There was a man in his dreams with grey eyes and grey hair. "Hey, darling…" he said softly and laughed – all wrinkles and genuine fondness and Spock's heart instantly beat faster.
They were surrounded by trees, branches heavy with snow, standing on the porch of Admiral Barnett's house, while Starfleet's annual Christmas party was taking place inside.
"Kirk seems to be quite smitten with Marcus's girl. If I didn't know about Kirk's commitment issues, I would say that she is the one."
"The one?"
"The one as in babies and marriage and settling down."
"Doctor Marcus would be a wise choice."
"Carol's a smart woman. Although Alexander Marcus as a father-in-law - that I wouldn't wish anyone…"
"Indeed…"
Pike came to stand behind Spock on the porch, wrapping both arms around the Vulcan's waist. Spock leaned back against the strong, warm body and closed his eyes.
"What're you doing out there? Too many people?"
"Positive."
The Vulcan was not interested in participating in Terran's Christmas drinking rituals neither was he terrible sociable. Crowds made him uneasy. So despite that he found the cold unbearable, he had drifted out onto the front porch, trying to escape the music, the accidental touches and the chatter.
"You know, you didn't have to come. I should've have known that a gathering of so many drunk people would make you uncomfortable."
"It was my wish to accompany you."
"And I want you to be comfortable and happy."
Christopher pressed a kiss to the skin visible on Spock's neck, where the collar of his Vulcan robes ended. "You're ice cold. You shouldn't be out there." The human tightened his hold around Spock's waist, being very in the personal space that only ever said human was allowed to invade.
"Speaking of - ever thought about marrying?"
Spock turned around and twisted further into the human's arms. Pike looped both arms over his back to drag him even closer.
"I've been betrothed before."
"What happened?"
"She chose someone else over me."
"She's an idiot."
Spock raised one eyebrow and the older man traced that slanted eyebrow with his fingers, before he pressed a Vulcan kiss to a white, cool cheek.
„She's an idiot…," the grey eyed man repeated. "Because she has seen a diamond and she has chosen glass."
With that words, Christopher cupped the Vulcan's face and kissed him the human way. It was too cold to be kissing outside. Spock was shivering hard, despite being so close to the human's warmer body – and yet - yet it was the best kiss Spock could ever remember having. Christopher tasted faintly of toothpaste, drowned under the scotch from the party and as he coaxed Spock's mouth open, the Vulcan couldn't help but utter a quiet moan.
"Stop molesting our little Vulcan, Chris and come inside! Both of you will catch your death out there!" someone, probably doctor Boyce, Christopher's best friend – yelled standing in the open door which led to Barnett's now snow-covered garden, and Christopher flipped him of with a grin, before kissing Spock again. The Vulcan repressed a silent chuckle, and nipped at his lower lip as an instruction to behave.
They didn't stop kissing for a long time, bathing in each others love until Boyce shooed them inside.
Now Christopher's kisses were only a memory. Nothing more than a dream.
He made a whining noise in the back of his throat, like a distressed Terran cat and felt himself shaking. That damnable shaking, that had been with him on and off since Vulcan's destruction and had only increased since Christopher's death.
"Shhh….sweetheart…shh…I'm here…"
There was a warm hand on his forehead and fingers against his psi points, coating them thickly in affection and fear; making him flinch. There was a voice speaking to him, low and soft - the way his father had spoken to him, when he was sick as a child.
"Go back to sleep…It's alright…I've got you…It's alright…"
"End it…You're no use to anyone. Your life is worth nothing..," the man said. His eyes were not grey but blue and his hair was not light but dark. There was no affection in his voice, only indifference. They were walking shoulder to shoulder through Vulcan's lost desert, rotting bodies sowing their way like some bizarre guardians. Despite their decaying state, Spock heard them screaming.
"Your dreams taste like despair and grief," the man said. "I don't know whether to be disappointed or pleased."
"You are not real," Spock said. "Kirk eliminated you."
