Title: The Tripping Place 5/9
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Jim, Jim/Bones, future Jim/Spock/Bones, Pike, Archer, Uhura, Scotty
Warnings: kinky/rough sex, mentions of past rape/abuse, minor character death, a bit of self harm, Tarsus and everything related to it, accidental bonding, major angst
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to play with them.
Summary: Following the defeat of Nero, the trip back to Earth is full of surprises. After the destruction of Vulcan, Spock begins experiencing odd, unexplainable symptoms that have him questioning his sanity and his ability to hold his position. When Spock is no longer able to hide his problems, Dr. McCoy's diagnosis comes as a shock to all. Secrets of the past come to light, discoveries ensue, and no one is prepared for the ramifications.
Notes: This is a slight crossover with The Sentinel. No knowledge of the series is needed to read this.
Things had gone smoothly, perhaps a little too smoothly until the first wrench was thrown into the works four months into their five years mission. Jim knew that he shouldn't be there, that he had a million other things he should be attending to, but receiving word that his First Officer had gone comatose as soon as he'd been beamed down the planet's surface had sent Jim straight to sickbay despite knowing that he'd just be in a way and was safe in Bones' skilled hands. So far Spock seemed to be the only one affected, but the rest of the surface party was quarantined as well despite their complaints. Policy was better to err on the side of caution rather than allow a possible illness or contaminant to affect the ship.
Jim was worried when Bones informed him from behind the glass that he couldn't find a reason for Spock's state. All the tests came back negative, except scans showed that there was increased neurological activity that seemed contrary to Spock's currently seemingly comatose state. As Bones was talking the monitors suddenly screamed and Jim turned around fearing the worse, but was surprised to see Spock's eyes open and staring at him. Bones rushed over and gave him a sedative as the monitors showed his heart rate and blood pressure reaching dangerous levels, and the screeching immediately stopped.
But now it was Jim's heart that was racing, wondering what was wrong with his friend and First Officer. After watching Bones do another set of tests, the doctor informed him that whatever was causing his odd brain activity seemed to have passed. Bones told Jim to go and get some rest as Spock wasn't going to be awake anytime soon, and Jim grudgingly did as he was told.
He stopped by the next morning before his shift to check on Spock. As he approached the glass barrier, he was startled as Spock's eyes snapped open and locked with his almost as if the Vulcan had sensed him. "Mr. Spock, how are you feeling?"
"I am well, Captain. I must admit, I do not have memories of how I ended up here. The last thing I recall is beaming down to the planet." Spock sat up slowly, causing the pile of blankets to pool in his lap.
"I assume you haven't talked to Bones yet?" At Spock's headshake, Jim continued on. "You passed out on us as soon as you set foot on the surface, Spock. The cause is unknown and scans did not pick up anything abnormal except some increased neurological activity. None of the other crewmembers appear to be affected, but we've quarantined you all as a precaution. Have you been experiencing any symptoms before this?"
There was an almost indiscernible pause, anyone that didn't know the man wouldn't have noticed, before Spock answered. "No, Captain. My health is exceptional."
Jim gave him a hard look, knowing that Vulcans, or at least this particular Vulcan could and would lie, and yes Spock looked vaguely uncomfortable with the question, but Jim hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Spock had been different since the loss of his planet, but it was to be expected. Spock was his normal efficient self on the bridge and still appeared for their chess games. For now Jim would let it slide, but he would be keeping a close eye on the Vulcan.
Jim nodded, "I'm glad to hear it. I need to call Bones. He won't be pleased that he wasn't informed the instant you woke up. And the Alpha shift starts soon. I need to be on my way."
Spock nodded. "Of course, Captain. Do not be late because of me. There is no need to worry."
Jim didn't need to call Bones as the man walked in the door just as he was about to. Informing him that Spock was awake and seemed fine he made his way to the bridge. However, despite Spock's insistence that all was fine, he could not help but worry.
