Spock's eyes opened and he came back into himself with a quick gasp of breath. He flexed his fingers and moved his hand from Jim's face. He shut his eyes, sorting through the memories, setting them into some kind of order in his mind so that he would later be able to catalogue each response when he was better able to do so without this inconvenient emotional chaos.
He heard a small whisper of sound from behind him, and turned his head. His counterpart stood there, patiently waiting, eyebrow raised in silent inquiry. Spock nodded, exhausted.
"And do you still wish that your bond be severed?"
Let's get this over with so I can get back to my ship, and get you the fuck out of my head. Spock nodded, holding his counterpart's gaze for a moment before breaking eye contact, looking down at Jim, who still seemed deeply asleep despite the small beads of sweat on his forehead. "The captain has made his feelings very clear."
"Indeed?"
Spock did not reply.
"As you wish. I will perform the Breaking. It is my understanding that you do not wish for our father to know the particulars of your folly. It would be best to accomplish this task now before Jim awakens."
Spock flinched minutely. "Yes."
The Ambassador moved once again to his previous position on Jim's other side. He expected the older man would bring Jim into the meld first, and was surprised when he was drawn in first instead. The sensual slide of his own mind against his… a bright spark of apology...and…
"Sleep."
Spock slept.
**
He eased the younger version of himself back onto the small pallet, pleased at the sight of the slightly olive complexion against the skin of Jim's healthy golden—although still slightly pale—skin. Jim made a small noise at the back of his throat and turned slightly so that his shoulders were touching that of his bondmate's. The sight arrested the elder Spock, and he stood staring down at the two for quite some time, indecisive. Coming to a decision, he reached out.
He could not deny the satisfaction he felt by once again sinking into Jim's mind. The earlier chaos had smoothed out, although parts were still wickedly raw. He gently manipulated images and memories so that when Jim woke he wouldn't be incapacitated by what he had seen. They would of course still be there, but locked away well enough that remembering wouldn't compromise his other duties.
He then focused on his younger counterpart, observing, ferreting out the answers to questions the younger man did not know how to articulate, or even understand. The conclusions reached simply strengthened his resolve. It was fascinating to be able to see all of the different facets of this ruthlessly logical mind. In his own time, he had struggled continuously against giving into to his Human side until Jim had laughingly pulled him into mutual respect, friendship, and a love so encompassing that it could not be denied.
Nero had changed all of that for Spock's counterpart. Emotional responses came quickly to the surface, though they were rarely displayed. Their father's simple declaration of his love for his wife had caused such chaos in Spock's thoughts that the elder Spock was shocked at his ability to cope. He had struggled so hard to embrace his Vulcan half that hearing that had been its own form of torture. If his fully Vulcan father could love…
Emotion/logic, Human/Vulcan. The constant need to choose one or the other, the sense that one must be superior, and never knowing how to find a peaceful balance between the two. Indeed, never knowing if it was even possible. Spock did not envy his younger self's journey. Truths he himself had learned much later in life were forced upon him at such a young age by the actions of one madman who was willing to destroy billions for his revenge.
His younger self had many gaping holes in the education of his Vulcan mind. Spock felt a quick burst of anger at his counterpart's teachers. Bias was illogical. Spock had come into contact with this particular emotion countless time in his adventures on the Enterprise, and it never failed to astound him at how quickly it came into play, regardless of the species. But for these Vulcan educators, whose greatest gift was to cultivate young minds, to perpetuate this feeling of disgust for something the younger Spock had no control over was … highly disquieting. Because of this bias, this unreasonable disgust of Spock's humanity, he had never been properly taught some of the particulars of melding with another mind. And never made aware of these discrepancies.
Seething, Spock quickly put the training he would need in his mind, ready to access whenever needed, for if ever there was a certainty in the universe it was that this young man would eventually be asking questions. Perhaps his younger self had made a mistake. Perhaps he had just been too emotionally invested in Jim to be able to maintain the separation of self required for a mind meld. An 'accidental' bonding was not unheard of, but extremely rare.
To sever a bond that was so strong without physical contact, existing without being properly consummated would be… illogical. Their bond burned between them, pulsing as though awaiting acknowledgment. Spock manipulated this too, forcing it into the back of their awareness so that they would be unaware of its existence.
Until it was time.
***
Stardate: 2259.63
Jim was blissfully warm. Almost too warm. His eyes slowly blinked open, the unfamiliar ceiling slowly coming into focus. It looked as though it had been sculpted from dusky marble, the low light in the room glinting off of slight imperfections in the stone. His eyes drifted lazily shut again.
With consciousness came awareness; Jim wasn't alone in the bed. Whoever was next to him was breathing the slow, deep, even breaths of sleep. He couldn't tell if they were male or female, and was horribly confused for a moment. Normally when he woke up next to someone and didn't remember how they got there, there was the murky memory of the maniacal consumption of alcohol or at the very least a pounding headache or nauseous stomach warring with the reek of sex in the room. Not so this time. He was clothed. He could feel their heat behind him, although they weren't touching. And Jim felt… amazing.
He stretched, making a small sound in the back of his throat as he did so, a sort of stuttering, sleepy yawn. Some of his joints popped, and he thought ruefully that he was definitely way too young to be creaking like that. He felt as though he had just had an extremely peaceful nap after an even more pleasant vacation. His mom would have called him "bright-eyed and bushy tailed" in that wry way she had.
The breathing next to him paused for a moment as the other person woke up, exhaling on a whoooosh of sound. They must have been facing the same way he was, because he could feel the breath hot against the back of his neck. Jim shivered. He could feel the other person's sudden tension, then the bed dipped and they got up.
Jim stretched again, rolling into the heat still clinging to the bedclothes, yawning hugely. He kept his eyes shut, enjoying the lassitude.
"Captain."
Jim's eyes snapped open as he looked up at his First Officer. Spock had, for a moment, the strangest look on his face before his pale features smoothed into their normal impassivity.
Okay, waking up in bed with Spock was not what he had anticipated. Perversely, he found his cheeks heating in a sudden blush. He popped up quickly, tugging down his shirt that had ridden up just slightly.
"Ah, uh.. good… morning?" He threw his legs over the side of the pallet and stood up, surprised at the sudden onslaught of dizziness. Jim shook his head. "Where are we?"
"In my father's home. On New Vulcan."
Jim blinked and remembered.
"Your … mind. 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."
"Oh." Jim sat down heavily on the bed again as his legs gave out. He was all at once completely disgusted, horribly embarrassed, and sick with remembering everything that had happened. His stomach felt like it was going to explode through his esophagus. "Can I… can I have a moment, Spock? Alone?" Jim's voice was strangled as he put his finger to his temple like he was trying to push the sudden bright burst of pain from his head.
Spock didn't speak, but he left the room. The door made a soft "click" behind him as it shut, the sound making Jim smile despite the maelstrom of his emotions. It wasn't often he heard that anymore. Most doors were computerized. The sound was one he remembered from his childhood in Iowa, in the old farmhouse that his mother refused to update.
Jim groaned, resting his head in his hands.
This was horrible. He felt bombarded by remembered sensation. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and was surprised as some of the feeling faded. It was still bad, but not... unbearable. What he was feeling was nothing like the numbness of those first few weeks after being rescued from Tarsus IV, or the exquisite skin-crawling-off-his-bones feeling when he woke himself up from a nightmare, the echo of his cry still ringing in his small bedroom at the farmhouse. Jim felt. . . well, not quite like an impartial observer, but certainly one who could step back from the rawness of the past few days.
