Hey all! I am sorry for the delay. My other story kicked off ass, making me doubt everything!

But here you go! The next chapter. Yes, there are memories in this one. You can tell because the time jump is signaled by _(O(O)O)_

Please let me know what you think.

Chapter 13:

Death

As soon as the door slid close behind Captain Kirk, it was like he was transported else where like a switch had been hit. It felt like the temperature rose by 100 degrees. Instant sweat. The hair on the back of neck rose, a chilling sensation rolling down his back, as moisture formed on the base of his spine, soaking the back of his black shirt. A sweaty hand painted every surface his hand touched. An icily feeling simmered deep in his stomach, and Jim was no fool. He knew what that meant: his body beginning to shut down. He excepted his fate when he entered the compartment. This was beginning of the radiation poison; he was going to die.

Jim wasn't a doctor in the least, having only his basic training from the academy, but he wasn't complete asleep when Bones was going off at the hip about the symptoms (Don't ask him why this was a topic. It just was.): loss of appetite, fatigue, fever, nausea, vomiting, possibly even seizures, coma and… death. Sure, he wasn't going to be eating any time soon, but those words echoed loudly in Jim's mind a few times, before he shoved those feelings, those fears, deep into his stomach. Now was not the time for those feelings. The Enterprise was dying, alone side the crew; he didn't have time for a pity fest. No amount of pity was going to change the future.

But his mind did wander during his massive tiring climb. They weren't joking when they said your life flashed before your eyes when your death was near.

_(O(O)O)_

"What are you doing?!" Came Pike's face was both irritated and slightly amused. Having just come back from the academy, he was still in uniform, though unbuttoned at the top.

A goofy smile plastered to his tan face, Jim looked up from the couch- Pike's couch-, his hand knuckle deep into a bowl of popcorn while wearing only in a pair of boxers. The bowl nearly dropped from his hand before catching it at the last second. "Oh, hey!" He greeted, his cheeks not even one hint of pink on his face.

Thick steam was practically pouring out of Pike's ears. "Oh, hey?!" His voice reached into the high tones. "Is that all you have to say?" he demanded as he dropped his bag on the kitchen counter. It smacked loudly against the marble countertop. "How the hell did you even get in here?" He paused, eyes going large. "...And where the hell are your clothes?!" Pike's face was beat red with anger. Turning away with a loud sigh, he slapped his hand across his eyes as if to will away Jim.

Jim, finally turning bright pink, puck a pillow off the couch and placed it on his lap. "What are you doing back so soon?" he asked, his voice creaking a bit.

"Really?! That's what you ask?" Pike turned back to Jim, his twitching. "Why I came back to own house?"

"Well…" His teeth were on show.

Pike didn't like the goofy smile. "You didn't bring anyone here, did you?!" he yelled as a realization came to him. "Cadet Kirk, I am a goddamn Captain, an advisor at the academy-"

The expression on Jim's swiftly changed, a pained look flashed before his eyes. "What?! No!" He protested loudly. He turned, his chest flat against the back of the couch. "I just needed a break from Bones. Needed some peace and quiet." Bouncing slightly, he motioned wildly to the PADDs, which littered the couch, and the holograms projecting off the coffee table. Each screen—both physical and hologram- had a different article on it. It was the best way Jim worked, switching subject ever so often as to not burn himself out.

"If you needed a break from Cadet McCoy, there're things call libraries you hide in not my home." Pike's tone was still heated, but it was slowly draining.

Jim's face crunched up, his right eye twitching. He wasn't a fan of libraries lately, because even there, it wasn't really quiet. (Or sometimes, it was too quiet.) The first few times he went, it had been peaceful, but considering he was James Kirk, the life of the party, he could hardly get a moment alone once people—ladies more specifically- learned he was there. He supposed had had no one to blame besides himself. At first, it was nice being the center of attention, but it got draining after a while. "This place is quieter."

There must've been something in his voice as the expression on Pike's face changed, softened. "How often do you break in?" But there was an add edge to his question.

"I don't break in… per se." Jim replied with a shrug of the shoulder. Pike's eye rose. "Only broke in the first time." he mumbled the last part under his breath.

Pike took a long look around his living room, narrowing his eyes at the mess. "How often had you been- No, I don't want to know." He started loudly, hand in the air, as his eyes dropped to study materials surrounding the man. His eyes lingered for a few seconds. "Put on some damn clothes."

"What?"

The Captain lets out a sigh. "People already think our relationship is odd. I don't need a naked Cadet on my couch."

"Not naked."

"Jim." Pike replied sternly.

Jim let out a single chuckle. "Geez," he mocked hurt. "You aren't even my type." That earned a dramatic eye roll from Pike. "What?!" he exclaimed, throwing up his arms in the air. Don't get Jim wrong, he enjoyed dick (though he loved boobs), but there was no way in hell he would ever think of Pike in that way. The very idea weirded the fuck out of Jim.

