Love Means Living And Dying

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own them. And I also own rainbows, and Antarctica, and NASA. Oh, and did I mention my unicorn? NO.

A/N: PLEASE READ!

I'm getting a bit tired of repeating myself. So, I will say, one last time, that YES, the first few chapters are pretty much in line with the movie. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT, DON'T READ THIS. After chapter five, we should be past the movie, especially since so much is knocked out in this chapter. But if you care at all about character/relationship development, you should read the first chapters. If you are just looking for fluff, or sex, GO SOMEWHERE ELSE. I love to read that as much as the next person, but this is not one of those stories. This is a love story, and its gonna be painfully slow at times. Fair warning.

I would also like to apologize for the time it took to get this up. Sadly, this isn't something I'll be able to update every day, because I just don't have that kinda time, even with my non-existent social life. I'm aiming for once or twice a week, and praying it never gets past two weeks. (Reviews help! *wink*)

Now. Once again, many thanks to adevotedreader, whose wit and support drove me to type faster, and to Kathy, who probably hasn't even read this yet, and of course my bestest friend(that's you, Highness!) whose very presence inspires me! You guys have my eternal love and gratitude.

And of course, thanks to everyone who reads! You guys are the absolute best!

Another long A/N. I'll try to work on that.

And with no more preamble, let us rejoin our favorite men…

Chapter Three: A Private Little War

Spock's mind was whirling as he strode back to the bridge. His thoughts settled on the enigma that was James T. Kirk. Spock didn't know what to make of him. On the one hand, he was reckless and illogical. He was foolish enough to cheat on the Kobyashi Maru. He was argumentative and pushy. Not to mention what Uhura had told him about the man's reputation as a…how had she phrased it? A 'love them and leave them kind of guy.' According to her, Kirk was famous for his sex life. His reputation suggested that he lived without thinking of the repercussions his actions could have, and with no regard for others.

And yet… he had entered a subroutine into the Kobyashi Maru that Spock had only found after meticulous inspection. He was clearly extremely intelligent. When Spock had found the program, he took the liberty of pulling up Kirk's file. His eyebrows had touched his hairline. The man had perfect test scores and his aptitude tests were on a level with Spock's own. He was a genius.

His academy record also noted that almost every instructor he had ever had had reported him cocky and impudent, and those were some of the kinder phrases.

And at the assembly… Yes, he had acted careless and arrogant. But there was something in the way he spoke and acted… When Spock had mentioned George Kirk, James Kirk had struggled. And for a brief moment, Spock saw not a cocky cadet who cheated on a test. He saw a young man who was struggling still with the fact that he would never know his father, and at the same time, struggling to escape the shadow that his father had inadvertently cast over him. It was clear that, in addition to the pain at hearing the name of a father who had died hours after his birth, he resented that Spock had brought it up. He did not like being expected to be a certain way because of who his father was. He wanted to be himself, without being compared to his father.

Spock understood this. He too knew how it was, how it felt, to be compared to a father who had done something magnanimous. How it felt for people to have expectations.

Kirk was courageous if nothing else. After sneaking aboard a starship, he had almost immediately burst onto the bridge, ignoring all threats and orders, in order to make the danger clear. And he had not shown a single sign of nervousness when Pike had told him to space jump onto an enemy device, which he would then have to disable if he ever wanted to get back. That is bravery bordering on masochism and stupidity, Spock thought dryly.

And despite reports and common views, he was clearly not selfish. If Kirk were truly selfish, he would have perhaps asked his friend, Dr. McCoy, to inform Captain Pike of the Romulans, because he would have been worried about punishment, or reprimand. He also disregarded his own personal safety, running about the ship while having a severe reaction to a vaccine (which had particularly seemed to irritate Dr. McCoy). Instead of wasting time worrying about himself, Kirk had run straight to the bridge and insisted upon his point until he was able to convince them.

Spock settled into the captain's chair and hit the comms button. "Dr. Puri, report," he ordered.

The coarse voice that crackled back had a slight southern accent and was familiar. "It's McCoy," the harried voice said. "Dr. Puri was on deck six, he's dead."

Spock's mind was still working furiously, so it took him a moment to process this. "Then you have just inherited his responsibilities as Chief Medical Officer."

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know," the man snapped.

Spock raised an eyebrow and turned back to his contemplation of Kirk. He was extremely intelligent, he was courageous, and in spite of rumors, he was not at all self-centered. Yet, he put on the façade of being conceited and selfish.

Spock paused. Kirk purposely acted in such a way to cast himself into a negative light.

Why?

Why does Kirk attempt to appear as though his personality is more detestable than it truly is? Spock wondered.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his parachute tear away. He and Sulu held on tightly to each other as they tumbled through the dry atmosphere. Desperately, Jim remembered the connection to the ship. "Kirk to Enterprise, we're falling without a chute!" he screamed. "Beam us up, beam us up!"

Through the whistle of wind in his ears, he heard the transport technician's voice. "I'm trying—I can't lock on your signal," her voice was panicked. "You're moving too fast."

Seconds later, Chekov was running into the room. "Move, move, move, move, move!" he cried. "I ken do zat, I ken do zat!" He unceremoniously shoved the transport technician out of the way and began to calculate.

