Fic: Through the Glass Darkly (Kirk/Spock)
Title: Through the Glass Darkly
Author: jenlynn820
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: Movie Spoilers
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Paramount and Gene Roddenberry. I make no profit from these works.
Summary: Jim Kirk got a lot more from that mind meld than he ever bargained for.
Beta: eruberueth
Notes: Title from the Annie Lennox song of the same name.
*This fic has been translated into Chinese by lirulien and can be found here.
Functioning on no sleep wasn’t the greatest idea for anyone, let alone a Starfleet captain. The fact that there was really no reason for Jim’s insomnia was particularly annoying. Well, maybe there was a reason, just not a good one as far as Jim was concerned. Thinking on it though, maybe it wasn’t caused by the reason he thought it was, maybe it was caused by some other reason. Like stress. Yes, stress. Stress over his brand new captaincy and the Enterprise’s first official engagement on their newly commissioned five year mission.
Of course, that rationale for why Jim couldn’t sleep was complete and utter bullshit. Jim was never prone to insomnia. Not during his incredibly rigorous course-load at the Academy. Not the night before he broke into the lab to reprogram the computer to let him beat Spock’s little no-win scenario. Not ever, when it came down to it. So the idea that Jim was having sleepless nights because the Enterprise was on its first mission, which was a simple ferry ride to bring the Andorian Ambassador back to Andoria, was ludicrous in the extreme. Especially in light of the fact that it was only a few weeks since Jim and the Enterprise had saved Earth and pretty much the rest of the Federation along with it and that hadn’t kept him from sleeping. Then again… he was only acting Captain then and this mission was official…
“Don’t kid a kidder, Jim,” he said out loud in his best McCoy impersonation. Which was pretty damn good if you asked Jim. That is, after all, what the good doctor would say to him if he suggested his insomnia had anything to do with anything other than that blasted mind meld with Spock’s older counterpart. Yep, that’s exactly what Bones would say if Jim had talked to him about the fact that he hadn’t slept at all in almost three days and the week before that had maybe gotten two hours a night.
But Jim hadn’t talked to anyone. Couldn’t talk to anyone. Not even McCoy, his best friend, if he had such a thing. He knew he should talk to McCoy, for at least two reasons. One being he was the ship’s chief medical officer and if the captain couldn’t sleep that was a potentially serious issue regarding his ability to do his job. And two, being that he was in fact his closest friend not just on the ship but in the galaxy, Jim should be able to confide in him. And yet… and yet he couldn’t.
There was something about that mind meld. Something incredibly… intimate. Something that had shaken Jim to his core. At first it was the grief. Spock’s overwhelming, debilitating grief at watching his world and his people ripped asunder. Then it was Spock’s guilt that walloped Jim in the gut like a sucker punch, knocking the air out of him. It felt like his own grief, his own guilt. Like he’d watched Earth implode, watched helplessly as his people died and known it was his fault.
Jim had somehow reasoned his way out of that hole of emotional despair. It wasn’t his to hold on to. It was then that more emotion that wasn’t his flooded into him. These feelings were wholly different though. These weren’t about sadness and horror and death and destruction. He felt something else that Spock had left behind. There was a purity to these emotions. They were filled with light and hope and warmth. It was how Spock had felt upon seeing him. Young James T. Kirk. Alive and well and young and-and beautiful. Yes, that was what Spock’s first thought was. Jim Kirk alive, his heart pumping hard in his chest, his eyes flashing. Alive and not dead. Not buried under the rocks and rubble on some godforsaken planet where Spock would never touch his mind-never touch him again.
The mind meld was an act of logic, of course. It was the best and easiest way to explain everything to Jim. It was logic that made Spock ask if he could join their minds. But that wasn’t his only motive. He had wanted to know this young man that was Jim Kirk. And knew him he did. Jim had felt that, too. Felt the knowing, the understanding that went beyond anything Jim had ever felt. No one had ever known Jim this way.
Of course, it wasn’t him that this Spock knew. It was another James Tiberius Kirk. A different man. And yet the same man. Unlike memories that tended to fade with time the mind meld became clearer as time went on. As his mind sifted through the flood of emotions and images things became clearer to Jim. He had memories that were the other Kirk’s. He saw flashes of a life he hadn’t lived and yet had lived. He felt emotions that he had no right to feel and yet had every right to.
