Author's Note: I debated updating this week in light of the passing of our dear, inspiring friend, Leonard Nimoy. I realize I am speaking for many of us - the last few days have been challenging. He will be greatly missed.
In the spirit of Star Trek, however, I decided to proceed. I must thank my beta, Rubyhair, who brilliantly saved this chapter from plot holes. Thanks for reading!
Spock considered James T. Kirk to be a remarkable human being, this impression having been carved by experiencing the young man's mistakes and glories first hand. Spock's perception of Jim had not diminished in the wake of the ravaging Re'an meld. Quite the opposite. Jim took to his upcoming responsibilities well in spite of his freshly gathered fears. Jim was rising above the difficulty and Spock found no fault in this process. Although Spock's logic told him that Jim was up to the challenge, McCoy's affectionate concern towards Jim almost undid his previous stoicism. Spock admittedly was not as adept in concealing his emotions as he had been before. Indeed, it was a tumultuous time for them all.
Unsuspecting of Spock's piercing observations, the captain's eyes fixated on the floor and he chewed his bottom lip with a vengeance. There was no doubt in Spock's mind that Jim was contemplating the days ahead, having recently finished discussing his concerns with Spock and McCoy. Although curious, Spock allowed the captain the privacy that was due him and did not abuse their shared bond. He did, however, sense that Jim was not anxious but merely engrossed in a moment of great contemplation. Spock was unsurprised. He anticipated a domino effect, that the discussion of Admiral Archer would stoke the fire within Jim's mind and the upcoming mission to elicit numerous questions. He waited for Jim to speak and was thus rewarded for his patience.
"Coffee," Jim finally breathed, a laborious sigh filling the room.
Both of Spock's brows lifted in surprise. This was unexpected. The captain spoke of his favorite beverage in a curious manner - a soft utterance laced with longing but cautious, as if he debated the safety in speaking such a word. Indeed, it would not be safe had Dr. McCoy been in Jim's quarters and not in sickbay taking care of an emergency. To Spock's knowledge, Jim had not consumed the beverage since returning from Re'an V. Neither had he spoken of it, and Spock suspected this was the first time Jim had even considered the drink since before his rescue. Yet, a beverage provoked memories once again. Curious to see the conversation develop, Spock waited for Jim to elaborate and provide the connection between Admiral Archer and coffee.
"I want...coffee. Archer always gave me coffee at Christmas, even the Christmases I was a cadet. The good stuff, too. Only, I never knew it was him until after Pike...after Pike..." Jim's voice quieted. "Anyways, yeah. Coffee."
"Fascinating," Spock murmured.
"Spock? Does...does the replicator have...coffee?" Jim's voice teemed with a hope that Spock found he had no desire to extinguish nor did he wish to see the hesitant smile on the captain's face vanish.
"Yes, Jim, it is programmed for coffee."
The captain rose to his feet and used his cane and the device at his hip to find his way to the machine. Seeing Jim's intention, Spock decided it was his duty to at least inform Jim of the benefits and risks. There were no decaffeinated options programed in the replicator. To McCoy's chagrin, Jim promptly removed the decaffeinated option each and every time the doctor added it. Spock quickly prepared a series of questions to properly inform Jim of the consequences of consuming coffee at this late hour.
"Are you aware of the time?" Spock asked.
Jim stopped at the replicator and ran his hands over the front, smiling as if it were a brilliant discovery. He paused and glanced in Spock's direction, the light in the room catching Jim's eyes. For the first time since the peach hues appeared in the captain's eyes, the blue overshadowed the Re'an flecks of color. Spock peered at the captain. It was then that Spock decided a break in the barrier was the cause for this immediate change, combined with the healed infection. No matter how minute the break had been, something had changed.
"It's late, I guess, but I've been tired all day. And, coffee does...something to me. It helps energize me, I think." Jim rubbed the back of his neck, face scrunched. "Caffeine?"
"Dr. McCoy may wish to speak with you first about the dangers of consuming a caffeinated beverage."
"But, Bones is busy." Jim's hand dropped from his neck and his eyes brightened. "You could tell me all of that, couldn't you?"
