchful eye and left the department without a word. Slapping on a manufactured grin, he greeted his bodyguards and retreated to the sanctity of his old quarters, throwing his armful of PADDs onto the bed. He could have gone to the captain's quarter's, could have removed Spock's things and claimed it as his own, but he hadn't even gone near the area let alone the room. He had everything he needed here.

Going through the list of potential and confirmed trouble makers supplied by his small but elite information network, he used the Tantalus Field, killing off the well-known opposition to his captaincy. It was laughably simple how easy it was to immobilize his enemies now. If the rebels had been able to keep it a secret, they could have done serious damage to the Empire. Now it was in his hands.

Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face. He'd have to move the damn thing to the captain's quarters eventually. That was going to be a pain in the ass, and he'd have to do it himself too. Finding it a hassle to remove his uniform, he simply plopped down on the bed, pulling over the first PADD tiredly. He'd get through a report or two before fatigue overcame him. A day had already passed, leaving him five to complete the mission. Something he'd have to tackle once he awoke from a short nap.

He positioned himself in the corner of his bed that was pressed against the wall, propping the PADD on his knees and leaning his head against the bulkhead.

As he worked, his body began to shut down no longer able to resist the sleep that beckoned him. His eyes began to droop. The lines blurred together in his vision. His typing slowed, and his shoulders slouched.

His last thought as his conscious faded out into nothingness was whether or not his bed had always been so cold.

"Alright, that should be enough," Dr. McCoy removed the tube from Serik's arm, putting a bandage over the small hole in his skin. "Stay here."

The doctor took away the tray, leaving the isolated ward. Serik was sitting in a chair beside Sovik's bedside. Kirk had kept his word, moving Sovik to a secure location and allowing the blood transfusion. It appeared Kirk did keep his word, but it was only logical given he wanted Serik's cooperation.

Taking a slow breath, his eyes closed. "You are conscious."

"I am not sure this qualifies," Sovik's eyes were still closed and his voice was raspy and low, but he was conscious now. It was alarming that he hadn't slipped into a trance, but consciousness at least meant he was stable for now. "You hadn't held my hand like this since mother died."

Serik blinked, unsure of what he meant until he looked at their joined hands. He had not even noticed. Had the doctor seen? "Given the Vulcan context, it would be inappropriate to indulge in such physical contact after adolescence; however, we are not on Vulcan and my hands lack the appropriate nerves."

Sovik went silent, his breathing evening out as if he had fallen asleep again, so it was startling when he spoke, "How is our nu'ri-trensu?"

"Since your incapacitation, Kirk has taken over the ship. He placed his pawns well and his resources run deeper than we had thought. For now, he has recruited my aid in exchange for nu'ri-trensu's safety."

"You are angry," Sovik said calmly. Too calm for the normally emotional Vulcan. Perhaps he lacked the energy.

"There are no words to describe the emotions I am feeling. Anger is only but the surface and my hatred runs deep. He has harmed Spock, and he is responsible for your condition. When I locate where he has hidden our master, I will devise a way to escape."

"Escape where, Dinam? We are only three, and the nu'ri-trensu will not leave his duties unattended. Vulcan may have abandoned him, but he has not abandoned Vulcan."

Serik tightened his grip on Sovik's hand, just short of causing him pain. "What are we to do? Kirk will undoubtedly try to kill him once the opportunity presents itself as convenient or perhaps find a worse fate for him."

"I do not agree."

"You rarely do."

The door hissed open and Serik released his hand before the doctor presented himself. "Alright, you're free to go assimilate data or whatever else you robots do."

"I wish to stay here for a while longer," Serik said.

McCoy's face twisted in wariness and dissatisfaction, no doubt thinking about Kirk. He had overheard the instruction that Serik was not allowed to communicate with his brother and was to be removed if Sovik woke up. Sovik was careful in regulating his body so his vitals didn't change on the monitor, but it was possible to have been overheard as well.

McCoy looked like he would refuse, but an opportunistic grin brightened his normally scowling features. "Only if you help me with an experiment I had in mind."

Serik's lips thinned in annoyance. "Very well."

"Five minutes," the closed the door behind him.

"The doctor is malicious when it comes to his experiments," Sovik replied.

"He cannot cause permanent damage else he runs the risk of angering Kirk. Kirk at the moment appears . . . unstable."

"I shall take responsibility. I had provoked him. I truly thought Kirk seeing the young master take another as his sexual partner would make him realize his place. Instead, I forced his hand and perhaps harmed Spock in the process."