He saw a life and a relationship that went beyond friendship, beyond love, beyond the deepest of bonds. A trust between two beings that Jim never dreamt he would have, living a life of self-reliance where he was sure the only person he could really trust was himself. But he had felt the very essence of it. Had felt the strength and purpose that came from trusting another so fully, with not just your life but your very soul. When his and Spock’s mind were one, when they were more than just the sum of their singular selves, he had felt that bond as surely as if it was his own.
It was why, he realized now, that saying goodbye to Spock on Delta Vega was like a knife twisting in his belly. It was why when he saw the other Spock, the Spock he didn’t know at all, it had been so hard to hurt him. So hard to taunt him with those cruel words. Why he had barely fought back as that Spock--young and hurting in the same way as the Spock whose mind he’d touched--had beaten on him and just about choked him to death.
Jim had seen a life that wasn’t his and was his all at the same time. He had met a man who he shared deep emotions with who he didn’t really know at all. And that man was gone now and yet that man was right here on this ship, all at the same time.
Jim shook his head now, rubbing at his temples. Temporal mechanics gave him a headache. Or maybe it was another residual effect of the mind meld. “Mind meld with a guy and don’t even make him breakfast in the morning, thanks a lot, Spock,” he said, getting up from his bed. He walked across the room and into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face. When he was back in his bedroom he pulled some pants on and a shirt. “Computer, time?”
“It is 0300 hours, Captain.”
“Great,” he said. He walked out of his quarters and down the hall. Maybe a walk would clear his head. At the very least he might find something to do other than think. He wound his way through the corridors and into the turbo lift and eventually found himself in the mess hall. He got himself a cup of coffee which tasted like metal and made him miss the stuff you could get back in Iowa. With his mug in hand he left the mess hall and continued his walking tour of the ship until he found himself in a quiet spot with a window looking out on the streaking stars.
He took a sip and let his mind go quiet for what felt like the first time in ages.
“Trouble sleeping, Captain?” a steady voice asked.
Jim felt his insides twist and forced himself to smile over at Spock. “Just stretching my legs. What about you, Spock?”
“What about me, sir?”
Jim rolled his eyes. “What has you roaming the corridors at this hour?”
“As I am sure you know, Captain, Vulcans require far less sleep than humans. I have three duty shifts throughout the day.”
“Right, of course,” Jim said, returning his gaze to the window.
Spock came a little closer and looked out. “We are due to arrive at Andoria at precisely 0800, sir. The engines are performing past peak efficiency thanks to Mr. Scott.”
Jim nodded. “Did we get our next assignment yet? Wasn’t that due to come in today?”
“Yes, it was. However, Lieutenant Uhura has informed me that some unknown interference garbled the message. She is requesting Starfleet resend the transmission. I am certain we will have our orders within the hour.”
“Good. Thanks, Spock,” Jim said.
“I am simply performing my duties, Captain,” he said.
Jim smirked and silence fell between them again. Jim imagined that he and Spock-the other he and the other Spock-could probably spend hours together and never speak and feel completely at peace. But all this silence did was make him jittery. “Something else I can do for you, Mr. Spock?”
“Yes, Captain, as a matter of fact there is,” he said.
Jim looked over at the Vulcan now. “Go on,” he said.
“I feel you have me at a disadvantage. Ever since your return from Delta Vega you have acted as if you’re familiar with me. And somehow you are. In addition we are getting along, as you humans would say.”
A laugh escaped Jim’s mouth. “Don’t you like getting along, Spock? It’s better than being at each other’s throats. Literally in one of our cases.”
Spock arched an eyebrow. “You provoked me specifically to achieve that response. It was a tactical decision and the correct one as it turns out. I had presumed we were even.”
Jim sighed. “We are even, Spock. I got what I wanted when you attacked me.”
“Indeed. You became Captain. Just as my other self wanted. Am I correct?”
Jim exhaled. So now they came to it. “You know about that?”
Spock inclined his head. “I had occasion to meet myself. A rather surreal experience.”
“I bet,” Jim said. “So what did you have to say to yourself?”
“Ambassador Spock urged me to remain in Starfleet. To do what felt right,” Spock said.
“What felt right, huh? Interesting advice from a Vulcan.”
“I thought so as well. He told me that he could not deprive me of the revelation of all you and I could accomplish together. Of a friendship that will define us both.”
Jim’s throat got tight. “Is that what he said?”