Spock did not hesitate to be of use to his captain. "Indeed, Jim. I could."
Ten minutes later, the doctor returned. McCoy halted in his tracks, his eyes widening as he stared at the mug in Jim's hands.
"I smell coffee," the doctor said slowly, eyes peeled on the steam coming from that single cup. "Spock, please tell me I don't smell coffee. Please tell me that Jim Kirk is not drinking coffee."
"It's good, Bones," Jim's mouth forged into a wide, gleaming smile. "I forgot how good it was."
"Good God, man! He needs to go to sleep some time tonight! And you let him drink coffee?" McCoy's accusatory voice filled the room and his words pointed a finger directly at Spock. "I might as well leave him with Scotty if this is what you're going to let him do!"
"I do not believe one can equate coffee with alcohol, doctor," Spock differentiated for McCoy.
"Unbelievable," McCoy muttered. "That may be true but is that all you can say for yourself?"
"The captain no longer desired to experience the fatigue which plagued him much of the day. He made a decision, doctor," Spock explained. "Allow him to suffer the consequences."
"Not captain, Spock," Jim said, smiling before indulging in another taste.
"Consequences," McCoy snorted. "The only one suffering consequences will be me trying to get this idiot to sleep."
Cup halfway to his mouth once more, Jim's eyes widened. "I forgot about coffee, Bones. I just...it was good. Really good. Bones? Please don't be mad. I'll...I'll never have another cup of coffee again." Jim held out his cup. "I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Buddy. You've always loved coffee, and now that you rediscovered it...well...I can't say I blame ya." McCoy took the cup from his hand, scowling at the remaining contents and then at the captain before ultimately settling on Spock. "But you, on the other hand..."
Spock offered a vague apology or an excuse - whichever one the doctor preferred. "Perhaps my methods were unorthodox but I found that I could not douse his fledgling independence nor his enthusiasm, doctor."
McCoy's gaze flitted back to Jim, his expression softening. "Is that so?"
Spock then felt compelled to explain. "My actions were illogical but it was necessary that he make this informed decision on his own."
"You warned him, then?" McCoy's tone relaxed. "What it does?"
"Indeed."
"You warned him," McCoy regarded him cautiously, "and he made this decision on his own, then?"
"He utilized the replicator of his own accord," Spock added, almost proud.
As expected, McCoy's fierce scowl softened more and he affectionately squeezed Jim's shoulder. "Good. That's good."
"He did and I did and I did that, too," Jim said brightly. "Bones, maybe since it's not so bad, compared to other things like alcohol as you said, I can have another cup? Or, two?"
"Hell no, Jim." McCoy sighed and sank down into the seat beside Jim. "Just...no.
"Please?" Jim bounced forward in his seat.
"Dr. McCoy, perhaps it would -" Spock began.
McCoy groaned, putting his head in his hands. "Unless you have a detailed plan to successfully get a wired Jim Kirk to sleep tonight, not a word, Spock. Not another damn word."
Spock obeyed the doctor's severely spoken order. Jim smiled, and Spock sensed the captain's thoughts lingering on the delicious beverage he had consumed. It had been worth it. Indeed, both Spock and Jim deserved the rage of McCoy.
He would extend his gratitude to the doctor later.
Archer relaxed into the back of his cushioned, heated chair behind his desk. He was taking this call from the comforts of home, not that his audience would even mind his unprofessional surroundings. It was a sad thought and he forced a smile on his face before the doctor's face was on screen. The doctor looked a little more haggard than the last time they'd spoken face to face, the circles under his eyes new and disconcerting.
"Doctor, it's a pleasure." Archer gave him a small smile.
"Good morning, Admiral," Dr. McCoy nodded in return. Archer happily saw they'd set Kirk up in his own quarters for this conversation. It wouldn't do for the man to be even more uncomfortable about this than he had to be. "He's in the other room right now but I'll call him in when you're ready."
"Is he ready?"
"As he'll ever be." McCoy scowled. "I had to sedate him last night and he slept in late today. Jim was bouncing off the walls after we told him about talking with you. But that may have been more from the cup of coffee he replicated behind my back."
