"Captain. I have your message here. It's on a secure frequency per your request."
Lieutenant Uhura's clear voice jarred Spock out of his inner contemplation. The Enterprise was enroute to Starbase Jy-420, a medical facility. Doctor McCoy had wanted to make sure that someone else could validate his research. He was afraid that the disease that had struck down so much of the crew so violently was still lurking around, and Starfleet had agreed that checking into the medical Starbase would be in the Enterprise's best interests.
"Thank you, Lieutenant. I will take it in the Captain's ready room. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."
"Yes, sir."
Spock stood up and gave his uniform shirt a sharp tug. He walked quickly off of the bridge and into the relative peacefulness of the Captain's working area. Spock had always suspected that the Captain would be completely disorganized, but there was no evidence of that here. Several antique books stood sentinel on the shelves of a small bookshelf. There was a picture in a wooden frame of an antique Terran vehicle new and shining in the bright sun, juxtaposed with another picture of the same vehicle crumpled almost beyond recognition. Other than that there was nothing that identified anything of the captain's personality. Spock sat down and punched in his code to take the message.
"Ambassador Spock."
"Greetings Sp--"
"I require your assistance." Interrupting an elder was the height of rudeness and uncouth behavior, but Spock did so without hesitation.
The Ambassador blinked. "What has happened?"
"I am endeavoring to obtain more information on a man called Kodos."
Spock had searched for hours for information on the name. All he had been able to confirm was that a man by that name had been responsible for numerous atrocities on the small planet of Tarsus IV. However, Spock had no idea how the man was connected to Jim Kirk. There had been several layers of diplomatic and Federation red tape, effectively sealing the files. Spock simply did not have the clearance to read that information.
An Ambassador, however, would.
Spock watched his counterpart's face as the man's eyes widened in shock, the aged skin becoming pale.
"Why do you require this information?"
"It is a matter of Captain Kirk's safety." There was a silence as the two stared at each other. Spock refused to let any hint of what he was feeling show in his posture or on his face.
"In my timeline, Jim was… well. While his family was in space, Jim stayed for a time with his relatives on the planet of Tarsus IV. While he was there, a terrible famine struck, leaving food scarce. Governor Kodos executed over 4000 people, deciding which would live and which of the colonists would be put to death. Jim was one of only nine people to survive the mass murder. He never freely discussed his time there. It was most unsettling for him when we came back into contact with the man several years later."
"Then Kodos did not die on the planet?"
"He did not. In the chaos caused by Starfleet arriving on the colony and discovering what had transpired there, Kodos had escaped."
Spock was quiet, mind working furiously.
"What has happened?" Ambassador Spock repeated himself, his voice tight with worry.
"I need … a favor."
He waited for a moment, choosing exactly what to say. "You must get me the Starfleet file from this time. From this Kodos. There is information I must access, and even as Sarek's son, I do not have the proper classifications."
"Why do you need this information?" Spock could recognize the beginnings stirring of anger in his counterpoint's voice as he repeated himself for the third time.
Spock debated for a moment on whether or not to tell his counterpart all that had happened. Surely, he would have to impart this information somehow. The older man deserved to be kept abreast of Spock's suspicions. He paused for another second to gather his thoughts, and started to speak. The words were emotionless, spoken without inflection or feeling as he related the captain's disappearance, his injuries and the second meld that the doctor had asked him to do.
The look on the other Spock's face, however, was anything from impassive. Most humans would likely not have noticed, but Spock could see him grow paler and paler as he spoke.
"And you saw a younger version of him? In your meld. Not the older version that captains the Enterprise, but a child? Actual memories?"
"Yes, Elder. It was quite . . . disconcerting to see memories of the captain with Doctor McCoy. I find that I was most displeased at seeing such a passionate encounter."
There was a sound that would have been an indignant squawk in anyone else. The look on The Ambassador's face could only be termed as … horrified.
Fascinating. They both seemed to have the same response. Spock had found himself thinking of those memories more and more at the most inopportune of times. On occasion, he found himself quite abrupt with the doctor. It was such a private thing to have been witness to.
"That the captain has in effect locked himself away lends evidence to my hypothesis that Kodos has indeed appeared in this timeline as well. Jim spoke of hiding, of not feeling safe. I postulate that wherever, whenever he is in his own mind, he will stay there until he knows that he will not be harmed upon his return. I must know what happened. The fact that the records are surrounded in such secrecy also leads me to believe that whatever did happen on that planet, Starfleet will go to great lengths to keep it hidden."
"Indeed."
Spock watched his other self think through everything he had told him.
"I believe you should bring your captain hereto New Vulcan. I believe that there are sufficient mind-healers here to be able to help. I will talk to our father and see if we can set things in motion for this to happen more efficiently. In the meantime…" He rattled off a series of alpha-numeric code sequences. "I hope this information gives you some of the answers that you seek. Good luck, Spock."
"Luck is not necessary. But thank you, Elder."
Spock ended the call and wasted no time in using his counterpart's clearance to find the information he sought. He was pleased that Spock had managed to retain much of the same status as he had held in his timeline, although he was now known as Ambassador Salkek. Very few people knew of his true identity. Most outsiders accepted him as yet another Vulcan Elder, rescued from the doomed planet. There was no question that he was powerful and could assist with highly delicate matters. It had been quite a fascinating conversation to have with his father when he asked for confirmation of the elder Spock's identity. Spock often found himself wondering how his counterpart had let his father know of his presence.
There was a series of beeps as Spock was finally able to access the information he needed. The video that appeared on his viewscreen showed a still frame of a young James Kirk. Spock hesitated for a moment before accessing the video. It was shocking to see the thirteen-year-old Kirk being pulled into a hug by his tearful mother. The Kirk he knew was overly tactile, even for a human. He was constantly touching people without even realizing that he was doing it. Spock found it… strangely unnerving. The child from the Starfleet records looked much thinner than he had in Kirk's mind. His face was gaunt, body emaciated. The hair was the same, shaved so closely in spots that the skin peeked through. His skin was an unhealthy grey. There were large circles under his eyes and he moved as though he would shatter into pieces at any moment.
The two boys behind him were also recognizable from Kirk's memory. The elder of the two looked shell-shocked, while the younger had his thumb plugged firmly into his mouth. There was an older lady with them, and five other horrifically filthy children of various ages clustered around her in the back of the shuttlecraft. Kirk stood stoically in his mother's tearful embrace, and Spock knew that whatever happened on that planet had been violently changed from the events in the other timeline. In this timeline… he had been anybody's prey.
