Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek 2009 or anything else connected to the Star Trek franchise.

Warnings:

Slash Spock/Kirk

AU fic

AN: I just want to say thank you to all those lovely people who reviewed to my last chapter. I love so much to hear all about what you think about my story.

And a big Thank you to HyenaGreyScale for being an amazing beta. :D

POSSESSED

Chapter 6 – Action

It took another three months for the Council to arrange for a prisoner exchange, which in truth was pretty quick.

In the interim days, Jim had taken to wandering around the citadel, acquainting himself with more of Vulcan culture and keeping up to date on the happenings of the war. Spock, considering the whole fact that Jim had no intension of running anymore, had removed the guard outside their door and given Jim the main codes so he could come and go as he pleased. The Vulcans working in the citadel were wary and dismissive of him at first but soon grew to at very least tolerate his presence. He'd even used some of his time to go into town and visit Spock's mum, just for a chance to talk to another human for once. And because she was a pretty awesome lady, of course.

The silver cuff Spock had given him allowed him to do whatever and go to any public place he wanted. It amazed him how much the cuff was recognized. No human wearing it was ever stopped to explain themselves or restrained from going about their daily lives. He was even more amazed by the amount of humans in the city; Amanda introducing him to a few. The Vulcans, even with a tendency to look down on humans as illogical beings, never attempted to shun or attack any human wearing a silver cuff. While their attitude wasn't ideal, it was still quiet peaceful. Especially when Jim knew that any Vulcan living on Earth had been taken straight to concentration camps at the beginning of the war and any Vulcan found since had been treated as a prisoner of war. He knew the reasoning behind the Earth council's orders but that didn't mean it was the best solution. He was privy to the fact however that at least Vulcan's civilians in the camps were treated well and with respect. This knowledge comforted him some-what from the guilt that, even as a prisoner, he was given free-range when Vulcan civilians in his position on Earth were not.

He had also taken the time to learn more of the language, even going so far as to ask for Spock's help. With time he had got the rudimentary basics down and was now slowly working his way through more complex texts. He couldn't hold a full conversation just yet but his reading and writing had improved tenfold with his Vulcan's teachings.

Spock teaching him Vulcan had also become another turning point in their relationship. Jim had found he was slowly coming to trust the Vulcan more and more. Their sexual encounters weren't many but Spock had allowed him to take the lead for a few, and he was glad to teach the Vulcan the benefits of being the submissive partner. Even after all that, he still had his moments when Spock moved too close without him realizing. This he was not proud to admit caused mild panic attacks, where he had to barricade himself in the bathroom to calm down.

He was glad for the fact that while he knew Spock felt guilt over his attacks, the Vulcan had never once changed how he acted around him. When Jim had finally asked why he simply explained that it was illogical to do so, and that Jim's reactions were an expected response to the trauma he had suffered at his hands. That conversation had been an uncomfortable one, but one where he had gained further insight into how his Vulcan companion thought.

Chess became a common past time they shared to the point where they played a game almost every night. He was pleased to note he had a slight lead; winning 32 out of the 63 games they had played so far. They discussed many things over the board, beginning with Spock's progress on 'the plan' since he wasn't allowed to help and usually ending with one or the other regaling tales of their child hood. Well, Jim did the regaling; Spock mostly just spoke the basic facts.

Now Jim sat, nerves steadily rising as the transport brought them closer to the agreed exchange point. He couldn't stop going through everything Spock and the council had told him that morning and what he had to do once he reached Earth Base. T'Pau had convinced the council, along with Sarek, that he would keep his word without any other 'measures' to ensure he did, which gave him some relief. He hadn't really been looking forward to finding out what those other measures were.

