Well hey there howdy, y'all! Still plugging away at this, like I promised. I got really hung up on some of the more violent scenes that I had planned, the traumatic ones, in that I wrote them and then couldn't rationalize to myself how something like that could happen to Piper and she's be sane enough to get through Starfleet Academy, let alone take over the Captaincy of a top-of-the-line ship for them. So I went more with... an allusion to things that Spock saw. I'll leave the tags, though, just in case I mentions things in later chapters.
Thank you everyone who has been sticking with this story! I hope every chapter is worth the wait for you lovely people. Can't promise when I'll have the next chapter as I am very ill with bronchitis, but I'm working on it! Like I promised I would.
Also, please excuse any errors, I wrote this one on the fly after being frustrated because I scrapped the previous, like, 13 attempts, so I did not have it in me to proofread it at all. Lemme know if there's anything glaringly bag and I'll fix it.
Spock is able to recognize instantly when he is back on Tarsus IV based off the foliage and blistering heat that he finds otherwise comfortable, though the state of things around him is jarring and much different. For one, there are hundreds of people alive, walking through the small town square. Earlier than his first encounter, then. Before the massacre. His brown eyes jump from body to body until they sharpen at the peak of blonde hair as he catches a glimpse, a moment of Piper walking through the crowd, and moves after her.
He loses her several times, but meets up with her in front of a stall selling fruit in what appears to be a very primitive farmer's market. She is standing with two older adults, with the woman bearing a striking familial resemblance. Her mother perhaps? He discards this notion, as there are also too many differences, and Piper is held too stiffly, too uncomfortable around them for these to be familiar to her. Judging by their apparent ages, though, they are peers of her mother. An aunt and uncle perhaps?
Spock watches as the woman reaches out and sets a comforting shoulder on Piper's shoulder, making her stiffen and jerk away, glaring suspiciously at the woman. The blonde woman blinks, startled, covering a flash of hurt before she smiles kindly at Piper.
"I was thinking of making a fruit pie for dessert tonight. What would you like? Which fruits look the best to you?"
Piper, obstinate creature that she is, points to the durian fruit with a spiteful smirk, making the woman's face shrivel in distaste.
"Ah. You seem to have inherited Winona's charm," the lady mumbled, giving Piper a dry look. The man, who had been silent and unengaged up to this point, snorted indelicately off to the side as he picked up a Granny Smith apple and examined it in his hand. Piper stiffened at the mention of her mother's name, her face souring.
"Hard to inherit something from someone who's never fucking around," Piper snapped harshly. The woman's face fell sadly and she nodded.
"Winona has…" the lady started before sighing and shaking her head. "Well, she has no excuse, really. She's your mother. She should've been there this whole time. But she… something very integral to your mother's character died with your father, Piper."
Piper's face set stubbornly. Spock recognized this expression. It brought him great amusement to see it weaponized against someone other than himself. It was an expression Piper often wore when the words coming out of another's mouth were the exact words she did not wish to hear, and would rather obstinately refute any claim made. Much to Spock's chagrin, this was an attitude she adopted all too often with himself and Doctor McCoy during discussions about her health and safety.
Usually it was only after the fact that she was injured on an away mission that Spock discovered her complete disregard for their warnings.
"Yeah, well, she isn't the only one who gets a monopoly on grief," Piper hisses, glaring down at the ground. "We all lost my dad when he died."
The lady nods and reaches out to grab Piper's shoulder in another show of comfort, but hesitates and, wincing, retracts her arm. There is an awkward and tense silence for a long time before Piper sighs and looks back at the stalls, her shoulders sagging under the haunted look in her eyes. Her eyes cast a quick glance over the items for sale before she shoves her hand deep into her pockets and turns around.
"I think the peaches look the best," she mutters, just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the crowd around them. The lady blinks in surprise before a tender smile softens her face and she nods.
"Alright," she murmurs just as quietly as Piper, "peach pie it is."