There were several more records- mostly reports of childhood psychological assessments and the occasional interview. The medical report and subsequent Starfleet inquires alluded to the fact that Kirk, regardless of his own safety, had used himself as a bargaining chip, trading sexual favors with Kodos and whomever else he could find in the Governor's hierarchy that would give him food to keep the younger children in his care alive.
***
Three hours later found Spock sitting in the conference room, the bridge staff staring at him somewhat nervously. The planet most referred to as New Vulcan could be seen out of the observation windows, looking eerily like his home world. He had never called a staff meeting before. Perhaps they were somewhat unnerved by the Captain's chair remaining empty, while Spock sat impassively to his left as he always did.
"Computer. Cease recording devices to the Deck Seven conference room. Spock oh-one-three-oh-six-Alpha." His sudden voice caused Ensign Chekov to jump a little in his seat.
"What I am about to tell you must be kept in the utmost confidence. It concerns Captain Kirk. Starfleet would be less than pleased to know that I am about to share this classified information with you."
There was a snort from the doctor's seat as he tapped rhythmically on his leg with his fingers.
"If you do not care to hear this information, you may leave now." Spock met the nervous gazes of the doctor, Commander. Scott, Ensign Chekov and Lieutenants Uhura and Sulu. "No one will fault you for this."
It was Chekov that spoke. "Please, sir. How can ve help the Keptain?"
Spock waited a moment, gathering his thoughts.
"You are aware that the Captain was grievously injured after he was forcibly taken from this ship. What you don't know is that someone was targeting him. I believe that there were a handful of others who were likewise targeted. I do not know how many of them, aside from the Captain, have been found, aside from one. While on the Klingon vessel. I found another Starfleet officer, murdered and left on the ship. The doctor has confirmed his identity as one Lieutenant Thomas Leighton."
Spock waited for a moment to see if the words would spark any recognition. Unsurprisingly it was Uhura who spoke.
"He was… was one of the survivors of Tarsus IV. I remember the press had a field day with his book, accusing him of lying and treason against Starfleet. His story was so sad. It's about three teenagers, well, kids really, who survived the famine. I remember the higher ups were furious at his allegations that Starfleet had known what Kodos was doing on the colony."
Spock remembered her reading the book, contentedly curled up on her couch while he went through various PADDs of student assignments. She had often read while he worked. It was one of the many things that had so endeared her to him.
"Indeed."
"So the Captain was … one of the survivors?"
"Yes. He was one of the few who could recognize Kodos' face; I can only speculate that his name was kept out of any official record because of his father and his affiliation to Starfleet. I believe that Kodos was responsible for taking the captain from us, and that the disease was simply a diversion to keep us incapacitated so that he could get a head start."
"A diversion. Seventeen people dead for a diversion." The doctor's voice cracked. Spock noted that Uhura leaned towards him, her body language saying clearly that she was desirous of comforting the doctor.
Interesting.
"You are aware that the Klingon ship was set to self-destruct."
"Aye. The doctor went barmy when he realized that the only things that were beamed back were a dead man and your communicator."
McCoy glared at Scott.
"It could not be helped. I calculated that I had insufficient time in which to free the Captain."
"Okay so... what now? What are we doing now?" Sulu spoke at a much quicker pace than usual. "Why all the secrecy?"
"If I am correct in my assumption that it was indeed Kodos that orchestrated the Captain's disappearance, then he had his hands on one of the few people in the galaxy who could identify him. For ten days."
Chekov gasped.
Spock looked over to the doctor, who cleared his throat before speaking.
"Jim has severe mental trauma. So severe, in fact, that I can't reach him. Spock has elicited the help of his people; some mind healers that he believes can snap him out of it."
"That's good then!" Uhura looked relieved as she looked from the doctor to Spock. "Isn't it?"
The doctor snorted again.
Spock raisedhis eyebrow, pushed a few buttons, and the recorded message was queued up for all to watch. Admiral Pike's face seemed to glare down at them like some great predator.
"Commander Spock. Your father has made it clear that you wish to take the Captain to New Vulcan to help. He has made it an official diplomatic request, and you both are cleared to visit for no more than a week. Just you two mind you. This is not a shore leave. The Vulcans want to discharge their debt for Jim's heroics during the Nero incident."
They could hear Spock's voice, although the subspace communication did not show him speaking. "And what of Kodos? Are we to just ignore the fact that this man has—"
"That is classified. I don't know how the hell you found out about it, but Spock, please hear me when I say you need to let this go. Starfleet will handle this. You will not, and I repeat not go after this man. He is too dangerous. Go to New Vulcan. See if they can help Jim. Bring him home if they can't, and we'll figure it out then."
"I fail to see the logic in maintaining a conspiracy to keep this man and his deeds a secret. He is an enemy of the Federation, and has murdered at least one Starfleet officer as well as grievously injuring another. I find Starfleet's instance on letting him go the epitome of abject cowardliness."
Admiral Pike's facial features became even more closed off and expressionless, except for one vein pounding prominently in his temple. When he did speak it was through clenched teeth. "You are dangerously close to an official reprimand."
There was no sound from Spock while the Admiral visibly tried to get a hold of himself. "You do not fully understand the situation. If we find evidence that it was Kodos that hurt the captain-"
Here Spock broke off his thought. "Reprimand me if you wish, Admiral. But know that I will find whoever was responsible. We will arrive in New Vulcan in approximately four hours. Spock out."
Spock ended the transmission.
"Jesus, Spock. Remind me never to piss you off." Bones seemed somehow horrified and impressed at the same time.
The tiniest of smirks was apparent on Spock's lips.
"So that is the situation. Once the captain is back and … more himself, I fully plan to continue my investigations. I wanted you to be aware of my actions. I do not expect you to —"
"I'll do ewery thing in my power to help the keptin. He is a good man. He would do it for any one of us." The teenager looked positively petrified to be calling attention to himself, yet determined to have his say.
There were nods around the table, and Spock thought to himself, not for the first time, how fortuitous it was that they had solidified into such a close working unit. He knew that without a doubt, regardless of his extensive Starfleet training, he never could have commanded such loyalty as did the captain.
After that, the meeting broke up.
"Spock. Can you wait a moment?"
Spock moved out of the way of the doorway in order to let the rest of the crew pass. McCoy was the last to leave. Spock noticed that the doctor gave him one unreadable look as the doors swished shut behind him, leaving him alone with Lieutenant Uhura.
Uhura surprised him by stepping into his private space and lightly resting her hand on his forearm. "Spock… are you… is there something else wrong?" She tilted her head slightly looking up at him, concern plain on her face.