When he had gone through command training, several of his lectures had been on the expectations of the tortures often inherent when captured by an enemy. While sitting there, lounged in the classroom, the idea of taking strength from the simple fact of repeating your name, rank, and ship's identification had seemed asinine. Jim had a vivid memory of incurring the wrath of the Commander giving the lecture when he snorted under his breath at a couple of key points.
He owed the man a fruit basket or something.
The repetition had kept him grounded while on the enemy ship. Each time he could say the words, whether it was through clenched teeth, or a gasping moan of agony, it was its own retribution. A small defiance in the face of his tormentor. He had felt so very afraid (and boy was that uncomfortable to admit, even to himself) when he had first seen Kodos smirking at him. He hadn't seen the older man, but the younger, virile and exquisitely cruel phantom of his nightmares. At first everything that made him James Kirk had slithered away, leaving a petrified child in its place.
And then he got angry. That anger had kept him focused, as well. Every repetition of James Tiberius Kirk- Captain, U.S.S. Enterprise, SC937-0176CEC somehow proved to himself who he was. Each word had called up an image of his ship, his crew, confirming every damn thing he had accomplished to get to be the youngest Starship Captain in Starfleet's history.
True, he still was ashamed. Jim was honest enough with himself to admit that part of that would probably never go away. But he had dealt with it as a kid, and was… well, mostly… confident that he could handle any lingering results from his experiences. True again, that it had been downright horrifying to have Spock as a witness to his worst memories. Of all people, Spock would have been the most affected. . But hadn't Spock gone through the same thing? Jim could see in his mind's eye the look on Spock's face after losing his mother, hand still outstretched in entreaty, watching the lights of her aborted transport fade away into obscurity.
That look had haunted his dreams, too.
Jim sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face, and stood up. He was starving. His bladder felt like a Ga'ha'r spongebeast that had been left in a rainstorm. His mouth tasted like something had died, been reincarnated, then burned and killed again. He had a million different questions he wanted answered.
It was time to go.
***
Spock hadn't gone far, Jim found. He gave a sharp jerk of his head at Jim's inquiring look and soon the two were walking in sync as they had done countless times before on the Enterprise. "Dr. McCoy would like you to contact him as soon as you are able."
"I just bet he does." Jim's smile was wry. "He's probably twitching out of his skin about now."
They had not walked all that far before reaching a larger chamber. It looked like more of a receiving room, and Sarek and Ambassador Spock seated near a small alcove, speaking quietly. The other men both looked up at their entrance before moving to stand.
"Jim. I am pleased to see you looking better."
"I'm pleased to be looking better, old friend." The endearment slipped out without Jim thinking about it. He could sense Spock stiffen suddenly, like an animal who had just sensed danger. "Also, I'm thrilled that the universe doesn't seem to be exploding at you two being in the same room, acknowledging each other."
He didn't imagine the flicker of a smile on the old man's face. "Have you eaten?"
"Nope. I think I can take care of all of that when I'm back on my ship. I did want to thank you for your help. I don't… remember much of what happened, but I do know that Spock wouldn't have taken me here unless you had both agreed to it. Thank you too, sir, for your hospitality." He inclined his head towards Sarek who, looking aloof from the conversation, nodded politely back.
"The debt was owed."
Jim felt the familiar guilt assuage him. "Ah, with all due respect, sir your people have no debt to me. I truly thank you for your help, but anything else is unnecessary." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, wincing at the awkwardness of the conversation.
"Indeed." Sarek's right eyebrow twitched slightly, which Jim took to mean the Vulcan equivalent of 'yeah, right.' Or possibly 'go fuck yourself, I'll do what I want'. Vulcans- textbook definition of enigmatic.
"Well, thank you. Spock, are you about ready to go?"
"Yes, Captain."
Jim took a few steps back to give Spock some privacy, and took out his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise. Two to beam up at my mark."
"K-eh—keptin! It is wery, wery good to hear your woice. Aye! Ah, I mean... yes sir. On your mark."
Jim had to grin. Chekov sounded like he was about to wet himself. He waited for a moment, standing out of earshot while Spock spoke quietly with his father and his other self.
And fuck it all, if that wasn't just weird seeing them side by side.
Jim watched as they finished their conversation and found himself strangely reluctant to meet Spock's eyes as his First Officer walked towards him. "I am ready, Captain."
So much for calling him Jim. Jim tried not to sigh as he flipped his communicator again.
"Enterprise. Two to beam up."
"Yes, sir."
Jim gave the Ambassador a little wave, which seemed to amuse him as the transporter began to send them to the ship. Then the split instant of nothingness and all of a sudden light and he was blinking at the familiar transporter room.
" My God Jim." He barely had time to blink before Bones was running a tricorder over him, practically pushing Spock aside in his haste. Jim stifled a grin and clapped his friend on the shoulder. Chekov was practically vibrating in place, somewhat like a puppy wagging its tail so hard it couldn't sit properly. Before things could get out of hand, Jim raised one hand for silence and spoke.
"Chekov, can you handle calling a meeting of all the bridge officers for me? I'll need you and Scotty there too. I know we're just about at shift change, so it can wait until then." Bones swooped in with something that looked suspiciously like a hypospray. "Bones go stick someone else with that damn thing. You'll have to wait to get your filthy hands all over me. I've got captainy things to do. Spock, you're with me."
Jim stepped off the transporter pad and started to leave. He paused, thinking. "Actually, Spock there's something you can do for me. I need you to take the transporters offline. I want this ship on lockdown."
Spock's normally unflappable features looked a tad bit … flapped …at the randomness of the order.
Jim fucking loved doing that to him.
"Yes, Captain."
"Catch up with me later. I'll be in my quarters."
Jim walked off, feeling like he had a purpose. Bones, not one to be deterred for long, scrambled along behind him. "Listen one damn minute. You can't just blow this off!" He waved the tricorder in emphasis, and it beeped distressingly as though being forcibly kept from a warm and fuzzy place. Jim gave it a dirty look. He could hear the undercurrent of worry in Bones' normally curmudgeonly tones. He sighed and stopped for a minute, not particularly eager to have this conversation in the middle of a damn corridor.
Bones reached out to grasp his forearm, mouth working as he started to splutter his objections. It was a gesture both of them had done to the other hundreds of times.
Jim froze. "Let go of me."
The hiss surprised him with its intensity. He shut his eyes at the look of shock on Bones' face. All at once he wasn't all right, the pleasant buzz of taking back his command fading in a swirl of inexplicable fear. He forced himself to take a deep breath, realizing that Bones had let go of him as though burned.
"I… I know." He started off haltingly, forcing words out through his suddenly tight throat. "I know you must feel... I just…have something to do first."
He could hear Bones breathing harshly and knew what it was costing him to not give in to the questions he must have.
"I'm okay. You'll have to just trust me until I…" His heart was beating so fast he felt like it was sucking out the air in his space around him, growing and lodging in his throat until he thought he would--
"Captain."
Inexplicably, Jim felt some of his tension abate at the clipped interruption. It was too much. Opening his eyes, he turned on his heel and didn't look either of them in the face as he walked towards the turbolift. He felt like a coward for being relieved when the doors swooshed shut behind him, giving him blessed space and the sweet obscurity of white noise in order to try to collect his thoughts. Oh fuck. Oh damn and bloody fuck. I don't have time for this now. He rested for just a moment against the wall of the lift, raising one shaky hand to cover his eyes.
When the doors swooshed open again Jim only had the strength to look up blankly. Spock stood there for a second, cocked his head minutely to the left and walked inside.
"Deck seven."
Oh great. He hadn't even started the damn turbolift. He half expected Bones to come parachuting in from the Jefferies tube, hollering about psychoanalysis and relieving him of his duty.
