A/N: Sorry this chapter's a little late! I've been out and about all day and didn't get a chance to post it until now ^^;
warnings: there are mentions of sexy times in this chapter, but it's all pretty tame and fade-to-black-ish, so this chapter is still going to be T-rated. But yeah, just wanted to put that out there.
Thanks so much to all my readers and reviewers!
As always, comments and critiques are welcomed!
Chapter Eleven
"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." - Emily Bronte
It was twelve minutes past 1900 ship's time when Spock and the others beamed back aboard the Enterprise. Negotiations were nearly finalized and would be completed tomorrow – while Spock could be the most gracious of diplomats, he also was quite adept at getting what he wanted, Uhura had bemusedly observed. Which was definitely good in this case – she reminded herself to send a message to Starfleet about the incompetency of the current president of Gabrilis.
Spock, however, had ceased thinking of the planet and its troubles the moment they were back aboard the ship. The only thing he could think of was Jim – now that his mind was not preoccupied with more pressing matters, he began to reflect on the captain's actions and the only question he could even begin to formulate in response was "why?" It was a question he planned on having answered very soon.
He stepped into his quarters and began taking off his dress tunic, carefully folding it and placing it into the drawer where it belonged. He stood in his thermal undershirt for a moment and considered completely changing his attire, perhaps into his everyday uniform – then determined such a change of wardrobe would be pointless. He pulled off his boots and set them carefully next to his wardrobe before stepping into the bathroom he shared with Jim, took care of his pressing hygienic needs, then, after a moment of hesitation, entered Jim's quarters.
Jim was in the middle of the room, picking up things from the floor – the room was in more disarray than usual, and Spock recognized the things that Jim was picking up as the decorative items that usually adorned his desk, which was peculiarly clear. The sheets of his bed were rumpled and twisted and there was a scuff mark on the opposite wall, as if something had been thrown quite forcefully at it.
"Oh," Jim said, startled, when he walked in. "Jeez, you scared me." He looked around and grimaced. "Uh... yeah, sorry about the mess. I was kind of throwing a tantrum earlier, I guess."
"...I see," Spock replied slowly, and for a moment, seven seconds by Spock's count, they looked silently, uneasily at each other. "...I wish to speak with you. I presume you can deduce why."
"...Yeah, I imagine I can," Jim sighed as he threw an armful of things onto his desk. "You're pissed at me, I know."
"I am no such thing," Spock replied with a raised eyebrow. "I am, however, experiencing much confusion. I do not wish to admonish you, though your behavior was deserving of a reprimand. I only wish to understand why you took the actions you did."
Jim studied him for nine seconds with an expression Spock could not read, then finally sighed and murmured, "It's... It's complicated, Spock. I don't know how to explain. I don't know if I even can."
"...I do not understand," Spock said simply after considering the meager explanation. "Why can you not simply explain why you felt the need to attack President Vronsky?" Jim frowned, his eyes downcast.
"Because I don't want you to know," he said faintly, voice barely above a whisper. "Because – because things will be different if you know and I don't want things to change with us, Spock."
"Jim," Spock said gravely. "I guarantee that whatever it is will not make me think any less of you."
Jim did not respond to that, and they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. After twenty-two seconds, Jim licked his lips and said, very softly,
"We should sit down." Spock complied and seated himself in the chair behind the desk, pulling it up so he was facing Jim, who had sat down heavily on the edge of his unmade bed.
"You should know," he murmured, more to himself than to Spock. "You really deserve to know, so – I'm gonna try and tell you. I'll try, okay?"
"...That is all I ask," Spock replied carefully, wondering what Jim's words meant and how best to respond to Jim's unusual and rather distressing behavior.
For nine seconds Jim sat with his head lowered, breathing slowly as if to compose himself, then carefully he raised his head and met Spock's eyes, his expression pained.
"Do you... know anything about Tarsus IV?" he asked quietly, his tone forcedly even. Spock pressed his lips together, his mind already racing – and he was not particularly liking the conclusions he was reaching.
"I do," he replied just as calmly. "In 2246, the colony of Tarsus IV was struck by a fungus that destroyed the colony's crops, resulting in a mass famine." Jim had cast his gaze away again and Spock studied him, his expression, his reaction, as he continued, "And the Governor Kodos ordered the deaths of approximately half of the colony in order to save the other half that he deemed superior. That is what I know of Tarsus IV." He fell silent as Jim took another slow, heavy breath.
"...The revolution is successful, but survival depends on drastic measures," he whispered, his eyes locked on the floor. "Your continued existence represents a threat to society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore... I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered, signed... Kodos, Governor of Tarsus IV."
"That was his declaration to his victims," Spock said. Jim nodded silently and for twelve seconds neither of them spoke – then, slowly, Jim lifted his head and looked at Spock, his eyes dark compared to their usual luster.