"Just get dressed." He paused. "I don't mind the study session, but I would appreciate you fully clothes."

"Fine," Jim sighed boisterously, as he pushed himself to his feet. He was wearing loose boxers—not the form fitting kind that left nothing to the imagination, but he was still a little gun shy around Pike. He held the pillow to his ass, shifting it every step as not to flash Pike. He doubted anyone would like that. With a goofy lopsided grin, Jim disappeared into the laundry room to receive his clothes. When Jim came back out, he was fully clothed in a pair of old worn blue jeans and holey gray shirt. No Judgement, he loved these clothes. They were comfortable and that was all that matters.

When he stepped back into the living room, a glimpse of surprised crossed his face when he noticed a lanky Vulcan starting at PADD. Judging by his uniform, he was a professor at the academy, which was weird in general. Vulcans didn't join Starfleet even though they were a part of the federation. Granted, it wasn't a complete surprise. The fact that there was one teaching at Starfleet spread like wildfire and everyone knew of him. Few of the girls Jim had been with had gushed about him—a fact that annoyed him-, going on and on about the 'hot' Professor. Jim hadn't seen him before (having no interest in seeing), but staring at him now, he could see the allure, the sharp tones of the Vulcan's face.

Jim could admit there was an appeal to them. A mystery to them. Even as Allies, they kept to themselves, keeping their secrets. This anonymity was attractive. There were a few times Jim was tempted to test the waters with a few of them, but any attempt ended as soon as it started. He had no interest in being talked down to just for a roll in the sack. Besides, they didn't seem like the type for a one-night stand, which was all Jim was up for. He had no interest in anything else. Plus, Jim didn't know what Vulcans' sexual preferences were, but he doubted humans made the cut…. Though, they weren't really sexual to begin. Could an entire race be asexual?

They would have to have sex at some point, right? Sex was vital to life. So, they had to reproduce somehow… Well, Jim supposed Vulcans could find a way around having sex. They would simply take the fun right out of it. Jim could see it: all work and no play…. God, why was he putting so much thought into a Vulcan's sex life, or rather, a lack of a sex life. He was just curious, a curious guy. There was nothing wrong with that.

However, he wasn't liking the fact that the Vulcan's grubby hands were on his report: the pros and cons of beaming. It wasn't his best work, but also it wasn't completed just yet. Jim didn't like the Vulcan reading his unfinished work, and why the hell would read in anyhow? "Can I help you?" Jim asked, a small bit behind his words.

The Vulcan glanced at him, his expression neutral. "Your agreement is faulty. Relaying on-"

The words were lost on Jim after that, but he knew these words, knew that patronizing tone. First from Frank, a man who enjoyed knocking him down. Second his mother, who thought he was naïve and stupid. Third, well, everyone after that. The list went on and on. The point was he had had enough about being talked down to, especially by some Vulcan. Professor or no professor. "I wasn't asking for an opinion." He snapped after a few minutes of chatter.

Vulcan cocked his head to the side and just stared. "I did not mean to cause insult. Your logic was-"

"I wasn't asking for your opinion," Jim hissed again. This was why hooking up with a Vulcan was a bad idea. All logic and no fun.

Before the Professor could reply, Pike stepped back into the room, his present silencing the both of them. "What is going on here?" His eyes bounced between the two, narrowing with every glance.

Jim crossed to the Vulcan Professor and yanked the PADD from his long pale thin hands. "Nothing." Jim barely recalled the words that followed as he was too busy staring. Granted, he did recall the Vulcan—Professor Spock—had complained about Captain Pike and his relationship, stating it was inappropriate for a Cadet to be in a Professor's home. Even after Pike had tried to wave him off, Spock iterated the number of regulations that prohibited this, stating each word by word. Jim attempted to ignore the man, especially after a few eyerolls from Pike, but he ended up having to leave the room in order to control himself.

If Jim hadn't already put Vulcans squarely in the no column, this conversion would have placed Vulcans in the hell no column. Who in the hell wanted to put up with this 24/7?

_(O(O)O)_

If Jim's throat didn't burn, he probably would've laughed when that memory, considering the number of times that Spock had taken him to bed. Sure, they didn't work out, but it was funny as hell that he and Spock got together. He couldn't help but wonder what his past self would've said knowing Spock and he had rolled in the sack quite a few times leaving him totally exhausted. Granted, his past self would bark at the idea of being in a stable long-term relationship. Sex was all that past Jim needed in the day. However, if he had just suck at sex, he would've been saved so much heartache and pain.