Jim heard him muttering to himself. "BEAM US UP!" he chanted. "Enterprise, where are you?"

"Hold on, hold on," was Chekov's agitated reply.

"Now, now, now, do it now! Now now now!"

"Hold on, hold on—compensating grawitational pool and—gotcha!"

Just before they hit the ground, Jim felt a tingle over his body and saw motes of white-gold surround them before they were hitting the transporter pad in a tangle of limbs.

"Ya-my-oh!" Chekov cried triumphantly, leaping to his feet.

Huffing, they slowly untangled themselves and sat up. "Thanks," Sulu gasped.

Jim nodded weakly. "No problem," he wheezed.

There wasn't much else to say. When you saved someone's life and narrowly escaped death together, there weren't words to describe the magnitude of what had passed.

"Clear the pad," Spock ordered as he strode into the room, clipping a phaser belt around his waist. Jim looked up as he obeyed. Spock's shoulders were tense. "I am beaming to the surface."

"The surface of what?" Jim panted, turning to keep his eyes on Spock as the Vulcan crouched on the pad, hands flat on his thighs. His brain was sluggish, but Spock's words eventually clicked into place, and a hard knot of panic formed in the pit of Jim's stomach. "Wait, you're going down there? Are you nuts?" his voice rose. "Spock, you can't!"

"Energize," Spock said sharply. The white gold swirled around him.

"Spock!" Jim shouted, panic creeping into his voice.

Spock was gone.

If asked, Jim wouldn't have been able to say why he was so concerned about the Vulcan Commander. He wondered about it himself as they waited for him to return.

Jim was a caring enough person, so he probably would have been worried no matter who had beamed down. But for some reason, he was experiencing an undue and unusual amount of worry and tension over the whole thing.

He had charged Jim with cheating, effectively getting him put on academic suspension and grounded. Thanks to the pointy-eared bastard, he had been banned from space travel in a time of crisis, when he felt sure he could make a difference.

Then, when Jim had managed to get onboard anyway, the first words out of Spock's mouth had been an offer to 'remove' him. He had seemed rather pleased with the prospect.

He always gave the appearance of calm.

He had to be a freaking genius to have programmed the Kobyashi Maru for the last four years.

Jim had heard some of his fellow cadets' comments about the Vulcan as they exited the auditorium. Spock was very unpopular, and generally thought of as stuck-up and prissy. Jim had caught comments like "He's such a hard-ass," "Everything always has to be perfect with him," "Damn robot, always showing off," and "He's always got a stick up his ass."

As he and Bones had left the hall, Jim had realized that nearly everyone in the room was on his side.

But it wasn't something he could be entirely glad about. He had only known Spock a few hours, only talked to him twice, both times in argument, yet he found himself in disagreement with the majority's view of the Vulcan.

Jim knew why people thought Spock was arrogant. He knew how easy it was for self-assurance and calm to be construed as arrogance. When someone did not react to something that others would react to with fear or anger, it was immediately assumed that that person was looking down on the ones who did react. It was ironic in a way. People thought that someone was looking down on them, and so they looked down on him. And Spock did sometimes come off as arrogant. But he was different, he was Vulcan. It was only logical for him to point out the mistakes of another, so that the individual could rectify it.

Spock tried not to show emotion. Tried hard. Jim had seen how he had struggled to keep his face even when Barnett had announced the attack on Vulcan. And when he had crouched on the transporter, Jim had noticed how sharp, strained, his voice was, how every muscle was tensed under the blue science officer uniform. From some of the things he had heard, a large source of irritation towards Spock was the man's utter lack of emotion. Jim thought that this was both ignorant and hypocritical. Anyone in Starfleet Academy was required to learn about Vulcan culture in their first year. One of the first things taught was that Vulcans followed the teachings of Surak, and consequently believed that blatant displays of emotion were severely disgraceful. They did not expect other races to want or need to follow these principles. In fact, they knew most other races to be wholly incapable of adhering to their strict, supremely logical society, and bore it with (for the most part) good grace. And composure. Vulcans were always composed. It was also taught that Vulcan emotions were so powerful that before Surak introduced the idea of logic and repression, Vulcans were a violent, volatile race. Their emotions were so strong that, if not properly controlled, they could prove very dangerous, even fatal in extreme situations.

Anyone who knew all this and chose to despise Spock for his lack of emotion, could, in Jim's humble opinion, go to hell.

And for someone joining Starfleet, which promoted equality and acceptance, to degrade someone for their culture was just ridiculous.

Jim knew how it felt to be hated simply for what you were, who you were. He knew exactly how it felt, and because he knew, he was pissed on Spock's behalf. Hey, he wasn't bound to follow Surakian Principles.

And the way Spock had beamed down to the crumbling planet—Uhura had shown up and explained the whole thing—to save his parents…well, that just spoke volumes.

Courage, for one. No coward could risk their life to save somebody else's so easily.

Loyalty. It wasn't just his parents. He was also attempting to preserve their culture through the elders he wished to locate and save. Granted his parents were with the elders, but somehow, Jim felt certain that Spock would have gone in search of them if they hadn't been.