It was a simple plan really; all he had to do was present the information Spock had found to his superiors to take to the Earth Council. Then it was up to them whether they accepted the cease-fire or not. What made him nervous was the uncertainty. He could verify all the information. He'd been given so much more to back it all up so that wouldn't be a problem; however, the prejudices built up over the 40 years of fighting could be. Humans had a habit of clinging onto the familiar no mater how terrible it was and it's always easier to stick to what you know rather then admit you might have been wrong. It terrified him the Council wouldn't even listen, he was just a Captain after all, and no matter what Spock calculations said you couldn't factor in human emotion. But they were military men and military men were inherently practical so that went in his favor. Add to that the fact that there were very few that actually wanted this war to continue. No, he really did need to have faith in his own people, and in himself to make them listen. After all, if Spock could convince a whole bunch of stuffy Vulcans, then why couldn't he convince a whole bunch of stuffy humans.

The other uncertainty was the 'Narada'. They had no way of knowing if the elusive ship's crew knew about the exchange and the proposed cease-fire. If they didn't, they were home free; if they did, however, they had to be prepared for anything. This was the exact reason why a covert team of Vulcan Askital were trailing the transport and would shadow the Human transport back to Earth base. This precaution was arranged specifically by Spock without even the council's full knowledge to ensure no one else would find out. Spock would have headed the team, but he had to be on the transport with him to handle the exchange.

He had hope that the team would succeed in thwarting any attack, but once he was on the human transport, they would have to stay further back. If his people even got an idea they were being trailed the whole plan would fail and the conflicts would start all over again. This was the most risky part. By what they had gathered, the Narada was more likely to attack the Earth transport once the exchange was made and make it look like a Vulcan attack. The Askital would have a long way to go, and little time, to get to the transport to help if this happened. It was more than likely the Narada could destroy the transport before anything could be done.

Spock had prepared him as best he could, giving him weapons he could hide on his person; however, he doubted very much if they would work against phaser weapons. He just hoped he could get the information to the Earth council before the Vulcan's could be blamed again for something they hadn't done. If he was still alive to do it.

Sighing, he looked across at Spock. They sat opposite in the back of the transport, two Vulcan guards sat two seats away and the pilot and navigator sat up front.

"How much longer until we reach the rendezvous point?" Jim asked, his wrists were staring to get sore, the shackles he was forced to wear biting into his skin.

"It will take another 1.4 hours," Spock replied pulling out of his light meditation to answer.

The Vulcan reached over shifting the shackles further up Jim's wrists so they rested over the cloth cuffs he'd insisted he wear, "If you keep your wrists flat they would not shift."

Jim suppressed a shiver as Spock's fingers curled against his palm before he pulled away, "That would be a lot easier if they weren't so damn heavy."

"It would be illogical to design resistant's that did not hinder the wearer in some way," Spock told him, shifting to regain his previous perfectly postured position.

He had to wear the shackles to keep up appearances of him being an unwilling prisoner. It wasn't pleasant, but they didn't want to raise any suspicions. It wouldn't be good for his people to think Jim might now be a spy.

The data stick with all the information hung around his neck disguised as a simple necklace. They decided it was best to keep it in plain sight so no one suspected it was anything important. Jim did keep it under his shirt, since there was no need to put it on display or risk it getting damaged.

"You are anxious," Spock stated, his voice low.

"Who wouldn't be," Jim admitted with a reassuring smile, settling back down for a long wait.

POSSESSED

They landed twenty meters away from the Earth shuttle as the sun turned towards the horizon. It would still give them another couple hours of light yet before night crept in.

Jim allowed Spock to pull the hood of his robe over his head before they left the transport. The shackles were a bit too awkward for him to manage the simple feat on his own. The two guards trailed behind them weapons clearly on display, but not drawn.

His people, Jim could see had arrived earlier, but were only now making their way away from their transport. They wore the desert military garb Jim had worn himself before he was captured, a hood pulled up over their own heads to protect delicate skin from the harsh light of the sun.

The Vulcan prisoner stood tall amongst his captors, his hands cuffed in front of him. His expression did not change as the two groups came together, a gap of 5 meters between them.

Jim smiled recognizing one of the lieutenants; Lieutenant Miles. None of his own platoon was among the group though, sparking a feeling of disappointment deep in his stomach. He really was looking forward to seeing Bones and the others again; they were the only family he had left.

The two groups stood sizing each other up before the leader of the Humans spoke, "You are Commander Spock, here for the exchange of Prisoner Sielk for Captain James Kirk."