Archer now understood the dark circles. He gave a small laugh. "Sounds like Kirk."
McCoy nodded morosely. "Spock just watched him do it. Said Jim needed to make this decision on his own, especially since he was suddenly so impassioned over coffee. I believe Jim has Spock wrapped around his finger."
Archer chuckled. "That is a peculiar image, I confess. I assume you couldn't let Jim suffer."
McCoy's face relaxed, revealing the soft spot he had for Jim Kirk.. "No, I couldn't. I can't fix much right now, Admiral, but I was able to fix that."
"You are doing your best." Archer clasped his hands on the desk and leaned forward, earnest in his query. It would do no good to push Kirk through this conversation today. "Is he up for this, doctor?"
"He'll be fine. He has his hat and another cup of coffee in his hand." McCoy hesitated. "Those are two very important things to him right now."
Archer's mouth twitched. "Another cup of coffee?"
"His second cup this morning. I figured it would be an incentive. He does remember you, Admiral. You are what reminded him of coffee, after all, but I must be honest with you - he is anxious."
Archer rubbed his chin. A nervous, hat-wearing Jim Kirk sounded...fascinating. "Send him in, then."
The conversation with Archer was going better than Jim expected. He assumed that almost ten minutes had passed. He also suspected Archer may be saddened to see him in this state. Bones often tried to hide his dismay from Jim. So, Jim attempted his most pleasant and attentive expression but he couldn't keep his eyes on the view screen. It was altogether too taxing to constantly remind himself to guess where the Admiral's face was and that bothered him a bit. He hardly ever tried to find Bones' face when he talked to him. Feeling worse about himself each second, Jim refrained from explaining. An ache settled in his shoulders and back as Archer talked. He did not want to appear rude but Archer caught on quickly.
"It's okay, son," Archer assured him. "I can see you perfectly clear and that is all that matters. Relax. Tell me about yourself."
"Sir?" How could he even answer that? Former captain? Blind man? Archer already knew he was those things. He didn't know enough about himself yet to add to that description.
"You're finding more about yourself these days, Jim. I am interested in that. So tell me, who is Jim Kirk?"
"I'm..." For the Admiral's sake, Jim thought on that for a moment. Jim Kirk was a man who wanted to remain on the Enterprise. He was a man willing to do whatever he needed to do to make that happen. He owed his friends that much, at least. He'd been oblivious to the signs the night before but this morning he contemplated what Uhura had said. Bones and Spock had been at odds or fighting...or something...and Jim had the feeling it was because of him. He couldn't let that happen again and promised to look beyond himself and after the people around him the best that he possibly could. Even blind, he could do something, couldn't he? He'd given a lot of thought to the troubling subject. These people around him - they all cared deeply for one another and it pained Jim to sense their unhappiness. That coffee had done more than provide energy for this conversation. It had pushed him beyond his closed world.
Believing that Archer could somehow help him, he opened up to him like he would have to Pike had the late admiral survived the attack on HQ. Jim finished speaking and blinked his eyes, fighting against the pooling liquid.
"It's good to see you thinking like you always do, Jim," Archer said immediately. "This mission you're going on in a few days..."
"Yes, sir?"
"It's for them as much as it is for you."
"I know," Jim said softly. That had been obvious since almost the very beginning.
"I believe you'll discover more about yourself then but promise me, Jim..."
"Yes, Admiral." Jim took a deep breath. "Sir."
"Be true to who you are. Do not force yourself to become the Jim Kirk that you think you should be. This is not a race...take your time."
"It may take me quite awhile," Jim admitted.
"That's true but there is nothing wrong with taking small steps. You have time, son." Archer paused and so did Jim. "Does this bother you?"
Bother him? Jim had no frustration about that whatsoever, despite the gaps in his memory. Or maybe it was because of those very gaps that he was content with his lot in life and the slow progress he was making. "No, because I trust them. Even though I don't know what happened...I trust them." Jim hoped the admiral trusted them, too.
