Princess Whitelaw and his Toy Chapter 4: Act IV, a star trek: 2009 fanfic

Act IV

"I'm telling you, Bones. It was too real to be a dream."

"And I'm telling you, Jim, you had too much to drink. Damn lightweight."

Princess Whitelaw glared at his best friend. "I wasn't that drunk," he protested. "And don't distract me."

"Don't distract me!" Bones was refilling jars of salve with an intent frown creasing his forehead, but Jamesina knew better than to take him seriously. There was a smile in that twitchy mouth corner.

"Come to think of it, Bones, when I was talking to the other McCoy, he was doing something similar."

"That's nice, Jim," he replied distractedly. It wasn't that Leonard was ignoring his young friend; he'd listened quite attentively when Jim had first come to him with the fantastical story. Be that as it may, it would require an impressive stretch of the imagination to think that the healer believed the Princess. It was probably a dream, the product of alcohol and something that probably hadn't sat well in Princess Whitelaw's stomach.

He still had two more jars to fill when Jim – by the gods, that boy could annoy like no other when he put his mind to it – spoke up again. "The other Bones was nicer to me, too. He actually hugged me."

"Jim!" Concentration broken, Leonard set down the pestle and pushed aside the mortar so he could place his palms flat on the table. The Princess was trying to look innocent, but he wasn't fooled. But his jaw tightened; this was not a laughing matter at all.

"Jim, it wasn't real." Princess Whitelaw opened his mouth to interrupt, but McCoy scowled. "No, dammit, hear me out. There's a reason why all those people you dreamed of were familiar – you were basing them on the real ones you do know. There's no such thing as travelling in space, aliens – there's no such thing as this Spock, except for the toy your godmother gave you!" His voice softened. "As for the hugging...Jim, you know I can't. You're a princess. Even though most of the kingdom knows we're like brothers, it just isn't bloody proper."

Jamesina's eyes were carefully downturned. "But...I love him, Bones. That has to be real."

The head Healer shook his head. "It isn't, Jim."

The Princess lifted his gaze and glared at him, blue eyes blazing with anger – and filled with tears. "You're lying! It was real!" With that announcement, he ran out of the Healing Wing, nearly colliding with a few other healers on the way.

Bones started towards the entrance, but sighed and returned to his work. There was no use going after Jim when he was in that mood. He was young, and would learn sooner or later, to separate dreams from reality. Hopefully. Leonard took his frustrations out on the herbs in the mortar, and tried to put it out of his mind.

Jim would get over it.

OoOoOoOoOo

Unfortunately, Jim did not get over it.

He started going down to the village just past the castle more often, picking fights. He even went to villages further up when no one would respond to his taunts, managing to return home before he was missed. Sometimes not even then.

The Princess would sometimes require medical attention after his wanderings. He would limp into the Healing Wing, sporting a black eye, or other bruises, often bleeding. There was the one time he had broken ribs, and another a broken collarbone. His nose had had to be reset twice, and at one point both his arms were in splints. His knuckles were always bloody, as were his tunic and leggings (because you couldn't get people to fight you if you were in a dress).

Every time McCoy tried to bring up what he thought of as an elaborate dream – as it was obviously the cause of all this – Jamesina loudly and pointedly changed the subject.

Even King Natatas and Queen Lamamama could not get through to him. All their efforts were unsuccessful; from talks to bribes to threats. They brought in foreign healers and thaumathurgists when the local ones could do nothing for their son. The simple fact was that none of them believed Princess Whitelaw when he talked about his dream; indeed, once this was established, Jim would stubbornly refuse to continue.

It took three and a half months for them to think to summon the Princess' fairy godmother. It took a further five weeks for Lady Gaga to appear at the castle.

She arrived just in time to intercept Jim as he re-entered the castle. He didn't even have the decency to look guilty, standing there in his torn clothes and sporting a split lip – luckily for him, that was the most serious of his injuries. She gave him a sad little smile and draped an arm around his shoulders so she could steer him into his rooms.

Lady Gaga sat her godson down. "Tell me."

He did. From beginning to end, and she made no comment throughout his narration. By the time he was finished, he was stretched out on his bed, with his head in her lap. The near constant ache that resided in his chest had started up again, in full force.

There was silence.

"Do you...d'you believe me?"

The fairy answered his question with one of her own. "Do you believe that it was real?"

"I do." There was no vehemence, no indignation; he spoke with a sort of tired finality.

She stroked his hair. "Then I believe you."

"Really?"

"Yes."

The ache was still there, but his head cleared a little at that admission. The Princess let his eyelids slide closed, and felt a single tear escape and make its way across his face and onto his godmother's lap. At least there was one person who didn't think him completely off his rocker. Not that anyone had made that admission to his face, but Jamesina could tell.