Spock watches them buy enough peaches for the dessert, meandering through the stalls as he begins to feel the familiar tug behind his navel, the white light filling his vision. He blink in surprise as he is pulled away.
He blinks once again to clear his vision when the light fades. Normally, the memories he observed are significantly longer. He is distracted from this latest anomaly by the neighing of a horse as it gallops past him, Piper whooping in delight on the back. Another horse follows quickly after, Doctor McCoy laughing in a way that is carefree and very different from his stoic and surly demeanor normally. Spock watches as they chase each other to the end of the field, turning at the line of a fence and running along the perimeter of a field that spans many acres. He does not bother trying to chase them, it would be a fruitless endeavor, but he does begin walking over to them as they loop back around, slowing considerably until they come to a stop not far from where Spock first appeared.
He appreciates the grace of Piper as she dismounts the horse, his eyes taking in the gentle swell of her hips clad in denim, the dip of her waist wrapped up in flannel as she looks up at the horse, breathless and cheeks flushed with pleasure. Doctor McCoy quickly dismounts next to her, grabbing the reins of his horse and beckoning Piper to follow. Spock keeps in step with them easily as they walk out of the field, allowing the horses the time to cool down before they are brought into the barn. The pair of friends talk about many different and varied topics. Spock is stunned at the amount of botany that McCoy engages in, though a vast majority of his knowledge seems to be medically related where Piper's is more generalized.
It is when they return to the barn to brush the horses down and clean the saddles that Piper shocks both men to their core.
"Hey, Bones, why haven't we ever slept together?" she asks, her voice full of laughter as her Palomino tosses its head in pleasure at the brush in her hand. McCoy drops his own brush, whirling around to face her, jaw agape and cheeks flushed a shade of red that nearly matches his shirt. He splutters for a few moments before his thoughts gather enough to formulate any kind of coherent response.
"The fuck did you just ask me?" he asks. Piper quirks an eyebrow at him, as if she cannot comprehend why he is so aghast.
"What're you freaking out for? I didn't ask you to fuck me into the wall or something. I'm asking why we haven't done that before."
McCoy splutters some more, making Piper throw her head back and laugh, and a dark, raging jealousy rear its head within Spock's chest.
"Young lady!" McCoy says, sounding scandalized. "Where is this nonsense coming from?!"
Piper shrugs, focusing her gaze back on the horse under her brush.
"I don't know. You're really hot, I'm really hot, we're the best of friends, we're around each other all the time. You probably know more about me than anyone else on the planet. Isn't there some kind of friends-to-lovers trope that we're destined to fulfill?"
McCoy mutters under his breath, finally bending down to pick up his fallen brush before standing up and turning back to his own horse's treatment. Spock glares at the unassuming man, feeling an irrational sense of betrayal. Piper's assessment of McCoy's physical appearance, while crass, is accurate. He is a very attractive specimen of male human anatomy.
That does not mean that he wishes to know that Piper is aware of this fact.
"Piper, you really shouldn't take any more film electives, they're rotting your brain. Real life doesn't follow tropes. Just because we're friends, who are also of the opposite genders, does not mean we're doomed to horizontal tango at some point in our friendship."
Piper shrugs.
"It wouldn't be the first time in history."
There is a beat of silence before Piper sighs and moves around the horse to brush down the other side.
"Look, I wasn't trying to make things weird, Bones. For the record, I would never sleep with you. You're more like this weird mix of an older brother, adopted dad, and pseudo uncle or something to me. It'd be gross." Piper makes a face. "I'm just wondering why you haven't ever tried anything with me, I guess. It's… not really something I'm used to."
McCoy stiffens, his hands pausing pointedly in his task before he carefully, and very deliberately resumes brushing his horse.
"Something you wanna run by me, kiddo?" he asks, voice dangerously quiet. Piper rolls her eyes fondly at his back.