“Yes,” Spock said. “And I sense you know this. You know of our friendship-their friendship.”
Jim nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said.
“He told you the same things, then?” When Jim said nothing Spock’s eyes narrowed. “No, not told. I see.”
“See what?” Jim asked, his throat dry, his voice rough.
“The only explanation. Why you trusted him so fully. Why you now look at me as though you know me better than I know myself. A mind meld.”
Jim breathed in and then exhaled slowly. “Yes. The easiest way to convince me, to explain it all…”
“It is not normal for our kind to join with non-Vulcans,” Spock said.
“Is it normal for homicidal Romulans to alter timelines and kill parents we both should have known well into our lives?”
“Indeed,” Spock said. He was quiet for a moment and then met Kirk’s eyes again. “May I?”
“May you-oh, wait just a God damned minute. You want to mind meld with me? What is it with you Vulcans? Can’t we just talk?”
“As you must know after experiencing the meld talking is not at all sufficient,” Spock said.
Jim looked into Spock’s liquid brown eyes. They should have been alien, dark and impenetrable and yet they were expressive and open and Jim almost thought he could see right into Spock’s soul. “Why not?” he said, his voice a whisper that only Spock could hear. Yeah, why not? Who else could he tell? Who else could share this burden?
Spock edged closer and extended his hand. Jim felt his stomach flutter when the heat of Spock’s fingertips pressed against his face. “My mind to your mind,” Spock intoned, “your thoughts to my thoughts.”
Jim swallowed hard as his heart slammed wildly in his chest. Then, all at once, the anxiety, the turmoil, the confusion he’d felt for weeks now evaporated. It was like slipping into a warm bath, feeling all the tension in your muscles melt away. He knew the mind that touched his. It felt the same as the other Spock’s and yet different. Pieces were missing, pieces that grounded that Spock. He felt the barely tamed rage, the incredible agony, the fiery passion that burned in this man’s blood. The thing that was missing, the thing that tempered the other Spock, was him. Was Jim Kirk. The other one and this one. For they were indeed the same. The same in every way that mattered. On Delta Vega Spock had sent Jim away and Jim knew, and now this Spock knew that it had almost broken him to do so but he wanted to give Jim to his young self. Because they needed each other.
Jim let out a soft moan when the meld ended. He was alone inside his head again. He was just himself now, not the whole they had created that was greater than Jim Kirk or Commander Spock. But the feelings lingered, the trust, the understanding. Spock’s fingers lingered as well, still touching Jim’s face. Their eyes were locked and now Jim could see into Spock’s soul. Could see everything this man was and would be stretched out before them. The things they could be together. “Spock,” he said.
The Vulcan’s fingertips smoothed lightly down Jim’s face, along the line of his cheekbone and then so gently over his lips before pulling away only to be replaced by the sudden onslaught of Spock's mouth. It was the wildest, truest kiss Jim had ever experienced. It grabbed hold of his entire being, made his heart race, his body tremble as he snatched hold of Spock’s arms, needing something solid and real to cling to.
It ended as quickly as it had begun and left Jim reeling, the coffee cup broken in two at his feet, the liquid seeping into the carpet. Jim turned and faced the window again, hands braced against the wall. He could feel Spock’s presence at his side and took a breath before looking over at the Vulcan. “If you say forgive me I’m going to throw you out of that airlock,” he said, head jerking to indicate the one he meant.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Murder is a highly illogical reaction to an apology,” Spock said, not asking how Jim knew what he was about to say. They both knew how.
“Maybe. But it’d feel so good,” Kirk said.
“You are a strange man, Jim,” Spock said.
“Speak for yourself,” Jim said. He waited a few beats. “It felt…”
“Logical,” Spock said. “It is what I have done countless times. And what you have done. What they have done. An expression of understanding. Of abiding-”
The word Spock did not say was love. But Jim didn’t need him to say it. “Fascinating,” Jim said.
Spock narrowed his eyes. “You mock me.”
Jim laughed softly. “No,” he said.
Spock nodded. “No,” he echoed. “This is most peculiar. To know you and yet not. For we are not those men and yet we are.”
“You’re giving me a headache, Spock,” Jim said.
“The meld can often cause such problems in non-Vulcans. If you wish we can proceed to sickbay and Dr. McCoy can give you a shot of lexorin,” he said.