Despite Bones' tests, he was unable to find the cause of Spock's episode, and a week later the Vulcan was released with the rest of the quarantined crew. Bones wasn't so convinced that there was nothing wrong with the Vulcan, and when he shared his concerns with his Captain, Jim kept an even closer eye on his First Officer than he already had been.
The first sign that something was still off happened a week later when Spock snapped at an unsuspecting Ensign for forgetting to submit a report, going so far as to say that their incompetence could have endangered the ship, had the report been important. The chastised Ensign looked ready to either start crying and run or piss his pants and faint.
"Spock," Jim had snapped. He had gone too far.
Spock had turned towards him, and Jim was shocked by the naked rage on his first officer's face.
Spock apologized and ran off before Jim could stop him, and then spent the next few days avoiding him, which took some talent and effort given the fact that they shared many shifts. When Jim finally cornered him, the Vulcan was tightlipped, and would say nothing other than that he was sorry and it was a temporary lapse of control. That gave Jim pause and increased his worry as that was the same phrase his friend had used when speaking of the incident between them on the bridge during the Narada incident when Spock had nearly killed him.
A few weeks passed with no incident, but that all changed the day that Spock didn't show up on the bridge for his scheduled shift. Paging the Vulcan's quarters, there was no response despite the computer informing him that Spock was inside. Jim handed over the command and ran, feeling a rush of alarm as he called Bones to meet him in Spock's quarters with a medical team.
He got there first, hurriedly overrode the lock, and impatiently darted through the door as soon as it slid open. Finding the room dark he ordered, "Lights 50%." Blinking at the sudden change, he was surprised to see Spock apparently meditating in the middle of the room with eyes wide open but unseeing. It was unnerving. "Spock?" he hesitantly called. Getting no response, he moved forward, and knelt down to touch the man.
Realizing that Spock was shockingly cool even for a Vulcan, he felt for a pulse and panicked when he found that it was almost human slow, way too slow for a Vulcan, and he saw that despite his deep and even breathing it was also exceedingly slow. At first glance he could almost imagine that this was meditation, but something was off and Spock should have realized someone was there if it truly had been one. He cursed, wondering what was taking medical so long, and shook the Vulcan trying to pull him out of whatever it was that he was stuck in. "Spock. Come on. Snap out of this. We'll figure out what wrong and fix it. Spock, please. We need you."
Spock suddenly inhaled deeply, noisily, and his eyes suddenly focused on the man in front of him, clearly dazed and confused. "Jim?"
Suddenly Bones and his team were there, and Bones, pushing Jim out of the way, began checking vitals and issuing orders while Spock was bundled up on a stretcher and out of the room. Jim moved to follow the team, and Bones growled, "If you set foot in my sickbay before your shift ends, I'll sedate you. I don't need you in the way or underfoot. Go back to the bridge."
Jim scowled, but did as instructed. He didn't like being told that he was practically useless, and hated that he didn't have more knowledge of the field. The rest of the shift was spent glancing at the clock and worrying about Spock. He got very little real work done, and he was happy that there hadn't been anything that had required his attention.
Bones cursed as the screen went blank. The Vulcans were normally tight lipped about anything related to their health, but the healer he had spoken to hadn't given any indication that she was shocked when he'd asked about pon farr, a topic that he knew to be more than slightly taboo and never discussed with outsiders. It was almost as if she'd expected it. Spock, the one from the future that is, hadn't been available. Knowing it was a long shot, he took a chance in calling Ambassador Sarek, even knowing that Spock would be displeased by his actions.
As Sarek's face appeared on his screen, the Vulcan did not seem shocked to see him and before McCoy could even say a word the Vulcan spoke. "Doctor, my son is experiencing the symptoms as well."
It wasn't a question, but Bones nodded anyway. "I take it you expected a call. What can you tell me?"