"I am," Spock intoned, his voice and face unreadable even for Jim, "Do you still wish to continue with the exchange as agreed upon by our two councils."

Jim signed, he always hated formalities.

"We are here to abide by the terms of the exchange as agreed upon by our two councils," nodded the human, Jim finally recognizing him as Colonel Bognart of the 53rd division. The man never took his eyes off Spock, ready for anything the Vulcan could do.

Spock's hand wrapping around his arm was his queue to move forwards. The Colonel doing the same, though he didn't touch Sielk, only motioned him forwards.

"Captain Kirk," Bognart greeted him as Spock did the same for his brethren, "They didn't torture you?"

"Not enough," Jim nodded knowing this answer was expected.

"Don't worry we'll have you home in no time," the man assured him in undertones as he patted his shoulder in sympathy, his demeanor changing slightly in an attempt to be more caring. Jim decided it didn't really work for him so well, but he gave a tentative smile in thanks.

"You are satisfied?" Spock interjected motioning at Jim.

"Yeah, we'll proceed," replied the Colonel dropping some of the formality stepping forwards to remove the Vulcan prisoner's shackles.

Spock stepped up to him placing his warm hands over the metal on his wrists. Jim felt the mechanisms shift and the cuffs dropped into the Vulcans hands. Spock nodded to him once before turning away leading his group back to the shuttle. He spoke a quick parting word to the Colonel finishing the deal.

"We'll get you home," smiled Lieutenant Miles squeezing his shoulder as they turned back to their shuttle, the rear guard keeping an eye on the retreating Vulcans.

POSSESSED

Jim watched as the Vulcan desert streaked away under them as the shuttle began to pick up speed. It would take 4 hours to reach Earth Base at this pace, the rendezvous being deep in the Vulcan forge, the most neutral ground on Vulcan; a place even Vulcans avoided.

Sighing, Jim let himself relax for the moment going over what was to happen once they reached Base. He would have to report to base command for a debriefing and Medical for a full physical. Bones would probably keep him their over night if he had his way, then his platoon would want to see him, to which he had no objections to that. He couldn't wait to sit down and actually talk to them, see how they have all been without them. Find out if they had been reassigned a new Commander or if they'd been placed in other platoons. He really hoped it was the former because he didn't think he could see his little team split up because if his capture.

Then after all the formal rigmarole and regulation questioning to ensure he wasn't compromised while he was a prisoner, he could request an audience with the Generals stationed on Base and give them the information he hoped would end the war.

Idly fiddling with the data chip around his neck he turned his attention back to the ripples of the desert sands, letting them lull him into a state of rest, his brain deciding it had enough for worrying for the day.

The other soldiers let him be. Sensitive enough to know he didn't want to answer questions about his time as a prisoner. Lieutenant Miles kept shooting him concerned looks for time to time but left it at that, unsure what to say. Colonel Bognart ignored him completely, eyes focused on the desert through the front window as the pilot navigated their shuttle over the sands.

He didn't know how long it had been when he saw it. He wasn't even sure it was real at first, the desert having a tendency for playing tricks on you, but the flash of light right on the horizon wasn't a mirage. The more he stared at it, the closer it got; he realized what it was.

A silver ship streaked towards them, not even a blip on the radar to announce their arrival. One second it wasn't, then it was on them.

"Phaser fire, port side!" Jim yelled ripping the restraints from his waist, jumping from his seat, "Shields, shields!"

The pilot startled from his desert-induced stupor was a split second away from activating the shielding as the first beam hit, closely followed by a second. The impact ripped into the titanium hull like butter, slicing through the port side engine.

"Losing power!" yelled the pilot, scrambling at the controls.

"The engines going to blow!" yelled the navigator, as they tilted precariously to the side dipping closer and closer towards the sands below them.

"Get shields up!" yelled the Colonel, trying to gain some control.

Jim pulled himself from between two rows of seats. He'd been thrown in the impact, air rushing in through the rent in the hull pushing him to stay where he was.