"Spock's current position has little to do with your revenge schemes as childish as it may have been. We had all underestimated him. Only you were wary after the death of Lester."

"That day, nu'ri-trensu was not functional. He was distracted, unfocused on his work, and lacked energy. He acted as if he was in despair or mourning a loss." Sovik slowly opened his eyes and looked at his brother. "What if we were looking at this wrong? We had assumed our sa-fu was acting on his human side, but what if it was the other."

"I know what you are suggesting, but it is improbable. If it was the case, Kirk is clearly unaffected."

"Is he?" Sovik lifted his hand and stared at the finger tips deep in thought. "We know our master, but humans are still a mystery to us. What would Spock do given the current events?"

Serik paused long enough to think up the scenarios and calculate their probabilities. "Given his tendencies, he'd mentally shield himself. Rely on his kolinahr training to stop the hurt."

"If they have something, a connection, he would block it."

Serik shook his head lightly. "He is not a healer. To make a bond he would have to consciously try, and with a psynull human, it would be even more difficult."

"Spock has always been a strong telepath, and Spock has engaged in many joining with Kirk in a very short period. If they are t'hy'la…"

"This would not have happened," Serik interrupted.

"Perhaps not, but if there is, it would not have been properly formed. Spock's actions will affect Kirk."

"You are saying to forgive his transgressions after harming our master just because he may be t'hy'la?"

"No, but it is worth investigating to know where he stands with our master. At this moment, he holds the power, and on this ship, it is the only thing worth noting. If there is a connection, we may be able to take advantage of it."

Serik sighed softly. "Your logic is flawed as usual, but I will wait as you suggested. However, I will not forgive him."

"Nor will I."

The door opened once again, a look of disapproval on the doctor's face as he looked between them. "Time's up."

It hadn't been five minutes, but arguing would have been unproductive and fruitless. "Rest and regain your strength. If I am permitted, I will visit."

Sovik didn't respond, having closed his eyes. For the best. Whatever the doctor had planned wouldn't be pleasant, but the extra time had been adequate for the exchange. His mind was better focused than before, and he now had a clear objective while he was forced to wait for an opportunity.

Doctor McCoy led him to an examination table and ordered him to lay down. He could only hope that the wait would not be too long.

The second day went smoother. Mostly because Jim did not have to be on the bridge. He spent the time finishing reports and getting Serik's approval on them and reviewing what he had learned so far. Serik's attitude had remained consistent throughout their interactions, yet Jim swore something was different. It was just once or twice, but the weight of Serik's gaze had become scorching. It was enough to send the hair on the back of Jim's neck standing on end. The only thing stopping him from calling in additional guards was the lack of malicious intent. It was more scientific than malevolent, similar to Spock's curious gazes, but colder.

Setting the issue with Serik aside, Jim still had the duty the admiral had ordered him to complete. After getting the daily duties out of the way, he called Giotto, Farrell and Vo to the ready room, having Serik wait outside. Jim was waiting in his chair, reading over the report for the fourth time, ensuring he knew the details of the assignment before the meeting started.

"I assume each of you have read the assignment I forwarded to you." The three men nodded their heads, taking a seat around the table. Vo sat on his left, Farrell on his right, and Giotto across. "So, gentlemen, tell me your thoughts."

"It's obvious they expect you to fail," Vo said pulling up the mission details on the screen for everyone to see. "Captain Spock had collected information from the Starbase 6. The information distributed showed that not only did they have a wealthy benefactor, but had managed to swipe powerful ships as well. "

"Theoretically, the Enterprise should be able to outmaneuver most ships as it is the newest and most advanced ship in the fleet. In the hand of a good captain of course," Giotto said, glancing at Kirk as he spoke.

"Trying to say something Giotto?" Farrell growled.

"The captain can handle it," Vo said, flipping through the contents, diffusing a fight before it could start. "I think he's shown his capabilities in person more than once to us, hasn't he?"

"It's different than commanding a Starship."

"Giotto is right," Jim said leaning forward to place his elbows onto the table. "I am new. He should have some doubt," his words were casual with a polite smile on his lips. "As long as he doesn't work against me." The underlying threat was clear as day however, making the hardened security officer uncomfortable enough to look away.

"Going in with guns blazing should be a last resort however," Vo continued. "Even if the captain was the best strategist in the known universe and all of time, success in a direct assault would be low, and the mission states that the rebels are to be eradicated. That would insinuate that Headquarters wishes to have the planet completely destroyed."