Sarek hesitated a moment, as though considering his words. "At first the healers believed it was a mass onset of pon farr, an event that would have reduced our low numbers even further and would have been a dire strike to our dwindling race. After careful analysis of the symptoms, that theory was dismissed. Even with our best doctors working on this, we are no closer to knowing what this affliction is. This malady affects Vulcans from late puberty to those in their prime. No children or adolescents are affected, nor has anyone that has experienced their fifth pon farr. Despite our best efforts we are at a loss, and we fear it is only a matter of time before the deaths begin if we aren't able to find the reason soon."
McCoy considered the information. "I need to see the research."
"As I suspected you would. I have already sent the material. It should arrive shortly."
As if to prove his point Bones' PADD beeped, signaling the reception of a message marked as important.
"Thank you, Ambassador Sarek. I will go over it immediately."
Sarek inclined his head. "Keep me informed." Raising his hand, he intoned. "Live long and prosper."
As the screen went blank, Bones pulled up the data and began reading, making notes here and there, looking up things when needed. The first symptoms noted were obviously the reason why the Vulcans had first thought it was pon farr. The hormonal imbalance and violent outbursts of unrestrained emotions had no other explanation to a Vulcan. But taking into account the other symptoms, the widely fluctuating, out of control senses and the ensuing apparent comas, it led to a very un-Vulcan explanation.
The only possible explanation was so farfetched that Bones wouldn't have believed it if the evidence wasn't right there in front of him. He knew the signs, had the required training, and a considerable amount of experience dealing with them, as was required in his position not only as a doctor but as CMO of a starship. But because Spock was a Vulcan he hadn't considered the possibility. It hadn't even crossed his mind. He should have realized the possibility was there given Spock's half-human status. But even then that didn't explain why it was affecting so many full blooded Vulcans.
They were Sentinels and Guides. Sentinels were individuals who normally after a period of isolation in the wilderness developed heightened senses. It could range from two senses to all five. In ancient times they were called tribal protectors, the watchmen and scouts. Guides were always paired with Sentinels to help them control their senses at first, then later to be used as a baseline to keep them under control. There had long been a sense of mysticism surrounding Guides due to the strangeness of their psi abilities, only recognized for what they really were in the last century. They were considered little more than myth until the late twentieth century, when Dr. Blair Sandburg published his work on the subject, claiming that he was a Guide to a Sentinel with five senses. The idea had been rejected as ludicrous at first, but when more and more people came forward with such senses it quickly became obvious that it was a very real phenomenom.
He was at a loss both by the number awakening, but also because it was a known fact that Vulcan were not Sentinels. It was a well-documented but little studied fact that all of the seeded races had the potential to be Sentinels. That is all races except Vulcans. In all of their carefully detailed post-Surak history there was no mention of Sentinels and with the race's extreme desire for privacy and their tightlippedness about anything to do with their biology, there had very little progress in finding out why. It made little sense because intel told tales of Romulan Sentinels, and given the apparent biological similarities between Romulans and Vulcans, there should have been Vulcan Sentinels.
And now there were. He noted at some level it must be related to some sort of survival instinct, a need to live and protect, a drive that had apparently been all but shut down with the species change from war to pacifism. With a sudden start Bones realized that the Guides were all untrained, they had no way they could understand what was happening. They needed outside help. Making a quick return call to Sarek, he informed the Vulcan of his findings and Sarek agreed that help was needed. Bones agreed to wait and call the Federation until after Sarek was able to arrange a meeting of the Elders and get their input as well. But he knew the clock was ticking. It was time to tell Spock and Jim what he'd found out.
"Spock's a Sentinel, and Jim I believe he considers you his Guide."
At Bones' proclamation, Jim jerked back from his position at Spock's bedside as if burned, sending his chair crashing into the bed behind it. He looked wildly between Bones and Spock, and then without a backwards glance darted out of door, ignoring Bones' shouts and startling Nurse Chapel so badly she dropped her PADD as he ran out of the sickbay. If he had looked back he would have seen the wounded look that crossed Spock's face before he was able to prevent it, having misinterpreted the fear and self-disgust on Jim's face as fear and disgust instead directed at him.
