Kirk was halfway through his paperwork when Uhura commed him.

"Doctor Boyce for you, sir."

"Patch it through to my quarters," Jim said tiredly.

A moment later, Boyce's wrinkled face appeared on his screen, looking concerned and aged. He looked so old, the lines on his face thrown into sharp relief by the droop of his mouth. Kirk mustered up a weary smile. He hadn't seen Boyce in ages, the last time they had met each other had been on their mutual friend's – Pike's – funeral.

"Good evening, sir."

"Can you tell me, Jim - why Spock isn't answering my calls or messages?" Boyce asked.

Jim. A private call then.

"I thought he was in contact with you, Phil."

"You thought wrong. I haven't heard from the kid in weeks. I'm worried about him."

Kirk had learned the hard way, that Boyce had strong parental feelings for Spock. He was even more protective when it came to the Vulcan than Pike had been. He even had given Kirk 'the talk'. It wasn't an experience Kirk wanted to repeat ever again.

"So am I."

"He isn't getting better…?"

"He's still….grieving."

"He loved Chris very much."

"Yes..yes don't I know that. But-"

"And the price of great love is great misery when one of you dies. But still..we have to find a solution. You aren't qualified to handle a Vulcan with severe trauma. Spock shouldn't be up there with you. He needs help. Professional help."

"He has M'Benga and Bones…," Kirk tilted his chin up defiantly. "and I handle Spock fine."

Boyce snorted. "You're worse than Chris has been. One blink with his long lashes and you do everything Spock demands of you. Our little Vulcan has wrapped you around his little finger and you aren't even realizing it."

"I'm not in the mood for jokes, Phil," Kirk said, his voice full of exhaustion and irritation. "You're such a bastard sometimes, I hope you know that?"

"Because I tell the truth? Spock belongs in a hospital bed, not on one of the most dangerous ships the fleet offers. Besides you can't hide Spock's mental and physical state from the Admiralty forever. They'll find out and then all hell will break lose."

Kirk knew it wasn't safe for Spock on the Enterprise. Deep down he knew that the Vulcan wasn't ready to work as a science or first officer ever again. Even months after Pike's death Spock was more a liability than a gain. He knew it was only a matter of time until he had to ask for extended leave, and to pack Spock and take the next shuttle to Earth.

And still, he was reluctant to actually do it. The Enterprise was Kirk's home, was Spock's home. Earth wasn't. Because as much as remaining on the Enterprise wasn't safe for Spock, forcing him to stay planetside for the foreseeable future was going to simply kill him, both of them.

"I can't take away his work from him…I'm not...offloading him so fast.. I know he's broken and bruised and it's our job to wrap him up and keep him safe from the world…but..I.."

Spock needed his work, needed to be useful and taking that away from him, that was something Kirk couldn't do.

"No, Jim. It is our job to bring him back to the world but for that he has to start healing in the first place and he won't do that on a constitution-class starship. "

"That's not how I see it. I won't force him to leave the Enterprise.."

Boyce stared at him for a good few seconds, before heavily sighing. "Really? Then I can only say that while I will overlook Spock's poor judgement, I find it hard to overlook yours."

"Goodnight, doctor…"

"You can't just end the call because you had en-"

Without a further word, Kirk switched of the console and leant back in his chair.

"Hey," Kirk said as he approached the Vulcan, sitting on the bed in Kirk's quarters. Spock held an old-fashioned book in his white hands. The book was closed. He stared at it as if he could see through the cover. The book had been a gift from Kirk's mother - a birthday present when he had turned seven. He had read it dozens of times.

"Didn't know you liked Terran fairy tales? I used to love them. Especially the ones with happy endings. When I was a child, I always wanted to be a hero – a knight in shining armour, rescuing fair maidens, fighting dragons and bad guys."

Spock didn't respond; not even a flicker of his eyes. Kirk kneeled on the floor in front of the Vulcan. "Are you going to open it, sweetheart?"

Slowly he reached over and took the book from the Vulcan's grasp. Spock made a small whimpering noise at the loss of the object. His hands stayed in the same position, but he slowly looked up at Kirk. Spock didn't see him. Kirk knew. He looked, but he didn't see. His mind had wandered, to a place Kirk couldn't reach him.

"C'mon, darling, lie down. You must be exhausted. I'll read to you."

Spock went placidly where Kirk's hands told him to go, until they were both curled up against the headboard, the Vulcan's head on Kirk's shoulder. The captain flipped the book open and began to read with fierce determination.

He refused to believe he couldn't help Spock . He'd just try harder. He had to try harder. It was becoming his daily mantra against waning hope. Kirk would be Spock's knight in shining armour. He would help him, save him.

He would do it.

Kirk was aware of the rumors about Spock's health, but made no attempt to stop them. He couldn't muster up the energy to deal with them. Besides there were more important things he had to deal with. He had promoted Sulu and Smith to cover Spock's duties for the foreseeable future, they had more or less covered Spock's duties for the last months anyway.

However he couldn't bring himself to make it permanent yet.

The Enterprise was attacked. A Romulan blade tore Spock's back open almost to the bone before Kirk took his opponent down. Lying on his stomach, boneless, back warm with blood, the deck was cool against the Vulcan's pale face.

As his vision greyed, he realized that it was March 25th and it would have been their sixth anniversary. Pike had wanted to take him on a vacation to Vulcan, had wanted to buy a house for them there. A home. But Vulcan was gone and so was Christopher and Spock was bleeding out in the middle of a deserted floor, unable to contain his whimpers.

Kirk was next to him, talking too fast, keeping pressure on his wound and yelling for McCoy. "Holy shit – Spock – oh fuck, it's bad," The pressure was making him spasm and writhe despite the agony and there was suddenly the doctor swearing. His back was a mass of pain but he was distant from it, from doctor McCoy, from Kirk, from everything.

He could feel his life seeping out of him, slowly but constantly, like his blood soaking his robes and the floor. The Vulcan meditation robes he wore were a gift from his mother. But his mother was no more and soon he would be gone too.

Finally. Spock thought and closed his eyes. An almost smile making his lips curl slightly.

He woke two days later in sickbay, looking up at McCoy's concerned face and could not hide his disappointment.

"Spock," Kirk said a few days later, sitting at the Vulcan's bedside and staring at him. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" Spock said, not really listening. Wondering if this would be the day it ended. Hoping this would be the day everything ended.

"For not protecting you…" Kirk said. "I should have protected you. I promised to keep you safe and make you happy. But I'm not good at keeping my promises, it seems."

Spock remained silent. Suddenly disgusted with himself. He had given up on his own life but Kirk still had one, and Spock had no right to take it away.

"You're lucky."

The captain reached out and brushed Spock's bangs back from his forehead. The Vulcan was torn between wanting to lean into the warmth of Kirk's touch or to recoil from it.

"Am I?"

"You've known a great love."

"I am not sure. Christopher changed me. I … loved him but he changed me. If I were as strong, as unfeeling as I was before I met him, it would be easier now."

"Maybe."

"James," Spock said, and stopped. The captain continued to stare at him. The Vulcan glanced away and said, "I apologize."

"For what?" Kirk asked, his brow furrowing, perplexed.

"That I cannot do this forever."

To be continued ...