"Chill out, Bones, I'm not talking about recent history here."
McCoy sends her a pointed look over his shoulder.
"That doesn't necessarily make me feel better, Piper."
Piper's face sours into a scowl.
"You're not answering my question, Bones," she points out, voice sounding waspish. McCoy rolls his eyes and turns back around to the horse, finishing his side and quickly moving to the other side to continue brushing down the horse.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Piper. You're like… another daughter to me. Or this annoying, clingy sister that I'll never be rid of."
Piper hides her pleased smile and blushing cheeks behind her horse's shoulder, but Spock sees, and it makes him smile in return. His jealousy finally starts to recede, and he can breathe.
"Loving someone doesn't always mean being in love with them, y'know," the doctor's hushed voice drifts across the open space, making Piper grin and walk under her horse to go stand next to McCoy. His face is, once again, nearly the same shade as his shirt.
"Awwww, Bones, you love me?" Piper asks, her voice both touched with emotion, and teasing the ornery southern man.
"Shut up, and finish cleaning Cobblestone down, you brat," McCoy snaps at her, trying to shove Piper back towards her horse. She relents, going over to the horse with a quiet giggle. Spock shook his head at his t'hy'la. Always pushing buttons, pushing boundaries. If it was not so endearing a quality, it would vex him to be in her presence. Spock suspects Doctor McCoy feels much the same about her, judging by both the harsh glare, and the affectionate grin he sends at her back while she walks away.
Admittedly, there have been times since Piper woke up from death where Spock wondered as to the nature of Piper and McCoy's relationship. They are too familiar, too free with their regard for another for Spock to relegate them merely to the title of friends. Many rumors about the two have circulated the Enterprise, though Spock never paid much mind to banal gossip such as that. Though, after the discovery of the broken bond, there has been a part of Spock that is blackly envious at the bond she shares with the good doctor. A possessiveness that he is not sure whether or not comes from the fact that they are intended but unbonded… or if that is simply a part of Spock's character he never previously discovered.
Regardless of its inception, Spock felt a deep and abiding desire to consume all of Piper's time, all of her attention, all of her love and affection.
Naturally, he would not. This, simply put, was toxic. She would suffocate, and despite any love she holds for him, would likely hold just as much resentment as time drew on.
And, truthfully, despite how he coveted every twinkle in her eye, he desired to see her happy more than anything. Piper was always happiest around her friends. She could not, and would not, sustain herself off of just him. He did not want her to. He wanted her to flourish, carve out her place in the universe, and revel in the awe of everyone around her as they beheld her majesty. He would use all of his considerable mental prowess to ensure that whatever it is Piper wished her life to become, it would be so.
But emotions are decidedly illogical, and every passing glance of interest that followed her made his stomach churn.
Piper and McCoy returned to their idle chatter, witty banter, eventually leaving the barn to make the long trek back to his mother's farmhouse, as Spock discovered they were visiting the matron in Georgia on shore leave.
Spock did not bother following after them when his light filled with the familiar glow and his navel tugged him off to another destination.
Many instances such as all the ones before come to pass. Many memories. Many things that will live within the folds of Spock's brain matter for the rest of his days. Some menial, full of everyday trivialities where Spock has the time to simply behold Piper, to breathe her in, to treasure the way she hums music under her breath while completing her Academy homework. He loves and holds every one of this quiet, boring memories close to his heart.
Some - most - of the other memories are too hard for him to want to hold on to. But hold on, he must, for every single trial Piper has gone through, has overcome, has shaped her into the woman that he loves most dearly. Whether it be under the first of her stepfather, or as he watches stoically when every relationship, friendship, bond she has ever made it thrown to the wayside and only cements all of Piper's worst insecurities as immutable fact.
And then even still, some memories are truly horrific. Too horrific to behold, and yet he cannot - will not - besmirch the tribulations Piper suffered by closing his eyes. When Kodos finds her hidden cave of children, when Piper holds Kevin's cold and lifeless corpse in her arms, when Kodos... when he...