Jim didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get away. Bones was wrong. Bones had to be wrong. But Jim knew that Bones was rarely wrong. He didn't allow himself to think about it now though. He just had to get away, had to distance himself. He couldn't be what Spock needed. Spock couldn't have chosen him, shouldn't have chosen him. Jim couldn't risk what they had, couldn't risk destroying their friendship and partnership because he was too broken to be what Spock needed.
And he knew he was. Had known since Tarsus. Something wasn't right in him, despite what Bones said. The other doctors had been right; he was defective and broken, unfit to serve as a Guide. His history only proved that.
Jim remembered when his friend had found out.
Jim knew he needed to go out, but classes had kept him busier than usual. The material was dry and well below him, but he'd tested out of the maximum number of courses he could already, and papers didn't write themselves. He'd caught Bones looking at him oddly more than once the past couple days as he got more and more twitchy. He'd hoped that he could make it to the weekend but had waited too long. Jim knew he couldn't put it off any longer despite it being the middle of the week.
He thought he was being crafty when crawled under the covers fully clothed, while his roommate was in the bathroom. When Bones came out he pretended to be asleep as the other man turned off the lights and climbed into his own bed. Long minutes passed as he laid there still and silent listening to the other man's breathing. When it finally evened out into the rhythmic sound of sleep, he waited a few more minutes before he quietly lifted the covers and carefully padded across the room.
Slipping into his shoes near the door, not bothering to tie them, he reached to open the door and nearly jumped out of his skin as a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist, yanking it back. He fought down the urge to shout as he spun around, barely able to make out McCoy's outline, yelping, "Bones!"
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Bones hissed clearly unhappy.
"Out," Jim said petulantly, trying to shake off Bones' hand. The contact was both too much and not enough, enough to make him itch for more, but not enough to satisfy.
"In the middle of the week, when you have a test in the morning?" Bones asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "What reason do you have to sneak out in the middle of the night like a miscreant?"
Jim had the good grace to look uncomfortable, but didn't back down. "You were supposed to be asleep."
"I would have been if it wasn't obvious you were up to something. I'm a doctor, Jim. I know how to tell the difference between when a person's sleeping and not, and you were obviously not." Bones sighed, obviously tired, and Jim felt briefly guilty for keeping his normally sleep deprived friend up.
"Well, shit." Jim replied, he obviously wasn't thinking right, didn't normally allow it to get this bad, didn't know why he couldn't have just been normal.
"So, you going to tell me what you were doing?" At Jim's silence McCoy pulled him farther back into the room. Stumbling over something in darkness he ordered, "Lights 30%." He blinked at the sudden light, and then froze as he got his first real look at Jim. He was pale and wide-eyed, his pupils so widely dilated that the blue of his irises were barely visible. Jim's hair was plastered to his forehead despite the frigid blasting of the AC, and Bones finally noticed the racing pulse and how tightly wound Jim was as he tried to control the slight tremble of the wrist still in his grasp.
"Dammit, Jim! What the hell are you on? Speed, meth, PCP?" Shoving Jim down onto the bed, he reached for his tricorder.
Jim yelped as he hit the bed and almost fell off the other side. "Dammit, Bones, stop it!" He smacked his hand away as the tricorder got near him. "I'm not on anything," He said, giving Bones an icy look.
By the doctor just ignored him and began his scan. "Well, if you're not on anything then you're sick."
"Seriously, I'm fine. I just need to go out. It's just one of those things that I really need to take care of on my own. There's nothing you can do." Jim was desperate now with Bones so close, so tempting.
He made a move to stand up and Bones promptly pushed him pack down.
It was suddenly all too much. Closing his eyes, Jim abruptly grabbed onto his friend and pulled the man down on top of him. He ignored the sound of the tricorder clattering across the floor and cut off the doctor's startled exclamation by slanting his mouth over Bones'. Shoving his hands under McCoy's shirt he felt instantly relief at the contact. Jim hadn't noticed that Bones had remained frozen on top of him until the man suddenly sagged and kissed him back, forcing his tongue into Jim's mouth.