"No and yes," John Harrison – Khan – answered smiling. "But that doesn't change anything. Tell me, Spock – what are you waiting for? What are you expecting? Some kind of miracle? Not even Kirk can cheat death. He can't bring Pike back. Neither can you. I killed him. So what are you waiting for? You won't get better. Why prolonging your suffering? End it."
Even dreaming Spock felt tired. "Leave," he said but the other man remained where he was, laughing, all teeth and cold eyes. They kept walking through the fields of bodies, and it went on and on and on. Like a vicious cycle, never to be broken.
What was he waiting for?
He did not know.
There where memories and there where dreams and there were nightmares and sometimes Spock had a hard time to distinguish.
A hospital room. Earth.
"Morning, gorgeous," the man with the kind grey eyes said.
Spock blinked.
Christopher was sitting on his bedside, in that white metallic wheelchair, which has become the human's personal version of hell.
"Do you ever wonder how happy you've made me?"
"You sound rather foreign. Should you not be saying, 'You will be up and about in no time'?"
"I'll do that tomorrow, sweetheart. But, right now, I want to tell you that I fall more in love with you every passing day."
He took Spock's hand and kissed his knuckles making Spock's pale, gaunt cheeks blush in the progress.
"You should not remain with me."
"Why? Because you're sick? Grieving? Because you're not worth it? Oh, you foolish young thing…Spock, no matter what you think in that stubborn head of yours - I love you and I won't leave you. Not over something like that. You're not a burden and I won't discard you like some broken toy, only because things have become a little bit difficult now."
"You have to focus on your own recovery, Christopher. Not on mine."
"And I do but that doesn't mean I can't be there for you. In good and in bad times, remember, darling?"
"Do you ever regret…"
"..falling in love with you?" Christopher interrupted and Spock could hear the smile. "Sweetheart, no man can regret loving as I have loved you. I still do. I love you, Spock. I don't say it often enough but I do. I love you. I never could be happy with anyone else as long as you walk under the living."
Spock turned his head to the side and avoided Christopher's piercing eyes.
"I'll never leave you. Do you hear me? Not if you don't want me to. Really want me to", Christopher said - smiling, his eyes full of reassurance and warmth. He pressed a Vulcan kiss to his cheek and then leaned over to kiss his forehead. His love sparked and surged across Spock's face like comets, making him gasp quietly.
"Never. I promise, darling."
Two years later he had to break that promise.
Sometimes he wished he would never wake up and sometimes he wished he would not have fallen asleep in the first place.
"Every time you have to talk to a counselor or have a physical check up, you look like you want to murder the next person who comes across." Pike said, dodging around an obnoxious woman with a stroller. He could walk again albeit with a cane but soon also that cane would be history.
Spock scowled at him.
"You are not delighted about your physical therapy sessions either." After particularly difficult ones Christopher used to throw temper tantrums like a small child, or he was sullen and withdrawn, not reacting to Spock's attempts to draw him into a conversation.
"Spock…"
"I do not wish to be pocked and prodded."
"They only want to help you."
Spock ignored him, until they had reached their shared apartment.
"Spock hey…"
"As I child I have been ill often. As a hybrid the healers did not expect me to survive my childhood and kept telling my parents to expect my premature death. I was treated more as a test subject than a living being and now I …"
He bit his lip; a mannerism that he had been hard-pressed to overcome as a child. However he was too troubled to be able to suppress it in that moment.
"You are a living being. You are not an experiment and I won't let anyone ever treat you as such again," Christopher took a deep breath, and continued. "Look, you're sick. You're still dealing with the trauma of having lost so much. You need the check-ups; the medication and you cannot compare Phil and doctor McCoy to the Vulcan healers of your childhood. They're your friends. They care for you, darling. As much as I do. "
The human put a finger under his chin and titled his head up, forcing the Vulcan to look at him. Stubborn dark eyes met equally stubborn grey ones.
"Christopher…"
"You know what, darling. For being such a brave Vulcan," Pike said – voice sliding effortlessly from serious affection to teasing. "How about the next time you've your weekly check-up we stop by the bakery for those vegan muffins, you like so much?"
