A/N: soooooo this is a shorter chapter, but I wanted to get at least something up before I depart on a five day vacation in Virginia yo and wifi will not be guaranteed there so this is my cushion. As a result, the writing in this is a bit lighter than my usual work, but maybe some people prefer it this way, I don't know. It's certainly faster to chug out. i actually wanted to finish this story before i left but more and more unplanned stuff kept happening so e chapters are taking a bit longer than expected to plan out. the actual writing part is really fast in comparison. Hopefully i can get another one up tomorrow before i leave tomorrow night! Thanks for everything, guys, I don't think you know how much you make my day when you favorite or review or follow :)
But the sounds I make when I check my email are kind of like cjfjejsjgjjjhdhehsNFJRJDJVHEHHFHDHEHnfnrjfjfjfjd.
Chapter Five
It wasn't often that Jim was at a loss for words, but walking down the corridor beside Spock, he found that he simply did not know the words that could fully describe the half-Vulcan.
He might have caught glimpses of his attraction to his First Officer before the Observation Deck Incident, but that kiss had completely blown away all delusions and inhibitions and left only the staggering truth.
Spock was beautiful. The way he moved, all silence and grace-Jim wouldn't mind seeing that flexibility in bed-but even more than that, Jim remembered all too well the raw strength behind the flowing grace, the pure power veiled behind a cool shield of control. He could still feel the ghostly touch of fingertips pressing into his waist, trailing roughly over his stomach and hips, hear that slightly hoarse voice whispering-
"Jim." Inquisitive eyes locked on his own. "Is something wrong?"
"No," Jim answered automatically, mentally pedalling backwards. They had been headed to the medbay after receiving a call from Bones. Carol Marcus had woken. Right. The mission. The twenty-three scientists stranded on Leonis II. He could think about this weird attraction later. He gestured. "Shouldn't we...?"
Spock gave him one last hard stare, then continued down the corridor. Jim followed, walking slightly behind him. The blue shirt was slightly stretched across Spock's shoulders and, occasionally, he could make out his muscles moving under the fabric. His skin had been cooler than Jim had expected, but had burned almost painfully under his fingertips in a way that Jim suspected was not completely physical. Vulcans were touch telepaths, after all, and maybe it worked both ways. He hadn't exactly been concentrating the first time Spock had touched him. He shook his head in disbelief, unable to keep himself from wondering, How the hell did we get from that to this? Surely going from strangling to making out against a wall was a little extreme, even for him.
"You're thinking something." The statement was almost accusing. Jim looked up, startled, but Spock had not turned to look at him. He wondered briefly how he had known...then dismissed it as more Vulcan hoodoo.
"Yeah. About the...about the first time you touched me. A right hook, wasn't it?" Jim tried to laugh, but it came out strangled and awkward and died quickly.
Spock's shoulders tensed. Damn it, stop looking at his- "I apologize for that incident, Jim. It...I was not completely rational at the time." There was genuine regret in his voice.
"I probably deserved it, if it makes you feel better."
"It does not."
They had reached the medbay, but neither made a move to enter. "I'm sorry it had to come to that," Jim said.
Spock blinked, apparently caught off guard by the unexpected reply. "I am not aware of this human custom of reciprocating apologies."
"It's not a custom," Jim hastily amended. "I meant it. As how it is. I mean-I...never mind." He snorted in exasperation at his own inability to speak coherently and led the way into the medbay.
Bones looked up sharply, "Well, there you are. Took the scenic route, did you?" His fingers twitched towards the tricorder at his belt-most likely a conditioned response whenever Jim appeared in the medbay.
Jim ignored the barb, turning instead to Carol Marcus. She sat upright in her biobed, the piles of pillows behind her giving her a small and vulnerable look. Her hair had been brushed into a neat bob, and the bruises on her face and arms seemed slightly less pronounced. The hospital gown drowned her in white. Alert blue eyes watched Jim and Spock approach the bed.
"A moment, Bones?" Jim asked quietly. The doctor glanced at him shrewdly, his intuitive gaze flitting between Jim and Spock, standing silently at the foot of the bed, and grunted in acknowledgment. "I'll be in my office."
"I'm Captain Kirk. Spock, my First Officer," Jim announced, as soon as the doors had closed behind Bones. "And you must be Ms. Marcus? Or, is it Wallace?"