Jim moaned happily at the reciprocation, but at the sound the body above him abruptly froze and pulled away. Jim's eyes snapped open and locked with Bones who was back up against the wall panting. Jim knew that his own face must have mirrored the growing horror on his friend's. And when McCoy looked away from him in disgust, Jim felt something in his chest break.
Darting to the nearest door, he cursed as he realized it was the bathroom. Locking the door behind him he sank to the floor, pressing up against the wall and pulled his knees close to his chest, making himself as small as possible. He was shaking so hard that his teeth rattled, but he didn't care, didn't fight the tears that streamed down his face. He knew it was too good to last, knew it was only a matter of time before he fucked it up.
Resting his head against the coolness of the tub, he didn't notice the banging on the door or Bones' demands to let him in as he drifted and withdrew further into his mind. He didn't notice the long silence only broken by the occasional curse, nor when the door finally slid open, or the sight of Bones replacing the access panel. He didn't notice the sad, tortured look the older man gave him, or hear the mournful, "Oh, Jim," directed towards him as the man slid to the floor beside him.
Jim did notice the sudden touch to his forehead, brushing his sticky bangs back. Jim's eyes opened wide, and he tried to jerk back from the touch despite how badly he wanted it, needed it, but there's was no place to go trapped as he was between Bones and the tub. And suddenly he was sobbing and babbling broken apologies as he tried to make himself smaller. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me. Don't leave me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I couldn't help it. I won't do it again. I promise. I promise. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Bones' reached out hesitantly as though approaching a cornered animal, not sure if he would attack or accept his touch. Jim froze as he touched his arm, but didn't try to pull away. Ever so slowly he wrapped his arm around Jim's shoulder's, giving him every opportunity to stop him. He didn't expect to suddenly find himself with a lapful of limpet, Jim's face pressed almost painfully against his neck. The snot and tears didn't bother him. He dealt with worse on a daily basis as a doctor. He just tightened his hold and petted his hair, wondered what the hell was going on, but knowing better than to force it.
When the shaking finally stopped and the tears gave way to silence, he thought perhaps that Jim had fallen asleep. Shifting to try and find a more comfortable position he jumped when Jim whispered, "I'm sorry."
Jim tried to pull away but McCoy wouldn't let him, afraid he was going to run again, and this time take it outside, and Bones was just too damned tired. He cupped Jim's chin and turned his face to meet his eyes as Jim tried to look anywhere but at him. Bones' chest tightened as the Jim's face shuttered, stealing himself for the worst, and those blue eyes welled with tears again. "Jim, I love you. You're the closest thing to family I have, but I can't do that with you, can't be that for you. I—"
Jim placed his hand over Bones' mouth, stopping whatever he was going to say. "I know. I love you too. I didn't mean to, I couldn't help it. You're the only one that puts up with my shit, and if I lost that I don't know what I'd do." Jim took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not a psi null, Bones."
Bones' eyebrow rose, suddenly not liking where this was going. "But your medical f—"
"I know. They were altered." Jim interrupted, and continued on before the doctor could ask why. "I have one of the highest empathy scores that the doctors had ever seen." Bones' face darkened realizing what that meant. "They were supposed to monitor me, protect me, but they didn't realize it was already too late, and I just slipped through the cracks of the system because of who I was." Jim couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.
He started talking and couldn't stop. Told Bones the things he'd never breathed a word to anyone before, about his mom, Frank, Sam, the fights and the beatings, the alcohol, and drugs, and sex. Everything that he'd never been able to share before. He didn't start crying again till he talked about Tarsus IV, when he finally got the guts to look at Bones and saw his friend crying for him, for what he'd been through, something no one had ever done before for him. And then he froze when he remembered the rescue the shrinks and all their psych tests. He bit back the sob that welled from deep, inside of him. "They said that I was broken, that I wasn't fit to be a Guide." And for the first time since he learned that, since they told him that he allowed himself to cry. He couldn't hold back the sob, and he quickly buried his face in McCoy's shirt.