"In order to do that, the Enterprise would have to stay in position for the minimum of 25 seconds to gather enough energy and target critical areas of the planet to destroy it. We'd have to deal with their planetary defense system entirely to employ that tactic." Farrell said, writing furiously on his PADD.

"No," Jim narrowed his eyes in thought. "It's an Class K planet. Without pressure domes and terraforming, humanoid life cannot sustain. It's why the Empire overlooked this planet for so long. No one could have predicted they would have enough money to create a base on such a planet. Their planetary defenses will be sufficient but it can't be too extravagant else it would arise suspicion if an Empire vessel wandered too close."

"It does make the target easier. We only have to destroy the system that keeps them alive. It may be easier if there is only one base on the entire planet," Giotto murmured.

"We still have to take out their defenses. I will not allow a single rebel to escape," Jim scrolled down on his PADD. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," the said in unison saluting.

Satisfied, Jim listened to their ideas, taking them and morphing them into something useable for him to use. Only an idiot didn't listen to others and use their ideas, but only a fool wouldn't morph it into their own style to meet their abilities. It was one of his favorite parts of plan making. The ability to turn a situation or problem into something manageable or favorable. It also let him gain insight about those around him. Farrell was rather straightforward and honest and his plans reflected that, urging Jim to do a frontal assault. Vo was much more calculating and structured, presenting ideas of drawing the enemy away from their home base.

Giotto showed more restraint than the other two, suggesting a more wait and see approach, edging on the more cautious side. The man's age and experience was shined through as lack of information was the most dangerous thing to a captain and his ship. However, Giotto's plan was discarded immediately. There wasn't enough time to sit back and gather data. The ship would arrive at it's destination with a day to spare. Waiting would make them rush later and too much rested on not making a mistake.

Their points of view were invaluable, and he had an idea of how he wanted to proceed. With three days to perfect it, he was sure to keep to the Empire's standards, so he dismissed the meeting, gathering his PADDs and tape decks into a neat stack.

"Captain, if I may have a word?"

Jim looked up. Giotto stood before him, hands carefully behind his back and a stern militaristic expression on his face. In the corner of his eye, Jim noticed Vo had stopped from leaving as Farrell had already taken his leave for the night. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Sir, I just wanted to confirm whether or not you were aware of the sudden disappearances of crewmembers."

"Disappearances amongst the crew?" Jim inquired leaning forward with faux interest. "Tell me more."

Jim's tone set the officer on alert but continued ahead as if he hadn't noticed. "There are no traces of the individuals that had gone missing, no evidence of them abandoning their posts or even of a murder attempt or cover up. They simply stopped existing, items having been dropped in favor of whatever has happened to them. These individuals were also known to have actively spoken out against you…" Giotto trailed off as Jim's unwavering attention gave him goosebumps and an unpleasant chill. "I was curious if you knew of what happened to them so I may formally put it into the databanks as to the cause of death."

"Sorry, I don't know what happened to them," Jim lied, and it wasn't the slightest bit convincing as his polite smile gained a dark tinge. "I mean, if they just up and disappeared, doesn't that just mean they're deserters? Who am I to question my guardian angel who's fulfilling the Empire's will by disposing of traitors? In that case, there shouldn't be a question of what to do, isn't that right, Lieutenant Commander Giotto"

Giotto was visibly sweating but didn't let his emotions show on his face as he answered, "Of course, sir. I'll file them as deserters and traitors to the Empire. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"Keep up the good work, Giotto."

Giotto quickly saluted and exited as quickly as he could with measured strides. Vo stepped forward once the door closed, observing Kirk.

"Going to question as well, Vo?" Jim asked, no longer smiling.

"Not my job to question you, Captain, only guard you and follow orders."

"Textbook answer. Remind me to give you a reward later." Jim stood as well, leaving the PADDs where they lay. A yeoman would see to them later, and he needed his hands free when wandering the halls.

Serik was still waiting outside, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his clothing. Knowing the Vulcan, he probably kept perfect posture and had not moved a muscle since Jim entered over an hour ago. Just the thought put a kink in his back.

He needed to continue his studies with Serik. He needed to, but he didn't think he could. He felt anxious, like something constantly nagging at the back of his head, and a chill that was persistently bothering him. He wasn't cold per say, just a slight discomfort that was easy to ignore but still noticeable if there was nothing to occupy his mind. Serik's staring wasn't helping either.

Finally, he couldn't stand it and turned sharply, Serik nearly bumping into him at the sudden stop. "What?!" he demanded, making the Vulcan's eyebrow raise.

"Pardon?"