And love. Emotion. Beaming down to a dying planet was not the logical thing to do when you had such responsibilities, even if the lives you were trying to save were so dearly important. If he believed, as he obviously did, that Jim was not responsible enough to command the ship, that such a scenario should be avoided at all costs, then logically, he could not risk his life. So the only conclusion was that emotion, love, had overtaken his mind. If asked, Spock probably would have said that the lives of the elders were more important then his own. But more lives than his own rested on his survival. And, if he did die, then so would the elders, and they—the crew—would have nothing. Jim was sure that it was a mix of love and worry. Love for his parents and worry for their lives, love of his people and worry for the survival of his race.

So. Spock was brave, loyal, and logical. He was intensely intelligent, and handsome. He was driven to succeed and seemed to be the sort of person who loved to learn. His love was stronger than his logic, a failing in the eyes of his people, but an asset to Jim's eyes. Spock calculated every decision and weighed the consequences, to the extent of sometimes over-thinking things. Which indicated that he had insecurities. He wanted to avoid failure to the point that he overdid it.

He had his anger and his pride and his pressure points.

He was primarily logic-driven, with emotion lying just beneath the surface.

His personality was fascinating to Jim. Someday, I'd really like to get to know him a bit better.

I'll bet he's great at chess, Jim mused, resolving to challenge to him to a game if he survived the planet. At that thought, the hard knot, which had momentarily vanished during Jim's contemplation of Spock's character, returned, even larger than before. And if we both survive this whole deal with Nero, Jim added grimly.

Suddenly Chekov's panic broke into his thoughts.

"I'm losing her," he was crying as his fingers flew over the controls. "I'm losing, I'm losing her! Ah-I lost her," he gasped, stunned.

White whirled over the pad and the Vulcans materialized. Spock was closest to the edge, arm stretched out to the empty space in front of him where a sixth person should have been.

Jim glanced at the others on the pad. All Vulcan. All male. A hollow pit replaced the knot, and the brief relief he had felt at seeing Spock. Sorrow and pain crossed his face as he looked back at Spock. Oh, god, he thought. Spock's mom.

Spock stood, staring at the place where she should have been. He appeared to be in shock. Only a hint of pain he did not yet register crept into his eyes as he stepped wordlessly down. The room was deadly silent, all eyes trained on him.

They all carried similar expressions of shock.

Oh, god, Spock, Jim thought desperately. I'm so sorry.

Spock stepped down from the pad, numb. An expression of shock was on his face. He looked around at the white horrified faces of his shipmates.

Kirk's eyes met his own. The blue gaze did not show any of the shock that his crewmates displayed. They met Spock's steadily, sorrow and pain filling them. I'm sorry, they seemed to say. I'm sorry.

Pain crept its way into Spock's eyes at this, and Kirk's seemed to grow in response.

Without a word, Spock turned away. No one else had noticed. The silent exchange had taken less than a second.

He made his captain's log, voice blank and left the bridge. He could not bear to be surrounded by those people who shot him furtive glances full of pity. He was already so close to collapsing.

Uhura followed him into the turbolift and stopped it before it had gone one deck. With whispered apologies, she hugged him and pressed her mouth to his. Spock felt a tingle of faint surprise. He knew she had romantic feelings for him; she had confessed them just last week. He had responded that he would think about it. She was certainly attractive and her company was exceedingly enjoyable. However, he was unsure if he harbored romantic inclinations towards her.

But it was comforting; it felt so nice to have her arms around him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, as she stroked his hair. He was close to tears.

"What do you need, tell me," she whispered. She pulled back and took his face in her hands. "Tell me."

He turned and pressed the button to start the turbo lift. She was blinking back tears she ran her hands over his hair again. "I need everyone… to continue performing admirably."

She nodded. "Okay." She pressed her mouth against his once more and he hesitantly returned her kiss this time. The doors slid open and he walked past her without a backward glance.

Spock made his way back to his quarters and locked the doors behind him. Methodically, without thinking, he set up his candles, dimmed the lights, and sat cross-legged, folding his hands and closing his eyes.

Concentrating only on his breathing, he slowly sank into the first cycle of meditation. When he was deep in meditation, his doorbell chimed, and he heard as if from far away. It took him a moment to force his eyes open. Stumbling slightly, he climbed to his feet and went to his door. It slid open to reveal, of all people, Jim Kirk standing in front of him. Spock blinked. His eyebrow rose slightly.

"Uh, hi," Kirk said, rather lamely.

"Is there something you require?"

"Well," Kirk hesitated, rubbing his neck. "Actually…I'm not sure why I came," he confessed. "I was just thinking, wandering around, and I ended up here, and just kinda rang the bell before I thought about it much…"

Spock's eyebrow ticked higher as the human spoke. Kirk quickly lifted his hands. "Look, before you slam the door in my face," he began, "Okay, maybe not," he amended as Spock's eyebrow shot up. "I know you don't like me," he continued. "But I know what you're feeling. I know you probably think I'm lying or exaggerating, but I know how it feels to lose someone you love. It's happened more than once." A humorless, pained smile twisted his face. "And after a while, I figured something out," he glanced at Spock and continued. "I thought you oughta know…It's a lot harder if you're alone. If you don't have someone to hold on to."

Spock's eyebrow rose and his lips parted slightly. He did not know what to say. That had not been at all what he had expected.