Spock had a sweet tooth, Christopher had discovered during the first year of their relationship, and he exploited it now whenever he could.
"Very well."
Christopher kissed him until he couldn't breathe, and then kissed him some more for good measure.
He kept walking through the masses of rotting bodies in his dreams. Spock kneeled down in front of one of them. It had no pointy ears, not like the others and its lifeless eyes were grey and not dark. They were human.
Christopher.
"You did this, young Vulcan! You did this," Khan said. "It is your fault. Yours alone."
Spock felt moisture running down his cheeks.
"End it," the other man said and laughed.
"There. There, get him - that's it."
Rough, familiar hands began to rub at his arms and offered fleeting brushes to his face.
"What...what happened?"
"Nightmares. He could also have an averse reaction to the sedative I gave him earlier or he came across another broken bond. To be honest – I think the stress lately is simply too much for him. He's not coping."
"I thought Vulcans can't dream."
"They normally don't. But they can. Especially when sick or distressed."
"What should I do? How can I help him?"
"Get some sleep, or at least some rest and relaxation – both of you. Try to hold onto him – the touch of his bondmate should be able to calm him at least a little. As much skin to skin contact as possible would be the best."
"About earlier... I'm sorry, Bones…"
"I know…"
Christopher pressed him back into the mattress, leaving his hands heavy on Spock' shoulders and licking into his mouth - no air left for urgency between them.
Spock was quaking under him, as the human's skilled hands undressed him without any hurry and for the very first time. His eyes were wide and he looked far too innocent, as he finally lay bare under the human's sturdy frame.
They did not stop kissing. Not even, later, much later, when Christopher rearranged the Vulcan's legs around his own waist, and pushed into his body, his edges fading in the dim light of the captain quarters.
There was nothing but the moment, the two of them, together – becoming one.
It felt like falling.
Emotions which were not his own were invading his mind. Love. Desire. Want. Possession. The need to protect.
Spock turned his head to the side, shuddering out a breath, and Pike whispered gently "Shh sweetheart it's alright…c'mon darling, fall with me...," against a pointed ear.
"Fall with me."
Spock could not stop shaking and his head was spinning and he never had felt so loved and complete.
And when he fell, Spock said Christopher's name over and over again.
Some dreams now felt like reality and the reality like dreams. A blur of memories and wishes and the ashen taste of despair.
"Spock. Come here."
Spock emerged from the bathroom in dark sweatpants and one of Christopher's black long-sleeved shirts – already dressed for bed - and no shoes. He looked oddly vulnerable with his bare white feet and the baggy, unfitting clothing.
As he approached the couch where the Admiral sat, Christopher caught him by his hand and drew him into his lap. The young Vulcan shifted uncomfortable in his hold but the human didn't let him get up again. "Stay here with me. Just a minute. Okay…I…..just …stay here okay...? Okay?"
Spock settled against him. Still tense.
"I didn't think you would come back to our apartment tonight…not after…"
"I am pleased to hear that."
"You're pleased?"
"Indeed. I would hate to have become predictable."
"You're many things darling, but predictable is certainly not one of them."
"I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I have …"
"Positive."
"…but Spock you could've died down there in that volcano. You could've died because of Kirk's poor choices. I saw such greatness in Kirk. And now, I see he hasn't even got an ounce of humility. He violated a dozen Starfleet regulations, nearly altered a planet's destiny and almost got everyone under his command killed and still thinks he didn't do anything wrong. He's the captain. He's responsible for his crew and to make such a foolish decision ..."
"I did not die. No one was harmed on that mission."
"But you could've. You could've died, only because Kirk thinks he's infallible. He shouldn't have sent you down there." The human muttered darkly. The hand stroking rhythmically up and down Spock's arm was a soothing counteraction to his angry tone.
"Christopher…"
"You may be deemed fit for duty by Phil and McCoy but don't you think that I don't know that you're still hurting underneath, sweetheart." Christopher whispered against too cool skin. "Even a blind man could see that. I can't understand how Kirk could send a man - who has absolutely no regards for his own life - on such a dangerous mission."