"Are you well, Captain?"
Was he? His heart was still pounding, skin covered with a light sheen of sweat. "I just… I need… I need to be accomplishing something."
"Did the doctor say something to upset you?"
"No, of course not. I just overreacted to something stupid." The turbolift's speaker gave a little cheep of sound, indicating that they were at their destination. Jim visibly pulled himself together and took a deep breath. "When I was taken, they knocked me out with something. It was someone who works on this ship, Spock."
Jim, staring at the floor, missed the way that Spock's eyes narrowed.
"Who?" The syllable is cold and tight with suppressed fury.
"Ah, that's the tricky part. I only saw her for a second before I passed out." The turbolift doors opened and both turned to look at the startled ensign that stood there, eyes jumping between the two senior officers. Jim forced a smile and nodded to the crewmember. "Ensign. We were just leaving."
"Yes... sir?"
Jim and Spock walked down the corridor to the captain's quarters. Jim sighed as he walked in, enjoying the little rush of ownership he felt when he saw his belongings neatly put away. The yeoman that kept his quarters neat did a fantastic job. He glanced around, all at once feeling better. He crossed to one of the chairs in the sitting area and sat.
"Everything is kind of unclear about that. Whatever they hit me with did something to my eyes. Or maybe I had an allergic reaction or something, but whatever it was, it was like looking at things underwater. I remember the pain in my neck, and turning to knock the shit out of Bones. But it wasn't Bones that jabbed me. I can remember the red uniform, and blonde hair, and then nothing. I don't even know if it was a man or a woman. I woke up on the other ship."
Spock crossed to the console and started entering data, fingers fairly flying across the keys. "There were fifteen uses of the Enterprise's transporter device within the last twenty-three days. According to the records, seven crew members beamed off the ship and beamed back. Captain, you were the abnormality."
Jim snorted, actually finding that he had to bite his tongue to not say the smartass comment that was bursting to be shared.
"Everyone else was part of the rescue party, either on the planetside away team or on the search and recover mission on the enemy ship. You don't show up as leaving through the ship's transporters the first time, but arriving back onto the ship approximately fifteen minutes ago."
There was a small whistle and his doors slid open. The small woman that entered was staring down, unfocused on her surroundings. She walked to the captain's bed, letting her fingers ghost over the black duvet that was folded crisply onto the mattress.
"Yeoman Karidian." Jim spoke softly, with pleasure in his voice.
The woman gasped and jumped, spinning to face her captain.
Jim laughed, holding up his hand. "Relax! Wow, you were pretty focused there. Did you miss me?" The flirting was second nature by now and Jim relaxed back into it with a feeling of gratitude.
She simply gaped at him for a moment, seemingly astounded.
"Hey.. it's okay. I guess the word hasn't gotten around that I'm back. You've done a great job here with keeping up my rooms, Yeoman." Using her title seemed to wake her up.
"Yes. Ah... yes sir. It's great to have you back. I'm so very sorry; I didn't realize you were here. I can come back later."
Jim nodded, understanding that his words would make her even more uncomfortable. He was used to his crew suffering through slightly varying degrees of hero worship and tried to be kind but professional when it happened.
"Dismissed, and thanks again."
"Yes sir."
She walked quickly through the doors, not sparing a glance for Spock who stood staring at her as she left out the door.
"She's cute, huh? Does a great job. Very organized."
Spock's head turned to face him as though doing so caused the tendons in his neck to creak with disuse.
"Captain… where is Yeoman Rand? Who was that woman?"
Jim stared blankly at Spock. "Yeoman Rand?"
Spock felt odd; as though each muscle in his body was poised for flight. "Yes, Captain. The woman who was just here–I do not know her."
The way she had lightly run her fingers over Jim's bedspread had been unprofessional. Logically, being an attractive female, it was likely that she had been one of Jim's past lovers, and the slightly wistful touch before she had realized they were here could have thus been easily explained. However, thought Spock was hardly an expert on the complexities of human emotion, even he recognized that the way the woman had left here was suspicious. Her facial features upon seeing Jim and Spock watching her would seem to suggest extreme anxiety.
"Rand transferred out at the last Starbase. Personal leave. Honeymoon, I think. Yeoman Karidian took over for her, hm. . . I would guess about a month ago. Why, Spock?" There was tension in Jim's voice. Spock found himself displeased at the distress that surfaced with the question; the captain suddenly tensed up, looking much like he did when Spock had come upon he and the doctor in the corridor.
"I found her actions curious." He saw Jim relax as Spock verbally dismissed the subject. Spock turned again to the computer, fingers flying over the keys as he thought. He took up the threads of their previous conversation. "It would appear that whoever was responsible for your incapacitation does indeed still remain on the ship."
"Unless they used something besides our transporters to snag me."
"Indeed. Erasing their molecular signature through the transporters would also be quite challenging."
"I don't know about that. I mean, I could do it."
Spock turned and looked at him for a moment. "Your mental acuity is not that of a typical human." Spock could see the slight reddish tinge in the vicinity of Jim's cheeks and found a strange sense of satisfaction that his words put it there.
"I just mean that if I can do it, then others might be able to too."
"I am aware, Captain. In addition, the shift change from Alpha to Beta has occurred. You have an officer meeting momentarily." He was quite certain that Jim had managed to forget in the short time. "I would understand if you would like me to head the meeting in your stead. Your earlier emotional outburst would seem to indicate that you are not 'okay' as you claimed to Dr. McCoy. It would be best if you go to sickbay and allow him to assist you."
Jim flinched.
"I'm fine. I'll catch up with Bones later."
"'Fine' is a non-sequitur, captain. I find myself curious about your definition of the word. Your earlier actions would indicate a less than optimal emotional state."
"Don't mother-hen me, Spock. I said I'm fine and I meant it. What do you want to know? God, I reek." Jim stripped off his outer shirt and tossed it in the general direction of his bed. The undershirt he also flung away. He walked into the bathroom. "Spock?" The question was muffled while the captain began cleaning his teeth.
Spock found that it took a moment for him to collect the thread of his previous line of inquiry. The way this human approached casual nudity was nothing less than astounding. "If you and Dr. McCoy are lovers, then why do you not let him comfort you?"
"Whaaat!?"
Jim popped out of the bathroom so fast it looked as though he had been transported. He was naked to the waist, holding a wet towel and seemed to have been in the process of washing his body. Most of his chest was still damp. He was staring at Spock with an expression of shock that even Spock could clearly read. Spock turned back to the computer, busying himself. Nyota had claimed that he needed to work on something called 'segueing' into conversational queries. Perhaps she did have a point.
"It has been my observation that human lovers tend to provide emotional support to one another. Indeed, it is clear that you and the doctor are quite close. I am just curious why you did not allow him to try to comfort you."
Jim opened his mouth, started to speak, and then closed it once again. "I can't believe the younger me showed you that. We were in my head for me to try to get over myself, and you end up with a view of one of the most …" He sighed. "What you saw was a long time ago. And we didn't actually um... have sex. That night you saw was mostly a combination of alcohol and stupidity. We're not lovers, Spock." Jim took the towel and finished wiping the water off of his skin. He disappeared back in the bathroom again, walking rather quickly; face and neck flushed a much darker red. Spock noted idly that this blush did not produce the same emotional reaction in him that the captain's previous blush had done. Curious.
Spock stifled a sigh. Nyota had also frequently admonished him not to 'jump to conclusions' based solely on his logic and observation of human behavior. She claimed that there was no way to properly predict how someone would act in any given situation. The image of Jim, features clearly in the grip of some emotion, almost running away from Dr. McCoy earlier in the corridor warred with the memory of the impish, childlike version of Jim who had taunted him, causing Spock to speak almost without fully considering his words.