"Pike may no longer be with us but I've got your back, Jim, and so does the crew of the Enterprise. You're in the safest and best place you could be, as well as being with the most capable people." Archer's voice grew firm, settling the small wave of doubt churning in Jim's stomach. "And I'll be damned if I ever let anyone or anything get in the way of that."
Bones did not question Jim about his conversation with Archer that day nor the next two. The fourth day after the conversation, Jim realized that Spock had delayed the mission by twenty-four hours and Bones still didn't pester him for information. Jim appreciated that his best friend respected his privacy. Neither did Jim willingly offer any information. Archer had given him a lot to think about and Jim was still dissecting it all as he was in the midst of preparations for the upcoming mission. He now understood the transporting system and how to use the scanner and comms, although they disallowed him a comm of his own. Bones had been right to predict that his therapists would work him harder this week, but even Jim was satisfied with the results. He could squeeze his right hand without a shooting pain up his arm and he developed enough strength and muscle to begin a more normal exercise regime.
As sidetracked as Jim was, he realized his best friends were engrossed with their own thoughts. He didn't understand why until Bones and Spock took him to another place on the ship.
"Those things you've been doing this week? That's just the tip of the iceberg," Bones said.
"What do you mean?" The concept eluded Jim.
"Thanks to Scotty and Spock helping me with a project, we can improve your sight - beginning today."
"What?" Jim widened his eyes, not certain he heard correctly. "My sight?"
"Your eyes are healthy, Jim, except for a misfiring of the optic nerve. We didn't see that before, but Spock is forming a theory as to why the scans and tests missed it. Medically, there's no logical reason behind this error." Bones paused, chuckling. "You wouldn't think this would be a good thing, but it is. When Spock confirmed the possibility of it two days ago, I almost didn't believe it myself."
"You've known? For two days?" Jim shifted his stance, a bit resentful. "And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want to get your hopes up, kid," Bones said softly. "Neither did Spock. You haven't been on the other side of things, Jim. There hasn't been much we could do to help you, and what we have done is taking its darn good time. We've had...we've had some disappointments. Some big ones. We didn't want you dealing with those, too. You're dealing with a lot already, Jim, and I know you've still been thinking about your conversation with Archer."
"I see." Jim thought he could and should understand that, but he wished he'd been told. Still, this was good news. "How could the fact that you missed this in a test even help me?"
"If we'd pushed things early on, your optic nerve would have been permanently damaged. But now, we know that your device can compensate for the misfire. We adjusted it to work with the lenses we put in your eyes this morning. After light is converted to electricity, these electrical impulses are sent through the optic nerve and directly to your brain, causing you to see light. Jim, it's amazing. You'll be able to identify shadows, Jim." The excitement in Bones' voice was palpable, but Jim's stomach churned with trepidation. "Eventually, even outlines of those shadows. And...maybe...someday it will be more. We'll take this one step at a time."
"What if it doesn't work?" Jim had to ask, not wanting their hopes to crash - or his own.
"It will work, Jim," Spock said quietly beside him.
"It will, huh?" Jim almost smiled, thinking that those words were awfully familiar but Bones turned on the device. Distracted, Jim blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to various, obtuse shapes and shades. "Shadows," he muttered, squinting.
"It's amazing," Bones laughed. "I wish I could be experiencing this change with you, Jim."
Bones sounded like a kid. As happy as Jim was that his best friend was happy, amazing would be seeing as he once had. "It's all a blur, Bones."
"It will be for today, Jim," Bones chuckled. "It'll get better as your brain adjusts to seeing light. Until you get used to this, you may not be able to see our exact outlines but you will know that someone is in front of you."
"Like now?" Jim asked, hesitant to believe that the enormous looking blob in front of him could even be a human being.
"What do you think?" The voice and shadow asked.
Jim swallowed and nodded quietly, attempting to trace the outline of Bones. He was amazed, even when the shadow filled his vision.
"Are you coming closer?" Jim asked, hesitant.
"Yep." Bones laughed. "Jim? You alright?"
A long shadow crept up to his shoulder, light from the left distracting him. Something pricked behind Jim's eyes when the weight of Bones' hand made contact, and it wasn't the lenses causing the burning sensation. He was seeing his best friend, albeit blurry and without any color and as a grayish blob, for the first time in weeks.