"I am not suicidal."
"Then what you would call your actions down on Nibiru?"
Spock remained silent.
"I thought you were ready, but I was wrong. You'll take medical leave."
"I will not."
Christopher clearly fought the urge to roll his eyes and shake some sense into the stubborn Vulcan.
"Spock..."
"No, Christopher. I am not negotiating this. I am not sick. I am grieving. I will not ask for medical leave."
"Alright, alright," the human capitulated – for now; with Spock you had to choose your battles wisely. "I'm not happy about it, but alright."
"I do not ask you to be happy about it."
There was a pause, before Christopher folded both arms tightly around him, kissed his temple, and fell quiet. Spock turned his face into the crook of the older man's neck and inhaled, not knowing that this was the last night, they were granted to spend together.
"Do it," the man with the cold eyes said. The demand wormed into his thoughts and would not leave. There was a dagger in Khan's hands and Spock reached for it – hesitantly – stroking the metal with trembling hands. The blade nestled comfortably against his throat.
The Vulcan stayed like that, waiting; the stench of the deceasing bodies around them nearly unbearable. No one cried out, no one came to stop him.
It was, he thought, a good way to die.
He woke up with his skin crawling.
When he came back from his shift Spock was still asleep, curled around Pike's command shirt, slanted brows furrowed and his whole body shaking. He looked so small sometimes, so lost - Kirk never thought that a grown man, a grown Vulcan could look that way.
He crouched down before him and tenderly stroked his cheek. His skin was calm and cooler than usual. Kirk made a mental note to comm Bones later.
Confused, dark eyes opened slowly.
"Hey, darling...'"
"Christoph-"
"No..it's me... Jim…"
The Vulcan looked at Kirk and didn't seem to recognize him at all. His eyes were blank and glossed over. Even Vulcan faces held a little bit of expression, and mostly in their eyes - their intelligence and curiosity showed even when their faces were stoic and devoid of any emotions. However there was no curiosity in Spock's eyes - there were only lifeless, dark, empty pools of nothing.
"Where…?"
Spock tried to sit up, but his limps didn't obey him and Kirk had to offer his assistance. It was hard to see him so disorientated and helpless. He moved as if he was being dragged down by some invisible weight, having to fight against an immeasurable pressure for every movement, every inch, every breath.
"My quarters. You had a panic attack last night and Bones had to sedate you."
"How long..?"
"Nearly 24 hours. You woke up in between, but I don't think you where really there."
Spock's eyes slowly traced his surroundings. He looked worn down, looked unsubstantial like … like he was being erased, like he was slipping away before everyone's eyes and Jim desperately wanted to prevent that.
"I should …"
"You should do nothing. I know what you're thinking but no work for you Mister Spock. Sulu is happy to cover for you on the bridge and Lieutenant Smith is equally happy to monitor your experiments in the labs. Besides McCoy put you on medical leave…"
"I am not .."
"Sick? But you're, sweetheart.. You're."
"I am not," Spock repeated; voice weak and drained.
"You're grieving. With you Vulcans - apparently - it's the same."
The next days Spock spend in some kind of listless state.
Even since Christopher's death Kirk tried to keep close by, never allowing Spock out of his line of sight. Taking leave time from his captain's duties as often as he could, especially when the Vulcan had one of his bad days. During them Kirk took over much of Spock's daily routine, coaxing and guiding him through mundane daily activities - showers, eating, check-ups in sickbay, he even tucked him in, as he would a small child. And when Kirk was not there McCoy was, keeping watch over Spock, while fearing for the worst.
Spock did not resist as he was guided carefully from the shower and was wrapped in a large bath sheet. He felt lethargic and dizzy and Kirk tightened his grip on Spock's waist. The captain's touch burned with unfiltered emotions, and the Vulcan whimpered, quivering under the captain's steady hands. His legs felt like jelly - physically unable to hold himself up and swaying from the effort. He would have fallen if not for Kirk's firm grip around his middle.
"Woah…darling…give a guy some warning! For such a skinny bastard, you're damn heavy."