He took a purposeful step back. "No, Lieutenant. There is nothing else that I can share with you at this time."
"I don't mean regarding the Captain... it's just… you've been…" She stopped talking, pausing to collect her thoughts so that she could express herself without insult. "A little off."
He blinked. At once, he wanted to tell her everything.
Maybe she could help him. He'd discovered that she was extremely perceptive, often 'translating' colloquialisms or nuances of human behavior that had baffled him. They had ceased their intimate relations as soon as he had offered to be captain Kirk's first officer, as Nyota had not wanted the stigma of having an intimate relationship with a commanding officer to mar her career. She had pointed out that they were better as friends, and to Spock's chagrin he found this to be accurate. The transition to 'friendship' had happened quite smoothly, with them sharing meals and discussing the same sort of things they had previously, only without the addition of physical intimacy.
She had been the one to encourage him to ask the captain to play chess one night, a query that had eventually evolved into a twice-weekly occurrence and had laid the groundwork for his friendship with the other man.
"Spock?"
He had taken too long- was just standing there staring. "I have had some difficulties processing everything that has happened recently." As Kirk would say, that was the understatement of the century. "I find myself unable to find logic in …"
"In Starfleet covering up a diplomatic nightmare?" She took a step back and boosted herself up on the table to look up at him while he tried to put his thoughts into words, understanding that he needed the space right now.
"On Vulcan, an elected government would not lie to its people. There are checks and balances to assure that no one person has more power on the council than any other. If the Federation had not been untruthful with the issue a decade ago, then we would not be in this predicament now."
Nyota was nodding. "You don't get the lying."
"I do not."
She thought for a moment. "It is hard to explain. I suppose someone thought that telling the truth- that they had botched the capture of a deranged mass murderer- would hurt morale for those of us who have made Starfleet our life. Maybe they wanted to keep the names of the victims out of the limelight to help them somehow."
Spock found himself taking a step forward. He could not share the details of what had been done to their captain, but found himself at a loss to properly articulate how horrible it was. "Be that as it may, the ramifications of … such ill-conceived thinking…" He broke off, unwilling to say more.
He was surprised when she flung her arms around him. Her hands locked around his neck, and she brought him down for a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. Spock could read her emotions: she wanted to comfort him, help him in some way. Their lips met again and they kissed, slightly less chastely this time, drawing apart and resting their foreheads together.
"You should—"
"Spock! You better meet me at the transporter room!" It was hard to hear the doctor's voice over the loud screaming that could be heard over the open communications line. Spock recognized the sound; it was the same cry that had caused him to drop everything and simply sprint towards the sound of such pain. The screaming broke off into a number of whimpers, as though the captain was keeping himself from screaming by sheer force of will. "I don't know what's wrong now, but something definitely is! The quicker we get him to your voodoo people the better."
"Understood."
Nyota had already drawn away, hopping down off the table and giving him a little hug. "Just know that you can always talk to me if you need to. Okay? That hasn't changed." She gave him a quick, sad smile and left, Spock quickly following behind her.
Kirk lay on a stretcher in the middle of a Transporter Room A. He was awake, staring up at the ceiling. The only sign of emotional upheaval was the tear tracks on his cheeks. The doctor was practically hopping up and down, unable to keep still.
"Strangest damn thing. Just started hollerin', then whimpering, then just snapped awake. He isn't blinking though, or giving any other response." McCoy sounded disappointed, but took his tricorder over Kirk's body one more time to be sure.
Spock was at the stretcher in two strides, sliding his hands under the captain's knees and shoulders in order to lift him up into his arms.
"You could just beam the stretcher, you know."
"I am aware." He walked to the transporter and met the doctor's eyes. "I will contact you when I have news. Mr. Scott, you have the Conn. I would appreciate it if you could examine the Klingon ship," he paused. "I believe the expression is with a fine-tooth comb. I wish to know everything about the vessel when we return."
"Aye, sir. Everyone ready then?" Scott looked at the captain as though he could will him to respond based solely on the intensity of his stare. "Energizing…."
***
He was unsurprised to see his counterpart and father both standing impassively to the side as he materialized. They had been conversing softly, and broke off at the sound of the transporter.
The three greeted each other, and Spock was directed to a smaller chamber. He recognized that he was in his father's home; it looked almost exactly the same as his living space on Vulcan. As Spock walked, he could feel his captain curling into his body again, as though seeking warmth. Spock was surprised enough that had he been anyone else, he would have dropped him. Kirk had been completely unresponsive since arriving in the Enterprise's sickbay. Spock found himself tightening his grip, feeling marginally more hopeful that they could indeed bring the captain out of wherever he was currently hiding in his mind.
"Place him here."
Spock did so, finding himself surprisingly reluctant to let go. The other two men knelt on each side of Kirk, reaching out in tandem and initiating a meld. Spock shifted behind them, watching how Kirk's face tensed from the high level of telepathic activity. Only few minutes had passed before the two broke off the meld, staring at each other, surprised. They almost seemed to be communicating without speaking, as Sarek moved further back and The Elder Spock leaned over the captain again, firmly placing both hands on his psi points.
Spock watched as Jim's face relaxed minutely. He settled his gaze on his counterpart, who had a look of peace on his face as he worked. Spock was shocked by the wholly illogical spurt of unfamiliar emotion he felt as he stared at the captain's calm face with his older self looming over him.
There were several minutes of silence. Sarek did not speak, and neither did Spock as he struggled to put aside the irrational emotion. He had been angry before, but this… this felt different. Colder somehow. Less violent and more concentrated.
His counterpart broke the connection with the captain's mind with a small gasp of air. "How many times have you bonded with this human?"
Spock's heart began to pound. "Twice."
Spock looked sharply at the younger version of himself. "You did not speak of this during our earlier communication."
"No, I did not."
The Elder didn't miss a beat. "Come. You must join with our minds."
Part of Spock had understood this would be required when beamed down, had known that there would repercussions from hiding the truth. He had understood instinctively that something had gone wrong when he melded with his captain on the enemy ship. That strange feeling of adhesion… as though their minds had needed to cling to each other… he sighed, knelt, and found himself in Kirk's mind once more. Spock's fingers tingled when he reached out to touch his face.
"Hey! I thought I told you to get the hell out of here!" The younger Jim stood with his arms crossed over his shoulders, glaring at the older Spock. Spock found himself doing the mental equivalent of clearing his throat. Jim turned his full attention on him. Spock was disquieted by the clear, blue gaze. "Oh. It's you. I thought I got rid of you already."