The sexual proclivities of this human should not warrant so much deliberation. He had no logical answer for why he kept going back to the thought.
"Hey, Spock?"
Spock had been so deep in thought that he had not realized that Jim had returned to the room. He was in the process of struggling into the black undershirt of his uniform, voice muffled by the fabric when he spoke.
"Yes, Captain."
"Are you planning on telling anyone what you… saw?"
Spock's eyebrow rose. "I do not believe that the information is mine to share. I am aware that you did not want me there with you, Captain. I am deeply sorry that my mistake made it so I had to witness such deeply personal thoughts. You may be certain that I will not tell any of your subordinates any of the events that have transpired."
Jim reached out and touched Spock's arm. As in the meld, there was almost an electric feeling to their touch. Spock could hear Jim's quick inhalation of air, although he covered his surprise with a smile. His own heartbeat increased. For the first time he allowed himself to question the necessity of having his counterpart break the bond with this man. How was it possible to still have such a physical reaction to a simple touch?
"I didn't mean that you would go tattling on me." He bit his lip, looking down for a moment at the floor, and then removed his hand from Spock's forearm. When he looked up again he was smiling a little. "I was looking for you for forever in that place. Just wandering around, lost. I was so confused, Spock. I felt scared, and yeah that's hard to admit to you. But I was so fucking scared that I wouldn't get out of there. It was the worst feeling. Then all of a sudden, you were there and I knew I was going to be safe." Spock found himself holding his breath while Jim spoke.
"One other thing. I really do wish you would call me Jim. You know more about me than anyone. I think it's permissible to be on a first-name basis." He smiled again and took a step back, breaking the moment.
Spock watched while Jim walked to the small closet and rummaged inside to find a gold overshirt and found himself wishing that he could properly mediate in order to completely calm his mind. The emotions that this human could provoke in him, often without trying, were occasionally overwhelming.
"Okay. I don't smell like a week-old corpse now. Let's go."
Spock was still slightly bemused as he followed his Captain out of the room.
***
"Captain, it's so good to have you back!"
"Thank you, Lieutenant. It seems like you guys have been busy while I've been on my little vacation." Jim crossed to his chair and sat down, nodding at everyone seated around the table, striking up a conversation with Sulu who was beaming with delight.
Spock stood at the door for a moment, clutching his hands behind his back. He watched the interplay between the captain and his officers. Everyone had adopted--after much urging on Jim's part-- relaxed attitudes when interacting while not on duty. Here in the conference room, that attitude was even more informal. It reminded Spock of the almost giddy feeling Academy cadets seemed to experience--at least the young, human ones--after completing their exams. They were all exhibiting postures that indicated how happy they were to have their captain back, their shoulders rounded as they conversed quietly with each other, body language calm and relaxed. Spock walked in, noting idly that as he sat down, spines seemed to straighten and grins seemed to, well not disappear exactly, but certainly become more restrained.
"Thank you all for coming. I have a feeling we have a lot to discuss."
Uhura snorted, throwing Jim a speaking glance. While the two had never become particularly close towards each other, their professional relationship had grown enough that they were no longer communicating through sarcasm and rolled eyes. Spock found this much more satisfactory. Clearly it was more logical to have a bridge crew that respected and liked each other.
"I don't even know where to start." Jim sighed, and for a moment while running a nervous hand through his hair, the confident, cocky image he projected cracked a little.
"Captain. Per Commander Spock's request, Lieutenant Sulu and I went over the other ship very carefully. I dinnae know what he was hopin' tae find, but we do have more information than we did previously." Scott was spinning his chair from left to right. He caught Spock's gaze and straightened, immediately ceasing all extraneous movement.
"Great job recovering the ship.."
"Aye. There was nothin' really of value on board. Memory banks hae been wiped prior tae the self-destruct sequence. And I do mean 'wiped'. Daft bastards made sure nothin' could be salvaged. Most of equipment had been gutted and burned. . Quite annoying, that was. I still hae the pieces o' course. I maebbe able to discover something else, but right now that's fairly much a dead end."
"We dinnae-" Sulu gave Scotty a dirty look. "Did. Not. Know for certain who pirated the ship, but its registry was listed as missing during a raid near the neutral zone seven standard months ago." There were some stifled grins around the table. Spock looked around at the amusement on his companion's faces. It was only logical for people who spent a large amount of time together to start emulating the speaking patterns of their cohorts. He failed to see why this was humorous.
Dr. McCoy picked up the thread of the conversation. "We recovered the body found on the ship." Kirk stiffened. "I informed Starfleet of the medically relevant details."
Spock could see Jim's hand curl into a fist from where it rested on the arm of his chair. "I... I forgot about Thomas. God." He bowed his head for a moment, rubbing his temple with his right hand. When he spoke, the words were soft, as though he was not aware that he was speaking out loud. "I'll have to tell his wife."
"I can do it for you, Jim. If you need me to." McCoy also spoke softly. Spock found that he didn't care for the unprofessional way the doctor angled his body towards the captain, as though he were about to reach out to touch him.
Spock shifted in his seat, his leg brushing briefly against the captain's. Spock felt the same jolt of awareness again Jim sat up, hand falling away from his head. "No, Bones. It's my duty. I'll be fine." and found that for a moment he wasn't focusing on the doctor's words.
"Thomas Leighton. I don't think I need to go into particular details on his injuries. I've submitted my report, and any of y'all can access it. He and Ensign Reed were the only two casualties found on the ship. The device that killed the Ensign was set to kill anyone who disrupted a certain pocket of energy particles that had been distributed over the transporter. Spock, you were damn lucky you moved in time. That was a pretty nasty little booby trap they set up."
"So, he left me there to die."
"The level of complexity does suggest a formidable enemy, Jim."
Jim's shoulders straightened against the back of his chair. His blinding smile at Spock's informality caused a strange feeling in the region of Spock's chest. He idly noted that it had been 2.5 days since he had partaken of sustenance. Perhaps he was hungry.
"Each step of their plan was meticulously planned," Spock went on. "The Klingon ship was stolen and later modified for use. The planet, which we confirmed had no signs of sentient life, was chosen because of the electric field's disruptive abilities. Your communicator was found on the planet's surface. Had the enemy vessel's self destruct sequence been completed we would likely still be searching for you on that planet."
"So how did you know to come to the ship?"
"Ensign Chekov had located two life forms on the ship's surface. He found the information before the science officer stationed on bridge duty." Spock did not arbitrarily complement people, but he found the young genius to be exceptionally receptive to praise. Indeed, at his words the young human smiled brightly, then immediately sobered as though told some dreadful news. Spock noted that to his left, Lieutenant Uhura covered her smile with her hand.
"If the Ensign had not made that discovery you would not have been found." Spock found the prospect of that highly unacceptable. "We made preparations to beam down to the surface and learned that the electronic disturbance cycled through a short window of approximately six minutes. By the time we detected the pattern the window had already passed. It took us another cycle to beam down to the planet's surface, whereupon the away team discovered that you were not on the planet."
"Then, what? You just found me?"
"Not exactly. I searched the ship for the lifeform indicated on the tricorder. I located where you were being held prisoner, released you from your bindings and was able to repair some of the navigation equipment. I contacted the Enterprise, and we were beamed aboard."
Jim moved his elbows to the surface of the table, resting his lips on his steepled fingers as he thought. He stood up, pacing back and forth in a flurry of motion. They were all used to the captain having such a reaction, as though he had kept himself unmoving for as long as he could absolutely stand before practically erupting with energy, mumbling under his breath as he paced.