A violent cough erupted from Jim's chapped lips as his version blurred for a bleak second. He had only started the climb a few minutes ago, but he was already feeling the effects of the deadly radiation. Panic once more started to make its way up his spine. Sweat may be pouring down his face and back, but the idea of not making it spent harsh chills down his spines. His crew's faces flashed before his eyes, giving a renewed strength and pushing him forward. He refused to let them die, not like this. Not because of him. Jim pushed down the panic once more, locking it up behind a wall.

With a new found urgency, Jim reached up to a long thin metal hand hold. The sweat on his hands sizzled as it made contact. "Shit," he hissed, as his hand slipped. His long sleeves didn't save him from banging up his arm, his skin breaking. Cold blood drizzled down his arm. "Fuck." Pain pulsing up his arm, he reached back up. This time he prepared himself for the burning sensation and kept his grip. Even with the ship whipping back and forth, Jim wasn't letting ago. He wasn't going to let his friends down. Yes, friends.

_(O(O)O)_

"I von!" Chekov yelled, hopping to his feet and doing a victory dance.

Leaning back, Jim let out a heavy sigh as he calmly tossed his cards on the table. He rolled his eyes softly, a grin forming on his face. He may have lost the game, but how could he be mad at seeing that smile on the young Russian face? "How many times does that make?" he asked.

Sulu groaned loudly, throwing his cards onto the table. "No way, no fucken way!" he hissed, no real bit to his words. "You're cheating!" He pointed his finger at Chekov.

McCoy's hearty laugh echoed across the small observation deck, one that was rarely used by the crew. It was perfect get away spot for these games. Usually, it was the five of them with Uhura and Christine joining a few of them. Scotty was a regular but was currently running late. Spock just stared blankly whenever Jim invited—at the displeasure of everyone (besides sweet Chekov). "Or maybe, we are just insane for continuing to play against the kid."

"Not a kid," Chekov pouted, his bottom lip popped out.

Jim smiled as he brought his drink to his lips. He basked in the cold chill that filled his chest. "Nope, not a kid," he spoke, titling the glass toward the young ensign.

A loud snort cut through the air. "I don't know if you're the best person to judge," Bones chuckled into his glass as Sulu reached for all the cards.

"Hey!" Jim protested, his hand going against his chest in a mockery of pain. "I'm your Captain." Bones snorted. "That's it. The brig for you."

"O' really? How uncaptain of you," Bones replied, drily. Sulu snickered.

"Don't vorry, McCoy," Chekov cheered, as he collected his winnings—not that they were paying with money. After the first few games night, Jim had stopped the usage of credit, deciding it wasn't the best idea to use actual money. Money made people cranky. "Commander Spock vould let you out."

Sulu was the first one to laugh, McCoy following. They both shared a look, which did not go unnoticed by Jim. "What the hell is that look?"

Chekov looked as confused as Jim; however, before either of those two could speak, the door to the observation slid open and Scotty came bouncing in. With a ridiculous smile on his face, he juggled a few bottles of whiskey in each hand and a bag of his favorite chips. Scotty paused, his eyes dancing between them. "What I miss?" he asked.

"Oh, Chekov thinks Commander Spock will let McCoy out if the Captain puts them there." Sulu answered. "He's so naïve. It's adorable."

"I am not!" Chekov pouted.

Scotty's eyes go large for a second before he too let out a chuckle. "Oh, boy. Is he old enough for the talk?" he asked, making his way to the round table.

His eyes narrowed, Jim gave each of his crew a hard look. Chekov might've been in the dark, but he was also in the dark and he was the Captain, Damn it. "Anyone want to fill me in?"

Sulu let out a howl. "Nope. It's funnier this way."

A wounded groan escaped from Jim's lips. "I am your Captain, you know."

Bones shook his head as he leaned back into his chair. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it."

Jim wanted to reply, annoyed at the comment, but he wasn't going to get an answer from these fools, especially Sulu and Bones. Those two were dogs with a bone, not willing to keep up their secrets. He would have to let them work off whatever energy or dumb idea they had. Besides, he would rather play poker and win some of Scotty's famous whiskey. "You know what you're going to be eating our words." Several snorts sounded off around the table, even Chekov. "This is war."

"Not a chance!" The Russian replied with a high pinched laugh.

Settling in his chair, Scotty shook his head. "Your streak is over!"

This eventually turned into a playful shouting match. Jim leaned back and watched, a smile glued to his face. Their comment about Spock still haunted Jim, unsure what the hell they all meant by it, but watching his crew make playful jesters toward each other while enjoying themselves was everything. God, he loved his crew. Being a young Captain, he was plagued with nightmares and filled with this overwhelming fear that he would screw it up and hurt his crew. However, seeing this relaxed Jim to no end. Having a crew that supported him meant everything to him.

It warmed his soul.

