A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry that this chapter's a little late.

Updates might start being more sporadic in the near future, between work and a full schedule at school I'm not sure how much time I'm going to be able to devote to this. I'm so sorry! I'm going to try hard to keep updates on a regular schedule, but I can't make any promises. So please bear with me and I'll keep doing what I can :(

warnings: there is some non-explicit sex in this chapter.

As always, comments and critiques are welcomed and appreciated!

Chapter Twelve

"[He] believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter – tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther… And one fine morning – " - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Spock woke with Jim pressed flush against him, much in the same manner as he did nearly every morning. The major difference between those instances and that moment was the fact that they were both very naked. His arm was around Jim's torso, one hand splayed across the Human's stomach, and he ran his fingers absentmindedly through the sprinkling of hair that grew there, feeling the strong muscles beneath his skin, the tactile sensations sending faint tingles through his arm.

Part of him could still scarcely believe he was with Jim. The rest of was too in love to think as logically as he knew he should be, too in love in care.

He proceeded to wake Jim in a most unrefined manner (namely, with his hand between the captain's legs while pressing warm kisses to his neck as the smaller man writhed against him), which only added to the evidence of their passions that was the mess on their sheets (and their bodies – Spock had not quite expected things to be so... messy). So, now that they were both quite awake and quite in need of cleansing, they made their way to the bathroom and clambered into the shower together. To save water, of course. And if, during the course of their shower, they ended up frotting desperately against each other – well, that was unintentional, of course. Of course.

"You... you horny fucking bastard," Jim said breathlessly, slumped against the shower wall, Spock's body pressed against his being the only thing holding him upright.

"Pardon?" Spock replied, panting into his damp hair.

"Jesus christ, Spock, you came, like, four times last night, and now – I don't know how you do it."

"...Ah. You are not aware," he murmured with a lift of his eyebrow, and Jim raised an eyebrow back. "Vulcan males are not limited by a refractory period the way Human males are."

"Seriously? How?"

"You orgasm with your body, which has its limits," Spock said, his hands trailing lazily across Jim's chest with his eyes steadily meeting the younger man's bright blue gaze. "Vulcans orgasm with their mind, which is not limited in the way the body is."

"...Fuck," Jim replied, eyes wide and his expression rather envious.

"We can choose to orgasm with the body as well, of course," Spock continued slowly. "But mental orgasms are generally superior to their physical counterparts, and so intercourse for pleasure can continue indefinitely."

"Oh my god shut up. I was already jealous enough, you jerk," Jim growled in response, pushing playfully against Spock's chest, causing water to splatter between them and run down his face in clear rivulets.

"Then let me show you," Spock murmured, stepping closer to Jim and nipping gently against the skin between his shoulder and collarbone, dragging his fingers along the side of his face. His voice was a low rumble in Jim's ear. "Let me show you, t'hy'la." A slow grin spread across Jim's face and he teased,

"This is like giving heroin to a junkie, you know. We are never going to be able to get out of here."

"Is that a yes or no?" Spock merely replied, and he pressed insistently against Jim, grinding their hips together in a not-so-subtle hint that he wanted the answer to be "yes". Jim laughed.

"You are way the hell more sexual than I would've thought," he murmured, and he kissed Spock. "Lucky for me. Do it. Show me."

It ended up being a good thing that a.) they were in the shower to muffle their noise, and b.) that the walls of the Enterprise were quite thick – because, as it turned out, Jim was considerably louder this time around than he had been before. But Spock was fairly certain that this was a good thing, and so did not complain.

Luckily the planet Gabrilis was several standard hours behind the Enterprise's time, so Spock did not need to leave until noon ship's time. The duo kept their free hours quite occupied, then Jim helped Spock into his dress uniform (not that he needed any help, as it was immaculate as always) and kissed him goodbye. It was promising to be a good day.

Jim sauntered into the officer's mess hall with a faint grin after Spock had left the ship. He was hungry as hell, since he had been a bit too distracted to bother himself with dinner the night before or breakfast that morning. He piled his tray with food – a sandwich, a bowl of soup, and a bowl of mixed vegetables that he hadn't wanted but his diet card demanded he include – and caught sight of McCoy sitting across the room, his back turned to the captain. He hesitated for a moment, then walked over to join the doctor.