"Yes," he whispered, slightly mesmerized. He held his hand in front of him, clenching and unclenching his fist as he followed the shadowy movements. "I'm fine. I'm...Bones? I don't know what to say."
"Jim, you don't have to say anything. I'm glad you're pleased," Bones cleared his throat. "Spock believes there will be a way to do more for you, especially if we use nanotechnology. But, for now I think this is enough, especially since you'll have to adjust and retrain your depth perception. We have another lesson that may be of help with that."
"Another?" Jim said, leery of more. As they explained to him the next lesson, Jim learned that his instinctive wariness served him well.
He hadn't realized all that he had to do for this mission and despite these positive developments, Jim found himself ill prepared for the next step. In fact, he was utterly horrified. And he didn't like it, especially as it began to overshadow his previous happiness. He didn't like it one damn bit.
"Jim, say something," Bones said softly.
"No," Jim gritted. "I'm not learning how to do that."
"Jim, you cannot go on this mission without learning how to properly use the phaser," Spock repeated. "Now that you can distinguish between light and darkness, Dr. McCoy and I concur that this skill would be of use to you for your safety."
"No." Jim cringed and held his arms rigid and as close to his body as possible.
The admiral had told him to take small steps and not force these changes. It seemed they wanted to force him into changing altogether now. Jim wanted to do what was required so he could remain on this ship with his friends - but this was against what the Re'an believed. This...this had to be against what he believed, then, too. Jim clenched his hands into fists. He couldn't. He wouldn't. This was going too far. These phasers were bound to be one of the weapons the Re'an used against themselves - and now the Re'an were gone. All of them, except Soona and Jim.
"Jim, you are not inflicting harm on anyone by properly learning to use the phaser. It is a precaution. We wish to equip you with this particular skill to use in an emergency," Spock said. "You cannot proceed with the mission if you do not learn to use the phaser and practice visualizing your target."
"Then I will not go on the mission." Jim set his jaw, his anger rising by the second.
"If that is your final answer, I must inform you that there will be consequences." Spock said firmly. "This is a lesson you will take regardless of any mission."
Jim couldn't help his eyes from widening at the unyielding form in front of him. How could they even discipline him for this? It wasn't like he had anything they could take away...Jim blinked, realizing that...maybe he did.
"Coffee?" He hedged quietly. He'd enjoyed the one cup allotted him by his doctor every day for the past four mornings. It was already something he looked forward to and expected. One of those days he'd received two cups.
"Perhaps." Spock said, his voice cool and detached. Jim swallowed, knowing there was more. Baths? Tea? And he was right. He listened as Spock explained the consequences. Baths and tea were still allowed but reduced to almost nothing. They wanted him as part of the landing party this badly? Still, Jim refused to change his mind. Maybe this was merely a test of wills. If dumping his clothes out was a lot like the old him, maybe this was, too.
He had gone without many things at various times in his short life. He could manage without these luxuries just fine. He lifted his chin, making certain he first stared at Spock's shadowy form and then at Bones'. "I won't do it."
"Buddy, I know this is tough, but think of the risks if you don't learn." Bones' gentle drawl began to encroach on Jim's resolve.
"Obviously, being blind and holding one of those things is a danger in itself," Jim said shortly, cross with both himself and them. He was mad at himself for being mad in the first place when he didn't want to be upset. This had been a good day - so far. A really good one. Until this thing with the phaser showed up. He was upset with them because Bones was being too nice and withheld information and Spock...Spock was too cool and logical and also withheld information. It was infuriating. He'd told Archer that it wasn't upsetting to him that they kept things from him, but now...now he hated they knew things and he didn't.
He looked away from them both.
"Because your vision has improved - "
"Improved?" Jim scoffed, rudely interrupting Spock. "I see blobs. Gray blobs and black ones. White blobs and...ghostly blobs."
"Jim," Bones sighed. "It will get better. It won't be exactly what you or I ultimately want, but it will be an improvement and I think we'll find a way to fix it completely."