_(O(O)O)_

Jim would let out a chuckle if his throat didn't burn from the radiation and his chest wasn't on fire. It fucken hurt to breathe, his lungs on fire. It took everything in Jim to keep holding on, but yet, he would kick himself if he could. He wasn't sure why or what he was feeling; his emotions were a wild mess. However, the idea that at one point his crew, the Enterprise, was everything, and now, it broke him in ways that he couldn't begin to understand. Jim would always be broken from those last few months on the ship. Yet, something in him yearned for closeness.

His current crew and he were close, him ripping down the barriers between Captain and crew, but there was no denying there was a line drawn between them. Jim may have a smile on his face, but it was different. Scotty and Bones would always frown when they spotted the smile, while Jim would pretend that he didn't see it. This wasn't to say he wasn't happy on the Providence because he was. He just missed the poker games, the cards games hidden deep within the ship. He missed being goofy with his team. He missed not being scared to open himself up. He missed it all.

Jim didn't know why he could admit it now. Maybe, it was because he knew he dead and there would be no consequences if he admitted it. No lasting effects. He wouldn't have to deal with his emotions. Wouldn't have to deal with the fact that he missed his old crew. Wouldn't have to deal with the fact that he wanted something impossible. That would break him, and no amount sessions with Dr. Jones was going to fix him.

More black spots danced across his vision, this time in a pattern, as Jim reached the core. Jim paused both in an attempt to take in the problem and to catch his breath. His heart pounded against his ribs, as he struggled to catch his breath, not that he would ever catch his breath. He wobbled on his feet, his eyes glued to the misaligned core. He stared, time unknown, as he tried to formulate a plan. Nothing came to him and anger roared up inside of him. Why the hell couldn't he think? What the hell was wrong with him?

Oh, wait… He was dying.

How could he forget that?

Spock wouldn't have forgotten that fact. Well, he wouldn't be taking this long to come up with a plan. Spock would've solved this shit already. He would've saved the ship without dying.

"Stop it," he hissed at himself. A copper taste flooded his mouth, his lips cracked. He wobbled a bit, his heart moving a million miles per second. His eyes threated to close as if his body was protesting against him. "I can't let him die." He mumbled under his breath. The pronoun escaped his broken lips before he knew he said it. He wasn't even sure why. He meant to say them. He meant to say his crew. Yet, Spock was there. Why? Why? Why couldn't he get this man out of his head? Why was he letting his man back into his heart?

Goddamnit, this was why he ran from Spock. Try as he might, he couldn't build a strong enough wall against the Vulcan. The Vulcan that pierced every single one of his defenses. Space was the only thing keeping the wall intact and now it was all falling apart. His body, his soul, was crying out to this man, wanting to relive those happy times. Granted, at the same time, his heart—terrified- was crying, unable to take another failure. Another heartbreak. He wouldn't be able to take it. He wouldn't be fixable if it failed again.

Shit.

That scared the crap out of Jim: the idea that you were so wrapped up into someone else that you didn't know where they started, and you ended. The idea that you couldn't be happy without that person torn at him, creating cuts in parts that Jim didn't think was possible.

Shit.

This was why Jim didn't want to think about Spock. This was why he refused to speak to the Vulcan. This was why he slammed that door. This was why he forced his eyes forward. Looking back would only hurt and confuse him. Dr. Jones would say he was avoiding, but Jim was trying to save himself.

Yet, there was no reason to worry now. No need to unpack the shit show that he was feeling. No need to think about Spock or anyone else. Jim was minutes from death, and there was no after. No need to think or worry about what comes after. After this was peace. With peace on the horizon, Jim belt his knees—pain rocketing—and jumped. His hands firmly wrapped around a metal wiring, he kicked at the core. He would not stop until it was aligned.

_(O(O)O)_

Jim shook his head in disbelief as Spock lay down his hand. Normally, the two of them stick to chess, where the matches could go either way. Jim loved to see the twitch in Spock's eye when he lost. Spock lost in his thought was a sight to see, especially when Jim beat him. It was always fascinating to see Spock's brain work, as the Vulcan tried to figure how Jim, the man with no plan, won. For Jim, that was the best part. As odd as it sounded, he loved that big brain of Spock's. The Vulcan may annoy the shit out of him, but he wouldn't want any other First Officer and friend.

However, poker was a different game. A different beast. Spock had repeatedly refused to play with the group, calling the game nonsensible; yet, he had agreed to play when it was just the two of them. Jim wasn't sure why his First Officer had agreed to play with him, but after this—whatever, this was-, he was forever grateful that Spock had turned down game night with them. Sure, Spock would wipe the smile off Chekov, but there went the chance of anyone else winning. That was no fun. How the hell could Spock be this good at poker?

"Counting card, Mr. Spock? That's cheating!"

Spock gave Jim one of his signature eyebrow lift. "While the traditionally counting cards is frown around in most gambling establishment, it is not considered illicit." His eye brow lowered with a 'tsh'. "Nevertheless, I am not counting cards per se. I am simply observing the cards being played and making determinations off them."