"But, darling, don't you have any proof?"

Now she sounded like the 'experts' his parents had made him see. Instead of answering, he buried his face in the satin of her dress.

"None at all? No one gave you anything?"

"Nnnn –" The muffled beginnings of what presumably was a 'no' was cut off as Princess Whitelaw realised something. He sat up, eyes wide. There was something. He ran to his dresser.

Yes. It was there. The green dress Amanda had given him, exactly as he'd remembered it, right down to the shimmering gold motif near the neck. How come he hadn't thought to show it to anyone?

"And you're sure that's not a gift from your mother, or commissioned from the castle's tailors?" At the Princess' glare, Lady Gaga shrugged eloquently. "Just playing devil's advocate, dear."

"It's too short. And Mother doesn't know green's my favourite colour."

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I thought your favourite colour was gold."

"...I changed my mind."

"Which reminds me." Lady Gaga rose to her feet and approached her godson, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking at him seriously. "You love Spock."

It wasn't a question, but he nodded all the same. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest.

"Then do you think he would be proud of what you've been up to?" Jim averted his eyes, but his godmother continued on ruthlessly. "Do you think he would be happy to hear how much worry you've put us all through? Your McCoy has told me how many times he's had to patch you up – do you think he enjoys it? Do you think your parents aren't worried sick about you?"

"I –"

"No." She looked stern, as stern as he'd ever seen her. It was not often that she would take that tone with him; he had previously been a well-behaved Princess, after all. "We love you, Jamesina. We love you. Even if it feels like we're against you because we don't understand fully, that's unchanged. It may not be the same love Spock feels for you and you for him, but it's there.

"Now, will I hear about these fights anymore?"

"...no, Godmother."

"Good boy." She kissed him on the forehead, then whispered. "I'll see you at Yule."

Bubbles were left after she departed, but Princess Whitelaw scarcely paid attention to the lilac scented spheres floating near the ceiling. Instead he replaced his dress, picked up Spock – the figurine – and sat on his bed.

I'll see you at Yule.

Was that a hint?

OoOoOoOoOo

This year, Yule was more extravagant that the last, due to an unexpected – and welcome – surplus of crops, as well as the permanent end of the kingdom's troll problem due to the bravery and ingenuity of General Hikaru. Fireworks had been imported from YouTuberia, while the finest musicians of Pandora had agreed to entertain all.

As promised, Princess Whitelaw involved himself in no more fights. Instead, his rebellion took the form of tasking the castle's seamstresses to remake his entire wardrobe. It cause not a few titters among the court, but really, it wasn't as if Jim was running around in clothes similar to the gold Starfleet uniform Uhura had given him. The hemlines were all below the knee, thankyouverymuch, and they were perfectly modest. He was wearing the green dress Spock's mother had given him now.

King Natatas and Queen Lamamama were just relieved that their son was not turning up at the dinner table with barely fading bruises, as was Healer McCoy. Passive rebellion was better than watching the Princess limp everywhere and act distant.

As he had done last Yule, Jamesina waited for his godmother, who was again late. His tenuous control had been severely tested by Duke Khan earlier; he had sent him scurrying away with his tail between his legs with several pointedly scathing – and yet polite – remarks. Jim let a curl of amusement settle in his stomach as he surveyed the hall. He watched Dame Nyota accept a dance from her new husband, Head Tinker Montgomery, joining the waltz that had been led by his parents. He had to look away when General Hikaru managed to cajole Pavel onto the floor. The memories threatened to swamp him.

Unknowingly, his feet brought him to one of the many balconies that peppered that floor of the castle. To his surprise, sitting on the railing was his figurine of Spock. Bubbles caught the moonlight and rainbows shimmered on their surfaces.

Princess Whitelaw took Spock and held him to his chest, to his heart, and stared up at the sky. There was one particularly bright star that seemed to want to compete with the brightness of the moon.

"Please, please, please, please, please," whispered the Princess, just as the clock tower struck midnight.

Of course, even after the chimes died away, nothing had happened.

"Jim?"

He whirled around to face Bones. Even without uttering a word, he could tell what the healer wanted to say by the expression on his face. But he couldn't accept it. Not now. The wound was still too raw. Despite the fact that he wanted to throw his arms around the healer to draw comfort, any comfort, Jamesina didn't bother to wait for Leonard to open his mouth; he ran back into the castle, and didn't stop until he'd reached his own quarters. He didn't care who stared at him as he passed, he downright ignored anyone who called after him.

He collapsed onto the window seat; Spock still cradled in his arms, and glared at the moon and the brightest star with tears in the corners of his blue eyes.