" - this skill is attainable, Jim. Furthermore, knowing how to safely use the phaser would not only protect you but those around you," Spock added.
Those around him? Jim tilted his head, mouth pressed thin in displeasure. He hadn't thought of that. As much as he hated to admit it, Spock was right.
"It is set to stun, and you won't carry one yourself while you're on Letyra. Ensign Dorle will have one. Security...as well as Spock." Bones rested a hand on Jim's shoulder. "If there is a situation where lives are in danger, it is necessary that you learn how to use a phaser properly for the sake of everyone around you in that emergency. Being blind does not excuse you from this lesson, and now that your vision has changed, you need to know that you can do this. Will you allow Spock to teach you, Jim? I'm afraid we will have to be firm and you will remain on the Enterprise as a result tomorrow if you refuse."
A wave of defeat washed over him as he considered relinquishing another part of himself, a part belonging to the once peaceful Re'an.
"Jim?" Bones squeezed his shoulder.
"How would you like to lose piece after piece of who you were?" Jim whispered before he could stop himself. "And then struggle to find the person you used to be before that but you couldn't even remember who that was?"
Bones sighed. "I wouldn't like it at all, Jim, and I can't pretend to understand what you're going through. But I do know that I would like it even less if my friends were harmed and I could have stopped it all if I hadn't been such a stubborn idiot."
Jim liked that thought even less, too. He held out his hand. Spock placed the phaser in Jim's hand, covering it with both of his own. Spock then proceeded with the lesson as if Jim hadn't protested at all.
Despite the murkiness of the shadows, he didn't miss many targets, however large they were. He knew how to visualize. He remembered the instant Spock put the phaser in his hand. He recalled learning to shoot at shadows at a tender age in a cold, miserable cave and then in a darkened, hellish cell. Then, he'd shot thieves and pirates, abusive step-fathers and murderous governors. Now, he shot at murky, thin forms who'd stolen both his present and past and at vague shadows mocking his vision. He felt no satisfaction when they told him muscle memory had aided in his retraining. He did what he was told because he did not want his stubbornness to be the reason that a mission failed or, worse, the very reason for more blood on his hands.
Jim stretched out on his gray bed and drew his gray arms behind his head as he stared up at the gray ceiling he couldn't see save for its shadowed and distorted rectangular shape.
"You did good today, Jim," Bones said.
The day had been long. Too long.
Jim nodded, jaw clenched as it was when he'd held the phaser. The doctor sank onto the edge of the bed beside him and Jim fought the urge to scoot away. He'd prefer to be alone but when he heard another pair of footsteps, he knew they weren't going to allow him that luxury.
"Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?" Bones asked quietly.
"I didn't like my last lesson," Jim said flatly.
"It was necessary for the team's safety." Spock's explanation was expected, but Jim still exhaled a short breath in irritation.
He shouldn't even be going on this mission. Didn't he endanger his crew on the last one? Didn't they remember that?
"This troubles you?" Spock asked.
Despite the cloud now swirling in his mind, Jim detected a bit of indignation in the Vulcan's voice and his questioning through their bond. As Jim tried to come up with an explanation for his reaction, Bones commed Nurse Chapel. At the word 'sedative,' Jim lifted his head, squinting at the distracting light through what had to be his doorway to his bedroom before shifting his eyes and glaring at the shadow he knew to be Bones.
"The hell I'm being sedated tonight," he bit out. "I'm mad. Not high on coffee."
"Jim, don't fight me on this," Bones said in that tone Jim knew better than to argue with. "Tomorrow is a big day. Today was just as big. You need to rest. You need to relax your mind and your eyes and you're not going to be able to do that if you're stressed and uptight."
"I'm not the one who insisted that I learn to use a phaser," Jim muttered under his breath.
"You already knew how to use it, Jim," Bones said in a quiet voice. "You've used it plenty of times before. You just forgot, buddy."
Tears pricked Jim's eyes. "I...I know that."
"Do you?" Bones asked softly.
"I don't want to talk about it," Jim whispered tightly. He hated it when Bones was extra kind. He liked it better when gruff Bones came out. It hurt less. He already hurt too much and was trying to cover up his pain with anger. His chest constricted even more as if to prove the point.
