Looking For Shooting Stars Chapter Ten
Title: Looking For Shooting Stars
Author: Miss Meh
Universe/Series: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kirk/Spock, Amanda/Sarek
Warnings: AU, language, angst, h/c, references to rape
Word Count: 4500
Status: WIP
Summary: Spock and his family have moved to Earth. He has accepted this. But when Jim Kirk moves in next door and Spock accidentally gets a glimpse of the younger boy’s pain, Spock refuses to accept the fact that he cannot help. It may be illogical, but he will unravel the mystery that is Jim Kirk.
A/N: Okay! We are making progress, and somehow I managed to post within my deadline. Who’s excited?!? X
I do need to warn you though that this chapter contains very, VERY strong references to rape (though if you’ve gotten this far, you already know that Jim was raped, so that shouldn’t be an issue).
Without further ado, I give you chapter ten of Looking For Shooting Stars. :)
P.S. Thank you, delu, for being the most awesome beta ever. Seriously, you guys, she’s the shit.
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Chapter Ten: The Window Sill
...I see you sitting there at the window sill
Looking for shooting stars
I wanna get closer and closer still
I wanna take over your heart
You will be mine, mine
Over time, time
You’re gonna find, find
I’ll make you mine, mine…
Jim wasn’t good at being friends with people. None of the people he had ever considered himself friends with had ever stuck around for a long time, and after a while, he had just stopped trying. The situation he found himself in now was even weirder to him than the impulse to become friends in the first place.
Jim knew that Spock was in love with him. He also knew that he was falling in love with the Vulcan. He knew that he didn’t want to lose the Vulcan’s friendship, but how the fuck was he supposed to be friends with the guy when he couldn’t… when he needed… He had to hide his feelings. That was non-negotiable. He was sure that Spock had gotten more than an inkling of what Jim was feeling when they had been in the mind meld, but even so. Jim couldn’t let Spock know that he wanted anything more than friendship.
No, he didn’t want anything more than friendship, not a damn thing. Jim just had to keep telling himself that.
He was somewhat apprehensive about how things would play out after their shared dream the night before. Would Spock say something about it when he met Jim outside of his door that morning? Would he ask him about the beatings or…?
It turned out that he didn’t have to worry too much. Sure, Spock tried to make conversation as they walked to class, but he didn’t bring up what had happened while they slept. Jim didn’t know how to handle it, so he, in turn, ended up giving Spock the occasional monosyllabic answer.
It didn’t get better as the day went on, though by the time they were on their way home after school, Jim had stopped worrying about Spock bringing up the giant fucking elephant that seemed to have been following them around all day.
And then there was dinner. Amanda had made the most amazing vegetarian lasagna. He didn’t know how she made vegetables taste so damn good. It was a smorgasbord of noodle-y, cheesy, vegetable-y goodness-so good in fact that Jim didn’t even care that it was made with non-dairy cheese substitute. Hell, he had eaten worse things in his life. For a moment, Jim couldn’t help but be grateful that he had chosen to remain friends with Spock, if only because he got to keep eating Amanda’s cooking.
The conversation didn’t hurt either. Jim had been irrationally worried when they had first gotten there that Amanda and Sarek would ask him about his relationship with their son or about Tarsus or about Frank. He knew now that they knew about all of it. They knew that their son was in love with him. They knew that Jim had almost been a victim of genocide on Tarsus IV. He was also almost positive that they knew that when he went home, Frank would probably beat the shit out of him. But they didn’t say anything, and to Jim it was a huge relief. Slowly, he allowed himself to relax.
Then it came time for him to go home, and for the first time since he had started joining them for dinner, Amanda said, “Jim, would you like to stay the night?”
And the elephant in the corner suddenly became very visible.
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Jim was late getting home that night, but some kind of angel must be feeling mercifully or something because Frank wasn’t home yet. Even so, Jim ran all the way to his room just in case, slamming the door and resting back against it, his breath coming in large pants. Tonight had been mostly fine, but the last thirty minutes had just been awkward.
There had been no fucking way he could have accepted Amanda’s invitation. For one thing, if Frank had found out, Jim would have regretted it. Frank’s beating would have doubled in severity, and Jim’s sense of self-preservation just wouldn’t let him go through with it
Besides which, Jim knew that if he had taken them up on it, he would’ve had to endure a sleepless night anyway. Jim hadn’t been able to sleep with someone else in the room (unless sedated, of course) since he had gotten back from Tarsus. It was one of the reasons he hated hospitals. People were always coming and going and coming and going, and Jim didn’t get a single god damned moment of peace.
He finally let himself move away from the door, going to his bed and fishing his notebook out from the space between the mattress and the bed frame. He head was all over the place. He needed to write it down, get his thoughts and feelings in order. He uncapped the pen and rested the end against his lips as he thought. Then he lowered his hand and began to write.
I am so fucking confused.
Jim lifted the pen, not quite knowing what to say next. It was a good start, but he needed to say more. He needed to get all of it down, and since he hadn’t had a chance to write since the night before last, there were a lot of things he needed to recount.