Kirk gave him a half-smile. "Just thought I should tell you. See you." He walked away, lifting a hand in a half-wave.

"Cadet Kirk," Spock called. Kirk turned back, surprised. "I shall consider what you have said."

Kirk smiled, a real smile this time, one that lit up his whole face. "Good. And Spock," he added as Spock started to retreat into his room.

"Yes?"

Kirk's grin widened. "It's Jim."

Spock merely raised an eyebrow and nodded marginally, before stepping back, letting the door slide shut.

"Earth may be his next stop, but we have to assume every Federation planet's a target," Kirk mused, looking quite comfortable sprawled in the captain's chair.

"Out of the chair," Spock said as he approached it, in the same tone one might use to discourage an adventurous child.

"Well, if ze Federation's ze target, why din't zey destroy us?" Chekov wondered.

"Why would they?" Sulu returned, bitter. "Why waste the weapons; we obviously weren't a threat."

Spock lifted a finger thoughtfully, pacing around the bridge. "That is not it," he denied with conviction. "He said he wanted me to see something; the destruction of my home planet."

"How the hell did they do that, by the way," McCoy cut in. "Where did the Romulans get that kinda weaponry?"

"The engineering comprehension necessary to artificially create a black hole may suggest an answer," Spock replied, staring at the view screen without seeing it. He turned to face his crew. "Such technology could theoretically be manipulated to create a tunnel through space-time." Kirk looked intrigued.

McCoy, on the other hand, was irritated. "Damn it, man, I'm a doctor not a physicist. Are you actually suggesting they're from the future?"

"If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," Spock stated calmly.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "How poetic," he snorted.

"Then what would an angry, future Romulan want with Captain Pike?" Kirk interjected.

"As Captain, he does know details of Starfleet's defenses," Sulu pointed out.

"What we need to do is catch up to the ship," Kirk began, walking forward. "Disable it, take it over, and get Pike back."

"We are technologically outmatched in every way, a rescue attempt would be illogical," Spock said.

"Nero's ship would hawe to drop out of warp for us to owertake it," Chekov added.

"Then, what about assigning engineering crews to try and boost our warp?"

"Remaining power and crew are being used to repair radiation leaks in the lower decks—" Spock started.

"Okay." Spock kept talking. "Alright—Alright—"

"—and damage to subspace communications; without them we cannot contact Starfleet—"

"There's got to be some way!" Jim came down to stand in front of Spock.

"We must gather with the rest of Starfleet," Spock finished. "To balance the terms of the next engagement."

"There won't be a next engagement," Jim insisted, exasperated. "By the time we've gathered, it'll be too late." There was a pause while they looked at each other. Jim continued. "You say he's from the future, knows what's gonna happen, then the logical thing is to be unpredictable." Spock took a step closer as Jim finished.

"You are assuming that Nero knows how events are predicted to unfold," Spock said. "The contrary, Nero's very presence has altered the flow of history, beginning with the attack on the USS Kelvin, culminating in the events of today, thereby creating an entire new chain of incidents that cannot be predicted by either party." He and Jim were locked in what amounted to a staring contest.

"An alternate reality," Uhura broke in.

Spock looked over at her, then back to Jim. "Precisely," he said, in a cold tone clearly meant for Jim, still pinning the blond with his gaze as he stepped around him. Jim blinked, annoyed. "Whatever our lives might have been," Spock continued, moving over to the captain's chair, hands behind his back. "If the time continuum wasn't disrupted…Our destinies have changed. Mr. Sulu, plot a course for the Laurentian System, warp factor three," Spock ordered, sitting carefully in the command chair.

"Spock, don't do that," Jim said, frustrated but voice a bit gentler as he moved toward Spock. His voice rose. "Running back to the rest of the fleet, for a-a-a confab is a massive waste of time."

"These are the orders issued by Captain Pike when he left the ship," Spock said over Jim.

"He also ordered us to go back and get him—Spock you are captain now, you have to make the—"

"I am aware of my responsibilities, Mr. Kirk," Spock interrupted.

"Every second we waste Nero's getting closer to his next target!" Jim yelled.

"That is correct and why I am ordering you to accept the fact that I alone—" Once again, they spoke over each other.

"I will not allow us to go backwards!"

"—Am in command. I alone—"

McCoy joined in and their voices mingled. Kirk's was the first to become distinguishable again.

"—Instead of hunting Nero down!"

"Security," Spock said suddenly, rising. "Escort him out."

Two security officers pulled his arms behind his back and dragged him off the platform. Suddenly Kirk moved and one redshirted officer fell to the ground with a cry of pain. Kirk elbowed the other down as the first surged up again. "Enough, Jim!" McCoy yelled. Kirk was fighting the security officers hard, when from behind, a warm, long-fingered hand grabbed his shoulder and he collapsed.

"Get him off this ship," Spock ordered, a hint of tension in his voice.

Spock was not sure how much longer he could keep going this way. He had had an inordinate amount of stress thrust at him in a very short period of time. On top of that, the onslaught of so many powerful emotions in an equally short amount of time… Spock was, as the saying went, on a very short fuse.