He could feel a heavy wash of complex, irrational, irritable, illogical emotions surge over him, where their bare skin touched. Their was worry, and concern and a loop of…pleasebeokay beokaysweetheart…. and he suddenly wondered why Christopher had loved him. Cold, unemotional being he was. Maybe whatever part of Spock that drew him was hidden away now, buried under betrayal and hundreds of tiny cracks in his sanity.
He did not resist either as he was taken from the bathroom and the captain was pushing him on the unmade bed. Spock was barely there as Kirk dressed him and made no effort to really help him.
"I'm sorry about Pike's shirt. I didn't know it was his, that you were still keeping it..," Kirk said softly, while injecting him with the medication Bones had left and then helped Spock to lie down. Spock looked up at him and said nothing.
"You can't do that, Spock. Giving up so easily, without any fight. That's not the Spock I know."
'You do not know me', Spock wanted to say but as so often he remained silent.
"I'm not going to let you waste away in your own mind. Bones thinks I'll run away. But he's wrong. I won't do that. You're not alone in this, okay?"
Christopher had said something similar months after Vulcan's destruction, as Spock's psyche tried to cope with the death of over eight billion Vulcans; as he had held him night after night, while Spock was shaking apart in his arms.
But now Christopher was gone, his promises nothing more than empty words.
After Kirk had shed his wet clothing (he always wore at least his uniform trousers when in the shower with Spock) and he had dressed himself, they curled up in bed together. They were both tired. Both worn out. Facing each other - the human looked at him with eyes too blue and too bright. They reminded Spock of Christopher – they were not grey but they possessed the same intense light, the same kindness. Suddenly he had to swallow around the lump in his throat. He could not continue missing Christopher like this, feeling so empty all the time, so empty that he finally began to pity Kirk and turned into a monster, which only was good at destroying people.
"I'm sorry, Spock…," the captain said softly. "But I can't change in someone else just to please you. I'm not Chris and I will never be him."
The Vulcan avoided his gaze.
Kirk reached over to stroke through his hair. "I don't want to replace your Christopher. No matter what you think…" The human's voice was flat and Spock remembered that Kirk used to be Christopher's friend, too.
"You were right, you know? I loved him too. He was the only father I have ever known."
Spock didn't say anything in return, just curled up tighter, and Kirk continues to pet him, like he would pet a Terran cat. The captain's hands in his hair felt wrong and at the same time the stroking was incredible soothing. The touch did not burn, not as much as it normally did. So Spock endured it, like he endured to be tied to a man he did not love.
Christopher had used to do that – had stroked his hair - usually whenever they where able to spend the night together. As a human he had taken to affectionate touches – there were stolen kisses (human and Vulcan) in their quarters, brushing fingers in corridors, embraces and hand holding whenever they had a moment for themselves. Spock had …liked it. With Christopher - he had welcomed the touches, the closeness.
With him he had felt content for the first time in his life.
But now there would be no more chess-games in the captain's quarters, now there would be no discussions about science, politics and ethics, now he never would be late for his shift again because Christopher had succeeded to coax him to spend a few more minutes in bed. There would be no more kisses, no more embraces, no more arguments about mundane little things.
There was no present, and no future - only loneliness and grief.
Sometimes he did not know whom he was most in mourning for. Christopher or the person he used to be when he was with him.
"Hey, everything will be alright." Kirk was breathing more than truly speaking, never ceasing with his soothing touches.
"You do not know that."
"I do."
Spock would have believed him, if Kirk wouldn't have sound so unsure.
Eventually, Kirk reached over and pulled the Vulcan's trembling body against his own – until they were tightly pressed together and their legs were intertwined. Spock let him and lay lifelessly in the captain's grip. Breathing in the musky, sweaty scent of the human, letting himself believe that things eventually would get better, letting his mind go by increments, searching for the empty spot where the bond to Christopher should be but only finding pain and the link to Kirk. Small, and fragile like a dying light.
"I don't want you to die," Kirk whispered into the Vulcan's dark hair.
'That …', Spock thought. 'That would make one of us.'
To be continued ...