"So. Questions. How'd I get off the ship? That's the biggest fucking case of mutiny I've ever heard of. When I catch whoever did this I'll maroon their ass on Delta Vega and see how they like becoming lunch for that red lobstery thing. So I remember that fucker Kodos. Have to assume that he's going after Kevin and the rest, or why would me n' Tommy be on the same ship? Why now? Why after all this time?" He stopped moving and whirled to face Spock. "What does Starfleet say about this?"
Spock found every pair of eyes suddenly on him with varying degrees of intensity.
"Starfleet did not seem to feel that your recovery was of paramount importance. I did not concur. I believe regulations state that you must take action against me for my insubordination in captaining the ship to New Vulcan for your recovery."
Jim stopped pacing. He turned to look at Spock, sitting at the head of the table.
"Bad Vulcan. No cookie." He shook his finger and grinned.
Spock's lips twitched.
"After you were returned to the ship, Spock brought all of us in here and showed a communication between him and Admiral Pike. We were told to mind our own business. The Commander made it clear that he was interested in finding this Kodos person. We agreed with him, sir." Sulu leaned forward, tapping one finger on the table's surface as though emphasizing his point.
"You guys can't possibly…"
"We can and we will, Keptin. There is a saying in my homeland. 'The wengeful willian who wages war without walor will not be wictorious' ."
There was a silence. Spock noted that Dr. McCoy, Lieutenants Uhura and Sulu along with Commander Scott looked to be studying the grain in the wooden conference table. Carefully. After a few moments, he heard a small choked sound from the doctor. Jim was clearly biting the inside of his cheek.
Interesting.
"Ah, thanks Chekov. That means a lot to me. But, I won't let anyone do anything that will mar their Starfleet record."
"Captain, if I can ask, you mentioned 'catching them'. Who were you talking about?" Sulu titled his head, looking directly at the captain as he continued to pace around the room.
Jim flopped down in his chair. "I'll have to get back to you guys on that one. I think Spock is gonna have to read my mind again to figure it out."
Spock sat up straight. "I beg your pardon, Captain?"
"I was thinking you could do another one of those meldy things. It's so frustrating. It's like I can see who attacked me… but I just can't make out their features."
"I do not know if that would be wise. I would need several hours of meditation before I could attempt such a thing again."
Jim was quiet for a moment. "Okay. Well, thanks for catching me up, folks. Why don't we break today and see what we can find out. I have to contact Starfleet anyway. That should be fun. Bones, do you still have any of that whiskey you smuggled off that Romulan freighter?"
"Smuggle! I did no such thing. I won that fair and square."
"Whatever. Bring it. I have a feeling I'm going to need some after this. Spock, we okay to meet tomorrow? Will that give you enough time?"
"That should be sufficient."
"Alright. That's a wrap, guys. Try not to have too much fun without me."
Spock stood and pushed in his chair. He could see that Nyota wanted to speak with him, but the prospect of being so casually asked to meld with his captain had, to use the human vernacular, thrown him for a loop. He desperately wanted to be alone. He needed to center himself, to calm this chaotic mass of emotion before he was once again compromised. He made his way to his quarters.
"Lights down 40 percent." Mindful of his earlier physical reaction, Spock crossed over to his replicator and ordered a salad of a mix of Terran and Vulcan vegetables. He ate mechanically, quickly doing so for the nutrition he needed to be able to center his katra during the energy expelled during mediation. Similarly, he drank a light Androian fruit drink he was quite fond of so that he would not be dehydrated after his meditation.
He then crossed into the bathroom, stripping off his uniform and stepping into the sonic shower. He heard a muffled thud and what sounded like a laugh over the sound of the sonics from the other side of the bulkhead. Spock's eyes closed of their own accord as he listened to the sounds in the other berth. Jim. And the doctor.
Both his and the captain's quarters were mirrors of one another, partially separated by the shared bathroom with the rest of their quarters separated by a bulkhead. There were two doors that opened on either side of the small bathroom, each mechanized so that the door wouldn't open if someone was in there without a specific override. To be heard so clearly Jim and the doctor had to be sitting near the eating area, quite possibly sharing an alcoholic beverage. Not for the first time, Spock wondered what it would be like to partake in that particular human ritual. He stepped out of the bathroom and walked naked to his closet, dressing quickly in one of the few Vulcan mediation robes he owned.
He lit the candle. It was a familiar scent, calming and bittersweet at the same time. His mother had once told him that smell was the sense Humans most associated most with memory. Spock had found that his candles- made from particular version of Vulcan sage and Terran lavender , with the spicier scents of sandalwood and musk mixed throughout-- allowed Spock to decrease the muscle tension with every deep, steady breath he took. He shut his eyes, relaxing each muscle, preparing to go into a meditative trance, almost desperate for the cold unattachment his shields provided. His breathing became steadier, slowing past the normal Vulcan respiration and into--
A burst of laughter from Jim's room caused Spock's eyes to pop open. His breath caught, sharp and staccato as he sucked in a gasp of air. The bulkhead was thin enough that he could discern murmurs of sound, but not actual words. A low grinding sound. He was appalled to realize that he was clenching his teeth at the interruption.
Spock began his breathing exercises again, determined to relax enough to properly mediate. His breathing slowed. Calm, quiet blackness. Time often had no meaning during meditation. His training allowed him to go as deeply as he wished, relying on his inner sense of time to rouse him if he were needed. Spock assumed his regular rhythms and patterns, sorting through information in his brain as it came to the forefront of his subconscious.
Jim Kirk. The fleeting thought summoned memories of his time in Jim's psyche. A flash of blue eyes. The barrage of information, the sharing of memory, had been so far out of his realm of experience that he had refused to think about everything he had witnessed.
Worse, he was once again emotionally compromised. The guilt at bonding with Jim--even accidentally--and then breaking that bond, was like some sinister thing, ready to spring on him at any moment. To break something that had the potential for such beauty was sickening. Spock could clearly remember the incandescence of his counterpart's bond. His own had been tenuous. Weak. Unformed, unconsummated, but with the potential for such exquisite joy.
And he had had it terminated.
He was deeply disturbed to find that he could still pick up faint strains of what Jim was feeling. That shouldn't happen at all with a psi-null if he wasn't physically touching him. Spock could detect a sense of calmness, of relaxed camaraderie from Jim. There was no denying that it 'felt' like Jim; even his brief foray into the other man's mind had left Spock with a clear understanding of what Jim's mind felt like. This echo of understanding didn't distract Spock from his meditative state, however. It was a whisper; a low buzz of occasional feeling. He was able to turn his thoughts even more deeply inward, sorting through the events of the past few days, building and solidifying his personal shields. Ideas and theories, speculation and hypotheticals were made and discarded until—
The scream brought him out of his trance. There was a loud thud against the bulkhead, and Spock was up and moving towards the bathroom without making the conscious decision to move. He barked the override to allow him into Jim's room and came up short, staring, robe swirling around his legs as he froze.
Jim was huddled in on himself, holding up a hand as though to ward off a blow. His long frame was folded so that his face was on his knees, hidden by one of his forearms. The residual echo from the broken bond pulsed with terror. Broken cries were muffled, yet still horribly loud in the otherwise silent room.
Spock observed that the doctor was in the process of slowly backing away from his friend.
"What have you done?"
Jim's mouth was open, face pressed against his knees. He could hear nothing but his frantic heartbeat echoing in his ears. His chest burned. It was though his throat had closed with this strength of his shock. His neck muscles trembled with the pressure of pushing, his face against his knees lip splitting against his uniform leg. The taste of blood filled his mouth. Dimly, over the sound of his heartbeat, he became aware of other sounds in the room. He couldn't breathe, couldn't make his lungs work well enough to actually draw in oxygen.