He had not slept in over thirty hours now. As Vulcans could operate on much less sleep than humans if necessary, this normally would have been of little consequence. But he had been—was still—in a state of constant tension. This was taking its toll on both his body and his mind, and he found himself wishing for a moment of rest. They were on the way back to the fleet. They should be in no immediate danger. And it was only logical that he be as functional as possible. He relented to his desire and pushed himself out of the captain's chair.

"Mr. Chekov, you have the conn," he said quietly. "If anything should arise that requires my attention, I shall be in my quarters."

"Aye, sir," Chekov replied.

Spock walked off the bridge, catching the worried glance that Uhura threw him, though she remained at her station as he entered the turbolift. The doors slid shut with a familiar whoosh and he told it where to go.

It opened a moment later and he made his way to his quarters. Once there, he waited until his door slid closed, leaving him darkness. Then he closed his eyes and leaned lightly against the wall. He took a few deep, even breaths, before he opened his eyes. Not that it mattered much, because the lights were not on and it was impossible to see. The fact that he got to his bed without bumping into anything clearly said something, though about the tidiness of his quarters or Vulcan memory, there was no way to tell. Perhaps both.

He hesitantly sat on the edge of his bed, still concentrating on keeping his breathing even. Stiffly, slowly, he lowered himself back onto the pillows. Tension hummed through his body. He closed his eyes and concentrated on relaxing his muscles, bit by bit, allowing his mind to sink into a light form of meditation.

Eventually, his shoulders relaxed, his body was limp against the sheets and he was able to allow his mind to wander, thoughts coming and then sliding away again, like sand in a sieve. Once again, his thoughts kept returning to Cadet Kirk.

He replayed their most recent confrontation in his mind. Kirk had been obstinate, to the point of insubordination. He had been yelling, insisting upon chasing the Narada and attempting to rescue Captain Pike, a fool's errand. Kirk had refused to listen to the reason, refused to yield to the logic Spock was presenting. He was reckless, a danger to himself and to others. He clearly had no respect for authority. And engaging the two security officers in hand-to-hand combat was completely illogical, and, as far as Spock could tell, served no purpose other than to create more trouble for himself. He was on the bridge, outnumbered, with more officers on hand ready and capable of disabling him. Had he instigated his altercation in the corridors, there would have been far fewer observers and a far higher chance of success. He would not have been thrown off the Enterprise if he had acted more sensibly.

So Spock had nerve-pinched him. It had seemed the simplest way to quiet him at the time. In looking back, he still saw no alternative. And yet… Ejecting Kirk and stranding him on Delta Vega. Was that the correct course of action? Was it, perhaps, too harsh? Surely Kirk, given time, would have calmed down. And surely, it wasn't necessary to maroon him on so dangerous a planet. After all, Delta Vega had yet to evolve. It was an ice planet, and the only life-forms were wild animals that would see Kirk only as a meal.

His emotions, so volatile and close to the surface, had overtaken his better judgment. And now, he regretted it. Kirk, though obstinate and argumentative, had been trying to do what he thought was best. He had only been trying to protect his planet. If he was consumed or froze to death, it would be Spock's responsibility.

It struck him. He was worried. He was concerned for Kirk's well-being.

How odd, he mused. I wonder why.

With this question in mind, he drifted off for a brief nap, instructing the computer to wake him in forty-five minutes.

Jim opened his eyes and moaned. Looking around, he realized he was in an escape pod. He stabbed at the touch screen. "Computer, where am I?"

"Location: Delta Vega," it responded in an automated female voice. Oh, great, he thought. An ice planet. Jim pulled the bandaging off his hand. "Class M planet," the computer continued. "Unsafe. There is a Starfleet outpost fourteen kilometers to the northeast. Remain in you pod until—"

"Ugh, you gotta be kidding me," Jim groaned, shoving open the pod door.

Mere seconds later, he had the duffel bag/survival kit slung on his back and he was resolutely climbing the twenty-foot wall of ice that surrounded the pod. He dragged himself over the edge, fingers numb, and stood to take in his surroundings. Ice. Snow covered rocks here and there, but mostly, ice. Long, flat plains of ice. Resigned, he pulled on the cold-weather clothes he found in the duffel and began trekking across the freezing terrain. As he walked, the sun dimmed, snow began to fall, and a vicious wind kicked up.

Just for something to do, he pulled out a recorder and began to make a log, wind howling in the background. "Stardate: 2258.42. Four, uh, four…whatever. Acting Captain Spock, has marooned me on Delta Vega, in what I believe to be a violation of security protocol forty-nine point oh-nine, governing the treatment of prisoners aboard a starshi—"

He stopped mid-word and looked around. When he was facing back the way he had come, he saw something approaching through the snow, rapidly growing larger.

It came into view, some weird cross of a polar bear and a gorilla, but on steroids and with teeth as long as Jim's forearm. It roared, and Jim did the logical thing. He yelled, turned, and ran like a bat outta hell. He stumbled, fell to his knees, but jumped back up and ran on.

The polarilla lunged, almost on top of him, when the ground burst open underneath it with a force that knocked Jim off his feet. He turned as an even bigger monster mauled the polarilla. This one was even uglier, something between a crab and an insect, neither from Earth, with a maw that vaguely resembled a Venus Fly Trap.