"I was waiting all my life to know you, all about you. And now I'm staring in your eyes so deep brown; I'm all about you. And in our minds it comes so easily, but there's a feeling coming over me; I wanna show you but there's no way we can really be free. Are you even real? Wouldn't it be good if we could be together?

"Take me away – take me far away from here. I will run with you. Don't be afraid, navigate and I will steer into the sun, we will run."

He stood and went to his mantelpiece, abandoning Spock on the cushions. He glared at the Enterprise, and the paper stars he had – rather childishly – pasted on his wall.

"I try to remember when I was just a child, in my room. And my imagination used to run wild, but I never knew – that nothing's ever as it seems to be, when a dream collides with the reality. It should be easy when two people love each other truly. Are you even real? Wouldn't it be good if they would understand me?

"Take me away – take me far away from here. I will run with you. Don't be afraid, navigate and I will steer into the sun, we will run. We will run. Whoa,oh, ohhh – we, will run – oh, yeah, yeah, yeah –

"Wouldn't it be good if I could somehow find you, wouldn't it be good if we could be together – take me away!" His voice was raised, but he was past caring who heard him. Illogically, he subconsciously wanted Spock – wherever he was, whether it was among the stars or on Vulcan or in the future, as fantastical as that sounded – to somehow be able to hear him, and –

"Take me away – take me far away from here. I will run with you. Don't be afraid, navigate and I will steer into the sun, we will run.

"I will run, I will run with you wherever you go. Don't be afraid, let's run away and I will steer into the sun.

"We will run."

OoOoOoOoOo

"Princess, are you alright?"

Princess Whitelaw had the strangest sense of déjà vu. The floor was cold, someone had their hand on his shoulder, and Spock was calling his name. How cruel his subconscious was, to make him dream of Prince Zachycakes when it was so obvious that he was not there. Nevertheless, Jamesina opened his eyes. A dream was better than nothing.

"Princess."

He was in the floor of his rooms, not the Enterprise, so there was something wrong with the hallucination. Ah well.

"Jim." This time there was a slightly concerned lilt to Spock's voice. Very slightly.

"Hi." He was allowed to be inane in his own dream, okay? Especially when the dream was more detailed than usual. But then again, considering that the last time he'd dreamed of Spock, that would suggest a trend of super-detailed dreams involving Zachycakes. And yet, the first time had not been a dream, had it? Digression. The Princess was rewarded for his ridiculousness by the not-smile the Prince was good at.

"I am happy to see you again."

That admission must have cost the Vulcan. Princess Whitelaw pushed off the floor so he was sitting up, and primly adjusted his green dress so as to ward off the chill of the stone. He noted that his heart had stopped its usual throbbing, and was instead pleasantly warmed by the presence of his love. In fact, he could actually feel the warmth rolling off Zach, temperature-wise, which was silly because this wasn't real.

"I'm glad to see you too, Spock. Even if you're not here."

He raised an eyebrow. "I beg to differ. You would not be conversing with me otherwise."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm very good at fooling myself, you know. Well, of course you know."

Spock's face had confusion written all over it. Well, not all over it, but it was there if you knew where to look. And Jim knew where to look. He continued on blithely all the same.

"I mean, honestly, I thought the last time I dreamed in detail, but I've really outdone myself. Everything about you is as I remember. Admittedly, the clothes are different – though lovely, definitely, black suits you – I suppose since it's my dream I get to see you in whatever I please." He ignored the more primal part of him that perked up at that, because those weren't thoughts that a Princess was supposed to entertain. "Though it's a little weird, I didn't even drink anything last night. I'm not really on speaking terms with Bones, so I doubt he would've shared with me anyway. And –"

The Prince cut off his rambling. "You presume you are dreaming."

"Well, yeah. You don't expect me to believe that you're actually here after a year. A year, Spock."

"In point of fact, it has been a year and a day. Furthermore, I am as real as you are conscious."

He scoffed. "Of course I'd want me to think that."

"Pinch yourself."

Jamesina laughed. This was turning out exactly like the last time. Except he knew that pinching himself would bring no epiphanies – he wasn't awake, and that was that. Next thing you knew, Nero would swoop in through the window and take him hostage on a flying carpet.

"Princess, I assure you, I am not jesting."

"Jim." Silly dream-Spock.

"Jim." Spock leaned forwards, letting more emotion than usual bleed through. Princess Whitelaw was mesmerised by the intensity of those brown eyes, but not so mesmerised as to miss his next words. "You must believe me. I – I need you to believe me. This is not a dream, and the only way I can prove it is for you to pinch yourself. Please." His voice broke slightly on the last word, and Jamesina's heart lurched. So much for this dream being a happy one. But if pinching himself was what Spock wanted...

He did.

It hurt.

Oh.

