Woohoo next chapters! Warnings for these three included established in the first, sorta established in the second, and pre!relationship in the third. There's really nothing else bad in these three, at least, nothing I need to warn you about. I hope you guys enjoy these three as well!

69

Written

expressed in writing

Throughout his years of traveling and moving through space and over planets, James T. Kirk found that it was easier to travel light. He didn't keep much with him in the way of personal possessions, it was just simpler to not own that much. It certainly made moving easier.

His quarters were rather sparse when he was onboard the Enterprise. There were a few holos scattered around, several antique books that Jim periodically paged through, his fingers gentle and tender against the worn paper, and one thing that only Spock had seen; a worn, faded stuffed toy resting behind those books. But even with those few things and memories around his room, there was one that he made sure to keep with him no matter where he went.

It wasn't something that he got early on in life. Most of the things that were on the Enterprise were things that he had had with him since before his Academy days. This particular item didn't come into his possession until his fourth year of duty on the five year mission of deep space exploration.

To any other person, it wouldn't be particularly important, though it would be interesting. It's not something that was seen often these days, as it had mostly gone out of style once PADDs had been introduced.

It was simply an envelope.

A worn, feathered sort of envelope, the paper thick enough to be called parchment, yellowed with age. There was no writing on the outside of the paper, which was soft and gently creased from being handled with tender hands. The flap had been sliced open, though the sharp edges of the paper had long since softened beyond newness. The edges were torn slightly from being opened so often, though it was taken care of.

Inside that envelope was a single sheet of paper, made of the same parchment sort of paper, and also in much the same state as the envelope. The folds in the paper were worn from bending, and the edges were dog-eared and lightly torn. Light fingerprints brushed the paper, and there were a few drops, darker parts of the paper that showed where tears had been dropped on the yellowed paper. And the ink flowed across the page, sweeping through the words that spilled across the parchment.

Even though it seemed to be such an insignificant thing in Jim's small collection of possessions, compared to the ancient books he owned, but it was the most important thing by far.

Jim treasured this item more than anything he had ever owned, and he would never part from it.

It was a letter from Spock.

Early on in their tour in space, as well as their relationship, Spock and Jim had decided that they would leave some sort of a message for the other one in the event that they were killed in action. Jim had put his off, as he usually did, but it wasn't long before Spock sat him down and made him do it.

He had ended up recording a simple message, telling his bondmate that he needed to be strong and keep the ship going no matter what, the typical Captain to First Officer speech. The message had ended, however, with a soft, gentle declaration of how much Jim loved the Vulcan, and that he wished that he would continue on, and just remember the good time that they had together.

Although he had never known what Spock had done in return, he hadn't asked. He had wanted to know what it was, and never wanted to experience it. Unfortunately, he was forced to not long before the beginning of their fifth year in space.

Spock was presumed killed in action during a fight on a warring planet. The party had been separated during an explosion, and they had been unable to find Spock afterwards. Searching had yielded nothing, and Jim had been forced to find Spock's last farewell, sitting quietly in their shared quarters.

He had been surprised to find the yellowed envelope in the safe, completely unmarked and resting beneath the tape the Jim's was recorded on. His hands had been shaking as he lifted the paper, blue eyes wet as he went to their bed, sitting down and staring at the paper for a long moment.

Jim had read the paper, and tears had flowed freely down his cheeks, dripping onto the paper before he could move it out of the way. Sniffling, he wiped at the tears, a faint smile on his lips even as he shakily folded the parchment away and put it back into the envelope.

Remarkably Spock had been found, heavily burned and suffering from blood-loss, but after three days of searching he had been discovered in a camp nearly 23 miles from the explosion site. Jim's heart had nearly exploded from relief, and he had sequestered away the envelope, relishing in the relief that his bondmate was alive and well.

And even though he had never had serious occasion to read the paper again, he couldn't help looking at it often, remembering the grief that it had been opened to, and the relief that it had brought him subsequently. Jim knew that he would never get rid of the worn envelope, and he never had any cause to.

The simple written words had brought such relief to his aching heart, and he would keep it with him for the rest of his days.

"Never forget Jim, you were the best thing in my life. I once thought that entering Starfleet was my truest destiny, but I was sorely mistaken.

My one, true fate was to stand at your side, my t'hy'la, and I regret that I can no longer be with you. However, I know that you will continue, because you are stronger than anyone I have met, even myself.

Have faith, and we shall be together once more."

70

Dye

to color or stain; treat with a dye; color (cloth, hair, etc.) with a substance containing coloring matter

At first Spock had no idea how to react to what he found that morning on the bridge.

He had not expected anything different to occur there; after all, it had been the same bridge every day that he had been on the Enterprise so when he walked off the turbolift for his shift, he was momentarily still as his mind struggled to catch up with what he saw.

Jim turned in his chair, flashing a blinding smile at his soon-to-be bondmate. "Hey Spock."

"... Hello Captain."

Mirth sparkled in Jim's blue eyes, and he put a hand up to run it through his messy hair, that rogue smile still on his lips. Spock's eyes followed the movement, roving over that head of short hair.

Short black hair.

"What do you think?" Jim asks, tilting his head with the laughter still shining in his eyes.