“Oh, no. There’s no way I want to even broach the subject with McCoy. He’d never let me hear the end of it,” Kirk said.
“That is wise. Dalliances between the Captain and those beneath him can be-messy.”
Kirk snorted. “You’re not beneath me yet. And I don’t mind messy. I just want to sort this out before I talk to anyone else.”
Spock nodded. “But this insomnia cannot persist, Jim. It will compromise your ability to command if it does,” he said.
Jim smirked. “I don’t think it’s going to be a problem anymore,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
“A week would not be advisable as we’re due to arrive at Andoria in a little over four hours, Captain.”
“Humor, Spock. The other you got it.”
“I will have to work on it,” Spock said.
“You do that. And clean up this mess, would you? Don’t want stains on my brand new ship,” Jim said.
“I’ll have it seen to,” Spock said.
Jim nodded and started to walk off before stopping and turning. “Do you want to have dinner tonight? My quarters?” he said suddenly.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “A date?”
“Dinner with an old friend.”
Spock inclined his head. “I will be there.”
“Good. And bring a bottle of my favorite wine,” he said, pointing at Spock as he turned to walk away.
“I don’t believe I know which one that is,” Spock said.
“Yeah, you do,” Jim said, grinning to himself as he entered the turbo lift. He got off on his floor and was about to enter his quarters when McCoy stepped out of his.
“Getting back from a hot date?” McCoy said.
A grin spread across Jim’s face. “A captain has to have his fun, Bones.”
“Who is she? That blonde yeoman? Janice something?”
“Get to work, Doctor.”
“Goodnight, sir,” McCoy said.
Jim was about to enter his room when he stopped. “Hey, Bones? Know any good Vulcan recipes?”
“I’m a doctor, Jim, not a chef,” he said.
Jim laughed hard. “See you later,” he said and went into his quarters. He dimmed the lights and slipped out of his clothes and into bed. He closed his eyes and let the images come into his mind. But these weren’t the jumbled nightmares and aching confusion that had kept him from sleep. These were the soft caress of a mind he knew as well as his own, the sensation of sinking into sheer warmth. A smile curled the corners of Jim’s mouth as he drifted off, the promise of a future with someone with whom he was more than he was alone, unfolding in front of him.
~fin~
Author: jenlynn820
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: Movie Spoilers
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Paramount and Gene Roddenberry. I make no profit from these works.
Summary: Jim Kirk got a lot more from that mind meld than he ever bargained for.
Beta: eruberueth
Notes: Title from the Annie Lennox song of the same name.
*This fic has been translated into Chinese by lirulien and can be found here.
Functioning on no sleep wasn’t the greatest idea for anyone, let alone a Starfleet captain. The fact that there was really no reason for Jim’s insomnia was particularly annoying. Well, maybe there was a reason, just not a good one as far as Jim was concerned. Thinking on it though, maybe it wasn’t caused by the reason he thought it was, maybe it was caused by some other reason. Like stress. Yes, stress. Stress over his brand new captaincy and the Enterprise’s first official engagement on their newly commissioned five year mission.
Of course, that rationale for why Jim couldn’t sleep was complete and utter bullshit. Jim was never prone to insomnia. Not during his incredibly rigorous course-load at the Academy. Not the night before he broke into the lab to reprogram the computer to let him beat Spock’s little no-win scenario. Not ever, when it came down to it. So the idea that Jim was having sleepless nights because the Enterprise was on its first mission, which was a simple ferry ride to bring the Andorian Ambassador back to Andoria, was ludicrous in the extreme. Especially in light of the fact that it was only a few weeks since Jim and the Enterprise had saved Earth and pretty much the rest of the Federation along with it and that hadn’t kept him from sleeping. Then again… he was only acting Captain then and this mission was official…
“Don’t kid a kidder, Jim,” he said out loud in his best McCoy impersonation. Which was pretty damn good if you asked Jim. That is, after all, what the good doctor would say to him if he suggested his insomnia had anything to do with anything other than that blasted mind meld with Spock’s older counterpart. Yep, that’s exactly what Bones would say if Jim had talked to him about the fact that he hadn’t slept at all in almost three days and the week before that had maybe gotten two hours a night.