"Goddamnit man, I didn't do anything! He was sitting on his bed reading a message and suddenly jumped up and threw the damn PADD across-"
He tuned out the frantic words, focusing instead on the sound of feet moving against the carpeted floor. Jim became aware of a blast of heat, the scent of something spicy that reminded him of the desert. Someone… Spock. SafeSpocksafewon'thurtsafeSpock Jim leaned almost imperceptibly towards the new source of heat like a plant searching for the sun.
"Jim."
Jim felt himself tense at the sudden sound. He took a shaky breath, and then another, listening to his heartbeat become less panicked. Slowly he relaxed his neck muscles, moving so his mouth was just resting on his knee. He realized his lip was throbbing.
"Neither the doctor or myself mean you any harm. I am going to touch you in a comforting manner. Do not be alarmed."
Even though panic was a tight ball of nausea in his stomach, Jim's lips twitched at that. He nodded into his legs. He felt the higher temperature of Spock's own body heat as his gently touched Jim's shoulder.
Fucking stupid. Cowering in the corner… it was a picture just a picture it's over.
He felt Spock jerk his hand away. The contact, brief though it was, made Jim suck in his breath, the skin of his shoulder suddenly cold. Jim forced himself to look up. He slowly unclenched his body. He forced a breath, and then another, hearing a high-pitched whistle as moisture caught in his throat.
"Jim." Bones sounded so relieved. The sound made his eyes tear up in reaction. Shame and guilt warred for space within him.
"I--"
Bones knelt on his other side. He swore under his breath and pulled Jim into a hug. Jim's arm flopped a little, brushing up against Spock. He became aware of something strong, dark- a feeling? Impression?- and it was cut off abruptly as Spock stood with one fluid movement, walking towards the broken PADD near the table. Bones clutched him for a moment longer before breaking off and standing, grunting when his bones creaked as he stood.
Jim made his careful way to his bed, where he lay down, idly wiping the blood off of his face. His mind was carefully blank. Bones was watching him carefully.
Jim sighed. "Bones. It was just a panic attack. Surely you haven't forgotten the joys of me making an ass out of myself. Pretty entertaining, huh?"
"Don't be an idiot." He crossed his arms, biting off the words through clenched teeth. He jerked his gaze towards the broken piece of equipment."What the fuck, Jim?"
Jim was watching Spock as he stood stiffly with his back to them. The robe that he wore was cut widely around the neck, showing Spock's collarbone and the ridges of his vertebra as his neck bowed. Jim didn't think he had ever seen the other man- Vulcan?- wearing anything other than a uniform. It made him look softer somehow. Jim could hear the sound the robe made as it slid against Spock's skin as he bent over to retrieve the device and holy loving Christ what the hell was he thinking?
"Clearly you saw something on this that was disagreeable." He turned around with an inquiring look. Jim couldn't meet his eyes. He had. Oh, god he had.
"I wish to see this missive."
Jim sighed. "No you don't, Spock. I wish I hadn't seen it either." Spock's eyebrow raised just a little, the only bit of movement in his pale face.
"Jim. You know I can't release you for duty if this is going on."At 'this', Bones waved his hands around as though indicating the whole room.
"Yeah."
"I'm tempted to give you something to knock you out. At least then I'd know you've slept."
"Thanks, Mom. Spock, seriously. Leave it alone. That's an order."
Spock, who had been punching in a key sequence hastily stopped, looking up over the small PADD. Jim could see his mouth tighten into a small frown.
Jim looked back at him, his eyes flicking down over the robe and back up to Spock's face. The garment was absolutely beautiful. Most Vulcan artifacts were simple and unadorned, but this one was long and flowing. There was a small section of silver stitched into the front of the robe, replete with various Vulcan symbols. The threads shimmered in the low lights. Spock, seeming to just now realize that he was not dressed in his regulation Starfleet uniform, set The PADD down on the table and turned, walking back towards the bathroom.
"I will leave you to the doctor's ministrations while I go and change into something more appropriate."
"'Kay. And thanks Spock. That was the second time you've helped me today. I really appreciate it. I'll contact Pike and see what needs to be done." Spock paused for a moment before resuming his measured stride back into his own quarters.
"The second time?" Jim felt the bed dip as his friend perched on the edge. He heard the hum of the medical tricorder and tried not to roll his eyes.
"Yeah."
"Jim, these readings are all over the place."
"Awesome." He was exhausted. He didn't remember panic attacks leaving him so wrecked afterwards. "I can't believe I still have to talk to Starfleet about all this. I mean, we're just hanging out here over New Vulcan. It's only been a couple of hours since we beamed back."
"Well, to be fair you have had a lot of your mind. Literally. I don't know what sort of Vulcan voodoo they did down there, but it seems like it's changed some of your mental signature. The patterns aren't damaged exactly, but different. Stronger, but… Damnit Jim, I'm a doctor not a psychiatrist! I had something like six months of psychiatric training at the beginning of my career, even before we met on that shuttle. I have half a mind to insist we go back to that Starbase so I can have you checked out."
"What Starbase?" Jim's eyes, which had lazily drifted shut, popped open again. Bones had finished one pass with the tricorder and started back up the length of his body.
"Oh we were en route before we found you. That damn disease. It just made me want to make sure that we were fully aware of its sympt-" Bones stopped and winced.
"What do you mean, disease?" Jim was completely baffled.
"Ehh, shit."
Jim looked at his friend, who was staring over his head, looking troubled.
"Bones." Bones usually ignored that tone when he used it with him. This time he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Jim felt something in him shiver as the door to his bathroom slid open. Spock was there, dressed impeccably with his hands clasped behind his back.
"When you were taken off the ship, something was injected into the ship's ventilation ship. Something microbial. It… it was pretty bad. It took out most of the crew for several days." He sighed and Jim braced himself for what was coming. "Seventeen people died. It didn't work like anything I'd seen before. Each separate symptom needed its own cure."
"And what, you just forget to tell me? Goddamnit Bones! " Jim sprung up from the bed and started pacing around his quarters again. He saw the abandoned PADD on the table and scooped it up, throwing it as hard as he could against the wall. The sound of glass breaking was loud in the quiet room. "What the hell else haven't you told me?" He remembered he was barefoot right before he kicked the broken glass. Instead he turned and threw himself down into one of the chairs, seething.
"Captain."
Jim wasn't sure what Spock saw in his face when he snapped his neck around to meet his gaze, but it caused him to shift very slightly.
"How do you forget to mention something that killed seventeen of my people?" Jim's voice was tight with anger. He refused to show any other emotion. These two had already gotten all he emotion they were going to get out of him for today.
"As you are well aware, Captain, my memory is eidetic. I do not 'forget'. I judged that this information would best be expressed semi-privately due to the 99.6 likelihood that you would be emotionally compromised by the details of the disease. I admit that I had not anticipated Dr. McCoy sharing this information until you were cleared for duty. Clearly there are nuances to Human doctor/patient relationships that I do not understand."
Bones glared at Spock, lips twisting in a smirk. "Clearly." He bit out.
Jim held up a hand. "So, not only did I get kidnapped and go a little crazy, my ship was attacked. Starfleet is probably dicking around with all the PR and red tape from Tommy's death. Still, I need to tell them…" His voice trailed off as he continued his thought. "Let's back up. I need to contact Starfleet before I do anything else. If you two can behave you can stay here. Otherwise, split."
"As Acting Captain until you are medically cleared, it would be most logical for me to remain while you contact your superior officers."