He didn't tell his friend about Quinn, couldn't speak of the tiny, wraithlike girl. There were no tests for Sentinels the experts said, no way to identify them until they appeared they said. But they were wrong. Jim knew the first instance he saw her, tiny, fragile Quinn, that she would grow up to be a Sentinel. And he'd also known the instant he saw her, that she wouldn't live to grow up. She'd been too weak, too sick from starvation. But oh, that didn't mean he hadn't tried. He'd given up his rations for her, known that the others snuck food to her as well, but she hadn't been able to keep it down. And she had just gotten more ill, more frail.
He'd tried to steal some medicine from Kodos' enclave but got caught, and when he'd finally escaped it, he'd gone back with no medication and missing a piece of himself. He hadn't truly expected her to still be alive when he got back, had no way of knowing how long Kodos and his men had had him, though he knew it was a while, but he hadn't truly been surprised when he came back and found her still alive. He'd brushed off the other kids, ignoring their inquiries on where he'd been, what happened, was he hurt?
Kneeing down beside her, he'd brushed her dark curls away from her forehead, grinning slightly as the unruly mass sprung back into place. He'd winced at the sound of air rattling wetly through her lungs, the simple action shaking her entire frame, and carefully took her frail hand in his. Skin so thin it was nearly translucent had hugged her bones and did nothing to hide the vivid streaks of her blue veins, so startling a contrast to the paleness of her skin. Her eyes had opened and she blinked huge grey eyes up at him for a moment before she realized who it was and smiled incredibly.
Jim had angrily blinked and swallowed past the sudden lump in this throat, having promised himself that he wouldn't cry again. But both the feel of her happiness at the sight of him, and her acceptance of her death had been too much to bear. It hadn't been fair, she was too young to die, hadn't even had a chance to live. But if he'd learned anything so far in his short life, it was that life wasn't fair. Tarsus IV just proved that.
"JT," she'd breathed, so soft he might have imagined it. She weakly tugged on him, and he sank down, lowering his head towards hers. "Don't be afraid."
Jim had looked at her not understanding, but she'd just smiled again. Then she'd taken one last rattling breath, let it out and was still. Her hand had gone limp in his, but still she smiled, and he prayed to a god that he didn't believe in that she was at peace as he reached up and closed her eyes with his free hand.
Jim had felt at the time that with her death, she'd taken a part of him with her. Then the doctors had forced themselves into his brain when he refused to talk about it. Appalled by what they'd seen they'd locked part of him away, had said that he was broken, unfit, but gave no explanation as to why.
Bones fury knew no boundaries as he realized how badly the system had failed Jim, what they'd subjected him to. "Aww, kid. They were wrong."
Pulling away from Jim, Bones didn't miss the hurt that crossed his face before it was quickly hidden. But he got a small smile when Jim saw that Bones was just getting up and took his offered hand. Throwing his arm around Jim's shoulder he led them back to the bedroom, and said, "Okay, kid. Lose the clothes." The look on Jim's face might have been comical in any other situation. "Unless you want to sleep in them. It's getting late."
Understanding dawned on him and Jim hurriedly stripped to his boxers as Bones crawled into bed. Turning to get into his own bed, he stopped and turned as Bones called, "Jim."
Bones held up the edge of the blanket. "Get in."
Jim just blinked, not really understanding.
"Come to bed. Just to sleep." He raised the blanket higher.
Jim hesitantly slid in next to him, trying to keep some distance between them still, but Bones crowded closer. He would have fallen off the edge of the bed if the doctor hadn't chosen that moment to lock his arms around him and pull Jim close. Jim's heart raced, and he tensed at the sudden contact pressing along the length of his body.
Long minutes passed before Bones whispered in his ear, "Relax, kid. I gotcha. Just sleep."
And for once Jim did as he was told.