Oh, shit, Jim thought, scrambling backward frantically. It tossed the polarilla away and turned on Jim. Jim got to his feet and sprinted away, the thing only feet behind him. Jim was looking over his shoulder at the thing when he felt the ground crumble beneath his feet and suddenly he was falling, head over feet over shoulders—the crab-bug roared over the edge and then it was falling too. Jim sprawled to a stop on a patch of black ice, looked up rather dazedly, saw the thing tumbling toward him, yelled again and took off. And not a moment too soon because it hit the ground inches from him, right where he had lying.

It got to it's feet, roaring, and ran after him. Yelling incoherently, Jim spotted a cave entrance and made a beeline for it. Hopefully, the thing would be too big to follow.

He dived inside. It turned out that the entrance was too small for the crab-bug, but apparently it didn't matter, because it just smashed it's way in. Jim dodged stalagmites and stalactites frantically.

A sticky rope-like tendril—the creatures tongue—yanked one of Jim's legs out from under him and dragged him on his stomach like a fish on a line. Oh, shit, Jim thought again. Shit, I'm gonna be eaten by a crab-bug, shit, shit, shit….

He rolled onto his back, fighting against the pull.

Out of nowhere, a figure stepped into view, brandishing a burning torch at the thing, forcing it to retreat. It immediately dropped Jim and backed up with each swing of the torch, until, with a last angry screech, it galloped away.

Jim propped himself up on his elbows, staring in bewildered amazement at his savior. The man turned and Jim saw, with even more confusion, that it was a very old Vulcan. His short cropped hair was silver, his skin wrinkled. What is an old Vulcan doing on Delta Vega? When he saw Jim, his features shifted to a subtle expression of surprise and, strangely, pain.

"James T. Kirk," he said, in a voice that quavered only slightly with age, though his tone held a hint of sorrow.

Jim stared up at him. –the hell? "Excuse me?"

"How did you find me?" the Vulcan asked, sounding curious. As though Jim had been looking for him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jim finally managed, getting to his feet. "How do you know my name?"

"I have been, and always shall be, your friend," the Vulcan told him, voice thicker, heavier. His words sounded as though they had been said before, in a different time, a different place. A more intimate setting.

Jim chuckled, beyond being gentle. "Look, uh. I—I don't know you."

"I am Spock," he said, with more insistence.

Jim eyed him suspiciously. "…Bullshit."

They were sitting around a fire, deeper in the cave and the elderly Vulcan was stoking the flames, saying, "It is remarkably pleasing to see you again, old friend. Especially after the events of today."

Jim got to his feet. "Sir, I—I appreciate what you did for me today, but if you were Spock, you'd know, we're not friends, at all. You hate me, you marooned me here for mutiny."

"Mutiny?" the elder Spock questioned, eyebrows raising and tone surprised.

"Yes."

"You are not the captain?"

Jim started to say something, then shook his head. "No. No, uh. You're the captain. Pike was taken hostage."

Spock looked startled, but then he asked. "By Nero?"

Jim turned sharply. There was a pause as Jim looked at Spock, wind howling in the background. "What d'you know about him?" Jim asked.

Spock's eyes turned toward the fire as he nodded heavily. "He is a particularly troubled Romulan." Spock rose with surprising agility. "Please, allow me." He reached for Jim's face, "It will be easier."

Jim backed up a little. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What're you doing?"

"Our minds," Spock explained. "One and together."

He placed his fingers along Jim's face and suddenly there was more than his mind in his mind. Another presence, warm and comfortable and it felt strange but also right, somehow…But his attention shifted as Spock began to narrate, feeding Jim images and scenes. "One hundred and twenty-nine years from now, a star will explode and threaten to destroy the galaxy." An image not his own flashed into his mind, as clear as if he were looking at it now; the stars, flashing by. It was like looking out a window while in warp. "And that is where I'm from Jim," Spock continued, his voice echoing in Jim's head. "The future."

They passed through an asteroid belt, approaching a burning yellow star. "The star went supernova." The star exploded in a brilliant white flash. "I promised the Romulans, I would save their planet." A new image, of elder Spock and two other Vulcans swam into view, to be replaced with what looked like a shipyard. "We outfitted our fastest ship." The image changed again, to a cylindrical tube full of a huge ball of a red, shiny substance. "Using red matter, I would create a black hole, which would absorb the exploding star." The little ship, appropriately named the Jellyfish, zoomed through a dusky blue sky and into space.

"I was en route," he got a flash of elder Spock at the controls, then the vision shifted to a planet. "When the unthinkable happened. The supernova destroyed Romulus." The bright light of the dying star reached out and swept against Romulus and the planet crumbled to ash. The image then went back to Spock in the ship. "I had little time," he was extracting a marble sized bit of the red matter. "I had to extract the red matter and shoot it into the supernova." The tube whirled into the sun and a black hole appeared. Back to Spock in the Jellyfish. "As I began my return trip, I was intercepted." Nero's face on a vidscreen. The images were coming faster now. "He called himself Nero. Last of the Romulan Empire. In my attempt to escape, both of us were pulled into the black hole." The Narada, disappearing, then emerging in front of a blazing sun. "Nero went through first. He was the first to arrive." The USS Kelvin, bombarded with phaser fire. Nero's face. "Nero and his crew spent the next twenty-five years awaiting my arrival. But what was years for Nero," the Jellyfish, flying through the black hole. "Was only seconds for me. I went through the black hole. Nero, was waiting for me. He held me responsible for the loss of his world." Spock being led down his ship's ramp into the Narada, and forced to his knees. "He captured my vessel, and spared my life, for one reason. So that I would know his pain." Spock on Delta Vega. "He beamed me here so that I could observe his vengeance." Spock, watching Vulcan consume itself. "As he was helpless to save his planet," his voice grew thicker and Jim could hear the barely restrained tears. "I would be helpless to save mine. Billions of lives, lost. Because of me, Jim. Because…I failed."