Jim groaned loudly, silently asking why Spock was his First Officer. In his opinion, Spock enjoyed 'fighting' with him, enjoyed frustrating Jim to no end. Jim questioned his choice in First Officer on more than on occasion, but in the end, he would not change a thing, relishing the lighthearted banter as well. Plus, Spock was everything that Jim needed in a First Officer and Partner. He pushed when needed. He stood by his side no matter what, even when Jim made an ass out of himself. Without no doubt in his mind, Spock had his back, which was why Jim would fight to the death to keep him.

"Really, Spock?" He exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "That's counting cards!"

"I disagree."

"Spock."

The Vulcan gave him long look, a playful challenge in his eyes. "I do not see your logic here, Jim."

Jim leaned back and stared, a hint of a smile on his face. Spock was never 'playful' – if you can call it that—in front of the crew. It was a slight change visible only in private with him. The average joe may not see the change, but Jim did and it brough a smile to his face every time, just like the sound of his first name rolling off Spock's lips. That was a battle well fought. "Of course, you don't."

"I am not actively counting cards, Captain. I am simply aware of the cards played and keep track of them."

Jim groaned. "Semantics!"

"Therefore, you conclude I am correct?"

A loud snort echoed across Jim's Captain quarters. "Nice try, Spock."

Spock cocked his head to the side. "I am afraid that I do not understand what you mean by nice try. I do believe my point is clear."

A loud rumble escaped Jim lips. The laugh shook his entire body, feeling it in his toes. It was an odd sensation. "You're cute when you think you're right." A green tint flashed across Spock's face, unnoticed by the Captain. "But key word: Think."

"I do not think, Captain. I know."

Jim brought his glass to his lips, tipping the cold liquid into his mouth. It was refreshing, bubbling a chill through him. Granted, it was fighting the warmth in his stomach from whenever he was with Spock. "I think we need to work on that ego of yours."

That famous eye brow of Spock went up. "It is not me, Sir, but you." This conversion went back and forth for the next few minutes, each going back and forth on who was right. Jim kept expecting Spock to declare this conversion as illogical—because let's face it, it was—but the Vulcan never did. Instead, the sensible First Officer played along, almost a like he enjoyed it as much as Jim. If Jim put much thought into it, he would've noted the oddness of this, the weirdness of it, but he did not. He just enjoyed spending time with his First Officer, even if they fought like an old married couple.

_(O(O)O)_

Captain Kirk's arms were numb as he continued to kick at the core. His legs were tinkling (almost to the point of pain), a harsh shock gushing through him with every contact. His body was screaming at him to stop, exhaustion hitting him like a fully loaded truck, but he couldn't. Not now. His crew needed him. His family needed.

Scotty deserved a ship and a screw of his own.

Kick.

Chekov deserved a future and what his cute little heart wanted.

Kick.

Bones deserved to see his daughter grow and have grandkids

Kick.

Saavik deserved…Well, she deserved whatever her little Vulcan heart wanted. Either it be three Vulcan babies or a Captain of a Science ship.

Kick

And the Enterprise crew? As much as they pained Jim, they deserved to be happy. Uhura deserved a future. Sulu deserved to see his husband again. All of the of the crew deserve to go home to their family.

Kick

And Spock?

Kick.

Fucken Spock.

Kick

There was so much there to unpacked there, and Jim didn't even know here to begin or even what he wanted. Okay, he knew what he wanted: his crew to live, but with Spock, he didn't know. However, he was dying and there was no time to figure that out.

Did he want to figure it out?

Kick

Did he want to go back? Was it simply nostalgia? Just wishing for something he could never have? Again, why did this matter? Why the hell was he wasting his fucken time on this? He was going to die. He was a dead man walking.

A fury filled him, fueling his kick. It would have made a horse proud. The core snapped in place and a bright glow erupted from the core, surge of unforgiving power. Jim's bruised sweaty body covered in boils was thrown back like he had angered the gods. He was slammed hard against the wall, his vision fading and tumbled to the ground, banging on every coil and tubing on the way down. An exhaustion that he was not felt in years hit him, and there was no fighting it. Jim was out.

_(O(O)O)_

A layer of sweat lined Jim's body, while his heart thumped in his chest. His muscles twitched. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought he ran a few miles in the heat. He couldn't catch his breath for a few long minutes. If it weren't for the warm body next to him, he would've thought he was dead. He was thoroughly exhausted and totally satisfied in every way. Jim could die right now and he would be in heaven. A smile would forever be glued to his face. "I don't know what I was worried about."

With a thin sheet covering the both of them, Spock rolled to his side. They were both naked, basking in the afterglow of a few round of rough and passionate sex. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. I only wished you would have spoken up about sooner about your concerns."