Spock was violently ill during that particular memory.
And still he soldiers on, learning more about Piper, learning everything about Piper, synchronizing his soul to hers better, learning all the ways she has been failed by those she loves, and exactly all the ways he needs to love her best.
If this is to be the end of him, then it will be such an end that the force of his affections for this fragile, vulnerable, strong woman will be magnetized to every atom of Piper's soul, and even in the afterlife, their atoms might linger on together, entertained as they should be.
Forever.
It takes less than a second for him to recognize the interior of the Enterprise, and a mere second after that to note exactly where on the Enterprise, and he feels all of the breath leave his body.
No, anywhere but here. Anywhere else. Any other memory.
Spock feels his whole body vibrate with the energy coiled in his muscles to run the other direction, to run and never stop running so that he does not have to bear witness to this a second time. He is not strong enough, he cannot stand under this pressure without breaking.
His feet move closer to the door against his will.
He is unsurprised when he sees Piper crouched on the floor, heaving air into her dying lungs.
A broken sound gets stuck in his throat and he falls harshly to his knees, ignoring the sharp sting. Piper's heavy eyes open, unfocused and full of pain. Her skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, sallow and sickly. Spock presses his hands against the glass desperately, as if he can push through it with enough force.
It is difficult to hear through the thick glass, but Spock is adept at reading lips, and his superior hearing can parse out enough words to fill in the gaps. So, when Piper begins chanting something, although it takes him a couple of moments to figure out what it is, it sends a most peculiar sensation of his stomach trying to crawl out of his throat.
"Please, please, not again, not again, I can't do this again. Please don't make me do this again, not this one, please, anything else."
He could not breathe.
"Piper?"
Her whole body flinched and her eyes slammed shut. She frantically shakes her head, and Spock presses his forehead against the cool glass, willing her to look at him. Willing her to see.
"Piper, you must look at me this instant."
"No," she cries, tears squeezed out of her eyes and dripping off her chin. "I can't, please don't make me do this again."
"T'hy'la."
Spock isn't sure if it's the hollow desperation, or if it's the tenderness in his voice that makes her eyes open, clear and alert and snap up to his. Her whole body is trembling, and something so fragile and dangerous peeks up at him from the troubled blue depths of her gaze, something Spock can only name as hope.
"T'hy'la," he implores, pouring all of himself into the word, willing her to understand the call they feel to each other. Almost without her realizing it, her hand comes up, steadier than before, and presses against the glass to mirror his own. Spock feels a breath shudder out of him and without any pomp or ceremony, all of the walls he spent his life building are shredded. Every barb and thorn he wrapped around himself to keep others away, to keep the pain out… vanishes. He is only full of warmth, full of the unequivocal affection he feels for the woman in front of him. He does not bother to fight against the soft smile that pulls at his lips, tears of happiness, joy, wonder, awe swimming in his gaze. Piper's eyes widened in shock.
"Open the door, t'hy'la."
She hesitates.
"Piper, you do not have to be alone anymore. You simply need to open the door."
Her bottom lip wobbles and suddenly she is sobbing, pressed up against the glass.
"I d-don't know how, I can't get it open, I've tr-tried. I'm sorry, p-please don't lea-leave me."
The notion that he could ever leave her is utterly ridiculous.
Spock chuckles.
"I would sooner watch my planet be destroyed once again than ever leave you alone, Piper."
Piper looks at him through the glass, slightly fogged with condensation from her heaving breaths, the hope burning right through him and branding him. He knows, beyond intellectually having the knowledge, that he is hers for the rest of her life. For the rest of his life. It becomes a fact of his DNA, of his genetic makeup, that he will love this fragile, broken woman with every powerful emotion hidden within himself until the last breath leaves his body. He feels humbled at the feeling as it rockets through him, sending a pleasant humming tingle out to the bottom of his feet and tips of his fingers.