"Fine. Bones?"
"I need to add the latest funky brain readings to your illustrious medical file." He waved the tricorder significantly. "You two kids try not to have too much fun." His grin was wry but at least it was a grin. Jim knew how he hated to deal with 'bureaucratic bullshit', preferring instead the relative solitude of his office or the ordered chaos of sick bay. The fact that he was leaving him with Spock just proved that either he trusted that Jim wouldn't fall apart again, or that he was in for a physical so complete Bones would be able to predict the next time that he would sneeze.
"'Funky ' brain readings?" Spock's voice was clipped.
"Yeah. Don't worry. He thinks it was just a side effect of some of the stuff that happened when you went in after me." Jim tapped his temple with his finger. "Well, let's get this over with. Then maybe you can do your mind meld thing again and tell me who I'm supposed to be looking for, so that I can kick their ass."
Spock seemed frozen for a moment.
"Spock?" Jim cocked his head. His heart rate was still high enough from his earlier burst of anger that his face was still flushed. Between that and the panic attack, he was pretty damn sure he was ready for a nap. The euphoria he'd felt when he woke up on New Vulcan a few hours ago had dissipated completely.
Spock had moved to the side; out of direct range of the video screen but still able to hear. Uhura was off-duty at this hour, so Jim punched in his communication data himself, waiting patiently while the subspace call was placed and answered. Jim spun around in his chair while he waited. He caught a glance of Spock, who was staring at him as though he were a particularly interesting physics formula.
"Spock? Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"
"I could not possibly hope to answer that with any accuracy, given the statistical certainty that somewhere in the universe something is 'wrong', Jim."
Jim couldn't help the slightly goofy smile at hearing his name from Spock's lips. He remembered that his lip had been split while he sat in the corner about this time and winced, licking at his lip. Spock was so stuffy; it was so hard for him to be informal. The fact that he was trying meant a lot to Jim, hence the goofy smile.
There was a beep, signifying the Admiral was available.
"Captain Kirk."
"Admiral Pike."
"Goddamn, son it's good to see you." Pike smiled.
"It's good to be seen. You know that I wouldn't have been if Spock hadn't found me."
"Yes. I read his report."
Jim sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well?"
Pike sighed, smile draining away from his face. "Well, I have some good news for you. It's not perfect, but it will be better than nothing, and you better be damn grateful that I managed to arrange it."
Jim didn't say anything.
"Kevin Riley is working as a medical researcher on Starbase 11. Erica Molson is a stage performer, last seen on Wrigley. Your orders are to find and escort them back to Earth."
"My orders? Gee, Admiral. I haven't even been cleared for duty yet." Jim was fighting to keep his face blank. Kevin and Erica. He hadn't seen either of them since he was thirteen years old. Even hearing their names caused his heart to speed up. He felt his skin start to sweat. His throat started to close. Oh no oh nonono. Not again. He couldn't do this now, not now not-
"Admiral, what of the criminal Kodos?" Spock moved into the frame, brushing against Jim briefly in passing. The quick touch was like a burst of adrenaline, clearing Jim's head and allowing him to think clearly again. He took a deep breath, trying to hide how shaky it was.
"We have no information on him at this time. We do not even know if it was he that-"
"It was." The words broke from his throat, as though fighting for life through broken glass. "It was him."
"Jim, you were tortured. For days. I… understand what your mind goes through in a time like that. The crazy things you remember. Starfleet regulations are clear. You know we can't corroborate your statement without additional evidence."
Jim felt like he had been punched. His face must have reflected his shock, because the Admiral spoke again.
"Jim. We need evidence. You have your orders. I am sure you'll be back on duty in no time. You always have had a way of getting things done over and above expectations. Pike out."
Jim found himself staring at the monitor for a full minute. Spock had stiffened beside him.
"Jim, the inflection in Admiral Pike's voice would seem to indicate that he has just ordered us to go against our official orders. I find myself unsure that this is the wisest course of action."
"Yeah. 'He needs evidence.' We just have to get him that evidence." He tapped his communicator.
"Kirk to Helm. Plot a course to Wrigley. Warp five."
There was an awkward silence. Jim rolled his eyes. "Spock."
"Assume the course, helmsman."
"Yes, sir." The poor guy sounded relieved. Truth be told, Jim had reacted without actually realizing that he wasn't technically a captain at the moment. He put his head on his hands.
"Sorry about that," he muttered. "God, I'm tired." The movement brought his shoulder against Spock's torso. He cracked open one eye. "Okay, I can write off the first couple of times as coincidence, but what the hell is that? Every time we touch I feel like someone just goosed me."
"Captain, I fail to understand the correlation between Terran avian species and your reaction to touching me."
Jim bit his lip to keep from laughing, then yelped a little when it stung. "Ah, it's an expression. I mean, when we touch there's a surprising ... link. Between us."
Spock took a step back and walked over to the eating area, taking his normal spot in front of the chess board. "I believe what we are experiencing is a residual effect of a… connection."
"From you being in my head? You mean, from that mistake…thingy?" Jim wasn't sure exactly how to put it in words.
"Affirmative." Spock sounded as cold as he did during his Kobyashi trial.
Jim turned in his chair fully, observing his First Officer. "I'm afraid I don't understand. Is this like the meld the Ambassador and I did? Why am I not linked to him? I mean, you can't read my thoughts when we touch, can you?"
Spock's eyelid twitched in a way that Jim took to mean he was growing agitated. "You are aware that I am a touch telepath."
Jim nodded. His eyes grew wide. "You mean, every time that I've touched you, you could read my thoughts?!"
"Before our …link, yes. Only through skin-to-skin contact. I could ascertain a glimmer of what you were thinking, especially if you were directing your thoughts to me at the time. In the past four point three hours, I have observed that I can pick up some of your more overwhelming emotions without skin contact, as evidenced when you were becoming emotionally distressed when speaking with the Admiral. My counterpart has likely attempted several melds in the course of his life and would not have miscalculated."
"You mean I was your test run?"
Spock didn't bother dignifying that with a response. Jim stared at Spock for a moment...
"Can I touch you?" The words slipped out before Jim could properly think about them. He leaned forward a little and held up his hand.
Spock looked appalled; skin flushing in a light green. "That gesture would not be appropriate." Jim was confused. Spock looked like he had just propositioned him or something.
Spock sat across from him at the table, seated with his back straight, hands lightly resting on his legs, no different from the other hundreds of times Jim had seen Spock sit that way. Acting on instinct, Jim reached out and touched the back of Spock's wrist with a finger. Immediately, he felt better, as though the chaos of his thoughts had gone through a filter. Jim tried to get a handle on everything he was feeling, not wanting to make Spock uncomfortable again. He shut his eyes in concentration.
"Do I have your permission to join our minds?" Spock's question seemed muffled in the quiet room, yet it caused Jim's breath to catch. He nodded, still with his eyes closed. Jim didn't know what the hell was going on in his life, but when this happened, each and every time, he came out of it with some knowledge.
"My mind to your mind." Jim could feel the fingers of Spock's hand slide against his face. He found himself leaning forward just a tiny amount, leaning into their connection.
"My thoughts to your thoughts."
The world slid away, and all he was aware of was Spock, like some burning sun in a pit of darkness. He knew what he wanted and went for it. Jim found himself fumbling mentally, unable to really muster any sort of defense against Spock's mind. He found himself unable to even think in words. There was no landscape this time, no emotional transference or visualization of memory.