"...I was on Tarsus IV, Spock," he said, almost inaudibly. "I... I was fourteen. I was living with my aunt and uncle, and... They were on the execution list. I wasn't, but I couldn't – couldn't live with the others when my own family had been killed. So I – I gathered up a group of kids who had managed to escape in the chaos and we camped out in the wilderness until... until Starfleet arrived."
Spock slowly leaned back in his seat and Jim licked his lips and closed his eyes before continuing unsteadily, "I wasn't the oldest but I took care of them. I knew what I was doing and I did what I could but – we started with a group of sixteen. We ended with eleven. Two starved and three were shot. And I... I had killed nine people by the time we were rescued. All Kodos' men, but nine people." He looked over at Spock for the first time in his speech and said softly, "Pike knew who I was in that bar not because he idolized my dad but because he was on the starship that saved us."
For twenty-eight seconds they were both silent. Spock was not sure how to describe his reaction – the thought of Jim surviving such a horrendous ordeal at such a young age filled him with anger and despair and a whole slew of emotions he had no name for, and he struggled to keep it from showing on his face.
"...I see," he finally managed. "I... am sorry." To his surprise, Jim's expression hardened, and the younger man stood up and walked to the other side of the room.
"Don't be sorry," he replied, his tone cold. "It's pointless to be sorry. I was fourteen. I'm over it."
"I do not think I believe that," Spock replied slowly, and Jim rounded on him with a glare. "If you were, as you say, 'over it', I doubt you would have acted as you did today."
"Oh, shut up," Jim growled, expression suddenly twisting cruelly. "You think you know and you don't – you don't know anything, you couldn't understand!" Spock flinched at the anger spewing from his words but kept his tone carefully calm as he replied,
"I apologize for angering you; I assure you it was not my intention. I am... rather overwhelmed. I do not know how to respond to this, Jim."
Jim's posture visibly wilted and his anger seemed to evaporate instantly as he murmured,
"I know, sorry, I... I know. I've never told anyone because of that – because it's too much for people." He sighed heavily and looked away. "It's a lot of baggage that I'm sure you don't want to deal with, so... so you can get out now before things get too serious. I understand." Spock's eyebrows darted up in shock as the meaning of Jim's words processed and he stood up quickly.
"Are you suggesting that I should terminate our relationship?" he asked, bewildered.
"Yes," Jim forced himself to reply.
"Jim," Spock breathed, voice trembling as if he were in physical pain, and he reached hesitantly out to touch Jim's shoulder. "Jim, the thought never even... I never once considered this a reason to leave you. I will do no such thing." Jim let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a strangled cry, shaking his head.
"You say that now," he said darkly. "But once it sinks in how fucked up I am, you're going to be running. Please, it would be easier if we just got it over with now."
"I will do no such thing."
"For fuck's sake, Spock, I killed nine people – I hoarded food until I was twenty! You saw what happened today – you know I'm fucked up and, and..." He trailed off, eyes glistening, and he forced himself to finish. "...and you deserve someone – better. Someone good for you, not someone like me."
Spock's heart stuttered and beat a frantic hummingbird-wing beat against his side as he pulled Jim's shoulder to force the younger man to look at him.
"I will remind you that I am a survivor of a massacre as well, and a recent one at that," he said vehemently. "You have remained with me in spite of – of what I did to you in my Pon Farr; do you really think me so below you as to leave you for something in your past when you have been so forgiving to me? I will not leave you, Jim. I cannot. There is no one 'better' for me than you."
"Yeah?" Jim replied slowly as they stared uneasily at each other, suspicion still heavy in his tone. "Prove it."
"Tell me how and I will do so," Spock replied, brows knitted together in near-desperate determination. Jim glanced about nervously, as if he was suddenly unsure how to respond.
"Have – make love to me," he said finally, face coloring as he said it. "I know that for Vulcans that means you're serious. Make love to me and I know you're in it for the long haul." He could tell immediately that Spock was uneasy, but the Vulcan met his gaze solidly.
"Jim, you know that it is not that I am not serious," he replied slowly, his carefully neutral tone betraying the turmoil that Jim's proposal had elicited. "You know why we have not consummated our relationship."
"Yeah, I do," Jim said fervently, his expression tensing. "Because you're scared, scared you'll hurt me – but you know what? Spock, I just told you something I've never told anyone in my whole life, and I was fucking terrified. And I'm still terrified. I need you, Spock."
Spock could not bring himself to respond – what could he say? He knew Jim had needs, emotional ones he did not really understand, not completely – but needs that were legitimate and real, and how could he deny him that? He was still filled with panic at the thought of hurting Jim – again, the way he had – but now he wondered what would hurt Jim more, action or inaction, and he was not certain in the slightest.
Slowly Jim stepped closer to him, sensing his distress, and carefully – experimentally, even – he kissed along Spock's jaw.