Piper sniffles, using a hand to wipe the snot leaking from her nose, and Spock's tender smile widens.
"If… if I mean that much to you, then prove it," she challenges him, her voice soft but hard as steel. "You open the door."
And in that moment, Spock understands.
This is her shame, as much as his. Of course this is where he would find her. This is where she died, where she left her crew alone to fight against Khan. This is where she left him, and where she left her love for him unspoken. She cannot bear the burden of it, she has not the strength to fight against what Piper must see as her biggest failing.
And at the same time, Piper has always been the first one to reach out to others. Unfortunately, very few hands have reached back to her, leaving her grasping at the endless emptiness around her. That kind of solitude changes a person, makes them distrustful, suspicious. And despite the love Spock knows she feels, she will not allow herself to sink down into nothingness for him. She has been left to solitude one too many times, and she wants to, for once, be the one that is saved.
"Gladly," Spock growls in promise. Piper watches him keenly as he stands and places his hands on the door. This is not real, this door is not really here, there is no lock. Nothing will keep him from her ever again.
Spock wrenches once, twice, three times, and finally, finally the door gives way. He grunts at the effort, his arms burning, the door seeming to push back against him, and he snarls. There is nothing in the universe that will ever keep her from him, even if the thing he must fight against is Piper herself.
Slowly, much too slowly, the door budges inch by inch until finally there is enough space for Spock to fall through. Piper has moved away from the door, thrown herself into the corner, her knees pulled up and her face half hidden behind them. She looks at him, equal parts terrified and so painfully desperate that it stops Spock in his tracks.
"I… I didn't think you'd actually do it," she murmurs into her knees. Spock's face softens and he crosses the few short steps and slides down the wall until they are sitting side by side, their shoulders touching.
"I told you once before, t'hy'la," he responds, her face turning just enough so that she can look up at him through her bangs. "I will always find you, even when you are lost to yourself."
Piper tenses, her eyes opening almost comically wide as she scrambles up to her knees. She reaches out, one hand hovering over his cheek, but hesitating at the last moment before contact. Spock watches her calmly, and silent tears pour out of her eyes once again.
"S-Spock? Is this… are you really… are you really here?"
Spock responds by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his lap. She falls forward, squeaking adorably in shock as she straddles his legs, and suddenly she is there, Spock can touch her. A shuddering gasp leaves him, and he cradles her face within his hands, all of her turbulent emotions exploding across his mind as he places gentle kisses where tears leak out of her eyes. She throws her arms around his neck and sobs.
"Oh my god, Spock, how did you even find me? I died. Again."
Pain squeezes around his katra and he presses her more firmly against him.
"You are the other half of my soul, my kindred one, my dear heart. There is nowhere in the universe you can go that I will not follow."
Piper pulls back to look at him, her blue eyes glittering with her tears, the skin around them swollen and puffy. Her cheeks are flushed with the agitation to her nervous system, and she bears signs of dried mucus on her skin. Yet despite all of this, Spock is utterly enchanted at the sight of her.
He has never seen a more beautiful sight.
She watches him watching her, sniffling quietly as the last of her tears dry up.
"How… how are you here, Spock?" she asks him softly, her hand coming up to gently touch the point of his chin. His eyes close in rapturous bliss at the feel of her touch, at the prickle of her emotions on the fringes of his mind. He lets out a shuddering breath, reaching up and grabbing her wrist. Slowly, gently, so she can see his intentions and pull away if she desires, Spock opens his eyes, and brings her hand up to his mouth, kissing every one of her finger tips.
The strangled gasp that catches in her throat is the sweetest music for his soul.
"Before you died -"
"You mean the first time?" she asks dryly. Spock feels a ghost of his despair pull at him, but allows it to pass. With her here, and so very alive, and pressed into his lap, there is no room for despair. He shakes his head, feeling a fond smile pull his lips up in a smile that has Piper's eyes widening in shock.