Spock could feel his counterpoint become less in the foreground, serving as more of an anchor to the present. He was grateful; he knew how easy it would be to get lost here. "Yes, capt.. Jim. You did. I thought you might like some company. You looked like you could use a… friend."
The child tilted his head and looked up at him. "Are we friends?"
A flicker of memory :
"Spock? Are you busy this evening? Maybe after shift?" The Captain stood there, shifting his weight from one foot towards the other.
"I have a number of experiments that need my attention, captain." Spock entered a few key sequences on the PADD, not paying particular attention to the conversation, the bulk of his awareness on the preliminary results of the experiment he was running.
"Oh." Spock looked up briefly in time to see some emotion flicker over the captain's face. "Uhura had mentioned that you enjoy a game of chess every once in awhile." He quickly looked back down.
"Chess, captain? You play?" Spock raised an eyebrow, looking up from the PADD again, interested despite himself.
"Yeah. A game here and there. But I can see you're busy. Sorry to have interrupted. Well, maybe some other time." The captain clapped him on the shoulder and walked off down the corridor, heading for his quarters.
Spock stood there for a moment, looking after the captain's retreating back, surprised at the stab of disappointment he felt.
The memory flickered and changed.
"And then… the Elloran said…. I don't know! I can't tell!" The captain stared for a moment, as though waiting for Spock to dissolve in giggles. "Get it?? I can't … tell!!"
"Perhaps you should concentrate less on your sophomoric attempts at humor, and more on your chess game. Check."
The captain shot him a dirty look before turning his attention to the game. "Well, hell. If you're going to be that way about it…." The younger man managed to rescue his king and continue the game, staring at the board in concentration, brow wrinkled slightly as he thought. They were silent for several moments until Spock distinctly heard the captain make a rude sound under his breath, shooting a look at him from under his eyelashes.
"Was there something, sir?"
Kirk leaned back in his chair, balancing in a way that seemed to absolutely defy gravity. "Oh.. I was just thinking."
"Fascinating." Spock kept his voice absolutely inflectionless.
"See! That's what I mean!" The chair landed on its legs with a small thump. "I know you have a sense of humor buried in there somewhere. You say the damndest things sometimes. Bones thinks I'm nuts, but I think that you really get sarcasm. You certainly seem to give it out well enough." The captain took a sip of his beer.
"Is it not better to give than to receive?"
There was a sputter, and Kirk choked on the beer he had just sipped. He coughed a few times, eyes tearing up, trying unsuccessfully to hide his mirth.
"I do not understand. What did I say to garner such a response?"
"Ahh. Nothing. Nothing, Spock." There was a beat of silence, and a wholly wicked look in the captain's eyes. "Although I bet Uhura can explain it. In detail."
"As I am not currently with the Lieutenant at this time, I would appreciate it if you would explain. Details are always pertinent."
The captain's eyes widened momentarily, and Spock noticed that his tanned complexion turned slightly redder as he flushed. Spock watched him for a moment, strangely disappointed. "It would seem as though I have disproven your theory as to my sense of humor, captain," he said quietly.
"Oh! No, I'm sorry Spock. I was just teasing you."
"Indeed. Checkmate."
"Aw, balls."
The boy seemed to be thinking as he and Spock stood side-by-side, watching the memory. Another flicker…
"James T. Kirk."
Spock could see the captain, looking at the man before him as though he had done something exceptionally shocking. "Excuse me?!"
He recognized the voice, of course, as his counterpart spoke. "How did you find me?" They looked to be in a cavern of some sort, with flickers of firelight just barely highlighting their features. Spock was ashamed as always at the fleeting feeling of guilt. This must have been on Delta Vega, where Spock had abandoned Kirk without caring whether or not he survived, infuriated at the gall of this human upstart who would speak to him utterly without respect, completely defying his orders.
He heard the suspicion in the captain's voice when he responded. "How do you know my name?"
His response, when spoken, caused Spock to hold his breath. "I have been… and always shall be…your friend." The simple words, spoken with such a depth of feeling made Spock feel as though the very universe had somehow tilted, changing his perception of everything that had happened. He could clearly remember his own turmoil and disbelief when Spock advised him that he had the unique ability to be in two places at once. "I could not deprive you of the revelation of all that you could accomplish together. Of a friendship that will define you both, in ways you cannot yet realize." The words had seemed prophetic. He could now glean the meaning; understand how yes, a relationship with one person could indeed start to define another. Had he not done everything in his power to get his captain to the doctor that could help his failing, fragile body? Was he not willing to defy Starfleet, and indeed the very Federation in order to get answers?
If that wasn't friendship… what was?
The younger Kirk gave Spock a funny sort of smile and flickered once before disappearing completely. Spock turned around, looking for where the boy had gone. "Captain!". Spock turned his head again. There was nothing for him to hide behind. No rocks or boulders- nothing that would shield him from view. The strangely muted colors had a strange sort of shimmer to them. "Jim!"
In an instant, Spock was snapped out of the meld and back into reality.
Spock found himself struggling against his older self, surprised at the strength that held his arm away.
"You must …cease!"
Spock, still disoriented from the meld, froze at the sharp note of command.
"Can you not see what has transpired?"
Spock jerked his wrist out of the other man's grip. "I do not." His hand shook slightly with tremors.
Spock could see the signs of temper in the other man's face: the flared nostrils, green tinge to the skin as it flushed in anger, and the narrowed eyes, but he was completely baffled as to what caused this to happen.
"Do you not see what you have done?"
Spock was honestly puzzled. Before he could defend himself, he found the strength of his counterpart's mind sliding against his own, the feeling strangely sensual. The Ambassador didn't give his younger self a chance to cast about feebly for answers, but firmly steered him in the direction he wanted.
Spock could see it, like some incandescent, shimmering serpent. It wasn't alive, but moved as though it were. It was tied firmly to the elder Spock's katra, wrapping around it as though giving support. Spock understood that this was a visual representation of a bond, reserved for bondmates, although he had never seen anything as strong as this before. His father, when first teaching him as a child, had once shown him what a 'healthy' bond would look like, so that he could recognize his own binding with T'Pring. His father's bond with his mother had been extremely strong, but was nothing like this.
His gaze flew hungrily over the bond, twisting sinuously as though thinly crafted chains had been braided together, and together and together, each touch and shared thought, each intimacy and feeling built one and on top of each other to form something strong and encompassing. He was utterly shocked to see this bond, which was so much beyond beauty, come to an abrupt end The ends looked though they had been cauterized, soldered over without any hope of being reforged.
My bondmate was . . . taken from me.