But Jim hadn’t talked to anyone. Couldn’t talk to anyone. Not even McCoy, his best friend, if he had such a thing. He knew he should talk to McCoy, for at least two reasons. One being he was the ship’s chief medical officer and if the captain couldn’t sleep that was a potentially serious issue regarding his ability to do his job. And two, being that he was in fact his closest friend not just on the ship but in the galaxy, Jim should be able to confide in him. And yet… and yet he couldn’t.
There was something about that mind meld. Something incredibly… intimate. Something that had shaken Jim to his core. At first it was the grief. Spock’s overwhelming, debilitating grief at watching his world and his people ripped asunder. Then it was Spock’s guilt that walloped Jim in the gut like a sucker punch, knocking the air out of him. It felt like his own grief, his own guilt. Like he’d watched Earth implode, watched helplessly as his people died and known it was his fault.
Jim had somehow reasoned his way out of that hole of emotional despair. It wasn’t his to hold on to. It was then that more emotion that wasn’t his flooded into him. These feelings were wholly different though. These weren’t about sadness and horror and death and destruction. He felt something else that Spock had left behind. There was a purity to these emotions. They were filled with light and hope and warmth. It was how Spock had felt upon seeing him. Young James T. Kirk. Alive and well and young and-and beautiful. Yes, that was what Spock’s first thought was. Jim Kirk alive, his heart pumping hard in his chest, his eyes flashing. Alive and not dead. Not buried under the rocks and rubble on some godforsaken planet where Spock would never touch his mind-never touch him again.
The mind meld was an act of logic, of course. It was the best and easiest way to explain everything to Jim. It was logic that made Spock ask if he could join their minds. But that wasn’t his only motive. He had wanted to know this young man that was Jim Kirk. And knew him he did. Jim had felt that, too. Felt the knowing, the understanding that went beyond anything Jim had ever felt. No one had ever known Jim this way.
Of course, it wasn’t him that this Spock knew. It was another James Tiberius Kirk. A different man. And yet the same man. Unlike memories that tended to fade with time the mind meld became clearer as time went on. As his mind sifted through the flood of emotions and images things became clearer to Jim. He had memories that were the other Kirk’s. He saw flashes of a life he hadn’t lived and yet had lived. He felt emotions that he had no right to feel and yet had every right to.
He saw a life and a relationship that went beyond friendship, beyond love, beyond the deepest of bonds. A trust between two beings that Jim never dreamt he would have, living a life of self-reliance where he was sure the only person he could really trust was himself. But he had felt the very essence of it. Had felt the strength and purpose that came from trusting another so fully, with not just your life but your very soul. When his and Spock’s mind were one, when they were more than just the sum of their singular selves, he had felt that bond as surely as if it was his own.
It was why, he realized now, that saying goodbye to Spock on Delta Vega was like a knife twisting in his belly. It was why when he saw the other Spock, the Spock he didn’t know at all, it had been so hard to hurt him. So hard to taunt him with those cruel words. Why he had barely fought back as that Spock--young and hurting in the same way as the Spock whose mind he’d touched--had beaten on him and just about choked him to death.
Jim had seen a life that wasn’t his and was his all at the same time. He had met a man who he shared deep emotions with who he didn’t really know at all. And that man was gone now and yet that man was right here on this ship, all at the same time.
Jim shook his head now, rubbing at his temples. Temporal mechanics gave him a headache. Or maybe it was another residual effect of the mind meld. “Mind meld with a guy and don’t even make him breakfast in the morning, thanks a lot, Spock,” he said, getting up from his bed. He walked across the room and into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face. When he was back in his bedroom he pulled some pants on and a shirt. “Computer, time?”
“It is 0300 hours, Captain.”
“Great,” he said. He walked out of his quarters and down the hall. Maybe a walk would clear his head. At the very least he might find something to do other than think. He wound his way through the corridors and into the turbo lift and eventually found himself in the mess hall. He got himself a cup of coffee which tasted like metal and made him miss the stuff you could get back in Iowa. With his mug in hand he left the mess hall and continued his walking tour of the ship until he found himself in a quiet spot with a window looking out on the streaking stars.
He took a sip and let his mind go quiet for what felt like the first time in ages.
“Trouble sleeping, Captain?” a steady voice asked.
Jim felt his insides twist and forced himself to smile over at Spock. “Just stretching my legs. What about you, Spock?”
“What about me, sir?”
Jim rolled his eyes. “What has you roaming the corridors at this hour?”
“As I am sure you know, Captain, Vulcans require far less sleep than humans. I have three duty shifts throughout the day.”