The fingers moved, the presence was gone, and Jim gasped with the sorrow and pain that were raging suddenly within him, uncontrollable. He was panting, eyes bright and he looked at Spock helplessly as the Vulcan said quietly, "Forgive me. Emotional transference is an effect of the mind meld."

Jim was already walking away, stopping fifteen feet away, back to Spock, chest heaving as he panted. "So you do feel," Jim said, throat tight, blinking rapidly. It was a needless question. He was experiencing all the sadness and pain and anger that were a tidal wave inside of Spock. It had welled up, spilling into him, from the moment Spock said 'I would know his pain.' So many people, so much guilt, and lives, so many lives….should have saved them….all my fault…Jim knew these weren't his thoughts, but he felt them as if they had originated deep in his heart, an aching pain.

But Spock answered. "Yes."

"Going back in time you changed all our lives," Jim said, brain working frantically.

"Jim," Jim slowly turned to face elder Spock. "We must go." Spock walked toward him and past him. "There is a Starfleet outpost not far from here."

"Wait," Jim called. Spock turned expectantly. "Where you came from," Jim began hesitantly. "Did I know my father?"

"Yes," Spock replied. "You often spoke of him as being your inspiration for joining Starfleet. He proudly lived to see you become captain of the Enterprise."

"Captain," Jim repeated.

"A ship we must return you to as soon as possible." Spock turned and walked out, and Jim stared into the fire for a moment, considering, before he followed. Captain…

McCoy put his face up near Spock's. "You know, back home we got a saying; if you're gonna ride in the Kentucky Derby, you don't leave your prize stallion in the stables!"

"A curious metaphor doctor, as a stallion must be first be broken, before it can reach its potential," Spock replied coolly.

McCoy's face darkened in fury and he jabbed a finger at Spock. "My god, man, you could at least act like it was a hard decision!" he exclaimed in a half-whisper.

"I intend to assist in the effort to reestablish communication with Starfleet," Spock informed the doctor firmly. A hint of mockery crept into his voice. "However, if crew morale would be better served by my roaming the halls weeping, I will gladly defer to your medical expertise." McCoy glared.

The turbolift opened and Sarek and a security officer walked in.

"Excuse me," Spock said, before he brushed past the doctor.

McCoy, scowling, looked after him for a second before stalking off in the opposite direction, hissing "Green-blooded hobgoblin," under his breath.

Jim and elder Spock reached the Starfleet outpost at last and, with a little effort, managed to pull the doors open with a loud creak. Lights snapped on along the hallway as Jim, heaving, yanked the door closed behind them. Words chanted in a strange tongue hit their ears. Jim pulled down his hood and called, "Hello?"

There was a metallic crash and a single person emerged from a door and came toward them. Spock pulled the two flaps of his hood in front of his face apart as the little creature stopped in front of them. It pulled little goggles off of its beady black eyes and rested them on its forehead. He—Jim thought it was a he—had wrinkled green skin that ridged along his cheeks. His head was about level with Jim's waist.

The green alien led them down the hall and into an open hanger where a lone man was reclining, feet propped up on a messy metal desk. The green guy slapped him on the leg. "What?" the man demanded in an aggrieved tone.

He reached up to move a band of cloth from his eyes, and spotted the impromptu visitors. His eyebrows rose and his lips pressed together. "You realize how unacceptable thes is?" he asked in a thick Scottish brogue.

"Fascinating," Spock murmured, staring at the man.

"What?" Jim asked.

The Scotsman ignored them. "Okay, Ah'm sure yer jest doin' yer job, but cud ye not come a wee bit sooner?" He sat up, taking his feet off the desk. "Six months Ah've been here, livin' off Starfleet protein nibs—" he said it like a dirty word, throwing a bag of the stuff into the air. "—and the promise of a gud meal. And Ah know exactly wha's goin' here, okay?" he jabbed a finger at them and leaned back, eyes wide in a pouting way. "Punishment, isn't it? Ongoing. For something that was clearly an accident."

"You are Montgomery Scott," Spock said, in the same tone he had used when he said Jim's name for the first time, though without the sorrow.

"You know him?" Jim demanded incredulously.

"Aye, tha's me. Yer in the righ' place. Unless there's another hardworking, equally starved Starfleet officer around."

The green alien spoke up. "Me."

Scott yelled something in another language. "Shut up!" he cried indignantly. "Ye don't eat anythin'! Ye can eat like a bean, and yer done!" He pinched his thumb and index together on the word bean, before turning back to the men. "Ah'm talkin' about fud. Real fud." He stood up. "But, yer here now, so thank you, where is it?" He walked over to a different desk and plopped down.