OoOoOoOoOo

"What are your intentions towards our son?" Queen Lamamama asked.

Prince Zachycakes Spock Quinto stood with his hands behind his back before the royal couple. He was alone in facing the two of them upon his own insistence; the Princess need not be present while his parents asked questions to determine Spock's sincerity. Likely his indignation would prove more of a hindrance than a help.

"I am in love with your son and wish to make him happy." He saw no point in beating about the bush.

"And you think that best achieved by seeking his hand in marriage?" she asked, knowing full well that their son was more than amenable to this plan of action. At least this Prince Zachycakes had been properly bred in that he'd come before them to ask for their blessings.

"Yes."

It was not that the single-syllable word was saturated with self-confidence or uncertainty – or any type of tone at all, for that matter. He said this as if it was the most natural conclusion in the world, and in some ways it was.

There was a silence, in which Spock breathed easily and the Queen crossed her legs and the King stroked his chin thoughtfully. It must be said that their people were extremely happy with them as their leaders. Under their reign Tumblrland seemed to enter into a golden age, which was further proved by the ending of the Troll Terror and the reward of careful crop planning. While the Queen created works of art incomparable in all of Tumblrland, the King was renowned for his intellect and quick thinking, as well as his down-to-earth manner.

The latter was especially apparent when he broke the silence with, "Go for it."

Queen Lamamama turned her head and speared him with a look, which he met full on. After a moment, they faced Spock again, and both were smiling.

It was a good marriage that enabled the two parties to communicate without words. However, since none of us are part of that marriage – which would be decidedly odd and would result in more than a few half-siblings for Princess Whitelaw – I will transcribe said conversation in easy-to-read dialogue format.

Queen Lamamama: Are you mad?

King Natatas: No. But I like him. He'll be good for Jim.

Queen Lamamama: He's certainly more responsible. But you do realise until now he was a doll?

King Natatas: Gaga did say...

Queen Lamamama: Yes. And I like him too. Jamesina's happier than he's been for...awhile.

King Natatas: There we go.

Queen Lamamama: Still, dear, your phrasing leaves something to be desired.

King Natatas: I will endeavour to be more eloquent in the future, love.

Yes. Definitely a good marriage. And speaking of marriages, it looked like there would be another one coming soon.

OoOoOoOoOo

"So what d'you think of him, Bones?" Jim asked excitedly.

He'd brought Prince Zach down to see his best friend, wanting McCoy to be the first to hear the good news. While the Healer was flattered that he was held in such high regard – despite their somewhat strained relationship of late – there was something about the Vulcan that he found unsettling. Luckily enough he didn't have to keep his opinion to himself, seeing as Spock had politely bowed out of the Healing Wing, having been summoned to a clothes fitting.

"Jim," he said heavily, taking a seat and encouraging his young friend to do the same. "You know I care about you."

The grin had slipped off Princess Whitelaw's face. "You don't like him."

"I didn't I say I didn't like him." In point of fact, Leonard did not like Zachycakes, because of the way he spoke and acted as if everyone else could never hope to equal his intelligence, as if everyone was below him, but most importantly, most irksome of all – "He's just so emotionless!"

"No, he's not!"

"He has no expression," Bones retorted flatly. "At all."

Jim looked outraged. "You just have to know where to look!"

"And you don't think that it's a little convenient that only you do?" he bit out, heavy on the sarcasm.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The Princess' blue eyes were narrowed to slits, and he didn't give McCoy a chance to answer. "You know, you're doing the exact same thing as when I first told you about him. Saying that he was part of my imagination. And you were wrong."

He sighed. "I'll give you that. But he was standing right here when you told me you were getting married. Normal people would've looked, I don't know, a little happy maybe? And yet he still had on his...his...poker face!"

Leonard H. McCoy abruptly got off the chair he'd been occupying and started pacing agitatedly in the space next to his desk. The nurses and other healers in the Healing Wing gathered around the two of them, bobbing their heads and bodies to the beat of the music that had inexplicably started up. They sang:

"Mmm-mmm-McCoy, mmm-mmm-McCoy, mmm-mmm-McCoy, mmm-mmm-McCoy –"

The head healer stopped his pacing and turned to Jamesina. "I wanna protect you like your parents do, please. I know you told me that you love him, bear with me (you love him). But my intuition says you're making a mistake. I'm a doctor not an expert, but I bet stone is his heart.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhh, oh-oh-e-oh-oh-oh, I'll take him out, show him what I've got. Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhh, oh-oh-e-oh-oh-oh, I'll take him out, show him what I've got.

"Can't read his, can't read his, no I can't read his Vulcan face. (It doesn't look like he loves you.) Can't read his, can't read his, no I can't read his Vulcan face. (It doesn't look like he loves you.)