Carol's eyes narrowed to wary slits, glancing quickly from Jim to Spock, then back to Jim. "Does it matter?"
Jim smiled slightly. "Not really. Not to me. However, your father seems to think that it matters a great deal."
Her shoulders slumped noticeably. "Oh. Well for once I'm glad he's a meddling fart." Jim couldn't suppress a chuckle at the girl's sheer cheek. He liked her. Behind him, Spock stiffened, but Jim did not notice. Her eyes suddenly grew wide and she lunged forward, gripping Jim's wrist with surprising strength. "The others! Did any of them make it?"
Jim blinked, startled. "Others?"
"The other researchers," she clarified impatiently. "Were there any others after me?"
"No, you were the only one." Jim leaned forward intently. "Carol, what happened down there?"
She swallowed. "We...we landed on Leonis two months ago. We were the second to arrive. When we landed, we were supposed to regroup with the first vessel, but they didn't respond to our transmissions. When-when we finally found them, they were...they were all..."
"They were all what?" Jim asked gently, though he thought he knew what had happened to the first twelve researchers.
"They were all dead," Carol whispered, her eyes wide with horror. "All-all of them shot. With phasers. The vessel was torn apart, missing engines, warp drives. We rushed back to our own vessel, but they were already there."
"They?" Spock asked sharply. Jim frowned slightly at him. There was no need to be so rough with the girl, especially when she was in this state. Spock either did not notice his disapproval or did not care.
"Smugglers. They never said but they had to be."
"Humans?" Jim asked.
Carol nodded, a fast, short jerk of the head. "Forty of them, at least. Ten were at our vessels, heavily armed. They would have killed us too, but I-"
"You told them who you were," Jim realized.
"Yes. I thought that they would hesitate at shooting the daughter of a Federation admiral, and they did. But the others...they-they shot three, Hans, Lettie, and Sam, before I stopped them. I told them my father would pay the ransom for me and the other twenty."
"Brave of you," Jim commented, truly impressed at this point. Spock seemed to have turned into an ice statue beside him. After this, he would have to ask him what had turned him into Frosty the Vulcan Snowman.
She offered a quick, tired smile. "Just trying to survive. We all were. They took us back to their base. An underground bunker in the forest. They had loads of stuff, ship parts mostly. I saw some warp drives and transport technology. The leader...his name is Foley, I think. Big guy, bald. Nasty teeth. We were separated into three groups. They put us in these shipping containers." She shuddered. "They were dark. And wet. We were fed once a day and sometimes they took us out on by one and walked us around the place. It was my turn one day and I saw...I saw a transport platform, not in bad shape."
Jim nodded, beginning to see now. "You escaped. Beamed yourself up."
"The smugglers had a transmitter. We could hear your messages through the walls. When they opened up to feed us, my group made a run for it. We scattered, hoping that it would cause a distraction. We were lucky there were only half of them awake. I made it to the transporter, typed in the codes, and beamed myself up. I hoped that someone else would make it after me." Her shoulders shook in a silent sob. "But-but no one did. Oh God, what if they were killed? What if-"
"Carol." Jim reached out with his free hand-she still maintained a tight grip on his other wrist-and patted her shoulder comfortingly. "You did what you could. You did the right thing. We can help the others now, thanks to you. You did good."
She nodded, smiling through unshed tears. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Please, you have to be careful. They'll know you're up here now."
"We will," Jim said grimly. Smugglers...this had all escalated rather quickly. "Get some rest, Carol. We'll take care of everything." He made to stand.
"Release the captain, Ms. Marcus," Spock suddenly said. Jim stared at him. He sounded almost...threatening. Something was definitely wrong with him.
"Oh!" Carol blinked, startled, and let go of Jim's wrist. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't realize-"
"It's not your fault,"Jim reassured her, directing a glare at his First. Surely Spock knew better than to act this way. This behavior was so far from his usual range of attitudes that it was slightly unnerving Jim. "We'll be on our way now." He gestured sharply at Spock, who hesitated a split second before marching out. Jim followed close behind, rounding on his First Officer before the doors hissed completely shut.
"What the hell was that back there?" he demanded. "What were you trying to pull with that bad cop act?"
Spock stared stiffly at a point just over Jim's shoulder. "I do not know what you are referring to, Captain."