"Hush, dear one," he gently chides, brushing a lock of her hair tenderly behind her ear. Her freckles stand out as there is a light dusting of pink across her cheeks.
"Before you died, and yes, the first time, you and I had created a bond," Spock begins, voice quiet and heavy with the weight of everything he has been holding back. "This bond was spontaneously created through the nature of our close and frequent proximity, and because of what we are to one another. When you passed, I felt the bond break. This broken bond, while dead and akin to an infectious wound, was, at one point, a connection between our souls. After your second passing, I demanded the assistance of a Vulcan Mind Healer to perform a special type of meditation that I hoped would guide me to wherever it was your soul had traveled to."
Piper's blue, blue eyes blink as she absorbs the information, looking dumbstruck.
"So… I'm sorry, this is a lot to process all at once. We're bonded?"
Spock's face falls.
"No, t'hy'la. Not anymore. Your first death broke the bond, and we have not taken steps to forge a new one. Being on leave, we are also not in close enough proximity to form another spontaneous bond with one another."
Piper narrows her eyes at Spock, poking him sharply in the chest.
"See, that's what I don't understand. How does that even happen? Everything I've read about bonds makes them sound… sacred, and intentional. They don't just happen to people."
Spock grimaces and nods.
"Typically, this is the case, yes. However, the bond we shared was… unique."
Piper's eyes narrow even further and she leans back on Spock's thighs, crossing her arms and raising a pointed eyebrow. Spock sighs and lets his head fall back against the bulkhead behind him.
"Why do I feel like you're dancing around a lot of important information right now, Spock?" she asks tartly.
"Likely because I am being vague with details of important information" he quips. This makes her blink again, looking thrown. She scrunches her nose adorably in confusion.
"I halfway don't believe that you're really Spock, to be honest. You're being… really weird." Spock tilts his head, and brings up a hand to trace his fingertip lightly over the apple of her cheek. He relishes the shiver he feels run down her spine.
"In what way?" he asks, his voice hushed with curiosity. Piper blushes once again and swats his hand away.
"In this way! Doing this stuff! And the whole smiling thing you keep doing! And - and - it's just weird! You're never like this!" Spock feels his chest shake with a chuckle that rumbles out of his chest. Piper flails her arms pointedly.
"And now you're laughing! What the fuck is going on with you, Spock?!"
Spock feels his face break out in a huge grin and does nothing to deter it, amused by the sputtering noises that Piper makes at the sight.
"You are someone that I will never hide from, Piper. When I told you that you are singular in your importance to me, I do not believe that you truly grasped the full breadth and scope of my meaning."
Piper blanches.
"What… what are you talking about, Spock?"
Spock holds his breath for a moment, brown eyes tracing over her face, thoughtful. They darken with decision and intent as he brings his hands up and cups Piper's face, gently stroking a thumb over her cheeks. She does nothing to quell the way her breath catches, or how her tongue pokes out to wet her suddenly dry lips. Spock sits up, bringing their faces much closer. Piper jerks, reaching up to hold his wrists suddenly at the quick movement when her center of balance is thrown by his sudden shift in weight. He feels the crackle of her hope, her desire, from the moment her skin brushes with him, and it makes the muscles in his stomach quiver in anticipation.
"I believe that it would be best, in this case, to show rather than tell," Spock murmurs softly, brown eyes sinking deep into the ocean blue gazing up at him. He watches her pupils dilate, feels her breath whoosh out of her lungs and spread across her face and, slowly - once again to give her the out - begins to lower his mouth to hers.
The warm press of their lips sends a shock of electricity through Spock's entire body as they mold their mouths together. He tastes the whimper she cannot hold back, swallows it down, traces the seam of her mouth with his tongue in search of more, ruthlessly takes advantage of her gasp of pleasure to sink into her, explore her, taste her.
Perfection.