“Right, of course,” Jim said, returning his gaze to the window.
Spock came a little closer and looked out. “We are due to arrive at Andoria at precisely 0800, sir. The engines are performing past peak efficiency thanks to Mr. Scott.”
Jim nodded. “Did we get our next assignment yet? Wasn’t that due to come in today?”
“Yes, it was. However, Lieutenant Uhura has informed me that some unknown interference garbled the message. She is requesting Starfleet resend the transmission. I am certain we will have our orders within the hour.”
“Good. Thanks, Spock,” Jim said.
“I am simply performing my duties, Captain,” he said.
Jim smirked and silence fell between them again. Jim imagined that he and Spock-the other he and the other Spock-could probably spend hours together and never speak and feel completely at peace. But all this silence did was make him jittery. “Something else I can do for you, Mr. Spock?”
“Yes, Captain, as a matter of fact there is,” he said.
Jim looked over at the Vulcan now. “Go on,” he said.
“I feel you have me at a disadvantage. Ever since your return from Delta Vega you have acted as if you’re familiar with me. And somehow you are. In addition we are getting along, as you humans would say.”
A laugh escaped Jim’s mouth. “Don’t you like getting along, Spock? It’s better than being at each other’s throats. Literally in one of our cases.”
Spock arched an eyebrow. “You provoked me specifically to achieve that response. It was a tactical decision and the correct one as it turns out. I had presumed we were even.”
Jim sighed. “We are even, Spock. I got what I wanted when you attacked me.”
“Indeed. You became Captain. Just as my other self wanted. Am I correct?”
Jim exhaled. So now they came to it. “You know about that?”
Spock inclined his head. “I had occasion to meet myself. A rather surreal experience.”
“I bet,” Jim said. “So what did you have to say to yourself?”
“Ambassador Spock urged me to remain in Starfleet. To do what felt right,” Spock said.
“What felt right, huh? Interesting advice from a Vulcan.”
“I thought so as well. He told me that he could not deprive me of the revelation of all you and I could accomplish together. Of a friendship that will define us both.”
Jim’s throat got tight. “Is that what he said?”
“Yes,” Spock said. “And I sense you know this. You know of our friendship-their friendship.”
Jim nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said.
“He told you the same things, then?” When Jim said nothing Spock’s eyes narrowed. “No, not told. I see.”
“See what?” Jim asked, his throat dry, his voice rough.
“The only explanation. Why you trusted him so fully. Why you now look at me as though you know me better than I know myself. A mind meld.”
Jim breathed in and then exhaled slowly. “Yes. The easiest way to convince me, to explain it all…”
“It is not normal for our kind to join with non-Vulcans,” Spock said.
“Is it normal for homicidal Romulans to alter timelines and kill parents we both should have known well into our lives?”
“Indeed,” Spock said. He was quiet for a moment and then met Kirk’s eyes again. “May I?”
“May you-oh, wait just a God damned minute. You want to mind meld with me? What is it with you Vulcans? Can’t we just talk?”
“As you must know after experiencing the meld talking is not at all sufficient,” Spock said.
Jim looked into Spock’s liquid brown eyes. They should have been alien, dark and impenetrable and yet they were expressive and open and Jim almost thought he could see right into Spock’s soul. “Why not?” he said, his voice a whisper that only Spock could hear. Yeah, why not? Who else could he tell? Who else could share this burden?
Spock edged closer and extended his hand. Jim felt his stomach flutter when the heat of Spock’s fingertips pressed against his face. “My mind to your mind,” Spock intoned, “your thoughts to my thoughts.”
Jim swallowed hard as his heart slammed wildly in his chest. Then, all at once, the anxiety, the turmoil, the confusion he’d felt for weeks now evaporated. It was like slipping into a warm bath, feeling all the tension in your muscles melt away. He knew the mind that touched his. It felt the same as the other Spock’s and yet different. Pieces were missing, pieces that grounded that Spock. He felt the barely tamed rage, the incredible agony, the fiery passion that burned in this man’s blood. The thing that was missing, the thing that tempered the other Spock, was him. Was Jim Kirk. The other one and this one. For they were indeed the same. The same in every way that mattered. On Delta Vega Spock had sent Jim away and Jim knew, and now this Spock knew that it had almost broken him to do so but he wanted to give Jim to his young self. Because they needed each other.