"There. Right there. You're doing that I'm-pissed-off-so-I'm-going-to-call-you-Captain thing!" Jim snapped. "So what's got your panties in a massive Gordian knot?"
Spock did not reply. Jim was surprised by this. Spock always replied. He wasn't the type to sulk or ignore. If he didn't know better, Jim would say that he was acting like...
"You're jealous," Jim realized, gawking at Spock ridiculously.
"I am feeling no such emotion," Spock snapped. The tips of his ears had flushed a faint green. "Vulcans do not feel jealousy."
"No, you're totally jealous." Jim was completely awed at this revelation. Spock, however, did not seem to share his joys in unveiling the mysteries of life and managed to scowl magnificently without moving a muscle. Some day, Jim would get him to show him how he did that.
"I," Spock said tightly, "am not jealous."
"Spock, really, this is very flattering." Jim couldn't help but tease him. A stronger man might have been able to pass up this golden opportunity, but Jim had never shown much fortitude before a temptation of this quality.
Spock growled. Jim blinked at the unexpected sound, and suddenly Spock was in his face, his lips centimeters from Jim's cheek. "I. Am not. Jealous." Those soft words carried a diamond-hard edge, and Jim could not stop the shiver from trailing down his spine and causing his toes to curl. "Okay," he managed to say, lips barely stirring.
Spock held his position for a moment longer, his breath tingling against Jim's skin, then stepped back and was his old, reserved self once more. "If you will excuse me, Captain, I must make my own preparations for the rescue."
"Rescue," Jim echoed faintly, his blood roaring in his ears. "Right." That's right. He had to...had to do something...
Spock inclined his head and, for a moment, Jim stared at the tips of his still green ears, and then he was gone.
Jim stood there, in the middle of the corridor, utterly dumbfounded. Apparently, this was a lot more serious that he had thought.
…
Spock strode down the corridor, uncertain of what expression he wore on his face, but distinctly grateful that it seemed to repel scurrying yeomen from his path. There were still more than four hours before the members of the landing party, sans the scientists in favor of the change in objectives, regrouped in the transport room. He needed to rest. He had steadily become more and more aware of this fact over the past few hours, but the fact that he could not specify the exact amount of time spoke volumes of his true levels of exhaustion.
Surely this was the cause of his frequent slips of control, his weakening barriers in the face of dark antagonism towards the unfortunate Carol Marcus. He was well aware of her plight and what she had suffered, and yet he had treated her with human levels of rudeness and disrespect. He stopped outside his quarters, resisting the human urge to bash a fist against the wall panels. The blow would most likely cause severe damage to the panelling, he told him firmly, and alert Jim to his weakening grip on control. He could not-would not let him know. Seeing fear in Jim's eyes, disgust and wariness...he would not be able to bear it.
He unlocked his doors with trembling fingers, stumbled across the room in a swaying lurch, and forced himself to recline loosely upon his bed, resisting the urge to curl up tightly as Jim had done before. The thought suddenly struck him, as he lay there with closed eyes and hands folded across his stomach, that Jim had lain in this exact spot.
The bed suddenly seemed a lot warmer. Spock shifted his weight, settling deeper into the mattress and attempting to expel all thought of such things from his mind. However, his mind was a slippery and disobedient thing in his sleep-deprived state. It replayed hot, scorching fingers against the back of his neck, a thumb digging almost painfully behind his ear. Harsh breaths against his neck, the taste of salt on his tongue. The taste of Jim...hard muscles under smooth, burning skin. Spock wanted to explore that body with his hands, his tongue, mapping out the unfamiliar scenery and marking it as his, and his alone. He had not been jealous of Carol Marcus, he told himself. There was no logic in feeling jealousy, for Jim was already his. He just didn't know it yet.
She could not own Jim, in any case. Could those small hands capture all of his passion, his fire, his strength? That soft body withstand his bruising grip and fierce kisses and the full intensity of his need? No. There was no woman in all the worlds that could tame Jim Kirk.
I could, whispered the small, sly voice that had led him to the madness in the Observation Deck in the first place. I am strong enough.
And before he could dispel this thought, this illogical, ridiculous thought, he was asleep.
…
They were ready. Fifteen men stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the cramped transport room, loaded with supplies and weapons. Bones had ordered Chapel to stay behind and added four more security officers to fill the empty slots left by the nurse and the three scientists.