"You are in fact the Mr. Scott who postulated the theory of transwarp beaming," Spock clarified.

"Tha's what Ah'm talkin' about!" Scotty exclaimed. "How'd ye think Ah wound up here? I'd a lee-tle debate with my instructor on the issue of relativistic physics and how it pertains to subspace travel. He seemed to think that the range of transporting something like—like a grapefruit, was limited to about a hundred miles. Ah told him that I cud no' only beam a grapefruit from one planet to the adjacent planet in the sem system, which is easy, by the way—" Jim was staring at Scott with an expression that clearly said 'this guy is nuts.' "—Ah cud do it with a life form So," he lifted a metal mug. "I test'd it on Admiral Archer's prize beagle."

"I know that dog, what happened to it?" Jim asked, addressing Scott for the first time. Though he was still looking at the man like he wasn't sure he was real.

Scott gulped his drink, looking guilty. "Ah'll tell you when it reappears." He cleared his throat and held up a hand, saying quickly, "Ah don't know, I do feel bad abou' that."

"What if I told you that your transwarp theory was correct?" Spock injected. "That it is indeed possible to beam onto a ship that is traveling at warp speed?"

"I—I think if that equation had been discovered, Ah'd a heard abou' it," Scott answered, looking a tad confused.

"The reason you haven't heard of it Mr. Scott," Spock replied. "Is because you haven't discovered it yet."

Scott's face took on a comical expression of shock. He stood. "Ah'm sor—Wha—Ar—" he stammered. "Are ye from the future?" he asked.

"Yeah, he is," Jim was quick to respond. "I'm not."

"Well, tha's brilliant," Scott said. "Da they still have sandwiches there?"

They were on the old, run-down shuttlecraft that was the only transport off of Delta Vega, trying to catch the Enterprise.

"Except, the thing is," Scott said to Spock, "Even if Ah did believe you—where yer from, wha' Ah've done—which, I don't, by the way, yer still talking about beaming aboard the Enterprise while she's traveling faster than light, without a proper receivin' pad." He was moving around the shuttle now. "Get off there!" he cried at the alien—whose name, they had learned, was Keenser. "Es not a climbing frib!" Jim helped Keenser down, while Scott hit some buttons on a screen and continued. "The notion of transwarp beaming is like tryin' ta hit a bullet with a smaller bullet, whilst wearing a blindfold, riding a horse." He came to Spock's elbow and peered at the screen in front of the Vulcan. "Wha's that?"

"Your equation for achieving transwarp beaming," Spock replied, rising and moving away.

"Get out of it," Scott muttered, dropping into the chair. A second later his mouth dropped open. "Imagine that. It never occurred ta me ta think of spece as the thing that was moving."

"You're coming with us, right?" Jim was asking the elder Spock, a bit anxious.

Spock turned to face him. "No, Jim. That is not my destiny."

Jim's eyebrows rose. "Your dest—? He—the other Spock is not gonna believe me, only you can explain—"

Spock spoke over him. Apparently, interrupting Jim was one thing the two Spock's had in common. "Under no circumstances can he be made aware of my existence. You must promise me this."

"You're telling me I—I—I can't tell you, that I'm following your own orders? Why not? What happens?" Jim wanted to know, sounding incredulous.

"Jim, this is one rule you cannot break," Spock insisted imperatively. "To stop Nero, you alone must take command of your ship."

"How?" Jim challenged. "Over your dead body?"

Spock almost shrugged. "Preferably not. However, there is Starfleet regulation six-one-nine. Six-one-nine states that any command officer who's emotionally compromised by the mission at hand, must resign said command."

"So, yo—you're saying that I have to emotionally compromise you—guys," Jim repeated, just for clarification. Not because he was confused, or because his brain was starting to hurt. Not at all. Well, I'm sure not looking forward to that, he thought, in a resigned sort of way.

"Jim," Spock began heavily, "I just lost my planet. I can tell you—I am emotionally compromised. What you must do is get me to show it."

Their gazes locked, Jim's confused and a bit upset, Spock's serious and steady.

"Aye, then, laddie, live or die, let's get this over with," Scott's voice came out of nowhere and Jim, after one last, long, worried look at Spock, climbed onto the railed transporter pad. Next to him, Keenser was trying to stand on the pad with the engineer. "Go on. Ye cannae come with me, go on."

Jim leaned on the railing and looked at elder Spock. "You know, coming back in time, changing history," a hint of a smile danced on his lips. "That's cheating."

Spock raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly. "A trick I learned from an old friend." A small smile touched his lips. He reached back and pressed the transport controls. Turning back, he met Jim's eyes and held up the Vulcan salute. "Live long," he said deeply, "And prosper."

Jim nodded slightly.

Spock continued to hold up the salute as the bright white gold swirled around the pair and consumed them, and they were gone, transported across space to the ship that, to him, would always belong to no one but his old friend, James Kirk.

He blinked back tears.

A/N: As per usual, I beg you to review, because it is the sole thing that keeps me updating in a semi-timely manner. I am anxious as always to know what you thought.