"Hey," he said with a slight grin, sitting across from the older man. McCoy glanced quickly at him, surprise skittering across his features, then he said in his usual grumpy tone,

"Your diet card says you skipped breakfast."

"Oh, that," Jim replied, and he chuckled, a grin spreading across his features once more. "I was kind of distracted this morning, I guess. I'm really hungry now though."

"Of course you are," McCoy grumbled. "With a metabolism like yours I'm surprised you're not emaciated already from skipping a meal." They both paused, and McCoy realized too late the awkward ground he was treading and hastened to move on. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

"I dunno," Jim replied brightly over a mouthful of his pastrami sandwich. "Had a good start to the day, I guess."

"Yesterday still botherin' you?" McCoy asked. His tone was still casual but Jim began to feel awkward. Up until yesterday he had all but hated the man, and slipping so easily back into their friendly rapport was not an easy transition. Hell, had he even told Spock about his conversation with Bones? He was pretty sure he hadn't. Whoops.

"...No, I'm fine," he said carefully, his gaze darting uncertainly between the doctor and his sandwich. "Got some stuff off my chest, you know?"

"...Yeah," McCoy replied, with just as much trepidation, as if he had realized Jim's sudden discomfort. "...Well, good. I'm glad."

They continued on through their meal in silence. It was not an entirely friendly silence, but it was not an uncomfortable one, either. After a little while McCoy stood, his plate cleared, and he began to walk away, then paused.

"Jim," he said. The captain glanced up at him quickly, startled, his spoonful of soup spilling onto his tray. "...Thanks for sitting with me. I appreciate the company."

"...Sure thing, Bones," he replied slowly, smiling cautiously. McCoy hesitated visibly, glancing away with a scowl.

"One more thing," he said gruffly, then he leaned down a bit to say in a hushed tone, "Learn to use the dermal regenerator in your damn medkit. Everyone who's walked by has been staring at that fatass hickey on your neck." Jim clapped a hand over his neck, eyes bulging – at least he had the decency to look embarrassed, McCoy thought – and his face reddened as he remembered exactly how that hickey had come into existence.

"I don't even want to know," McCoy sighed.

"Thanks for letting me know. I guess," Jim muttered, huddling over his bowl of soup.

"That's what friends are for," the doctor snapped, and Jim chuckled dryly.

"Hey," he said. "Are you playing poker with us on Friday?" For a moment the doctor looked surprised, and he pondered the query for a long moment, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed. Finally, he answered,

"Well, I suppose I am now."

Four hours and twenty-seven minutes later, Spock and the diplomatic team beamed back aboard the Enterprise. The negotiations had gone as well as Spock had anticipated, but this was not the reason that contentment hummed through his senses.

When they had been apart, Spock had felt their faint bond stirring to life. It was weak and likely more unstable than not – but he had felt it, had felt Jim in his mind, a soft glowing bundle at the back of his head. After a little longer he had been able to feel which direction he was located – far above in orbit over the planet, yet Spock was sure he would have been able to point exactly to the Enterprise even from the planet's surface.

And then, perhaps the most wondrous of all, he had tentatively reached out to touch the glow of Jim's presence and felt what he was experiencing – a quiet, calm feeling interspersed with hazy, seemingly random images – and he had known that Jim was asleep and dreaming.

In light of this marvelous discovery, Spock was finding it to be more than a bit of a challenge to keep his features and body language as neutral as usual as he stepped down from the transporter pad. Uhura cast him a curious look, but he simply thanked the transporter tech and made his way out into the hallway towards his quarters.

Now that he was in closer proximity to his bondmate – his bondmate, he thought with a thrill of wonder, his bondmate – he could feel Jim with even more clarity – what had been a soft glow before was a warm, brilliant light now, and his body traveled of its own accord, as if that light were a homing beacon pulling him closer and closer to his t'hy'la. He could feel Jim's thoughts now – could feel that the man was surprised and curious and guardedly happy.

