A/N: I wrote this entire chapter while marathoning hp. I'm still on Order of the Phoenix. So if this is weird, it's probably because of that lmao

Their bonding had been a quiet affair. By Vulcan standards, perhaps not so much. But by Jim's standards, it was just right. Only their parents and closest friends had been in attendance, for once free of complaints of the heat of the planet. They'd touched minds a hundred times over, over the years. Jim had thought he'd been almost as familiar with Spock's mind as his own. He'd been wrong.

He'd known what to expect, having gone over the ceremony to the point of obsession. Spock had insisted that it wasn't necessary, as they did not expect Jim to be exactly in line with Vulcan tradition when he was, in fact, human. But Jim's resolve had only hardened when he'd had a chat with Amanda and found out that she'd done it perfectly. Of course, that's not how the conversation actually went. But Jim could infer and from the way she talked about the hours she spent on it, he'd figured he'd have to put in a few of his own.

So he'd been prepared. Worn the right robes, learned the right words, made the right gestures. He'd known what to expect. Spock's fingers had brushed his psi points in a familiar touch, and he fell. That part had been easy enough. They'd done that more times than he could count. The change came as another presence entered their shared minds, guiding them. Everything was colors and emotions, twisting and writhing in every direction. The presence gently, carefully, pushed them together, wrapping around each other like tendrils. What came with it had no words in any language Jim knew and he suspected none that existed. It left him breathless when the three of them broke, the sun having crept lower though he hadn't noticed more than a few moments pass.

His mind was racing, full. But he'd never felt more whole, falling forward slightly to grip onto Spock's forearm which had only heightened the new emotions. He knew they were his now bondmate's, knew that the new presence in his mind belonged there. It felt right. Like their minds had only ever meant to be one and the emptiness before was the unnatural thing. They'd fit, slotting into place and finally able to breathe.

This is nothing like that.

The images are jumbled, crowding into Jim's head in an explosion of color and sound. In his dreams they make little sense. They don't come in any order, flashing from scene to scene before he can comprehend them. Emotions surge through him, his heart swelling and breaking in turn. With each memory comes more understanding. He realizes he's Admiral James T. Kirk. He realizes he's fallen into his alternate self's memories. The him that the elder Spock had known.

While he sleeps, he cannot feel the pain. He has no time to process anything, but the physical tole doesn't make itself known until he opens his eyes. He's no longer himself. He's more than that and it catches his breath in his throat, the sudden pressure in his skull dizzying. The first thing he sees is Spock. Familiar, cold Spock. Home.

"Spock," the words are a whisper, his eyes widening. He can see Spock's brown widening ever so slightly in turn. Both of him have learned that to be the equivalent of a human's mouth dropping open in shock. The same way those eyes widened the first time Jim kissed him. Since when had he kissed Spock?

For a moment, all he can do is stare wordlessly at his companion. His bondmate. Friend. Whatever he is to him, he can't form a single syllable. Everything hurts. Finally, his mouth opens. He tries to speak. Fails. Tries again, this time licking his lips before clearing his throat.

"What… happened?"

Spock blinks. "We appear to be in a holding cell of some sort. There is a guard positioned approximately 1.2 meters from the entrance."

Jim frowns slightly, his stomach sinking slightly. He doesn't want to be alone in this. If Spock doesn't know what he's talking about…

"I meant… Are you…?" His hands gesture helplessly before he grimaces, the action shooting tendrils of pain through his head. Slowly, he tries to sit up. Neither of him are the type to just sit around and let things happen, no matter how badly hurt he is. After some amount of effort, he manages to prop himself up against the wall. He doesn't notice Spock until he catches his hand moving away from the corner of his eye. Maybe an aborted effort to steady him. Jim doesn't know. Either way, he balances himself after a minute. Lets his eyes close.

He tries again. "My head. My thoughts. They're… I'm not me. I mean, I am me. But it's like there's…" If Spock gets it, he gets it. If not, he'll try and explain it later, when they're out of here.

There's a small sigh from his first officer and Jim's head snaps up at it. One part of him is shocked to hear such a response. The other feels a warmth spread through his chest, fond of such little expressions of emotion. So much more frequent than they had been before the incident with V'Ger.