Jim didn't answer right away, mesmerized by the new expression on Spock's face. The Vulcan would never be as open as a human when it came to emotions, but that did not mean he didn't feel just as strongly. You just had to learn to read them. The expression currently on Vulcan's was something new and exciting and Jim just couldn't look away. It was amazing how your entire expression could change by the smallest change in your facial muscles. Jim could stare for hours.

"You're amazing." His voice softer than he expected. It was a battle to stay focus. Sex was the best way to fall asleep.

"I believe it is you that is amazing, Jim." Spock replied, reaching down for Jim's hand.

Instead of bringing his hand to lips like Jim expected, Spock slowly run his fingers up and down. He was as gentle as a butterfly walking across a petal of a flower. Yet, it felt like… Wait, Jim didn't have a good description of how it felt. It felt good. It felt amazing, but it was more than that. Jim was aware how important hands were for Vulcans and why, but he would admit that he didn't under the extent of what it meant. This was more than just fingering. "Are we going to have a who is amazing-er fight?" he breathed out, finally catching his breath.

"That is not a word, Captain."

Jim stuck his tongue out, his smile taking up half his face. "I am the Captain." Spock's hand moved from Jim's hand, his fingertips gently tracing the muscles up his arm. Each touch sent a tingle though him. Again, he didn't know how to describe the feeling shooting up his arm, but he could admit it was a bit addicting. "I can do what I please."

Spock stared at Jim, his eyes soft. "Within reason."

"I do what I want," he replied with a cheery smile.

Leaning forward, Spock placed a gentle kiss to Jim's forehead. "Taluhk nash-veh k'dular."

Jim squirmed under the cool lips. He had never liked when people spoke in foreign togue around him, always worried what they were speaking about him. What did that say about him? Yet, this wasn't that. More so, he wanted to know what Spock was saying. Spock wasn't the type to talk behind someone's back, stating it to your face in a neutral expression. Jim had no idea what his First Officer was saying, but his tone told Jim all he needed to know. There was so much love behind those word that he could make a guess: a statement made of love. Jim just wanted to know what it meant. Granted, it probably went much deeper than words. "Right back at you." he spoke softly, his exhausting finally catching up with him. His eyelids started to drift.

Spock didn't respond, instead pulling Jim in closer.

"Bolau tu shom."

Jim's eyes popped open for a second before closing and resting his head against Spock's chest. "What?" he mumbled.

"You need to rest." He replied in Standard.

"Not my fault you're a beast in bed." Jim had had some rough and exhausting rounds in bed, his entire body ached. However, this was something different. Yes, he ached but this was on a whole other level. A good way. He would probably be feeling this for a while, and he had no issue with that.

Spock nodded with a soft hummed. "I quite relished our first time as well."

The Vulcan's heartbeat wasn't where human heart was, and Jim missed the sound of a heartbeat under his ear. At first, it was unnerved Jim, but with a hand to Spock's side, he could feel his heart and that settled Jim. "Sorry, it took so long," he closed his eye, burying himself into Spock.

"No need to apologize, Ashayam," he replied softly.

The words 'this was too soon' were chanting in his head. All of these feelings bubbling deep within him and it scared the hell out of him. Yet, he wanted to shout the three little word forming in his head, but it was too soon. However, that fear and worried were lost as Jim feel asleep in Spock's chest.

_(O(O)O)_

The ship was spinning when Jim came too, and the first thing Jim did was puck. He rolled to the side and promptly emptied his stomach. The last thing that he remembered eating was the burrito that Saavik had brought him. Even if Jim had the brain power, he wouldn't be able to you how many hours had passed since then. He couldn't tell you shit right now. His brain was protesting any form of a thought. All he knew was that his stomach hated him. He heaved again, stomach acid and blood pouring onto the ground.

That wasn't the only blood coming from the Captain. When he was blasted, he tumbled down and hit his head several times—the amount of times unknown to Jim. All he knew was that his once golden hair was red, blood caked into his scalp. There was able a deep slice across his cheek with a steady flow of blood. His vision was also not faring well, black spots were throughout his sight. Nasty abscesses begun to form on his skin. If this was any other day, Jim might have been worried. He might have been worried that he wasn't worried.

But he wasn't.

Jim wasn't worried in the least.

In some weird twist of fate, he welcomed it.

No, get up!

He pushed those thoughts back.

Get up! Get up!

"But I'm dead." He mumbled to himself.

Don't give up here.

Jim had no idea why he listed or why he even tried. He was fucken dead. Nothing was ever going to change that. Yet, the Captain in him roared. "Scotty is going to kill me," he uttered, his voice hoarse. Eyes bloodshot, he eyed the bloody bile. "Can't kill me if I'm dead." Dead on his feet and shallow breaths, Jim turned from it and headed toward the door. Even with the wall for the support, he was barely able to keep upright.