If Spock could have fallen to his knees with shock, he would have. The idea that something so beautiful could have been in some way destroyed was both horrifying and cruel. Something shifted, and Spock could feel for a moment the absolute despair that severing such a bond had caused his counterpart. Only for an instant, then blocked, shut off… locked away to the smallest, furthest compartment of his mind.
Do you understand? Can you not see this within?
And all at once he could. The shadowy presence, constantly in the back of his mind. He had hidden away from the possibility… from even a hint that this could be possible. Things began to fall into place quickly, as though his mind finally had permission to catch up with itself.
Why he couldn't function with his normal efficiency while his captain was hurt.
The small 'click' of completion, as though sliding the last puzzle piece into place when he allowed himself to reach out to his captain's mind.
His utter inability to calm himself after leaving Jim in Sickbay. His sudden possessiveness.
As each realization came into being, Spock could see his own bond, bright in places, yet sickly in others. It was unfinished, almost completely transparent.
The Elder Spock broke away with his mind almost without him noticing beyond the sudden crazed circle of his thoughts.
Spock bowed his head, breathing hard as he struggled to compartmentalize what he now understood. He could feel his thoughts running around and against each other like small panicked animals" instead. He forced himself to look at his captain, who slept on, completely oblivious to the realizations his bondmate was now experiencing.
He stood there for several moments, attempting to regain some sort of control.
"Initially, I had hoped to be able to help your Jim. It would be a simple matter to have him acknowledge his fear, rather than hide behind it. I confess that I had not anticipated this taking very long at all."
"But now he rejects your help."
"Indeed. Your bond is not fully formed, yet it prevents me from my own inquiries into his mind. I do not know if I can help you."
Spock felt a burst of panic, jerking his gaze away from his captain and meeting his counterpart's eyes.
"Be easy. I did not mean to imply that he is beyond help. It is a simple matter of showing you what to do."
"If the bond has not fully formed, than can it be broken?"
Something very much like disappointment flickered in the depths of the Ambassador's gaze. "You wish this? Truly?"
"I…I do not know." He didn't. "How… how is it possible for …" Spock broke off unable to articulate his query. The idea that a Vulcan could mishandle something as primary as a mind meld was … daunting. The very fact that he could have done something so… unanticipated was horrifying. He moved to seat himself, assuming his meditative pose without consciously thinking about it, positioning himself to the captain's left.
He took a deep breath, trying once again to force his thoughts into some sort of order. His guilt over this situation was irrelevant. If the captain needed his help, then he would have his help. If the bond could be severed later, then he would do so.
As confusing as everything was, one thing stood out with absolute clarity: the captain would not wish to be bonded to his First Officer for the rest of his life. Most bonds were similar to the human concept of marriage, in the sense that two compatibly minded people bonded with the eventual goal of procreation to advance the species. Spock's jaunt into the captain's memories showed that Kirk did feel friendship for him, but Spock was highly doubtful that the Captain would ever be interested in anything more intimate. His own feelings on the matter were again irrelevant. Spock had chosen James T Kirk as his captain when he became the First on the Enterprise. It was his choice that had led him to this moment. He could do nothing less than everything to help his Captain in any way it was required of him.
The elder Spock had said that the key lay in helping Jim separate from the strange break in his psyche, or rather to understand that there was a break between the adult Jim and the younger. Part of Spock felt extremely uncomfortable doing this. These were such private memories, ones that caused Jim great personal anguish. Being a witness to that was excruciating. But if you have truly bonded with him, sharing his memories is both your burden and your blessing.
He sighed, reached out, and melded with his bondmate once again.
***
This time was very different. It was though his acknowledgement of the bond brought everything back into vivid clarity. He could feel it, wavering in and out of his consciousness (or his consciousness' consciousness if one were being particular). He could feel Jim at the end of it.
"Jim?" His voice seemed to echo in this strange landscape of Jim's mind.
"Hey… Spock!" Spock was astounded to see the "right" version of his captain come sauntering towards him. The same version he'd seen countless times striding around the deck of the enterprise, confident, direct gaze warming in greeting as he drew closer to him.
"Where the hell am I?"
Interesting. Spock spoke cautiously. "What is the last thing you remember?"
"Ahh. Reports. I had a shitload of paperwork to catch up on. I remember …remember… okay, actually I don't remember anything after sending off my reports to Starfleet. Poof. It's a complete blank. Then I woke up here… walking around aimlessly until I felt you speak."
"Felt me?"
Jim cocked his head to the side, rubbing the back of his neck briskly, looking rather sheepishly down at his feet. "Yeah. Felt. It's the weirdest damn thing, Spock. Like déjà vu that has giant teeth and tentacles or something. It's freaking me out a little to be honest. I felt that you were here somewhere with me. Like we were separated or something, and if I just kept looking I would find you." He shifted his weight from one foot to the next. "And... I was right. Here you are." He grinned at Spock kind of shame-facedly, as though he expected Spock to call him a liar at any moment.
Spock blinked slowly. His captain was speaking of a level of intuition that shouldn't be present in a human.
The scene around them blurred and changed rapidly, swirling around them in a chaotic mix of color and sound until it solidified, reforming into a dimly lit corridor. There were several doors on each side of the imagined hallway. This was vastly different than the somewhat abstract memories from before.
"What….what's this?"
"It's a corridor, Captain."
Spock had no problems reading the look Jim shot him.
"Thanks, Spock. Your powers of observation are still unmatched throughout the galaxy," Jim spoke dryly. "Okay, so why are we in a corridor? What the hell is going on?"
"We are in your mind. Well, parts of us are. We are physically on New Vulcan in one of my father's sleeping chambers. You have been… ill." Jim swung around, looking at Spock solemnly. His hand seemed very hot as it rested on Spock's forearm. Spock was rather disconcerted at the way the weak bond seemed to flare at the phantom touch. It was reacting much in the same way as it would in the physical world. The sensation of heat from Jim's skin was … distracting. "You were taken from the ship. From the Enterprise…" Spock broke off as something seemed to flicker in the other man's clear, blue gaze. Jim moved his hand away, looking out at the doors, evenly spaced throughout the hall.
"Weird. So, why did we go to New Vulcan? Why couldn't McCoy help me?"
"There were complications. Your physical body was hurt in such a way that it caused you great mental distress. I miscalculated some information and caused some damage to part of your mind. It can be remedied, but first you will need to acknowledge whatever you are… suppressing."
"Oh." One small, whispered syllable shouldn't be able to convey such a wealth of emotion.