"But we do," Bones said. "We can't do anything else until we've resolved what's going on through that head of yours."
"Let Spock tell you." Jim turned on his side, away from Bones. It was immature, but he did it anyways.
"No," Bones' tone cooled. "That's not happening, Jim. We're all adults here and if you're having a pity party, then we will reconsider you coming with us tomorrow."
"It would be best if you tell the doctor your concerns, Jim," Spock said gently.
It was that unexpected and compassionate voice which undid him. A tear streaked down Jim's face. He wiped it away hastily. "I remember...you being hurt, Bones...because of me..."
"Jim?" Bones' voice teemed with confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Poison," Jim whispered. "You were poisoned. They used you to get to me."
Bones swore under his breath. "How much do you remember of that, Jim?"
Jim shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it or the Re'an, and as he clenched his eyes shut and pulled his hat over his ears, the drowning feeling threatened to pull him under and never give him back.
"Jim," Spock's voice was close to his ear his breath tickled his cheek and, surprisingly, his hand rested on Jim's very shoulder. "Do you recall the place I helped you find when you realized you were captain of the Enterprise?"
"Yes," Jim whispered, squeezing his eyes even tighter. "It was...safe."
"You will need to find it again," Spock said. "You are approaching a dangerous memory and it is too soon for you to recall this."
"But, I thought you'd want me to remember." Jim choked back on a sob as a Re'an prepared to shoot a dart at Bones, a dart tipped with poison.
"Not this one. Not tonight." Urgency crept into Spock's voice.
Jim's eyes flew open as the dart flew into Bones' neck. Bones was going to die...his friend was going to die if Jim didn't do this...if he...if...
"You must listen to me, Jim," Spock said. Jim jolted, the Vulcan's firm and abrupt voice cutting through the memory. "Close your eyes."
Heat radiated from Spock's hands. It felt nice. Good. Jim's eyes grew heavy of their own accord, and somehow, two sets of hands brought him to lay on his back. Bones brushed his forehead. "Jim, that's better. Just relax."
Spock's hands were doing that for him, he tried to say, but every bone and muscle of his body felt like liquid under Spock's touch. Jim sunk into the mattress. He found the place Spock told him to find. It was an addictive place full of the happiness of his friends and his crew. Seconds before he felt a familiar pinch in his neck, he sighed, content to be there again. He almost felt guilty, for he knew he was leaving another mess behind him.
But that guilt was no match to the guilt he felt the next day.
Jim came out of the memory and felt it shatter like one would emerge from a horrid nightmare. Chest heaving, his thoughts scattered like wild, hunted animals. Sweat poured down his face and neck, coating his shirt and soaking it through. A sob shook Jim's body and arms that weren't his tightened around his chest.
Then, Jim remembered. Spock. Spock was with him, holding him as they sat on the ground. He held him through the worst of the mental attack on the planet, the shattering being the second one Jim had experienced - and by far the worst. He didn't understand why, but Spock had cleaved himself to Jim the second he'd gone down on his knees in agony. Bones wasn't there, and Jim couldn't remember where the doctor had gone. Or why he'd left them by the pond. Had it been a wild animal? A botanist injured?
Jim groaned. Whatever had attacked his mind, it was not over. Sharp remnants pierced his head and body, dissolving at an excruciatingly slow pace. By the time the attack stopped, Spock's arms had almost squeezed the breath out of him. Jim reached up and gripped Spock's wrist, attempting to pull his arm away from his body.
"Spock?" Jim coughed. "I...I'm okay now."
Spock held fast. Huffing a breath, Jim leaned his head back against the Vulcan's chest, hoping to gain his attention.
"Spock?" Jim forced himself to relax and give himself slack in Spock's powerful grasp. "I'm okay...and you can - "
Spock's arms went unnaturally limp around him. Before Jim could react, the Vulcan collapsed to the ground behind him, meeting the ground with a sickening thud.