"Let me be in control," he murmured against the pulse point on his throat. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride, you know? You can't hurt me that way. I promise."
Spock began to feel as though he were being manipulated – but in this case he honestly did not care. He was quite certain that for Jim, he could live through any manipulation without complaint.
"Yes," he whispered faintly, pulling the Human's body closer to his own, and Jim needed no further encouragement.
They were half-naked on Jim's bed when suddenly the Human paused and sat up breathlessly.
"Wait, wait," he said, glancing about the room as Spock looked quizzically at him from beneath his body. "Shit – Computer, lock the doors." The locks clicked in response and with a faint grin he looked back over at Spock and added, "Lights to ten percent."
Spock was about to fall asleep. He was lying on his back, Jim's torso atop his and the younger man's head resting on his shoulder, and their lack of clothing was making him more than a little cold, but he was drowsy and relaxed and peaceful. After the events of the day, that was enough to put him to sleep – but then Jim stirred against his neck and lifted his head.
"I thought of something," he said suddenly, and Spock pursed his lips.
"I am surprised you are still awake," he said dryly, but Jim did not even seem to hear him as he said,
"When Vulcans, you know, do it – don't you guys usually do that mind meld thing, too?" Jim studied him earnestly and Spock hesitated visibly.
"...That is a common practice, yes," he replied carefully, glancing away.
"Meld with me," Jim said insistently, propping himself up on his elbows.
"You do not know what you are asking," Spock answered sharply, and Jim's eyes widened in surprise at the vehemence of the Vulcan's tone. He paused, uncertain, then ventured,
"Then... Explain it to me. So that I do know. Please?"
Spock reached over and pulled the sheets up over their bare bodies, resigning himself to the conversation. Jim shifted and pressed closer to him, allowing Spock to wrap them in a cocoon of blankets. He watched the Vulcan with a patient expression, in spite of his own (very impatient) curiosity, and when Spock seemed to deem them adequately comfortable, he steadily met Jim's gaze.
"If I were to meld with you," he said slowly, carefully selecting each word. "It would very likely create a mental bond between the two of us. It would be a weak bond and likely a... clumsy one, for lack of a better term, due to the differences in our mental composition. It is something I believe you would not desire, because once formed, it is nearly permanent. While it is not as strong nor as resilient as a true marriage bond would be, it would still be strong enough that only a Vulcan healer could sever it."
For a moment Jim studied him silently, his brows furrowed, then he asked,
"Why would you think I wouldn't want that, Spock?" Spock raised an eyebrow, surprised. Did he really not understand?
"Humans generally are adverse to the idea of such permanency," he explained hesitantly. "This is why Earth has had the system of renewable marriage contracts set in place for so long. The Vulcan bond is for life, and Humans generally do not mate for life. Judging from your past inclinations to promiscuity, I had assumed you would have such a mindset."
"What?" Jim said incredulously. "Spock, do you – do you really think I would have done all this – done everything – if I wasn't serious about you? About us?"
"I do not doubt that you are serious," he replied calmly. "What I do doubt is that you will always be so. Jim, it does not bother me. I understand that the permanency of the Vulcan bond is undesirable to most Humans." Jim looked suddenly offended, and Spock was bewildered. Had he inadvertently said something offensive? He did not think he had, but Jim's silence was unsettling.
"Look," Jim said finally, looking up at him earnestly. "You're probably gonna think I'm being stupid, but – but I want to be with you forever, Spock. I know that the stuff I've done in my past isn't helping my case, but... but it's the past, Spock, and now is different. I don't know how to explain it. But now... Now, I can't imagine ever wanting to be with anyone else. I want that permanency, Spock. I feel like it should scare me but it doesn't. I want it."
And Jim meant it, all of it. He knew he didn't have a good track record as far as serious relationships went. He knew he had always imagined himself metaphorically "settling down" with some pretty petite blond girl, just the way he liked them – and he knew that Spock wasn't any of those things. But it didn't matter. He wanted Spock more than he had ever wanted anyone – no, he needed Spock. Needed to be with him, always. And it didn't make sense to him, but he knew it was the truth. He had learned that the hard way.
Spock remained silent, staring with wide eyes at the grave sincerity Jim looked back at him with.
He had thought he had been beyond lucky that Jim had forgiven him for the disaster that had been his Pon Farr. He had thought he was the luckiest being alive when Jim had wanted to be in a romantic relationship with him – and he had settled himself with the fact that because Jim was not only Human, but because Jim was Jim, it would not be a permanent fixture. He had been content to enjoy the time they did have, and he told himself he would let Jim go when the Human desired it. He had not expected any more of their relationship.
Of course, Jim had always managed to shock him to his core.
"...You understand that you have, in effect, asked me to marry you," he finally managed to respond. Jim's expression did not change, but his eyes brightened in a reigned-in smile.