Spock found himself standing with his hands behind his back, watching his captain's face as he struggled to understand. "I am here because of my…"
"Miscalculation?"
"Yes. I reacted … illogically."
"You mean you reacted like a human. The two are not mutually exclusive, Spock" Jim paused as though to collect his thoughts. I'm sorry that you seem to be stuck here with me. I don't imagine this will be comfortable for you at all. But…" he trailed off, looking at the rest of the doors lined up in the corridor with an unreadable look on his face. "I am... glad you're here, Spock."
"As am I. Shall we begin, sir?"
Jim raised his eyebrows, but otherwise didn't comment as the two walked down the corridor. "So, whatever is behind these doors is something from what… my past?"
"I believe so. We are, after all, in your mind."
"What injuries did I have when I got back to the Enterprise? I mean, surely McCoy could have pieced together something of what had happened to me."
"Affirmative, sir." Spock found that he was strangely nervous as they stopped in front of the first door. Speaking professionally was more of a habit than anything else, but from the way Jim looked at him out of the corner of his eye, Spock understood that he had done something insensitive. "That is to say… yes, Jim."
Jim's quick, blinding flash of smile and subsequent clap on his shoulder made Spock's own lips twitch in response.
"Your injuries were extensive. However, I do not believe that I should go into detail at this time. I believe that you will… see what happened when you are ready." Spock spoke haltingly, aware that he was being somewhat cowardly by not coming right out and answering the other man's question.
"I'm not sure that I really want to go down this chamber of horrors. There are a lot of doors here. It's kind of bizarre." As he spoke the scene changed again becoming less solidly formed and more insubstantial. Spock recognized it as much like the flickering 'landscape' from before.
Jim took a shaky breath. "Alright then. Let's get this show on the road. I have a ship to captain."
***
The scene shifted as though they were watching a holograph. It started off as before, flickering and unsubstantial. The image solidified to a planetary landscape on a very pleasant night. Spock instinctively looked up to the sky, as though he could discern the location from the stars alone. Jim's movement followed his, only he flinched hard enough in recognition that he almost took a step back into Spock, who had been standing behind and slightly to the left of the Captain as was his custom.
Jim gasped for air as his whole body turned rigid. "Oh, okay I get it now. This is like therapy. As if every goddamn psychoanalyst in two detention centers, three different boarding schools and Starfleet didn't already try to pick my brain apart. Well, no. No fucking way. I'm not doing this again."
Spock raised an eyebrow. Jim sounded petulant. It was closer to the voice of the younger Jim that he had met before instead of the older version that stood in front of him. "I do not believe you have a choice." With that, Spock put both of his hands on Jim's shoulders, and spun him around to look at the images that were forming. Once again, the almost physical jolt of surprise when they touched shocked Spock into quickly letting go of the other man.
The bond flared at the touch, and the flood of emotion from Jim caused him to gasp. Terrorhateragehungerescape Spock had just a moment to try to reinforce his own shields before the scene solidified around them completely, as though he were really there.
There was a strange whining sound from the man in front of him, and Spock watched stoically as Jim's eyes darted around as though he were a trapped animal. Jim was breathing heavily; face completely bloodless in the dark night.
"I can't… I can't do this. Not… again."
"You can. You must." Spock said, simply.
Jim spun away from him, still darting his gaze around the landscape. He doubled over, placing his hands on his thighs, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Spock…."
But Spock understood. "Jim, I do understand that this is not a comfortable situation for you. But you must do this." Spock paused again. "You have a duty." He stared at him for a moment, judging the reaction to his next words. "You have never struck me as a coward. Jim."
Jim's head came up, emotions flicking over his features too quickly for Spock to identify before his face went carefully blank. There were a few beats of silence. "Let's go. Should be a lot of fun."
Spock rather doubted that. He knew what the Starfleet files had said on this situation, thanks to his other self. He had read extensively about the effects of sexual abuse and trauma on the human psyche. But experiencing it firsthand was … something he had never done. They waited in silence, Jim ahead of him, each nuance of his posture and behavior showing that he was still upset with his First Officer's words.
There was a gasp of air and Spock saw that Jim was biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. "Okay… Okay... Um, this is the palace. Kodos' main control center. When the food died, he figured out the best way to control a hungry population was to … kill them all."
The scene flickered as Jim spoke, a visual representation of his words. Spock watched impassively as the younger Jim clutched the hand of a girl roughly the same age. She had long blond hair and seemed to be crying. They were in a crowded room, huddled up against the wall near a large ventilation system. There were angry voices around them, the mutterings of a crowd close to revolt. Spock could see the same careful determination on Jim's face that he displayed when faced with a particularly difficult problem. The boy's gaze flicked over the faces of the adults in the crowd, moving carefully to the dark shadows gathered outside the room, visible through the windows. Spock could see men in military apparel who seemed to be holding weapons. The scene shimmered and crystallized. There was the sound of breaking glass and Spock watched the younger Jim's eyes widen as he realized what the mercenaries had done.
The container seemed to summersault slowly through the air, each rotation sending more of the bright blue gas into the room. There were two more crashes of breaking glass they pitched in two more containers. The gas rose quickly to the ceiling and floated down towards the crowd, becoming denser as it did so.
People finally started to give in to the terror as those closest to the containers began to die. They watched as their faces exploded in red as capillaries in their eyes, nose and throat all seemed to burst at the same time. Others tried to cover their mouths and break for the windows, where they were shot without fanfare by the soldiers standing guard outside. Spock could smell the sharp, pungent stink of hundreds of people as they started to panic, trying to rush to the exits, trampling others in their way as they desperately tried to leave.
Spock's gaze was riveted on Jim, who yanked the girl to him, trying to protect her with his body, pulling her sweater so that it was over her face. "Amiee! Come on… come on!!!" He pulled her sharply, and even over the sound of the crowd's frantic panic the sound of her wrist breaking could be clearly heard.
The older Jim moaned at the sound, face losing what little color it had as he watched the events unfolding around him.
The girl started to wail as she stumbled towards the teenaged Jim, holding her wrist and already starting to cough. Jim herded her closer to the wall with his body as he started to pry under the grate that covered the ventilator. The metal sliced his hands, but Jim worked quickly, holding his breath as much as he could as his gaze darted over Aimee's panicked, coughing face.
"Mama! Mama!!" Aimee had seen someone in the crowd and was struggling against Jim, who was trying to push her against the wall and open the ventilator grate simultaneously. His blue eyes streamed as he tried to repress coughing, but he was able to get the grate open.