"Spock?" Jim's voice cracked, weathered by the mental attack. He twisted his body, getting on his hands and knees. Jim's hands fumbled in the grass. For a second he forgot what he was looking for. Or who. It was dark and it shouldn't be. He didn't want it to be anymore. How could he help Spock like this? And Bones was gone. And he was blind. He didn't want to be. And...
Jim's breath rushed in and out, shallow and oxygen deprived. "No, no. Spock. You can't...you can't do this. You have to be okay..."
Jim's panic swelled before he finally discovered Spock's leg. His heart in his throat, Jim patted Spock's body until he also found his hip, torso, and finally his shoulder. Jim slid his hands up to Spock's face. His friend had hit the ground hard, and Jim feared it had been his head that had received the brunt of the fall.
"Spock? Please, answer me." He gently cradled Spock's face in his hands, brushing his hair back as he checked the back of his head for blood. He found nothing, felt nothing wet on his fingers. Still, his friend did not stir. "Spock?"
A few seconds passed before Jim realized that Spock had to be unconscious. "Shit," Jim whispered. He grabbed Spock's arm, running his hand along the Vulcan's arm until he found his wrist. He felt for a pulse. It was faster than a human's but slower than what he expected a Vulcan's should be, and his skin cooler to the touch than Jim ever remembered. Like Jim's skin was cool now. Something had happened to Spock, maybe because of Jim. They'd shared the mental attack because Spock was his friend and felt compelled to help him.
Jim's stomach lurched. It was just like when Bones had been poisoned. They'd found Jim's weak spot and used the doctor to get to Jim. They'd poisoned Bones. If Spock helped Jim shoulder whatever happened in his mind and took the worst of it, Jim would never...he'd never forgive himself. No one should. He had to make sure this never happened again. He'd do whatever it took to stop this. He'd beg or plead or...
A desperate cry rose from his chest. He didn't understand any of this and as he took steps to close the gap between what he thought and what his friends knew, it felt altogether too dangerous. Jim wiped his face, trying to pull himself together.
"No. Spock? Please. Wake up," Jim's hands fell to Spock's chest. He shook him gently. "I don't...I don't know what to do to help you. Bones isn't here...and...I...maybe...I'll try to comm someone...I'll try to contact...the Enterprise..."
Hysteria bubbled up from Jim's throat. Of course Jim knew to do that. What had happened to him? Who the hell had rewired his brain? He should have found Spock's comm immediately. Why hadn't he? He should have realized his device had been turned off, too, because he'd had a headache, but he forgot. He forgot, and he never would have done things like this before. Jim laughed, the hysteria growing. He'd been captain. A damned captain.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Jim clenched his hands, his fingers curling around Spock's shirt. He closed his eyes and tamped down the panic and the questions, inhaling as slowly as possible. He had to remain calm, like a captain would. A captain wouldn't panic, and for the first time since the mental attack, he took stock of what was around him. It had been a pleasant spot where he worked. Relaxing. Safe. He smelled the clean, fresh air and the plants encircling them, and it grounded him. Spock would be fine. Jim knew what to do. He would use Spock's comm to contact the Enterprise and they'd be beamed to the ship in no time at all. Spock would be fine. He had to be...
Snap.
Jim froze, almost certain a twig had cracked behind him. He hastily exhaled and wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. He had to keep moving. After another crackle and the sure sound of approaching footsteps, Jim's heart thudded in his ears.
Snap.
He began to trace Spock's body with his hands, all the way down to the Vulcan's hip to find his belt. Jim removed the phaser and comm, fumbling again in his darkness and almost dropping them when the grass rustled, a putrid odor wafting his way in the wind. Jim choked on the offensive smell as he gripped the weapon. He hefted the phaser's weight in his hand and checked to see that the phaser was set to stun. He turned his own device back on at the last second before he lifted his eyes. He tried to remember all they taught him yesterday, tried to focus as he distinguished between the shadows. He stood and pivoted on his heel in front of Spock, his surroundings becoming a massive blur of light and dark. He raised his phaser, keeping it close to his chest.
It was too late. Jim's breath caught, and he squeezed his eyes shut, cringing.
Something had touched his cheek.