Finally he was in the hallway, almost there, and as he passed by Jim's doorway the door slid open and Jim himself stepped out to greet him, eyes wide and immediately finding Spock's gaze with a faint grin. They paused and studied each other for a moment, and Spock was sure Jim knew what was going on, too.

"...Welcome back, Mr. Spock," he finally said faintly. "I'd like to speak with you. Come inside." Spock acquiesced with a nod of his head and he followed the Captain inside, neither of them noticing the curious glances from the passing crewmen.

The moment the door slid shut behind them, Jim whirled around to face Spock with an expression of pure awe and he said breathlessly,

"I felt you! Spock, I could feel you coming on the ship and getting closer – is that – are we – ?"

"I felt your presence in my mind as well," Spock murmured, stepping closer to the smaller man and taking his hands in his own, joy buzzing through their contact, and Jim pulled Spock's hands to rest over his chest, his heart, his near-reverent expression mirrored in Spock's features. "It is a bond – weak, but it is there."

"I love you," Jim breathed, and he threw himself into Spock's arms. The Vulcan smiled slightly into the captain's hair tickling his chin and they stood this way, unmoving, for thirty-three seconds.

"At the first opportunity we will visit New Vulcan and have the bond strengthened and formalized into a full marriage bond by a healer," Spock murmured, and Jim looked up at him and smiled radiantly.

"Well, let's hope we can get our next shore leave somewhere in the vicinity," he replied, and he leaned up and kissed Spock.

"Indeed," Spock murmured in agreement after he had pulled away. The bond glowed with happiness and quietly they basked in its warmth.

The Enterprise pulled out of orbit of Gabrilis the next day, fifteen minutes into Alpha shift, their duty done. Formal negotiations had been finalized and Starfleet had assured them that the Gabrillin government would be stepping down soon. The Captain's chair was once again occupied by Jim's jaunty, cheerful visage, which seemed to surprise the bridge crew – the story of his outburst on the planet had spread across the ship like wildfire, but truthfully it seemed like a distant, hazy memory to Jim. Although, he was a little bit glad to be gone from the unlucky planet – just a little bit. He could feel the bond brighten with a mental laugh from Spock – or, at least, it felt like a laugh. He wasn't sure how else to describe the thread of amusement coated in affection, but either way his grin only widened and the crew cast uncertain glances amongst themselves, wondering if the captain had finally gone off the proverbial deep end.

The fact that they had finally gotten a decent mission contributed to his good mood, too, of course. The orders had just come in that morning – they were heading out into the Orion-Federation border to check in with a few colonies and inspect a few planets – which meant away missions, which meant potential danger, which meant excitement. Spock had not been so amused with that thought, but Jim didn't mind.

As for Spock, he appeared to be his usual calm self, but for those who knew what to look for (namely, Jim and Uhura) could tell he was quite pleased. Jim's presence in his mind was all but indescribable – he delighted in every wayward emotion and stray thought from Jim's untrained mind that wandered through the bond, because it meant that he and Jim were together, were one, were t'hy'la. The fact that theirs was still only a weak, rudimentary bond made him all but giddy with excitement wondering what it would be like when they were properly bonded by a healer, joined forever as one entity in two bodies. He could not bring himself to even want to reign in his happiness. Luckily no one seemed to pay him any undue attention, so at least he was not obvious.

Uhura glanced surreptitiously between the two, a half-smile quirking on her lips. Whatever was going on with them was making them unbearably happy, and in spite of her curiosity she was utterly tickled by their lovesick grins even as they went about their daily routines, and she had to wonder how no one else seemed to have figured them out yet.

After dinner, Jim walked into Spock's quarters to find him sitting on the floor meditating. The bond was quiet and calm, and Jim had wondered if Spock had fallen asleep because it certainly felt that way – but meditation explained it, and for a few minutes Jim simply stood studying the serene figure before him, and he smiled to himself. Why had he ever been so wary of commitment, so fearful of falling in love? Even just looking at Spock now filled him with so much joy – how could he have ever not wanted this for himself? Yet part of him was glad he had never let himself fall in love before – he couldn't imagine being in love with anyone but Spock, couldn't imagine having discovered such happiness with anyone but the quiet, gentle Vulcan. He stifled a chuckle. Spock really was the exception to every rule he'd made for himself, but that was just another reason to love him.