Jim relived his incapacitation again, Spock watching the memory over and over, slowing it down and speeding past other parts, looking for some kind of clue. It was impossible. Jim's allergic reaction had muddled his senses; sight was blurry, no sense of smell or taste. A feeling of nausea, a glimpse of a red uniform and the suggestion of medium-length blonde hair. A glimpse of human-looking hands. The body was slight, but nothing indicated whether his pursuer was female or male. Jim tended to think male since he wasn't exactly a lightweight, and it would have required some physicality if Jim had managed to fight back. There was a bright glint of bluish light as the portable transporter glinted in the corridor. It landed on Jim's chest with a soft thud. Then the feeling of panic, confusion and darkness as he transported.
Jim took the mental equivalent of a breath of relief, thinking that this was done, but felt Spock's mind again. A feeling of curiosity. The mental image of Jim throwing the PADD against the wall in a shocking display of emotion. Jim scrambled mentally, trying to pull away.
He gasped, eyes flying open as they came out of the meld. Spock's gaze bored into him with such a storm of intensity in his brown eyes that Jim couldn't begin to actually decipher what Spock's eyes were telling him before the other man was pulling way, putting distance between them.
"Ah, thanks. For stopping I mean."
"I find your insistence on maintaining distance in this manner unpleasing and completely illogical."
Jim grinned a little at Spock's prissiness.
"Tough."
He got up and crossed to the replicator, getting a coffee for himself and a Vulcan tea for Spock. It was a gesture he had done hundreds of times during their chess matches, yet Spock seemed mildly startled when Jim set the mug beside his elbow on the table. He took a drink. It came in such a small dose that Spock drank it in one swallow, like one would do with a shot. Usually the sight made him inwardly smile. Jim lounged against the bulkhead as he drank, thinking.
"So, nothing helpful in my memory then. The ship's still on lockdown. How are we supposed to complete our mission with a traitor on board? I really want this guy nailed to a wall, Spock."
"I will start by compiling a list of each crew member with light-colored hair, and cross-referencing it with who would have been off duty at that time."
Jim snorted. "Yeah, assuming that was really their hair. They could have been wearing a wig or could have been totally bald! They could have stolen the uniform…" He broke off, sipping his coffee. The heat felt good against his swollen lip. "Shit. This isn't going to be easy."
Spock stood and crossed to the front door of Jim's quarters, setting the small empty mug by the replicator on his way.
"Hey, wait? Where are you going?"
"I believe that should be obvious…Jim."
"I have some more questions though. Like, why was that meld different than the other times when I was out of it?" He took another sip of coffee.
Spock tilted his head slightly, looking at Jim as though he had done something mildly fascinating. "In the previous meld, we were bonded."
Jim choked on the coffee, almost dropping it as he tried to get his body under control. He carefully set the mug on the table near him while he bent over at the waist coughing. "What?" He was pretty sure his eyes were going to bug out of his head.
"We were bonded together for a short time."
Jim was still trying to remember how to breathe. "Wh—wh- what?"
"Was your aural perception damaged in some way, sir?"
"Jim, damnit! Yes! You said you made a mistake, not the Vulcan version of 'til death do us part! I mean, I'm not exactly an expert on Vulcan cultural rituals, but even we know what a bond is!" Jim stared at Spock, who stood at his customary parade rest, each muscle in his body tensed.
"Indeed."
"Wait… wait. I thought Vulcan bonds were permanent. Who broke it?"
"My counterpart corrected my miscalculation. As I said, the connection that you feel is just the residual effects of that bond. I hypothesize that it will fade in time. Please do not be concerned; we are no longer connected permanently. If there is nothing else, there are several experiments that need my attention before I retire for the night. I suggest that you get some sleep."
Jim's brain seemed to still be stuck. "Uh… ah. Yeah. Goodnight, Spock. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Indeed. That does seem likely." Spock left his quarters without another word.
Jim collapsed onto his bed, mind whirling. There was no way in hell he was going to sleep without trying to put his thoughts into some sort of order. That was one of the tricks that the first slew of counselors had suggested: that he write about his feelings. As a teenager he had been less than thrilled with keeping what he referred to as a 'dream journal', but as an adult Jim found that it did help to talk out his problems. He did it at least once a day. He smiled, remembering how cold it had been on Delta Vega, and how extremely pissed off he had been.
"Captain's personal log, Stardate … something. Shit. I should probably know that. Oh well. Dear journal, Today I had a very interesting day."
He laughed. "I don't know why I always start my journal like that. I doubt Ms. Malone really intended me to keep on with that way of starting. Or was it Dr. L'eath? Whatever. So I found out that I got married a few days ago. Me. Married. To Spock! I guess he accidentally bonded us? I'm not really sure how that works. Uhura might know more about it. Although, if I go up to her and casually mention that I accidentally married her boyfriend, she might beat me to death with her ponytail. It surprises me to learn that Spock isn't infallible. I mean, he always seems so controlled. I guess in Vulcan years he's still fairly young though. I mean Spock… not my Spock, but the other Spock. Wait, not that he's my my Spock." He paused for a few minutes, surprised by the little spurt of … wanting. He shook his head, appalled at himself. Talk about misplaced gratitude. "Anyway, the older Spock doesn't really seem all that old. But I guess he would have to be over one hundred and fifty standard years. I could ask him I guess. But... it kind of makes me feel like shit. I think it hurts him to see me. Maybe makes him remember his version of me."
Jim yawned, rolling off the bed and taking off his clothes. These days he slept in just an old pair of sweats. He found a pair in his wardrobe and slid them on. (He used to sleep naked until the first time he had been sick and his Yeoman, without knowing he was in bed, had yanked off the covers. Both of them had shrieked like a little girl at a slumber party. Yeoman Rand had gotten an eyeful, and Jim, with visions of sexual harassment lawsuits dancing in his head, had never gone to bed completely naked again.) He got back in bed, under the covers.
"Anyway, I don't know what the fuck is going on. I couldn't tell Spock. Or Bones, either. It was pretty stupid of me to throw the PADD against the wall like that. Sort of like a kid having a temper tantrum. It was just… seeing poor Tommy. They hurt him so… "He stopped for a moment, trying to speak past the blockage in his throat.
"It's funny. I've spent most of the last part of my life very carefully not thinking about those guys. Tom, Kevin… or even Erica, although she wasn't in the same situation as we were. She still got off on the shuttle with us. Same bunch of diplomatic hoops. Same bunch of bullshit. We didn't want to talk about what happened to us on that fucking planet. Still don't. And now, somehow He is still alive… and it's pretty goddamn clear that he's coming after the five of us.
"I don't know who sent that message to me. I was just sitting there, drinking with Bones, same shit we always do after I make it back from some mission or another and he's done being pissed off that I got hurt. My message station blipped, and I was too lazy to get up to put it on the viewer. Good thing too. Bones would have shit himself if he saw what they sent. So that's one good thing I've managed to do I guess. Bones tries to be all gruff about stuff like that, but he's the biggest girl over things sometimes. Like, I could tell he was hurt that I hadn't told him the details of what happened on Tarsus IV."
Jim yawned again, punching his pillow into some sort of comfortable shape. Part of him was hoping that this would allow him to sleep. The other part was afraid that he would start in with the nightmares again. He sighed.
"I'll feel better when I know that whoever helped me get off the ship is caught. I can figure that out as soon as I get some sleep. Goodnight, Journal."
Jim stretched out on the bed. He lay there for a few minutes, but the exhaustion of the day did eventually catch up with him. When he closed his eyes, he tentatively reached out for that spark that he felt with Spock. It was muted, distant, but there. His brow furrowed as he concentrated. Very dimly, he could sense something comforting; a stroke of cool skin against a fevered brow. He sighed again and slipped into sleep.