Jim let out a soft moan when the meld ended. He was alone inside his head again. He was just himself now, not the whole they had created that was greater than Jim Kirk or Commander Spock. But the feelings lingered, the trust, the understanding. Spock’s fingers lingered as well, still touching Jim’s face. Their eyes were locked and now Jim could see into Spock’s soul. Could see everything this man was and would be stretched out before them. The things they could be together. “Spock,” he said.
The Vulcan’s fingertips smoothed lightly down Jim’s face, along the line of his cheekbone and then so gently over his lips before pulling away only to be replaced by the sudden onslaught of Spock's mouth. It was the wildest, truest kiss Jim had ever experienced. It grabbed hold of his entire being, made his heart race, his body tremble as he snatched hold of Spock’s arms, needing something solid and real to cling to.
It ended as quickly as it had begun and left Jim reeling, the coffee cup broken in two at his feet, the liquid seeping into the carpet. Jim turned and faced the window again, hands braced against the wall. He could feel Spock’s presence at his side and took a breath before looking over at the Vulcan. “If you say forgive me I’m going to throw you out of that airlock,” he said, head jerking to indicate the one he meant.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Murder is a highly illogical reaction to an apology,” Spock said, not asking how Jim knew what he was about to say. They both knew how.
“Maybe. But it’d feel so good,” Kirk said.
“You are a strange man, Jim,” Spock said.
“Speak for yourself,” Jim said. He waited a few beats. “It felt…”
“Logical,” Spock said. “It is what I have done countless times. And what you have done. What they have done. An expression of understanding. Of abiding-”
The word Spock did not say was love. But Jim didn’t need him to say it. “Fascinating,” Jim said.
Spock narrowed his eyes. “You mock me.”
Jim laughed softly. “No,” he said.
Spock nodded. “No,” he echoed. “This is most peculiar. To know you and yet not. For we are not those men and yet we are.”
“You’re giving me a headache, Spock,” Jim said.
“The meld can often cause such problems in non-Vulcans. If you wish we can proceed to sickbay and Dr. McCoy can give you a shot of lexorin,” he said.
“Oh, no. There’s no way I want to even broach the subject with McCoy. He’d never let me hear the end of it,” Kirk said.
“That is wise. Dalliances between the Captain and those beneath him can be-messy.”
Kirk snorted. “You’re not beneath me yet. And I don’t mind messy. I just want to sort this out before I talk to anyone else.”
Spock nodded. “But this insomnia cannot persist, Jim. It will compromise your ability to command if it does,” he said.
Jim smirked. “I don’t think it’s going to be a problem anymore,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
“A week would not be advisable as we’re due to arrive at Andoria in a little over four hours, Captain.”
“Humor, Spock. The other you got it.”
“I will have to work on it,” Spock said.
“You do that. And clean up this mess, would you? Don’t want stains on my brand new ship,” Jim said.
“I’ll have it seen to,” Spock said.
Jim nodded and started to walk off before stopping and turning. “Do you want to have dinner tonight? My quarters?” he said suddenly.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “A date?”
“Dinner with an old friend.”
Spock inclined his head. “I will be there.”
“Good. And bring a bottle of my favorite wine,” he said, pointing at Spock as he turned to walk away.
“I don’t believe I know which one that is,” Spock said.
“Yeah, you do,” Jim said, grinning to himself as he entered the turbo lift. He got off on his floor and was about to enter his quarters when McCoy stepped out of his.
“Getting back from a hot date?” McCoy said.
A grin spread across Jim’s face. “A captain has to have his fun, Bones.”
“Who is she? That blonde yeoman? Janice something?”
“Get to work, Doctor.”
“Goodnight, sir,” McCoy said.
Jim was about to enter his room when he stopped. “Hey, Bones? Know any good Vulcan recipes?”
“I’m a doctor, Jim, not a chef,” he said.
Jim laughed hard. “See you later,” he said and went into his quarters. He dimmed the lights and slipped out of his clothes and into bed. He closed his eyes and let the images come into his mind. But these weren’t the jumbled nightmares and aching confusion that had kept him from sleep. These were the soft caress of a mind he knew as well as his own, the sensation of sinking into sheer warmth. A smile curled the corners of Jim’s mouth as he drifted off, the promise of a future with someone with whom he was more than he was alone, unfolding in front of him.
~fin~