Something I Need

Summary: Deleted scene from Chapter Eleven of Nelaya. Set during the night they spent in the cave. Kudos to those who know the OneRepublic song.

Spock tucked an arm over Jim's waist impulsively, relieved when Jim did not complain of the intimacy. He most likely simply did not have the strength to make a fuss, but Spock was pathetically grateful nevertheless.

He was remarkably close to Jim now, breathing in his scent and surrounded by the incredible heat of his body. Even before the fever, Jim had blazed so brightly in Spock's eyes. He pressed his face into Jim's neck, wishing irrationally that he was completely human. If he was not half Vulcan, he may have contracted the disease as well.

Then Jim would not have to go alone.

"Are you awake?" He heard Jim ask quietly.

"Yes."

"You thinking about something?"

Spock decided to speak honestly. "If I could choose my time to die, it would be with you, Jim."

Jim was silent for a few seconds, digesting the confession. "That's stupid," he said at last. Spock tried to rein in his disappointment.

Then Jim continued, "I was always going to go before you, you know. Lifespans and all that." He cleared his throat roughly. "Just didn't think it'd be so soon, you know."

Spock started as he felt Jim's hand move tentatively over his own on his stomach, keeping Spock's hand against his body. "I'm glad that you aren't dying."

"I-"

"No, listen. You have to watch out for everyone, Bones and Uhura and everyone I'm leaving behind. Chekov, he'll be crying over it for weeks, I just know it. You make sure he's okay, you hear? He's just a kid, got his whole life ahead of him." Jim paused, then gave a strangled chuckle. "I did too, come to think of it, before all this shit happened. I was gonna be someone great."

His voice broke slightly on his last words, and it was all Spock could do to not hold him tighter and tell him just how fiercely he would fight to keep Jim alive.

"You will be cured," he told Jim firmly. "You will do those great things, Jim."

"How?" Jim's hand tightened over his in frustration. "We've got no navigation, no way to know where we are or how the hell we're supposed to get to...wherever we're even going! I'm gonna die, Spock, you might as well accept it-"

"No," Spock said harshly. "You will not." I will not let you.

Jim subsided. Something like a sob clawed out of his throat. "I don't want to die, Spock," he admitted in a small voice. "I can't...I'm too young, it's not fair I have to die twice, damn it, I haven't done anything yet."

You made me love you, Spock thought. You taught a broken son of Vulcan how to feel, how to embrace another with his heart.

"I don't...Jesus, Spock, I want to live." And he began to cry in earnest, out of fear, out of the injustice of it. Spock was silent, holding Jim close, because that was what Jim needed from him at the moment. A body to hold him, to touch him, to be there when he woke up.

"You have to live," Jim gasped, when his choked sobs had settled down. "For me, Spock. Don't you dare die in some stupid way, or I swear I'll kick your dead ass across the cosmos."

"Yes, Captain," Spock murmured. "Sleep now."

"Promise me, Spock. You can't forget me, not even when you're one hundred and whatever. God, I'm so sorry I was such an ass to you."

"Jim." Spock turn his hand, squeezing Jim's fingers. "You are not going to die."

"But if-"

"I promise you this, Jim," Spock said. "You will live to see Ensign Chekov turn eighteen. You will do great things. And I will never forget you, no matter how long I live."

A watery chuckle. "Good."

"Sleep, Jim."

"Yes, sir."