"Yeah, Spock, I do," he said softly, and Spock exhaled heavily. He pursed his lips and leaned back slightly, eyes darting about in the darkness, and Jim watched him in bemusement. Finally Spock seemed able to face him again. "...I see," he managed, and Jim grinned. "Get comfortable. We will have little sense of time in the meld, so you must be comfortable." He complied without question, laying back on his pillows as Spock sat up to loom over him – so Jim leaned up to kiss him thoroughly. Might was well, he figured, and Spock certainly did not complain, reciprocating in earnest.
After Jim pulled away, Spock gazed down at him for six seconds, hardly daring to believe that this man could desire to spend the rest of his life with him.
"You are sure that this is what you want?" he asked as he trailed his knuckles along Jim's cheek. The Human smiled up at him.
"Yes," he replied simply, fervently, and it was enough for Spock. His fingers settled easily against Jim's meld points and, their eyes locked, Spock murmured the traditional Vulcan words – "my mind to your mind" – and slipped effortlessly into Jim's thoughts.
They had melded before, on three separate occasions, but only ever on a superficial level, to transmit vital information quickly and silently – and so the ease with which Spock entered the more intimate parts of Jim's mind was surprising, to say the least.
And then their consciousnesses met in a burst of light and color, and everything suddenly made sense.
"T'hy'la," he thought, feeling more than overwhelmed – and the word must have reverberated between them because he felt Jim respond with a rush of curiosity and an unfiltered babble of,
"What is t'hy'la, what does that mean, I don't understand, Spock." Spock forced himself to focus – this lack of stable visual aid was difficult for Jim to adjust to and so he shifted carefully, and then he was standing across from Jim, who looked at him with an enthusiastic and bewildered expression.
"Where are we?" he asked, looking around, not noticing how Spock still seemed to be reeling. "Whoa – is that – you? And that's me?"
Spock looked. The sky above them was painted in a multitude of colors, and Spock was standing on red desert sands across from Jim who stood on lush green grass.
"Yes," he replied. "This landscape is a representation of ourselves." And then he looked closer.
They were perfect complements of each other. For every streak of blue, purple, and red in the sky behind him that was himself, the colors were mirrored perfectly in the orange, yellow, and green streaks in Jim's sky.
"Spock!" Jim exclaimed, reaching for him. "Spock, you're crying..." Brilliant white sparks burst from where they touched. "What's t'hy'la, Spock?"
Spock composed himself. He gestured at their surroundings, pulling Jim close as he did so – their bodies began to melt together but neither seemed to notice.
"Look," he said reverently. "Every color of my being is complemented in your own. We are in perfect balance. This is... This is why you felt so strong a desire to be with me. We are t'hy'la. We belong together."
"Is that what it means?"
The sky began to glow softly.
"It is like the Human concept of a soulmate, but it can be proven in a way a 'soulmate' cannot, through mental compatibility like this. The closest Standard translation would be friend, brother, and lover."
"T'hy'la," Jim breathed, and his pronunciation was perfect without the clumsy Human mouth holding him back.
"I wish to show you something," Spock whispered, and suddenly the landscape melted away and they were floating in space with stars twinkling about them. Spock reached over and plucked the largest, brightest star out of the sky, cradling it in his hands as it glowed even more vividly like a tiny silver sun. "This is my love for you." Gently he placed it in Jim's hands.
"This isn't fair," Jim murmured as he held the shining globe of light. "You can do all this cool stuff and I can barely tell up from down."
"I can take away the visual element, if you wish," Spock replied softly. "It will only be the exchange of thoughts and emotions then. We will be 'even', as you say." Jim smiled at him and the star in his hand sparkled even brighter.
"Do it," he said, and so Spock did.
Everything faded away – and suddenly Jim was flooding him with a torrent of need and adoration and love, and so he responded in turn and the emotions increased in intensity every time until words were accompanying them, basic unfiltered words too close to the heart to be decorated with flowery speech, and after a while of this their words melted together, one voice indistinguishable from the other.
Love love love, love you, love you more than anything, more than anyone, you you you, only you, only you can make me this happy, make me feel this way, never want anyone but you, love you, need you, need you need you never leave me I need you need need need...
And in the end it was too much and Spock pulled his mind away from Jim's before he could be pulled any further into its dangerous siren song with a gasp – and with a sob Jim threw his arms around the Vulcan's torso, pulling him down and burying his face in his shoulder.
"I love you," he cried as Spock held him tightly, running a hand through his hair. "I love you so much, don't ever leave me. I was so scared you'd leave me, Spock, promise you'll never leave, I love you too much."
"I promise I will never leave you," Spock vowed, his own eyes prickling with tears as Jim sniffled and hiccuped into his shoulder. "T'hy'la. I love you, Jim, and I will never leave you."