His shoulder banged hard against the wall just short of the first door as his head bubbled. He paused for a second, in a failed attempt to catch his breath. His lungs were on fire, pain flashing deep within him. He almost blacked, and it was only the faces of his crew that kept him going. He wasn't going to live, and he knew that, but he wanted to see a friendly face before he died. Scotty may hate him for it, but god, he was going to be selfish on the last day living. He didn't want to die alone.

God, he didn't want to die alone.

Please don't let me die alone.

Jim made it through only a few steps into the decontamination chamber before something caught his eyes, his darkening version. Everything that was still live in him—which wasn't much- died the second he laid his eyes on Scotty and… Spock. There was something there just beneath the skin, something broken and angry at the same time. It broke something deep inside of Jim.

He didn't want to die in front of Spock. Didn't want to destroy Spock.

*O*O*

"Commander, power online." Saavik called out.

"Mister Spock, altitude stabilizing." Sulu announced as his station lit up like a Christmas Tree.

"It's a miracle." An officer—Darwin if Spock turned to look- uttered.

There was a roar of soft murmurs in the background. Normally, Spock would hush them, quieting the bridge in a single word. Admiral Pike would in turn shush him, stating this was natural for humans to behave in such a way. It was quite unprofessional in Spock's mind. Yet, he didn't have the urge to do so now. The gears in his head were spinning as his mind went into rocket fire. The warp drive had gone offline due damage. It wouldn't just come back online. Something must've happened.

Spock distaste the sensations bubbling in his lower body. It was a hot fire. Too human. Too overwhelming. The Captain would smile and say 'It's your gut telling to tell you something.' Spock would raise an eyebrow and object stating, 'Your gut cannot speak. If you are hearing imaginary words, you need to see Doctor McCoy at once.' Jim would roll his eyes and wave him off. Well, Jim said those things when he was his Captain; now, they were just a memory. Regardless, Spock never understood what Jim meant until now, he could not shake this nerviness. "There are no such things," He replied, undoing his seat belt.

"Engineering to bridge." Scotty's voice rang over the comm, cutting through the murmurs. "Mister Spock!" His voice louder after a few seconds of silent.

Pressing a button on the Captain's chair, "Mister Scott." The feeling in his gut turning to dread. Pain racked his body, his heart pounding. What was wrong with him?

"…Sir." Scotty paused, his breath heavy. "You'd better get down here. Better hurry."

Though he may discount it and call it illogical, Spock's heart broke, his mind going straight to the worse case. Jim was dead.

*O*O*

Spock must've looked like a bat flying out of hell as he ran through the corridors to engineering. However, he couldn't find it in him to care. Something happened, his katra was screaming. Screaming. When his mother died, there was a similar snap, a similar contorted pain to his katra, but this was much worse. It felt like someone had repeatedly stabbed him in the heart and twisted. He may not share a bond with Jim, but he would always feel Jim, always have a connection with the Captain. And something was wrong with it.

The crew parted like the red sea, even jumping out of the way. Though they had survived from certain death, it didn't stop the wild, bewildered look from them. For the first time, this was the first time that most of the crew were seeing the mask slip from their Commander's face.

Thoughts of Jim flooded him, smiles that he had once had and now longed for. Memories that still heated his blood filled him. Jim was always beautiful, but he was breathtaking after a round of intercourse. He had a certain glow to him after he was thoroughly fucked. He could stare at Jim forever in this state. God, he had missed that sight in the early mornings, seeing Jim when he first opened his eyes. He missed Jim looking over his shoulder at him throughout their shift together. He missed playing chess and being challenged. He missed being embraced totally. No matter how illogical it was, he missed being emotionally compromised by Jim.

While he realized he might—his hope regenerated over recent events- have lost Jim forever, it didn't stop the yearning. It didn't stop his heart from shattering as this overwhelming dread ate away at him. Spock had never been good at identifying what he was feeling or the cause of these feelings. Yet, this time, it was screaming at him and it stole his very breath.

*O*O*

"Open it." Spock demanded, his eyes glued to Jim. His worse fears were coming realizations right in front of him.

Commander Scott unknowingly took a step back, shook by the sheer anger in the Vulcan's face. "The decontamination process is not complete." Spock nailed Scotty with a sharp cold look. "You'd flood the whole compartment. The door's locked, sir." His voice cracked at the end, volume going up a bit.

Even though the door, Jim's groan could be heard as he made his way over. "H-how's ou-the ship?" he breathed out, as he hit the intercom—turning it on. "Spock." He uttered again, unable to hold himself up. In an uncontrolled stop, Jim dropped to the ground. A blood smear lined the glass from where his hand touched the glass.