"Come on… come ON!" he gasped. Jim moved to boost her up to the grate, but the girl twisted sharply, still screaming for her mother, unaware that both her nostrils were bleeding as death began to claim her. Jim was unable to maintain his bloody grip, and the girl disappeared into the crowd. He had time for one frenzied glance over his shoulder as the girl was crushed to death, blonde hair streaked with bright blossoms of blood as her skull was pulverized. Spock watched as Jim, starting now to cough as his aching lungs gasped for air, jumped up into the ventilation grate and began crawling away.
The scene disappeared with an abruptness that was startling.
Jim stood with his head bowed, breathing heavily. "She was my cousin. I couldn't save…. she wouldn't…" He took a shaky breath. "I tried not to remember the screaming and the smell. I was in that ventilator shaft for what seemed like forever- moving as quickly as I could, afraid that if I stopped they would find me…"
Spock was at a loss of what to say.
The flicker of memory gave a hiccup and stutter as though responding to Jim's chaotic thoughts.
"I was so hungry. There was nothing on the planet but bark and plants and stuff. I had tried to break into some of the colonist's homes…"
Jim, looking dirty and desperate, on his knees searching in the cabinet of what looked to be a kitchen. The cruel cuts on his fingers from the metal grate had scabbed over and looked to be healing. He found a package of something and devoured it, almost choking in his haste. So intent was he that he failed to notice the two hands reaching for him. Spock found himself tensing, ready to yell a warning at the young boy.
Jim's head snapped up, and the moldy, green object he was eating slithered out of his mouth and onto his torn, filthy shirt. His scream barely had time to form before the large black-tinged hand came around his mouth, jerking his legs and face backward into a large body at the same time.
"Lookie what we found here…" Jim froze instinctively in the other man's arms, as though he thought if he didn't move then the predator holding him wouldn't notice his presence.
The man spoke in a series of harsh alien syllables, relying on the universal translator to convey his point. It did with chilling efficiency. Then Jim was being thrown onto the floor in front of three other large humanoid beings. They were vaguely reptilian in appearance, built solidly and heavy with muscle. Jim looked very young and exquisitely small as he lay crouched on torn floor, eyes enormous with fear as they darted from one man to the next.
"Don't be afraid, pretty one…" The sickening smell of his breath and the knowledge in his eyes as he reached for the boy, hand dropping his weapon in his haste as he reached for his trousers.
Spock became aware of his hands balled into fists as he watched. His eyes narrowed and the men were on the boy, holding him down, pinning him to the dirty floor while they took turns, the grunts of satisfaction and the wet slapping sound of skin on skin obscenely loud in the small space.
The young boy didn't say a word. His face a mask of stoic indifference, Jim lay there, not even fighting as the three took their turns.
Jim didn't say a word when the last pulled out from behind him, forcing him to turn around.
Jim didn't say a word when his mouth was pried open.
The grunts and small sounds filled the room. As with the other memory, all senses were involved; Spock could smell the musky scent of semen and the sharp tint of copper. It was a sick smell. Spock could see something cold flash in the boy's eyes, and he could see the small frame tense, each muscle drawing up and freezing into itself.
Jim waited until the man was close to orgasm before reaching for the discarded weapon, pulling it into play with reflexes that seemed almost inhumanly quick. His captor's face exploded in an orange mess, blood and gore dripping loudly in the silent room. The younger Jim reached up to his mouth, wiping it with a shaking hand, quickly pulling up his trousers with the other hand. There was a footstep and a bark of sound in the doorway, and Jim had turned and fired before the other two beings could even get their weapons into position.
The scene abruptly went dark, dissolving into nothingness with a suddenness that was startling.
Spock could hear Jim's louder-than-normal heartbeat. A broken sounding laugh cut through the silence. "That wasn't even the worst part. You should see what I did later." Jim took a step away from him, turning away to wipe his face on his tunic. "Well. You probably will."
Once again, the scene changed. Spock's eyes widened to see Jim, dressed in a clean shirt and trousers, stashing food as quickly as he could in a small knapsack. Jim was still painfully thin, the cheekbones of his face standing out in sharp relief. There was the heavy step of a booted foot in the corridor behind him, and Spock was utterly astounded to see Jim's face change. Instead of the fear or hatred he expected, Jim's face slid into an expression of sexual awareness, even expectation. The lips twisted into a smirk as he looked back over his shoulder at the man who had walked into the room.
"Governor Kodos... Sir..."
Jim turned and walked over to the man, who stood staring at the boy. He wasn't particularly tall, but had an unmistakable aura of menace about him. Kodos reached out almost absently and grabbed Jim's head, pulling him closer by his hair, possessiveness obvious in his actions. It bespoke of gestures done countless times. Spock was sickened to see how even as Jim performed for the man, he was careful to keep his attention away from the knapsack that still bulged with food.
The next scene showed Jim running through the darkness back to the cave Spock had seen before, giving the food to the younger boys he had clearly decided were in his care.
"Enough." Spock didn't mean to speak.
Jim laughed again, somewhat wildly. "Yeah. Enough would be good. I haven't thought about this in years. One of the psychotherapists was Betazoid, and taught me how to block certain memories. God, I forgot how…." Jim trailed off, rubbing his hand over his face. "It's okay, Spock, I can feel your disgust. I'm not mad. It's understandable."
Spock slammed his shields shut, appalled at himself. Where was his control? He seemed to have no emotional center. The tenuous bond seemed to seesaw in and out of his consciousness, giving him occasional insights into what Jim was feeling interspersed with complete blankness. "You are mistaken. There is no shame in any of your actions here."
Jim seemed resigned and waved away Spock's protests. "You know what? It doesn't even matter. Why shouldn't you be here reliving some of the most humiliating things I've ever experienced? That totally makes sense. This is how the universe works for Jim T. Kirk. Let's get this over with so I can get back to my ship, and get you the fuck out of my head."
Spock's lips tightened. It was fortunate that he had not been completely forthright with Jim about the state of their bond. Indeed, breaking the connection seemed the only acceptable course of action given the captain's utter repugnance for the idea of Spock being 'in his head.'
"Jim." His voice seemed rougher than normal. "Whatever emotion you're 'feeling' from my reaction is likely an echo of your own emotional state. I assure you I am not here to judge you. I am your… friend. It is only logical that I be here to support you when you need it."
Jim's short burst of laughter was harsh. "My friend. We're not friends, Spock. Friendship can't be built on someone manipulating someone else."
Spock's neck turned so quickly that the he strained one of the tendons. Jim stood there with his arms folded over his chest, blue eyes narrowed slightly. Spock could clearly feel some sort of blockage in his throat. He had to clear it twice before he could speak, but before he could do so the scene changed again.