"We have to land!" Jim screamed urgently, trying desperately to be heard over the wind buffeting him backwards and the wailing of the engines.

But his cry went unheard as another phaser blast ripped into the hull rendering it in half. Jim was tossed backwards slamming into the back of the shuttle watching as the front half careened through the air getting further and further away. He could see the panicked eyes of Lieutenant Miles as he was ripped from his seat by the accumulated forces and tossed bodily from the craft, flung into the hot sands below.

Everything went dark as his half of the shuttle crashed into the awaiting sands turning over the over. It was only by shear force of will that Jim was able to curl in on himself bracing into the wall as the world tumbled, loose debris rattling around his ears. Something hard and metal slammed into his side knocking the wind out of him; his vision blurring, breathing became more difficult. Another slammed into the wall above his head making his ears ring as it tumbled away once again.

It took a moment for him to realize when the shuttle had come to a complete stop, the churning in his stomach and his vertigo taking a few minutes to calm. Taking in a careful breath he shoved the detached seat that threated to crush him away before tentatively gaining his feet. His side burned, his hand coming away wet as he probed it trying to assess the damage. It didn't feel like anything was broken, but he couldn't tell how bad the wound was in the gloom of the shuttle. The hunk of metal had landed with its open side in a dune, with only a sliver of light peaking in at the top. If Jim wanted to go out there, he'd have to dig his way out.

Jim stumbled towards the back panels, knowing there would be rations and possibly a med kit stored within. It was a regulation for shuttles such as this to have a full survival consignment before shipping anywhere, which luckily for him, were usually stored in the back compartments.

He had to jimmy the first panel open with a sheared off piece of metal, one which he was grateful hadn't ended up inside him. He found a bag of protein bars and a flask of water, pulling them out and started on the next panel. A tumble of packages assaulted him, his balance teetering on the uneven floor. His sharp eyes quickly picked up a white cross in the half-light and pulled the med kit towards him adding it to the pile of rations as he regained his balance.

Behind another panel he found a rack of phasers and charge packs. Jim grinned, picking two of the least damaged and two charge packs; he had definitely hit the jackpot.

Stuffing one phaser into the back of his pants, safety on, he placed the charge packs and the other phaser into the ration bag along with the med kit. We would need more light to check his wound.

Crouching down as he organized his bag was when he heard it; a steady whine gaining in pitch, his hearing just barely able to pick it up at first. Grabbing the bag, Jim flung the strap over his shoulder sliding down the side of the hull, avoiding the still attached seats as he went. Completely ignoring his wound as a fresh blood welled to the surface, he grappled with the emergency hatch, cursing at the failed mechanism. With another bit of metal, he frantically pried the control panel away, pulling at the wires beneath. He let out a hysterical laugh as he heard the lock click, bracing on the chairs as he used his shoulder to force the hatch open. It was heavy, taking most of his strength to push it upward. Barely managing to crawl through before it slammed down under gravities pull, Jim didn't stop to thank his luck as he bolted over the nearest dune throwing himself into the sand hands covering his head.

The whine grew stronger, piercing the air. The engines set at the back of the shuttle had finally overloaded, the sand rumbling as the fuel ignited. Jim could feel the searing heat pass over his back, his heavy robe the only thing protecting him from being burned. The thunk of metal met his ears as pieces of the hull rained down around him.

Jim lifted his head as the ground stabilized, blinking at the chunk of metal centimeters in front of him. Scrambling to his feet, side throbbing in protest, he turned; dark smoke from the blazing wreckage billowed upwards, blocking out the sun in a huge shadowed column stretching over the dunes. The metallic scent of burning metal and fuel accented the already heated air of the desert.

The burning in his side became more pronounced as he moved, picking his way carefully through the debris field. He stopped in the shade of a dune, dropping his bag to the sand. Pulling his robe and shirt off, blood oozed from a large gash in his side. Sand dusted the red-coated skin, gritting up the wound. In the med kit Jim found medicated wipes, carefully cleaning off the blood and sand. The wound wasn't as deep as he thought, the blood already clotting; it seems the thickness of the robe had worked in his favor.