Spock's eyes slid open and his gaze instantly latched onto Jim's. They were silent for several seconds, then Jim smiled and Spock's gaze softened and he stood up. Their hands met and the link glimmered with the contact, affection and happiness flooding through both ends. Jim pressed a kiss to Spock's lips and mumbled,

"I love you. More than anything." Spock did not reply with words – instead, Jim was drenched in a deluge of love and adoration from the bond and he smiled even broader, entwining their fingers.

He began to speak, then hesitated, and he felt Spock wondering "what?" and saying softly into their link, "speak." Both words were filled with warmth and he chuckled.

"You have got to show me how to do all that fancy stuff," he laughed. Spock pressed their foreheads together and said softly,

"What did you wish to say to me?"

Again Jim hesitated. "I, uh. I talked to Bones the other day," he muttered, pulling away slightly. Nothing came from the bond, so he licked his lips and continued, "He... apologized, and we talked stuff out, I guess."

"I am pleased you have regained your friendship," Spock replied, his tone neutral, the bond still silent in Jim's mind.

"Also, uh, he... He kind of found out about the whole Tarsus thing. I didn't tell him, I meant it when I said I've never told anyone but you, but he just... figured it out. I guess."

"Why are you telling me this?" Spock inquired, honestly curious, his voice lacking in any anger or malevolence that Jim was afraid of. He grimaced and shrugged.

"So you don't find out later from someone else and think I'd been keeping it from you on purpose, I guess," he muttered. "Or, I don't know, so you wouldn't get jealous." Spock raised an eyebrow, and Jim mumbled, "And, um. There's something else."

"Say whatever is on your mind," Spock said reassuringly, projecting a sense of calm into Jim's uncertain mind. "You need not hide anything from me." Jim sighed and leaned closer into the Vulcan's chest.

"I wanted to – to show you. Tarsus," he finally said hurriedly. "Through a meld. I can do that, right?" Spock pursed his lips, and the calm shifted into concern.

"That is possible, yes," he replied slowly. "Jim, you do not need to. I would not wish for you to force yourself through unpleasant memories against your will."

"It's not against my will. I want to show you, I really do," he replied vehemently. "But – if you don't want to, I understand, it's – some pretty heavy stuff, so – "

"I will listen to whatever you wish to tell me," Spock interrupted, his gaze suddenly turning fevered and intense. "Do not ever doubt that it is you whom I care for the most, Jim. Do not worry about me."

"I want to show you," Jim repeated softly, and slowly Spock nodded in acceptance.

"Sit," he replied, stepping away to gesture at the abandoned meditation mat. He cleared away the incense, still filling the room with its heady, bittersweet scent, and Jim sat down cross-legged on the mat, adopting the position Spock always sat in. The Vulcan then joined him, and they sat so that their knees touched. Jim leaned in a bit towards him, and Spock lifted his hand halfway between them, then paused.

"You will have to imagine very clearly what it is you wish for me to see," he explained slowly, then amended, "Or remember, in your case. If at any point you wish to cease, simply say so and I will end the meld."

"Okay," Jim replied, his voice soft.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Spock gently placed his hand against the side of Jim's face, his fingers falling easily onto the Human's meld points. He took a steadying breath and murmured the traditional words – "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts." – and slipped into Jim's mind.

For a moment everything was dark, then Jim's voice thought hesitantly at him how should I do this, just jump right in or what?

Whatever is easiest for you, t'hy'la, Spock thought back. The Human's hesitance ebbed, then the darkness faded away into an image of a small house made of wood and brick in a field of yellow-green grass against a dusty blue sky. It smelled vaguely like fresh-cut wheat, which Spock had never smelled before, but Jim provided all the sensations.