"Yes. It appears… somehow, our consciousnesses have merged with those of our counterparts from the alternate timeline." Jim notes he doesn't say which timeline. Maybe it's just as confusing for him, trying to distinguish which one he is. It's like a constant war. He'd gotten the impression he'd been vastly different from his meld with the elder Spock, but this… It's like being two entirely different people.

"So I'm not alone then? Cool." The more mature, sensible man in him cringes ever so slightly at the use of the word in such a serious situation. But hey, whatever. He's with Spock. He doesn't have to pretend at being a seasoned Starfleet captain. "Do you have any idea how, Mr. Spock?" After so many years, it's almost a term of endearment. It sounds way too formal, he inwardly protests.

"None as of yet, Captain. I only woke up a mere 10.45 minutes before yourself."

It's Jim's turn to sigh, slumping slightly before something occurs to him. "You said there's a guard?"

"That is correct."

"Maybe we could get him to tell us what the hell's going on."

"I doubt that would work."

"Whatever, it's worth a shot."

And with that, he's lifting himself up, shoving the pain in his head to the back of his mind. There's room enough to stand on his feet, which makes him wonder at the height of this tree. His head swims when he's fully upright, making him sway a little. Almost on instinct, Spock reaches out to grab his calf, steady him.

"I'm fine, Spock," he mutters. This is weird. Either way, really. The way Spock's touch burns through the fabric of his pants, something he hasn't felt before. How young this body is, without the aches of age in his joints that make standing up a feat. After ascertaining that he really is, Spock pulls his hand away. Jim moves towards the entrance.

"Hey!" The alien's head turns towards him, their many eyes blinking at him at different times. It's damn creepy, if you ask him. "Yeah, I'm talking to you." Their hand creeps towards the weapons on their belt. As if Jim can actually do anything from in here. "Why are we being held here?"

Those eight, abyss eyes just blink at him again before their mouth opens, a string of hisses that might be a language coming through. Their translators are gone. Jim can't make heads or tails of it. They seem to be waiting for a reaction. Look mildly annoyed when they have to repeat themself. This time in Standard. Which… shouldn't be happening. This is a first contact.

"You know why, pyr-a."

Jim's brows knit together, something in the back of his mind clicking at the word. And indeed, he does know why.

"Shit," he mutters to himself. Evidently, his bondmate hears him, two brows raising.

The memory that surfaces is an old one, one he'd forgotten in his age, with the sheer multitude of worlds visited. The Suya-ka were a telepathic species they'd encountered in the first year of their mission. Just as this time, they hadn't known anything about them before landing, though it hadn't been due to a distress signal. Merely that the Federation had informed them that they'd reached warp and as the flagship, it was their duty to greet them into the new age. It had gone spectacularly well for the first two days on the planet, and they even went so far as to decide to go on a short shore leave.

Things had gone south, and quickly. A group of young ensigns had gotten too excited in their drunkenness, accidentally setting fire to a part of the forest that covered most of the planet. It had spread. Fire had, apparently, been outlawed a few centuries before when they'd discovered alternatives that were less risky towards their environment. There weren't any fail safes. The Suya-ka's homes, their lives, were in the trees. Much of it burned down and the Enterprise was blamed. It had turned hostile, losing two crewmen before everyone had beamed back and quickly left. They'd contacted the Federation, who had assured them they'd send relief to help with the fires and help try to rebuild. As far as Jim had known, they did.

The problem lies in the Suya-ka's unique abilities, Jim quickly realizes. They can see the future. Or rather, linear time is simply a foreign concept to them. How this is, they have never been able to figure out, only that it is. While each is an individual, they all share the knowledge of their past as well, the important memories of their entire species shared among them without the need for teachers. With every choice, they can see the endless outcomes, and choose the best.

"So that's why? For something we haven't done?"

The alien doesn't seemed surprise he does understand, merely narrowing their eyes.

"Haven't you? You remember it, just as clearly as you remember everything else in this life. What is the difference between a memory and an event?" When Jim can't answer, the alien shakes their head. "There isn't."

Jim bristles slightly, his spine straightening. "You will let us go. Our crew won't leave us here."

"No, they won't. We can see that. We were merely holding you until you awoke. The Aytis-pa is punishment enough."

"The what?"

The alien gives him a look that suggests he's using the intelligence of a two year old. Maybe he is. "If you cannot figure that out, then you are, perhaps, more of a lost cause than we had previously assumed."

"You've been pretty forthcoming so far. What's with the silent treatment now?" He's figured out what it means, but he's just being stubborn now.