Glad he wasn't at risk of bleeding to death Jim wrapped a bandage around his chest. Shrugging his shirt and robe back on, his eyes landed on another column of smoke rising in the distance; the other half of the shuttle had come down about 300 meters away and he could just make out the hull shining under the sun.

He squinted, realizing it wasn't the shuttle, it was another ship. The one that attacked them.

Jim pulling his hood up and ran, hoping the Vulcan Askital had seen the smoke.

POSSESSED

Legs burning, his lungs on fire, Jim dove into the shadow of a dune just 10 meters away from the downed shuttle. He had to wipe his bloodied hand on his robe before reaching for his phaser; a souvenir from his mad dash across the desert, when he had stumbled over a rock outcropping.

They, whoever had attacked them, were decked out in old style Vulcan military garb, surrounding the other half of the shuttle, half buried in the sand. Their sleek weapons were held aloft trained on the openings in the hull and by their tentative actions someone was alive in there and fighting back.

The thin wisp of smoke he had seen curled up into the sky from the nose, likely came from the fried control panel. The other ship hovered on the other side of the wreckage, the whine of the phasers piercing into the desert air. They were ready to shoot, but why didn't they? Jim frowned trying to gage what it was these soldiers were attempting to accomplish.

They could just blow the crippled shuttle and kill all the men inside without any risk to themselves. But then, he thought, there would be no witnesses. No one to report back that it was the Vulcan's who had violated the prisoner exchange treaty. Rereading the reports for the attacks Spock had pointed out he had noticed, even with the swift brutality of attacks, there were always one or two survivors left to report what they had seen; point fingers at the Vulcans.

It was either that, or they were looking for something or … someone, Jim thought clutching the data chip around his neck. It was not the only copy of course, but it, along with his testimony, was the key to convincing the Earth council to stop this war. If that was lost, accompanied by an attack on an Earth shuttle that was under the protection of the treaty of wars, Earth forces would only escalate attacks. Retaliating against the Vulcans who had violated the only set of treaties that kept war even remotely civil.

A sharp cry broke across the desert. One of the attackers had managed to slink around the shuttle, getting a clearer shot at those inside. Jim didn't think twice as he brought his phaser up, taking aim. The solider dropped like a ragdoll on to the sand, clothes lightly smoldering.

Quickly, before anyone could determine where the phaser shot had come from, Jim dropped two more before shimmying back down the dune out of sight. He ran in a crouch under the shadow of the sands aiming for the dune 20 meters to his left, further around the beached shuttle. He could see from his new position a great chasm carved into the earth, no more then 50 meter behind him, the curve of the dunes hiding it expertly from the sight of any unsuspecting traveller.

He took aim again, the hood of his robe blending into the curve if the sands. From this angle he could clearly see the name branded in black across the silver hull; it was the 'Narada', or at least part of it, since the actual ship looked like those launched from a much larger vessel. One more adapt for space travel.

Jim didn't know what it was that made him roll, a shift in the air, a faint crunch of sand under foot, but whatever it was saved his life. The Vulcan imposter, cause he couldn't be anything else with the blatant anger blazing in his eyes stood over him gun drawn, lips pulled back in a snarl. His glare was directed straight down the barrel of Jim's phaser as he pointed it at his would be attackers forehead.

"Drop it," Jim growled finger ready on the trigger, his hand steady.

"Who are you?" growled the imposter in retaliation, gun twitching making no move to relinquish it, barrel aimed at Jim's chest.

They were at an impasse both weapons ready, aimed at their opponent. Jim was at the disadvantage sprawled out in his back, restricting his movement. All the other guy had to do was wait for his buddies to work out where he was and Jim was screwed.

"James Tiberius Kirk," Jim retaliated bringing up his free hand tossing sand, aiming for the imposters blazing eyes.

His gun went off wildly grazing by Jim's shoulder as he rolled out of the way and on to his feet.

"James Kirk," growled his attacker wiping to sand off his face to look up, Jim's phaser pointed directly between his eyes. His own pointed at the ground.