Jim, speaking, eyes seeming startlingly blue in his face, pale in the reflected firelight. "Your destiny can wait! He won't believe me, only you can explain w—"His voice rough with shock, eyes still wet with tears.
"Under no circumstances can he be made are of my existence. You must promise me this." His alternate self's voice was cold with determination.
"You're telling me I can't tell you I'm following your own orders? Why not? What happens?"
"Trust me. Above all. Jim, this is the one rule you cannot break. To stop Nero, you alone must take command of your ship."
Jim snorts, disbelieving. "How, over your dead body?"
Spock is astounded, although by this point, logic would dictate that he shouldn't be, by the slight tone of amusement as his other self spoke. Preferably not. The Ambassador's tone changed again, becoming steely with determination, trying to impress upon the young man the direness of the situation "There is, however, Starfleet Regulation 619. Yes… I forget what little regard you had for such matters. 619 states that any commanding officer who s emotionally compromised by the mission at hand… must resign said command."
"So I need to emotionally compromise you?"
"Jim. I just lost my planet. I can tell you, I am emotionally compromised. What you must do is get me to show it."
Then,
"What is it like? Not to feel? Anger. Or heartbreak? Or the need to stop at nothing to avenge the death of the woman who gave birth to you?! You must not feel anything! It must not even compute for you! You must not loved her at all….."
Spock watched the scene unfold again as though he were merely an observer, seeing the pure fury on his face, watching as his fingers closed around Jim's neck, tightening slowly… harder and harder as though with each tense of muscle he could burn the words from his memory.
"I'm sorry."
Spock met the younger man's gaze, echoes of the remembered rage swimming in the depths of his eyes. He watched Jim, shoulders slumped and neck bowed in front of him, and was absolutely astounded at the realization that Jim equated that moment… a few minutes of calculated desperation geared towards quickly getting Jim the results he needed… with the events of his childhood on Tarsus IV.
"You have no reason to be sorry. While I was not aware of the events leading up to your assuming the role of captain, I did understand the necessity behind it. There is no fault here." Spock struggled to keep his emotions, still so raw after everything he'd experienced thus far out of his mental 'voice'.
Jim moved so that he was standing in front of Spock. His hand came out as though he wanted to grab his First's arm, but the motion was awkward, arm dropping back to his side uncompleted. "But what I said! God, I was just so pissed off, and confused, and blown away by what he showed me in that mind…thing. It was like I knew exactly what buttons to push to make you go crazy, but fuck, Spock. That was horrible. It was a… dishonorable thing to say. And untrue." He reached out and rested for a moment on the back of Spock's hand, briefly. "I am so sorry," he whispered shakily.
Spock closed his eyes at the electric spark of awareness. He could feel Jim's emotions again, and his first instinct was to disentangle himself from the whirlpool of emotion. He jerked his hand away from Jim's touch, purposefully moving his gaze so that he wouldn't have to see Jim's reaction.
"I repeat, Capt… Jim. There is no fault here. To use a colloquialism, you did what you had to do."
Jim moved away from Spock, pacing angrily as he struggled to process the quickness of events. He was holding onto his temples, rubbing as though he had a headache. Spock could hear him muttering to himself under his breath, but couldn't discern what he was saying. Spock found his hands going naturally behind his back, body straightening into the comfortable parade rest as was his usual custom while he waited for his captain to work through his inner turmoil.
"Okay. I get it now. Whatever happened on the Enterprise has to be related to whatever my mind is running in glorious Technicolored syndication."
"Syndication, sir?"
"Never mind. Stay with me here. So, I need to remember who… and what happened. No problem. I can do that. I think." Jim waved his hands as though directing a particularly complicated orchestra. "Okay, brain. Show me your worst. I've got people to do… places to see…"
Spock was familiar enough with Jim's tone of self-deprecation that he didn't take his words seriously. This time when the scene formed it was instantly familiar. Jim's captain's quarters, lights low enough to show the illuminated 3D chessboard. Jim was slumped in the chair he normally sat in, focusing on the board with almost single-minded determination, fingers steepled into a point under his chin. The man sitting opposite of him was not himself, as Spock had initially thought when he saw the blue uniform, but . . . Doctor McCoy.
Spock was completely unprepared for the burst of emotion that surged through his body. He did not like the visual of the other man sitting in the chair he normally used when playing chess with Jim after shift. "Damnit Jim, what are you waiting for? Some of us actually have things to do on this damn ship."
There was a grunt from Jim's side of the table.
The doctor rolled his eyes, looking around at the mess of the cabin. "Wow, it never ceases to amaze me just how much of a slob you really are. Does your place look like this when you have Kermit over for… whatever it is that you guys do here?"
"Quit calling him that, Bones." Jim's lips twitched in amusement. "We just play chess."
A purely wicked look flitted over the doctor's features. "And of course by 'playing chess' you mean…." The doctor was all but laughing outright as he stared at Jim's sudden flushed face.
"Ahh. Wait. I remember this now. I think I need to sort of speed ahead to when I left my quarters." Jim spoke quickly. The scene went black as though all the lights had suddenly winked out.
Spock absolutely refused to acknowledge the fact that a muscle in his jaw twitched repetitively.
"I think I've got the hang of this now. Lemme see if this works. " The moments from Jim's memory flashed forward quickly:
-dematerializing in the middle of the almost empty corridor, blinded, unable to see the face of the young person who had hit him on the back of the head, stunning him immobile, his reflexes too slow to prevent the incapacitating hypospray--
-- his shock at seeing Thomas, his friend now fully grown, tortured to death in front of him, his own body bowing in agony as they crushed the bones in his wrists—
--chained in the belly of some stinking ship, hands hanging onto the metal cuffs for some sort of support while his body was split apart from the man thrusting into him, recognizing the face as an older version of his most horrifying nightmares, just wanting everything to end--
--knowing he was helpless and welcoming death as an end from the unending pain—
--the sickening, shameful feeling of hope as he opened one eye, realizing that Spock's startled face was his salvation—
The scenes flipped from one to another as though a holograph had started to skip from a malfunction, images solid for mere moments before fading into the next volley before being plunged into blackness once again.
When Jim spoke it was absolutely devoid of any emotion, face frozen into an absolute mask of cold indifference. Spock could not feel any emotion from the feeble tie between them.
"Kodos is… alive?"
Dialogue from the film taken from the script. The TOS episode, Conscious of the King is one of my favorite, and Kodos is quite a bit more insane. And evil. In an insane way. Evilly.