Sulu had elected to stay in the party, despite the alarming new circumstances of the mission. "We did good together on that drill," he had pointed out, when Jim had asked. "I'll be watching your back, Captain." Jim had refrained from warning him about the Vulcan guard dog he had already acquired and left the matter alone, hoping that Spock had remembered how to play nice with others.
The first group to beam down consisted of five security officers. The next group would be the remaining security and Sulu, and the third Jim, Spock, Bones, and the two engineers.
As the first group fizzled out of sight, Jim snuck a sidelong glance at Spock. His First Officer stood beside him, wearing a close-fitting black jacket over his black undershirt. The group had opted to change into civilian garb, wary that the smugglers might panic at the sight of Federation officials and make an escape. Jim had never seen Spock in anything other than his uniform, but he had to admit that he looked good. Getting Spock to try on jeans was definitely next on his to-do list...
The group before him shuffled forward to pile onto the transporter and Jim's group stepped forward to fill in the gap. "Captain," a voice whispered at his shoulder, and he turned in time to see Scotty's knowing wink as something small and cool was pressed into his hand. His fingers closed around the object automatically, and he returned Scotty's grin as the engineer scurried back to his post at the console.
Spock had not noticed this exchange. Jim shoved his hand in his pocket nonchalantly and shifted the strap of the satchel on his shoulder. "Bones, you all right there?" he called out casually. The doctor was practically sweating bullets, his knuckles white in the death grip he had on his medicine bag. "Don't like transporters," he muttered, a wild look in his eyes. Jim recognized the expression from the first time they met. "Too many things could go wrong."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Calm down."
"Calm down, he says. Calm-do you know what your body goes through in there?!"
"Bones, really-"
"Next," Scotty drawled, with almost malevolent glee. Jim all but wrestled Bones onto the transporter. "Look," he huffed, "if it's this hard for you, maybe you should stay."
"Not in a million years. Without me, you'd bleed out from a paper cut," Bones snarled. He turned to the young engineer beside him-Kendall, Jim thought-and demanded, "What do you think?"
"I'd prefer to not take sides, sir," the young man answered nervously.
"Transporter's ready, Captain."
"Energize," Jim ordered, and when he next blinked, they were standing in the violet fields of Leonis II.
His first thought was that the planet wasn't much different from Earth, except for the...purple. Tall grass of a distinctly lavender hue swayed at his waist, feather-soft against his hands. The air was dry and cool, a sharp breeze rippling the grass in rustling waves. "Captain!" Sulu was making his way towards them through the grass, waving an arm over his head. The security officers straggled behind him, phasers already out and at the ready.
As Sulu approached, Jim saw that he held a navigator in his hand. "The coordinates Scotty pulled from the girl's transport," the pilot explained, slightly breathless from the exertion. The grass seemed to pull slightly at the fabric of their clothing, Jim noticed, so that walking became more of a laborious wade. "The bunker should be a kilometer in that direction." Jim followed his arm, turning and gazing warily at the thick forest behind them.
The trees were tall, taller than any tree Jim had ever seen, more like columns than actual trees. The only branches he could see were clustered around the top of the trunks, sprouting fluffy purple fronds like massive, surreal pompoms. The bark of the trees was an odd silvery-gray that gleamed almost metallically in the sunlight. Jim tilted his face up, squinted at the pink sky. "This place," he decided out loud, "is weird."
Spock, who had been surprisingly silent until that point, now spoke, "Captain, I propose that we split into two groups: one offensive unit to capture the smugglers and one to safely escort the hostages back to the Enterprise."
"I vote Team Safety," Bones grumbled. "I'm a doctor, not Superman."
"Well, that's one." Jim looked around at their little group, gauging the usefulness of each one. "You two. Kendall and Garrett." He pointed at the engineers. "You're with Dr. McCoy. You think you can get into the shipping containers?"
"Aye, Captain."
"Good. You three, with them." He motioned at three of the security officers, who shuffled obediently to one side. "And Mr. Spock. You make sure they get out all right."
Spock stiffened. "Captain, I believe this would put you on the offensive force."
Jim frowned. "Yes, Mr. Spock. I believe that would."
"May I have a word with you, Captain? In private."