"What is it? Why do you keep staring at me?"

Serik regarded him for a moment, his eyes never leaving Kirk's. Then he moved forward, hand extended, reaching out towards Kirk's face. Jim reactively put his hand on his phaser as did Vo, but Serik's hand retreated with a white piece of paper in his hand. On closer inspection, it was a clothes tag. "A captain must always keep a neat and tidy appearance," he said flawlessly as if he hadn't almost been shot. "I was unsure of how to inform you that the information tag on your clothes had been showing without appearing offensive."

"Next time just tell me," Jim growled, turning away. Now he really didn't want to work with Serik today, and that anxiety in the back of his head was more noticeable.

Trying to think up any excuse he could to get out of it, he saw Marlena Moreau standing outside his door. Really, the woman was shameless and kept up her reputation. When Spock had become captain, she had tried to seduce him and now she was here ready to do the same to him. Like he would want Pike's disgusting leftovers.

A venomous insult was on the tip of his tongue when he took in her appearance. Dark silky hair, pale skin, dark brown eyes. He found his fists clenching at his sides. It was okay wasn't it. It had been a long time since he held a woman. It wasn't like Spock owned him anymore.

"Serik you can leave for the day. I'll see you tomorrow morning to go over the reports."

Serik looked between him then Marlena, and Jim couldn't care less. He didn't care if the entire ship knew that he planned to bring her into his bed. He didn't have to hide anymore. Didn't have to live with the humiliation of being dominated by a man and being thought of as a slut by Spock if he flirted with someone else.

So he went up to her, flirted with her, gave her a seductive smile that would make most weak at the knees. It was ridiculously easy to pull her into his room. No challenge, no banter, no fight. Just the way he liked it.

Should have liked it. God, he used to love easy women. And yet, he felt revolted, sick even, at Marlena's compliance. They had barely made it to the bed before he jolted back in disgust. She didn't taste right, didn't feel right. With anger, he threw her out of his room after only a few minutes.

His next three dark hair beauties he invited hadn't felt much better. No matter how they approached him, talked to him, tried to pleasure them, it felt so wrong he nearly hit the last one. Each revulsion seemed stronger than the last and each one left him feeling colder. The once negligible chill was now a constant presence and his growing anxiety was starting to become a hindrance.

His temper was becoming shorter, mistakes made by others, whether within their control or not, pissing him off to no end. The crew had begun to take notice. Outwardly, his command was noticeably better, and Serik was correcting him and covering for his mistakes less often. He had almost perfected the outward appearance of a captain. Behind the scenes, he was still having Serik do a lot of the work as he continued his crash course lessons, and his department head friends were taking on a few additional tasks to help him out. The thought of the prolonged help only served to fuel his discomfort and therefore anger.

Serik's sudden observations of him was adding to his piling stress. Sure, the Vulcan didn't stare at him directly since confronting him after the strategy meeting three days ago, but Jim could still feel the gaze directed at the back of his head. Serik was looking for weakness probably. They all were. He could only rely on himself as he had always done. A moment of weakness and they'd tear him apart like the hyenas they were, foaming at the mouth and waiting for their chance to strike.

With the excessive amount of rage harboring within his body, Jim often found himself fatigue as well, finding it hard to get out of bed in the morning and using the lingering elated feelings of finally being free to motivate him. It was hardly enough to compensate for his mood swings from anger to…whatever this other emotion was. He didn't know what to call it.

Rubbing his hand over his face and convincing himself of the need to get ready for the day, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge. He was still sleeping in his old quarters. He felt secure in them with the Tantalus Field nearby. The computer terminal next to his bed was reading his duties for the day to him, informing him that Sovik was ready to be discharged from medbay and that Starfleet had sent responses to the reports he sent along with a reminder that he had 26 hours to complete his mission.

Sovik would be sent to the brig until he could figure out what to do with him. He really didn't want to deal with that jackass until his position was secure. Serik wouldn't be able to complain about it either. Shuffling his feet to the mirror, he inputted the code and waited for the Tantalus Field to start up. Once active, he inputted the name. The name he found himself typing every morning and most nights.

Spock was still chained, now sporting the beginnings of a beard. He hadn't moved or spoken according to the guard or team responsible for cleaning Spock up twice a day. His face looked a bit thinner as well. Had he been eating? It didn't seem like it even though Jim made sure to order 3 meals a day for him. Maybe he should try plomeek soup. If he didn't get fluids him at least, Spock would fade too quickly. Was kreyla too dry then? It was high in calories so just getting him to eat a little bit would help though it might dehydrate him more.