"I said drop it," Jim repeated, emphasizing his point by lowering his finger on the trigger, causing the anticipating weapon to give out a low whine.

He should just shoot the guy, his friends were likely to have heard the shot, and get away. But this could be his only opportunity to find out who was behind the Narada and behind all the attacks forcing the war.

The gun slid from the imposter's fingers into the sand.

Jim motioned for him to kick it away, "Kick it over here."

He complied, his eyes turning from anger to interest unnerved Jim slightly. But he refused to show it by kicking the gun further away. What ever this guy was, even with the pointed ears and green tinge to his skin, he wasn't Vulcan. Because no Vulcan that he knew would ever show his emotions so blatantly in front of anyone.

"Who are you?" Jim asked finally stance tense knowing they could be discovered at any moment, "What is your purpose here?"

"You're the one we have been looking for," the man said instead of answering his question, a menacing grin forming on his lips, "I thought you would be bigger."

With that answer, Jim knew the Vulcan Council had been compromised, his first thought resting on Spock. He needed to tell the Vulcan his whole plan was in trouble.

Tightening his hand on the trigger, "Who told you about me? Who sent you to attack the shuttle?" Jim asked instead not really expecting an answer.

What he didn't expect was to be rushed, the imposter moving faster then any Vulcan. The phaser became useless, the beam shooting over the guys head, the sands rushing up to meet him. Jim's vision blurred the air forced from his lungs, the weight of the man on top of him pushing down on his chest.

He really wished he had just shot the guy as meaty hands wrapped around his neck.

"Humans are so weak," the imposter growled, gloating as he pressed down, "So easy to manipulate."

Struggling to get air into his lungs Jim couldn't help thinking the guy was starting to become awfully talkative now that he had the upper hand.

"Wh-what," Jim managed to gasp tugging at the vice like grip, dark spots marring his vision.

The imposter grinned as a chuckle rose from his throat, "The Romulan Empire flourishes while yours flounders stuck in this war. Even you, James Kirk can't stop it."

Romulans, Jim thinks eyes wide. Romulans had been fucking with them posing as Vulcans. He'd heard of them, the elusive race beyond the established neutral zone. Their ships occasionally attacked outposts and causing havoc before they slipped back over the neutral zone. No one had ever seen what they looked like and had only gained a basic understanding of their language.

Guess now they knew, Jim grunted clawing at the hands cutting off his air.

As his vision began to darken he vaguely recalled Spock talking about a group of Vulcans leaving the planet in protest against Surak's teachings of peace and logic; Romulans could well be the decedents of those Vulcans. That would explain the resemblance.

Phaser fire pierced the desert, drowning out Jim's gasps for breath. The Romulan chocking him stood up abruptly, cursing as he saw what was going on. The Vulcan Askital had arrived and were firing on the Romulan ship.

Jim rolled over, gasping for breath as he lurched to his feet. The Romulan turned furious as he realized Jim wasn't as incapacitated as he thought. His eyes darted to the phaser lying between them as the Romulan took a step forward and he knew then it would be no use.

So he bolted scrambling over the dunes, air rasping into him lungs. The Romulan was between him and the Vulcan's, but with the fighting it wouldn't make any difference either way. He just needed to get some distance between him and the crazy solider behind him.

The sand muffled the Romulan's boots, but the whine of his phaser was none too gentle as Jim dived behind the crest of a dune. The phaser blast turned the sand to glass as it hit.

His spared a thought for the extra phaser stuffed in his bag, but was forced to dismiss it as he dodged another blast centimeters from his ankle. There was no way he could reach it before the Romulan hit him.

The canyon looming in front of him almost made him pause, before another phaser blast zipped overhead, singeing his hair. A flash of white caught his periphery as his legs carrying him ever closer. He didn't hesitate at the end, flinging himself over the edge.

POSSESSED

AN: Yes Jim just jumped off a cliff.

In TOS it wasn't until the episode 'Balance of Terror' that anyone from the federation had ever seen a Romulan and in the books they are actually decedents of Vulcans around the time of Surak.

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