"We knew you'd have questions upon waking. I've been told to answer them. Not pander to stupid ones."

Jim just glares at him before turning on his heel and slipping back down the wall. He goes back to trying to figure out an escape, arms crossing over his chest. He doesn't trust the Suya-ka as far as he can throw them. All the while, he can feel Spock's gaze on him.

By the time the shield is lowered and they are beamed back aboard the Enterprise, Spock has grown agitated. He has not had the time he requires to reflect on the events, let alone the new workings of his mind. The pounding in his head has only subsided marginally. That is without the added fact that he has spent the last 6.57 hours in the presence of James T. Kirk, struggling with himself on wanting to embrace him, never let him out of his site again. It's been too long. He's grown annoyed with himself that he didn't, but then again, he balks slightly at the idea of such close contact with his Captain.

Matters are not helped when, as soon as he has stepped off the transporter pad, he's greeted by Nyota's embrace. As usual, he doesn't exactly reciprocate, though he does relax slightly. But nearly as soon as he has, he's tensing again. He'd never been like this with his Nyota. They'd been close friends, but they each had others that were much more suited for each other. It had never even crossed their minds, the closest they'd ever gotten being Nyota pressing a drunken, sloppy kiss to his cheek, laughing as she pulled away at the shocked expression on the Vulcan's features.

She must feel the sudden stiffness, because she pulls away. "Sorry, sorry. I know you don't like pda, I don't know what I was thinking." She gives a half, almost sad smile, running her hands down his forearms before the fall to her sides and she takes a small step back.

Spock blinks, attempts to find his words, sure to keep a mask over his features. Even if after the incident with V'Ger he'd begun to show emotion, this wasn't the time for that. Nor was this younger version of himself used to it.

"I apologize, Nyota. I must meditate. I will seek you out when I have done so and received proper rest after today's events." Briefly, out of his younger mind's instinct, he brushes his fingers against hers. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jim flinch. Quickly, he pulls away, not looking back at either of them before he's exiting the transporter room.

It was not a lie. He does, indeed, return to his quarters for meditation. Though he does every night, this is different. He knows he will need up to half a day to sort out his thoughts, his memories. Try and find a way to live like this until they can find a solution. Frustratingly enough, he gets slightly lost on his way to his quarters. The layout of the ship is similar, but not completely the same. The Butterfly Effect. One thing had changed this much. Guilt threatens to claw up into his throat, but Spock pushes it down. Eventually, he's able to sort his way through conflicting memories and get to his rooms in a timely fashion.

There is little he can do at the time to help his situation. There is no suppressing one set of memories, as he refuses to let himself go, no matter how logical. Neither side of him wishes to be suppressed. What he can do, however, is better merge the memories, helping him become one person. There is nothing he can do to change the confusion of the duality, but it's easier to function if he does not feel like two different people entirely. At least, their personalities are similar. Spock can easily remember when he had been exactly as this younger self. Though he wonders at how he could so easily embrace his emotions now, he has the memories of V'Ger. He has the memories of Jim. Of dying. Once he is no longer viewing them as his alternate self's memories, but rather their memories, things go much more smoothly.

When he comes out of the meditation, he feels far more exhausted. Though he is now one, the last day has been tiring. His nerves are frayed. Forgoing his normal nightly rituals of cleaning himself, he simply falls into bed. The lack of another body doesn't bother him. Not anymore. Jim has been gone for years. He and Uhura rarely share a bed. It makes no difference. Though, perhaps, it takes slightly longer to fall asleep with the knowledge that Jim, his Jim, is here, yet not with him.

When he is woken by the buzzing at his door, he knows that has changed. Standing, he slips on a shirt over his bare chest before moving to open the door. Before, he wouldn't have bothered with Jim. But a part of him still feels uncomfortable, no matter what memories he might have. At least, he thinks he should feel uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he opens the door, unwilling to do so from his bed.

As he'd suspected, it's Jim that greets him, blinking his large eyes at him. He can tell a grin threatens to stretch his lips, perhaps instinct, before they fall into a grimace. He already knows the words that will come out of his mouth before he speaks them.

"We need to talk."

Spock steps aside.

A/N: pyr-a: Basically I see this as meaning something close to destroyer/disgrace/ect. all those sorts of things

The Suya-ka are definitely going to make at least one more appearance, if not more