Jim stared at him incredulously. "This is hardly the time, Spock." Spock merely set his jaw and gave him a resolute stare. Jim glanced at the rest of the group helplessly; they were sorting themselves into their respective units, divvying out weapons and supplies to the according groups. "A quick one," he allowed, and led the way to a patch of field not far from the main body of the party.
Spock didn't exactly ease into the subject. He stepped right up into Jim's face-again-and used all the power of his steely Vulcan eyes to project his disapproval. "This is not acceptable, Jim."
"Look," Jim said, finally starting to lose patience with the Spock-knows-better-than-Jim act. "I can take care of myself."
Spock's eyes glittered, like polished glass. "Unless you see someone in danger. Then, it becomes apparent that you can not take care of yourself at all."
"Are we really going to do this right now? Right here?"
"You said before that you did not derive pleasure from self-injury. How, then, do you always end up-"
"It's not li-"
"-grievously injured, by no fault other than-"
Their argument had dropped into a heated hissing battle, neither intent on backing down any time soon.
"Look, Spock, you can't treat me like-"
"Like an infantile, reckless-"
"I'm not-"
"You do not care!"
"I care!" Jim snapped. "I care, Spock, more than you or anyone else seems to think!"
Spock's mouth snapped shut and he considered Jim for a long moment. "Explain."
Jim glared at him, breathing deeply through his nose. He did not want to have this conversation now, and definitely not here with twenty scientists waiting to be rescued. But it was obvious that Spock wasn't going to let this go. "I care, because I don't want to lose anyone." And there, it was out. The confession that carried the weight of the sky, the world, the burden on his shoulders, the reason behind his smiles. "I can't-" his voice broke and he cleared his throat angrily before continuing, "I can't lose anyone, Spock! Any of the crew, not Sulu, not Bones, not Yeoman McGee, not any of the engineers, and not you."
Spock had gone very still, his head tilted to one side.
"I...you're the closest thing...you are my family. All of you. And I can't...I would break, Spock. If anyone dies out there, I would have failed. Don't you see? I would have to tell some mother out there, some son or father or sister that their loved one died because I couldn't save them." There was a dangerous prickling behind his eyes, but he refused to let the tears form. The words kept coming out, not caring that the timing was terrible or that they were on a purple planet or that Spock was still watching him with those eyes. "It's selfish of me, it's conceited, it's stupid, I know. I can't save everyone, I know that. But I can try, damn it. I can try. So don't tell me I don't care about myself. It's the only thing I do care about."
Seconds ticked by. The wind howled mournfully through the branchless forest, whispering through violet blades of grass. Spock reached out slowly, carefully, and took Jim's hand. Jim blinked at the contact and suddenly his eyes were very wet. "Spock..."
"I am sorry, Jim," Spock said evenly. His thumb brushed lightly over Jim's knuckles in a brief caress that sent lightning up the way through to Jim's shoulder. "I did not know."
"I didn't want you to," Jim mumbled, looking down at their intertwined fingers. They were standing in such a way that the group couldn't see their hands, and for that he was grateful. He wasn't ready for that yet, not quite. "You would have been disappointed."
A slight huff of air escaped the Vulcan, and Jim took it as Spock's form of an exasperated sigh. "I would never be disappointed in you, Jim. If anything, you never fail to cease exceeding my expectations." He had to crack a smile at the wryness in Spock's voice.
"Captain?" Sulu called, his voice small and tinny in the wind. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah! We'll be right over!" Jim shouted back. He glanced at Spock, suddenly feeling shy, of all things. "We'll talk later."
A strong squeeze, a silent promise. Then Spock released his hand and, for a moment, Jim felt terribly cold. He shook his head to clear it and followed Spock back to their companions. It's probably nothing.
A/N: Kind of a cliffhanger, oopsssssssss I hate the darn things but there you go. Tis a necessary evil. I just wanted to get at least one more chapter up just in case I don't have time to wrap up the story before my mini vacation. But I will definitely finish it before I go on my huuuuge vacation, which is pretty much all of July. I know i would personally hate waiting that long so I WILL FINISH IT. FOR GLORY. Wifi will be iffy but I will certainly keep writing when I can. Ciao, mi amores. Reviews will, as always, be extremely appreciated and gushed over and flailed over and responded to ASAP.
edit: fixed some numbers. I forgot I killed off three of the scientists...oops. Also increased number of smugglers because I think just having ten is somewhat unlikely.