Every time he'd watch Spock through the screen, similar thoughts crossed his mind until he identified it for what it was. In response, he'd shut the field down, ranting about how Spock didn't deserve any pity from him. That it was his fault for being locked up in the first place and letting his guard down knowing how dangerous he was. This was how this universe worked. The strong survived. He was not in the wrong.

But if he wasn't wrong, then why did he avoid McCoy, unable to look him in the eye like a guilty child? Why was he preferring the solitude of his room rather than helping Scotty in engineering to take off the edge? Why did he even care?

This morning was no different from the others. He got angry and shut down the field, ranting to himself until it was time to go to the bridge where the shift dragged on until he was at the end of his shortening tolerance.

Finally, enough was enough. He couldn't keep bottling his emotions. He was at the end of his rope. Surely Spock had come to his senses by now. He'd want to know how Sovik and Serik was. He couldn't keep that emotionless mask forever. Spock was too human for that.

Brushing off his guards, he headed back into engineering, ignoring the concerned and disapproving glare of his chief engineer, making his way into the depths of machinery and workstations. The guard, upon seeing him, saluted and opened the door for him before Jim had a chance to come to even come to a stop.

He appreciated the expediency. He wanted to see him. Surely after being kept in confinement he'd say something this time around.

"Seems you're holding up in solitary confinement well enough, not that I'd expect it to have any effect on you." He sat down in the chair, once again finding himself waiting for Spock to answer him. "But it doesn't mean you have to starve yourself to death. Serik might actually try to kill me if I let that happened."

Indeed, today wasn't any different than the last. Spock remained silent. At that, Jim lost his temper, jumping from his chair and closing in on him like a predator. "Do you still see yourself as a prince, Spock? Too good to talk to ne now that I know who you really are?" He sneered.

It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong! WRONG! Grabbing a fist full of black hair, he pulled Spock's hair, forcing the Vulcan's head to tilt up. "Look at me!"

Spock's eyes finally met with his, but they were no different than the first day. His brown eyes were just as cold and barren. Seeing that look, the anxiety in him intensified until his hands began to shake. Before he knew it, his fist had struck Spock.

Spock's head snapped to the side sharply from the impact, blood dripping from his mouth. Then he turned his head slowly, meeting Kirk's gaze again with that same look.

No.

Jim hit him again. Only to have the same result.

No. Get angry.

Jim gripped his hair pulling the Vulcan up to knee Spock in the stomach.

Get frustrated. Ask for forgiveness.

It didn't matter what. He needed some reaction. Anything. He didn't care if Spock hated him or cursed him. As long as it was something. As long as he didn't keep looking through him as if he didn't exist. He needed a reaction.

"Why won't you say something?!" He nearly screamed, striking him the last time. His hand had gone numb, his knuckles split and bleeding.

His breathing labored, Jim wiped the blood that had splattered onto his face with the back of his hand, turning away. What else could he do? Nothing was working.

"There is no logic in speaking when it will not bring forth results."

Jim twirled around at the sound of the Vulcan's voice, raspy from disuse.

"If you wished for me to speak, you should have asked."

Even through words, Jim couldn't read anything from Spock, and reality hit him like cold water, seeping into his bones and knocking the air out of his lungs.

"What do you wish for me to say?"

What did he want him to say?

Jim took a step back towards the door. Spock was still staring at him expectantly, waiting for instructions.

"Kirk?"

His mouth worked wordlessly unable to speak. So he did the only thing he could. He ran. He fled the room. He fled as fast as he could, dodging the questioning engineer waiting for him, shouldering past him in his haste.

His body wouldn't stop shaking. His hands burned. Every drop of green blood feeling like shackles. What do you wish for me to say? He knew exactly what he wanted Spock to say. Something Spock would never say to him. And that knowledge was suffocating him.

Feeling someone watching him, he looked around spotting Serik holding a bunch of PADDs eyeing him. He didn't know when, but at some point, Jim had left the engineering section of the ship and was now lingering near the door.

Scrapping together what was left of his dignity, he straightened himself and attempted to walk away as if he was okay. But he knew he wasn't. Not while Spock was still alive.

Serik watched the young captain walk away, not that he could call the young human that in his state. The human was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. His eyes tinged red and on the verge of tears. His face was conflicted with shifting emotions. Serik doubted even the human understood what he was feeling.

It seemed Sovik may have been onto something. That seemed irrelevant however. He hadn't missed the green blood on the captain's hands. Serik's eyes drifted to the door leading to engineering.