This is where we lived, Jim narrated as images of the interior of the house flashed by. My aunt and uncle and I... We lived here for about six months before the famine hit. Immediately the quaint image of the house was replaced by the house being swarmed with soldiers, dragging away a man and a woman as a young screaming Jim struggled against another soldier trying to load him into a hovercar. I was taken to the colony's capital where a bunch of kids like me were being kept, whose families were executed but they were smart enough to stick around. We were kept in the government buildings and we had meals with Kodos three times a week, he liked to have us around, it reminded him of how noble he thought he was. Spock looked through a young Jim's eyes at the building he lived in and the table where they dined with Kodos, ornately decorated and lavishly loaded with food that wasn't supposed to exist. Jimandspock looked over at the head of the table where Kodos himself sat, dressed in his finery, a smile on his sallow, pinched features, and disgust bubbled in their chest.

They scowled openly and spoke out of turn and finally started shouting and Kodos had them get up and walk to stand before him, the governer's features twisted in distaste, and in his anger he threw a goblet of red wine at their face and they stood there dripping in the liquid and their nose began to bleed, the pain unnoticed for all their anger and humiliation and pure blinding hate, and they wiped their nose once before being dragged away by two guards, the blood on their hands a bright red that was foreign and familiar. The guards dragged them outside and beat them, as Kodos had commanded, kicking with heavy boots and striking with their metal nightsticks until they curled helplessly on the dirt.

I ended up being locked up with some other kids who were scheduled to be executed. Kodos decided I wasn't worth keeping around after all. Everything went curiously dark and blurry, memories becoming indistinct, and their perceptions separated and Spock was shown flashes of a dirty metal holding cage and an awareness of about twenty other individuals with him. But it was pretty easy for me to override the lock. I guess they didn't realize how good I was with computers. I busted everyone out and sixteen of us made it out of the city. I found us a cave and we lived there for four months, one week, and three days.

Images of the cave flashed before him. He was looking through Jim's eyes again, and they were watching the landscape with a grim set to their lips, studying the night as a small fire crackled behind them and the children they thought of as their own, even the older ones, sleeping even further back. They were sneaking through the town in the darkness with a boy with a hazy face – Benji who was a year younger than him – and a girl whose face was perfectly clear, a flat nose and full lips in a face smudged with dirt and framed by messy dark hair – Miriam who was two years older than them, who kissed them some nights when things were looking especially bleak, who was shot and died that night, and they returned to the camp without food and now without the girl who had acted as the mother figure for the little ones – for all of them. They watched helplessly as the two-year-old baby Lex succumbed to the starvation one afternoon and her older brother Ray who was four followed her the next week. They went looking for David and Shujix the Andorian boy one night when the two hadn't returned from the raid the night before and found their bodies beaten to a bloodied pulp at the outskirts of the city.

They were herding the last eleven children out of the cave while the noise of the patrol was approaching. Little Kevin who was secretly their favorite had sliced his foot open the week before and couldn't walk, much less run – so they piggybacked the ten-year-old boy to safety with the others, not stopping for two hours straight.

That was the night Starfleet finally arrived. A younger-looking Christopher Pike was burned into their memory, his shocked and almost repulsed expression as clear as the moment it had happened. They remembered Pike the most because he had been the one who found them, the children huddled against the trees with Jimandspock standing protectively in front of them, the weight of a phaser rifle, their only weapon, pulling at their trembling, emaciated arms.

"I'm with Starfleet," had been the first words Pike could find. "It's okay. I won't hurt you, you can put the weapon down. My name's Christopher Pike, I'm the First Officer of the starship Farragut, I'm going to help you, I promise..."

Everything was blurry after that. Spock's consciousness pulled away from Jim's as images were replaced with words. I don't really remember much after that. We were in the medical bay of the Farragut for a long time. The first thing I really remember is – is landing back on Earth and screaming for them not to separate us, me and the – my kids. I... I never saw any of them again, after that. For a moment there was only silence from Jim's mind as they floated in darkness, and Spock adjusted their connection slightly so that they were now standing across from each other, their surroundings indistinct and constantly shifting as though they were in a dream.

"That's about everything," Jim murmured, glancing away as Spock studied him silently. "I just kind of... rushed through it all, I guess. Sorry. But... now you know everything about my shitty life."

