Age 13

"They're the things we carry with us, the things that make us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. I don't want my pain taken away! I need my pain!" Jim Kirk, "The Final Frontier"

The sight of food made him sick. So did the smell of it.

Kind of funny, though not in a haha way. Two months ago he would have given anything for something edible. Anything edible. Now he just wished everyone would leave him alone already and stop freakin' hovering.

The only thing that made him more nauseous than the sight of food, was the way both his mom and Amanda walked around him like he was this fragile little thing made of glass about to break at any moment.

It was unbelievably annoying.

He wasn't a fucking baby.

He didn't even know why Amanda and Spock had bothered to come. Tarsus was over with, Jim was alive, and the whole experience was just one more thing to add to the long list of incidents in his life that sucked.

God, he must be the most unlucky son-of-a-bitch in the whole goddamned universe.

Seriously, there were 20th century melodramas that were less dramatic than his life. Did he walk around with a sign on his back saying 'bad karma, shit happens on a regular basis to this person, keep your distance lest you fall victim' or what?

"Jim, sweetheart, I made your favorite sweet bread… would you like a slice?" Amanda inquired.

Jim just shook his head. It didn't matter if a food was his favorite or not, it all tasted awful. Like sawdust, or gym socks, or the science experiments Sam let grow in his room.

He didn't really know why he should bother to eat and get healthy again… as soon as he did, something else would happen that would send him right back here, in a bed, two worried mothers looking over him, and the impassive eyes of an asshole bondmate whose posture said, without needing to voice it, 'you, human, are being entirely illogical.'

"Jim," his mom said, a little more firm, "you have to eat something. You can't stay hooked to an IV forever."

Right, like she had a say. She was the one who sent him to Tarsus to begin with. Thought the change of scenery would do him good. That was her story, anyway-what Winona didn't know was that Jim had totally spied on that ill-fated parent/teacher conference that had spurred the whole idea to begin with.

It was his life they were discussing, why shouldn't he listen?

"Jim is a bright boy. Too bright. I know you opted to keep him in his own grade, even though we suggested moving him forward, afraid that his peers wouldn't accept a child far younger than they are sharing the same classroom, but we feel this recent… activity, of his, is more than just him acting out for attention, as you surmised. We feel he is bored."

And that had been that. Tarsus it was, to stay with an aunt who worked from home and could monitor Jim better than his own mom could, since she was often gone and had divorced Frank after the car incident.

What utter bullshit.

There was a time when Jim had believed nothing could be worse than being bored in stupid, bumfuck Iowa… now he knew better.

But he would say this for Tarsus… he had not been bored. Far from it. So far from it he could laugh, if he didn't think that both his mother, and Amanda, would think him insane for it.

Spock, well, Jim was past the point of caring what Spock thought. Spock could kiss his little, scrawny, malnourished ass.

"Mother, Commander Kirk, if the two of you do not object, I would like a moment alone with my bondmate," Spock requested, out of nowhere, startling them all.

Jim eyed the half-Vulcan suspiciously. Spock wanted to be alone with him? Since when? Any time in the past few years that Jim had visited Vulcan, Spock had been polite, but distant. Jim had developed a theory that Spock was really a robot, one that his creator had forgotten to program a personality into. A robot just biding his time until he could efficiently conquer the universe.

Which Jim would have been totally on board with-the universe conquering part that is, not the no-personality part.

What Spock wanted with Jim now he could not imagine. But it was a little late, this stage in the game, for Spock to start actually acknowledging Jim's ass. He'd have to do some very convincing begging. And Jim didn't believe for a moment that he would. The day Spock begged would be the day pork chops and bacon went flying.

No, the Vulcan wanted something else.

But, whatever. He didn't really care one way or the other. He just hoped Spock didn't try to coddle him, too.

He'd gag then he'd throw up on the bastard. That was a promise.

When both of their mothers had left, Spock turned large, dark eyes on him. If Spock meant Jim to cower under his steady gaze, he had another thing coming. Jim had just survived two months of very little food, and watching people, innocent people, die left and right. He would never cower for anybody, ever again.

"I am going to perform a meld on you," Spock said at last. "During the meld I will remove the memories associated with Tarsus IV."

Okay, that, that right there; that was… shocking. Totally the last thing Jim had expected. He had braced himself for Spock lecturing him, had prepared himself mentally to hear the words 'illogical' and 'rash' and maybe even 'get over it' though in a more diplomatic, Vulcany way, which meant the use of far more syllables, but this, this was just… weird.

And strangely, despite his nightmares and the scent of blood seemed permanently fixated in his nostrils, Jim was surprised to find himself violently opposed to such a notion.

"Why the hell would you do that?" His voice emerged far more calm than he actually felt.

"Because you are allowing yourself to remain in a state of disrepair rather than strive for physical recovery. And because both your mother and mine are extremely worried for your well-being. And yet you refuse to acknowledge their legitimate concern, or mine, and would rather, I believe the human term is, 'wallow in your own misery.'"

There were so many things wrong with that speech, Jim couldn't even begin to number them, but he did manage to grasp onto one key point that he thought complete and utter bullshit and go with it. "Like you care what happens to me. Mom and Lady Amanda may be worried, but I don't believe for a second that you give a shit. In fact, you probably wish I had died. You would have finally been rid of me."

Spock visibly flinched, and Jim felt himself break a little at the sight. Even though he always felt like Spock didn't want him, Jim didn't want to see him hurt. In fact, he'd beat up anyone who tried to hurt Spock. He'd always felt inordinately protective of him. He couldn't quite explain it, but he did.

Hell, he didn't really want to hurt anybody. Not his mom or the Lady Amanda, either. He just… he was so fucking mad all the time, had been since he'd heard Kodos's speech and seen the first body fall.

"I do not wish you dead, Jim. You are my bondmate. Your presence in the universe is a necessity to me."

Jim didn't quite know what to make of that. In one way, it was kind of sweet. Albeit in a bit of a girly way, but whatever. He wasn't going to complain. A small part of him, though he'd never admit it, like, ever, had needed to hear that. Wanted to know that he was important to Spock. And he felt his body heat up a little in response to Spock's words.

On the other hand, it could also be interpreted that Spock needed him because they were bonded, and all Vulcans needed bondmates. Spock could be bonded to anybody and the necessity would still exist. He could have meant the words as entirely impersonal.

Jim was too afraid of the answer he'd receive to ask Spock to clarify on what he meant by that. It was safer to just go back and address Spock's original request.

"You can't just take my memories," Jim announced firmly. "Someone needs to remember what went down on Tarsus to make sure that shit never happens again."

And he really believed that to be true. He did. He would never forget Tarsus, and he'd make sure no one else did either.

"And how do you plan to do that if you do not allow yourself the proper nutrients on which to thrive?" Spock asked. Normally the tone of voice Spock used to ask that, that I'm-of-a-superior-intellect-to-everyone-and-everything put Jim totally on edge. He often felt the urge to punch Spock for it. Now though, now he was tired, and yeah, he'd own it, the bastard maybe sorta had a point.

"Fine," Jim said, at last. "I'll eat. At least, I'll try. But you keep away from me with all of that Vulcan mumbo-jumbo, memory-erasing crap there, Superman."

The light that danced in Spock's eyes at Jim's proclamation was kind of …. beautiful. If Jim noticed such things. Which he didn't. And no one could prove otherwise.

"I will," Spock agreed.