Spock's eyes scanned every inch of his former lover's body. There wasn't an ounce of dry skin on Jim's body. Between bloody and sweat, the man was glinted. His once golden hair was mud brown, colored by the blood. Puke lined the front of Jim's shirt and boils spread across his body. The sight of Jim took Spock to the core. "Out of danger. You saved the crew." He answered, hesitating only slightly.

Kirk let out a loud cough, his voice cracking. "You used what he wanted against him. That's a nice move."

"It is what you would have done." Spock replied softly, pressing his self against the glass. The glass wasn't going to disappear no matter how much the Vulcan wished it. It went against everything that he was taught growing up, but he was wishing- praying for this glass to disappear. No amount of meditating or begging was to save Jim's life.

Jim's blue eyes didn't hold that glow that he was known for. He just looked hollow, an empty shell. It broke hearts everywhere. "And this, this is w-what you would've done." His voice strained. "I-t was only logical." Another pained cough erupted from his chipped lips.

The Captain fell silent, causing Spock's heart to filter. "Jim."

"I'm…sorry."

"For what?" Jim's eyes closed for a second—freaking out Spock even more. "Jim!" He caused, his voice unnerving even him. Spock had once given up on regaining Jim's trust and winning (not that Jim was an object) him back. That had wounded him greatly, but he continued to live. Yet, his insides were tearing up at the sight of Jim. His chest ached as tears started to form in the corner of his eyes.

Jim's tired eyes shifted past Spock to a few dark figures behind the Vulcan. Spock didn't follow Jim's eyes, keeping his focus solely on his former lover. "I-I need you to live S-Spock." His voice was so soft that it was barely words, almost whispers lost to the recycle air.

"Captain," Spock replied as sternly as he could.

Jim's eyes closed, his head leaning back and hitting the wall behind him hard. "I w-want you to…know why I couldn't let S-Starfleet p-penalize you. Why I went… back for you." His breathing was labored and shallowed, his chest sluggishly moving. Several wet icky coughs spewed from the back of his throat.

Spock slammed on the glass as blood leaked from his month. He slapped it once more when a big shudder ran through Jim's stilling body.

"Commander!" Scotty called from behind him, drawing Spock's attention for a spilt second. Scotty, tears heavy in the eyes, was just as broken as the Vulcan. His hands were fiddling with a PADD, the screen flickering off and on.

With a deep breath, Spock removed his hand from the plexiglass. It wouldn't have been effortless to break through the door as it was design to withstand core flareups, but he could find a way… or so he told himself. In reality, he would not toss aside the sacrifice that Jim had done. He would not allow danger to befall the crew. "Out of duty for your Former lover." He replied, softly to Jim. Before he had been hopeful for a future for Jim, but it was ripped away. He could no longer allow himself to think of that possibility anymore.

Jim's eyes popped open. "I….I used to think so, b-but…" he paused, taking another shallow breath. "But… I w-will always l-love…" He drifted again, head bobbing painfully. "You," he added again after a few long moments. "Love you." These words painfully resaid, each filled with emotions.

"As I will you." Spock replied. It was a battle not to say or to react to hearing those words from his T'hy'la. His left hand balled at his side as he resisted the urge to rip the door off. Here Jim was speaking the words Spock never expected to hear again. His katra, which hadn't stop since the bridge, ached inside of him, screaming out in protest. Stop this, he ordered himself. He had to be strong for Jim, a man with a bigger heart than he realized.

"I'm s-scared, Spock. H-help me not be. H-how do you…. choose not to f-feel?" Once more Jim's focus was not on him, his gaze over his shoulder.

Commander Scott was no longer alone, but Spock didn't look away to see who. "I do not know. Right now, I am failing." Every shield, every wall. Every teaching had vanished, and he was left feeling very much human, a human that was cut opened and bleeding. There was no coming back from this. Spock in a way would die with James T. Kirk.

A small smile appeared on Jim's face as he, using the last of his strength, reach up and placed his hand against the door. Without hesitation, Spock puts his Vulcan salute over it, his eyes staring at Jim's fingers as if he could will the glass away and touch them. Jim, lethargically, moves his fingers to match, and meeting Spock's eyes for one last time, Jim's hand suddenly dropped, and the life disappeared from him.

Like magic, everything just stopped. Spock's hand dropped, and an anger that he had never felt before took over. "Khan!" he roared, as every sense of logic that he had disappeared. He was going to kill Khan. He was going to rip him limb from limb, even he had to die trying. He was going to make sure Khan knew real pain and he wasn't going to take another breath.

Khan was dead.

the end for now:

An emotional Spock is always hard for me to write LOL, but I hope i did the ending somewhat Justice.

I would like to mention that Spock isn't in all of his memories because I wanted to spread out of the love. And these memories aren't the most important points in Jim's life, but it isn't always the important parts that bring our happiness. Sometimes it is the little things. It is the unimportant memories that we remember.

Until next time!