"I do not know how to even begin to express my sorrow for you," Spock replied, voice low and fervent, and their bodies met in a shower of light. "If I could, I would take all this pain from you. No one deserves to experience such a thing."

"It's okay," Jim replied reassuringly, taking on a light and almost joking tone as if to prove to the Vulcan that he was fine. "I'm a big kid. It's the past and there's nothing I can do about it and I'm okay with that now. It took a lot of time and therapy, but... I'm okay now." He chuckled dryly once, then paused somberly. "The only thing I still think about are the kids. I still wonder how they ended up, where they are now..."

"I will do all I can to find information on them," Spock replied suddenly, and Jim nearly laughed, surprised.

"Spock, I don't even know any of their full names. Good luck with that."

"I assure you I will do everything within my power," he vowed, and he flooded the younger man with a torrent of love and devotion. "I cannot, as you say, change your past. But I will endeavor always to make your future a pleasing one. I promise you this, t'hy'la."

"I love you too," Jim laughed as he pressed his lips to Spock's neck, and tranquilly they floated together in the ocean of their combined consciousness, cocooned together in a web warm with affection, happiness and love.

When Spock made promises, he kept them.

And so, late in the ship's night as Jim slept tangled in his sheets, he was searching the Starfleet data banks on his PADD – he had slept excessively and soundly lately so would not suffer any adverse effects even if he were to stay awake all through the ship's night. However, it seemed as though it would not take him quite that long to find what he was looking for.

He had enough security clearance to access the file of survivors – not that it would have mattered if he hadn't, because he was quite competent with manipulating computers into doing what he wanted. As he skimmed the list, he wondered why Jim had never simply looked up this list if he worried so about those he had saved – and a warm surge of affection for his illogical t'hy'la, who could be so intelligent and at the same time so foolish, blossomed in his chest.

"Computer," he said softly, mindful of said t'hy'la sleeping not far from him, desiring that he would not wake the Human. "Bring up the Stardate of James Kirk's rescue." The information flashed on the PADD screen with the entire file pertaining to him – next to the name "James Tiberius Kirk" was a picture of him that he recognized, one that had been on all the major news sites after the Narada Massacre. He ventured down the file only to stop suddenly, unnerved.

There were pictures of Jim at fourteen years old lying unconscious on a Sickbay bed on the Farragut. From the dates, they had been taken the day after he had been rescued. His pale teenage body was bruised and emaciated, every one of his ribs visible, the bones of his hips jutting out as if trying to break through his skin, his arms grotesquely thin and frail.

Spock looked away. In Jim's mind he had never gotten a good look at himself – at Jim – and so the pictures, quite frankly, disturbed him. He glanced back over at Jim sleeping in his bed, reassured himself of the man's healthy glow, the muscles that rippled beneath lightly tanned skin. (He recalled a conversation with the Human that had revealed that he made use of the ship's few tanning booths once a month – Jim had mumbled and blushed his way through explaining something about hating being pale that Spock could not see the point of.) A sense of relief came over him – his illogical Jim was healthy and strong, and this young, starved Jim was long gone. It was not logical to do so, but he felt better.

He scrolled back up, refocusing. "Computer, compile a list of all survivors rescued on the same date." A brief pause as the machine worked, then a list came up, their files springing up on the screen with it. Spock counted – yes, eleven, as Jim had said. They were all still alive, and warmth spread through Spock's chest. Jim would be delighted.

He began skimming through the basic information on each file, and paused upon seeing one with the current location listed as "USS Enterprise". He brought up the full file – Kevin Riley, Ensign, age twenty-three years. He pulled up the man's Starfleet file and saw that he had just transferred to the ship three months ago, working in Communications. Jim had signed the transfer confirmation himself.

Kevin Riley was listed on the ship's roster as working Beta shift. Spock felt quite pleased with himself – this would make things much easier than he had anticipated. He would speak to Ensign Riley tomorrow.

He put away his PADD and rejoined Jim in bed, holding the Human close as he sighed in his sleep. Spock stifled a smile into his cool shoulder.

He always kept his promises.