Spock moved towards his station across the bridge, quietly observing the fact that the entire bridge was silent, and though they looked like they were attending to their duties, the crew was, in fact, listening intently to every word that passed between Captain and First Officer. Sighing mentally, the half-Vulcan responded to his mate, knowing that Jim would keep pestering him if he ignored the statement.

"It is an unexpected change."

Jim raised an eyebrow, swiveling his chair to follow Spock's path across the bridge. "That didn't answer my question, you know."

Spock raised his own eyebrow in return, briefly glancing towards the Captain's chair. "I am aware of that, Captain."

A lower lip was pushed out in a pout, but Spock merely raised the eyebrow a fraction higher, as though daring Jim to push it further. With a sigh the former blond let it go, although Spock could sense through their fledgling bond that Jim was not satisfied with that response, and he would ask again later.

Spock was content with that; he would prefer to discuss it in one of their rooms rather than in front of the bridge crew.

After all, it would not be proper for a Vulcan to express extreme displeasure in front of an audience.

71

Harm

physical injury or mental damage; hurt

It was easy to tell that Jim was angry with him.

Of course, Spock supposed that he had an unfair advantage; with his telepathy it was remarkably easy for him to sense strong emotions in enclosed spaces, even when he wasn't touching the one who was radiating them. Even so, the look on Jim's face spoke wonders to the fact that he was furious.

Although, Spock didn't much care that Jim was angry. He knew why, and because of that he felt no cause for concern. Jim was mad, but he wouldn't do much more than yell a bit and perhaps be a bit curt with him for a day or so.

Jim was angry because Spock had taken a shot meant for him.

Spock shifted where he was settled in sickbay, wincing mentally at the pull on the still tender area of his chest that had taken the hit. Doctor McCoy's expertise had healed it with no difficulty, and while the half-Vulcan had lost a lot of blood, he was in no more danger, only tired from the ordeal.

Across the room Jim was discussing something with McCoy, his eyes blazing and his body language giving off harsh anger through sharp movements and gestures. Spock watched idly, his brown eyes following the quick movements of Jim's hands and the jerky words of his body.

A moment later McCoy turned and left, walking into his office and closing the door. Jim stood and breathed steadily for a moment, as though trying to calm himself, and then turned towards Spock and stepped to the side of the bio-bed, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at the half-Vulcan. Spock stared back, calm and at ease with the situation.

"How are you feeling?" Jim finally asked, his voice restrained carefully and some of the anger in his eyes starting to smolder rather than burn.

"As always, the Doctor's methods are superb; I am fully healed and should be fit to return to duty in the morning." Spock responded, watching as Jim's eyes flickered down to the bandaged area of his chest and then back up to meet his gaze. Silence fell for a moment, and then Spock continued. "You should not be angry, Jim, there is no cause for it."

Jim scoffed. "Of course there's a cause. I didn't see that the natives were getting ready to panic and you shoved me out of the way of something that was meant for me. There's plenty of cause for anger."

Spock tilted his head slightly. "I do not see how my intercepting the blow causes you to be angry."

"I'm mad because you did that!" Jim retorted, his voice once again hard and angry. "There's no reason for you to be doing that! I would have been fine!"

"You could have been killed." Spock said sharply, cutting off any other statement that Jim might had begun. "It was logical for me to take the shot, as you would have been hit directly in the chest and most likely killed. A First Officer's job is to keep his Captain from harm..."

"Well you did a shitty job." Jim's voice was like a knife, slashing through what composure Spock held and making the half-Vulcan look up at his Captain, mildly startled. "Try harder next time."

Spock was at a loss for words for a moment, and then he managed to move forward. "You were injured, Jim?"

Jim sighed, raking a hand through his hair as the anger in him dulled and finally vanished behind a sort of weariness that Spock hadn't seen in some time from him. "No, Spock, I'm not hurt. You did good in that respect."

A tilt of the head was his answer. "I do not understand. What did you mean by I have done a 'shitty job?'"

Jim snorted at that, a smile on his face as he chuckled slightly. "Never thought I'd hear you use that sort of phrase."

"Jim, you are avoiding the question."

"Yea, I know..." Jim sighed, folding his arms over his chest again and meeting Spock's gaze with quiet, pensive eyes. The look in those blue orbs was something that Spock had never seen from him before, and it was a strange sort of emotion that the half-Vulcan had to strain to identify. Jim's gaze was soft and somehow more than friendly, though that tiredness still lingered beneath the blue.

Spock frowned faintly. "Jim..."

A waved hand stalled any further words. "Just... I know that you saved me from getting hurt physically, Spock. You're very good at that. However, seeing you hurt... that does almost as much harm as actual pain does."

Several moments passed as Spock struggled to absorb what Jim had just told him. He spoke hesitantly, watching for Jim's reaction. "Seeing me injured also does you harm?"

"Of course." Jim responded. "I care about you, Spock, and I hate seeing anyone injured on my account, especially you."

Spock paused again, and then he nodded. "Very well. I shall endeavor to avoid such a situation in the future."

Jim's weary smile returned, though there was a sparkle in his eyes once more. "Good. See that you do, Mr. Spock."

"Yes Captain."