Spock has formed some kind of freaky alien sex bond with me. He knows about Tarsus. He suspects that Frank is the one kicking the shit out of me, and I don’t think there is any way I can persuade him that he’s wrong. He’s been spying on my fucking dreams. God, he’s such a bastard!
Jim broke off again, anger filling him, his fist clenching hard around the pen. He breathed in and out for a moment in an attempt to calm himself down. It didn’t pay to get upset about it now.
What’s done is done. He’s still a bastard, but I’m falling in love with him anyway. God damn it, what the fuck am I supposed to do about that. I really can’t return Spock’s feelings the way he wants me to. If I show any of it openly and Frank finds out about it, he will kill me. I’ll end up a bloody smear on the living room floor. There won’t even be enough of me left to make an identification. I want it so bad though. I want to allow myself to trust him. I want to not worry about Frank for once. I don’t want to kick him out of my life. I love the guy. I guess the only thing I can do right now is try to be his friend. Like, actually make an effort this time. I can’t keep freezing him out, or he’s gonna get fed up and stop trying. A part of me still thinks that, even though I saw into his head. Fuck, I know it’s not true, but I still can’t… I can’t just… Fuck it all. I need to make an effort. That is exactly what I need to do. I need to try to keep him interested even if I’m pretty sure he won’t abandon me. I’ve gotta try to talk to him. I’ve gotta...
Jim stopped. He didn’t know exactly what he had to do. He moved his head from side to side, trying to get the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. Fuck, he couldn’t write anymore. He needed to move
Jim rolled off of the bed and onto his feet. He paced from side to side in his small room. He didn’t know what to do. He supposed he would just have to see Spock tomorrow and actually talk to him this time.
He turned to make another round of the room only to pause when he noticed a pair of brown eyes staring at him through the gap in the curtains he had closed the night before. Jim gasped. Spock was staring at him from his own bedroom.
Jim marched over to his window and threw open the curtains. There was no time like the present to start on his new plan. He was going to have a conversation with the Vulcan bastard if it was the last thing he did.
“You’re a bit of a creeper,” Jim said. “You know that, right?”
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Spock tilted his head. He had no understanding of the word ‘creeper’, but he could extrapolate from its meaning from its root word.
“What are you doing anyway?” Jim asked him. “Other than looking at me, of course.”
“I was looking at the stars,” Spock replied. “Well, what I can see of them, in any case.” There was not a great deal of space between his house and Jim’s, and as such, much of his view of the night sky was obstructed. “I have always been fascinated by space. There is so much to explore, so much to discover.”
Jim’s nose wrinkled, and his brow furled. “Fuck space. I hate it.”
Spock could feel his face twisting into an expression of confusion. “Why do you hate space, Jim?”
Jim hesitated for a moment, as though unsure whether he wanted to say anything at all. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. “I don’t have a good history with it,” he responded slowly. “I’m sure you know some of it already. Aside from the shit that went down on Tarsus, my past is public record. It’s taken everything from me. My dad, my mom, Sam. They all left me for space. They left me here alone with that asshole, Frank.” Jim shook his head angrily, not saying any more.
Spock nodded in understanding. “I can see why you would feel that way.”
“Sometimes I do that too though,” Jim added suddenly. “Look at the stars, I mean. I’ve always wanted to see a shooting star, but…” he trailed off
Spock could comprehend this as well. “Shooting stars represent hope,” he told Jim in a gentle voice. “It is only natural that you would look elsewhere for something that you yourself lack.”
Jim did not respond, but his eyes grew wide with something like panic. Spock could see it as plain as day, and this in itself brought a moment of clarity. Jim was scared. He was terrified to let himself hope. He was worried that if he did, his hopes would be crushed and he would be left in a position worse than the one he was in now. Spock didn’t know how to reassure him that he would not let it happen. No matter what took place, Spock would make sure that Jim’s quality of life improved. He would never allow Jim’s hopes to be crushed.
“I have always wished to explore space, and I believe the best way do so is to join Starfleet. I know that you are not Starfleet’s “biggest fan”, as my mother would say, but I believe that it is the only way that I can travel in space and study it simultaneously.” He catalogued Jim’s expression and noticed that the human looked intrigued. “What are your plans for the future? Your parents were in Starfleet; do you have any intentions of following in their footsteps?”
Jim looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I…” Jim paused to think for a moment. “My gut reaction would be to say ‘hell, no’ and leave it at that, but I can’t say that without lying through my teeth.” He shook his head. “I hate space, but there’s just something about it. I’ve always had the feeling that Earth was too small, and space, well, it’s endless. There are no limits; there’s nothing to hold you back. And that is what I want,” he admitted. “Someday anyways. I don’t want to be confined anymore.”
Spock could only stare at him for several long seconds, an idea forming in his head that made him unspeakably happy to think about. “Jim, would you by any chance be interested in joining Starfleet with me? We could explore it together. We could protect each other. We could…”
“Do you…” Jim interrupted. “Do you mean it?” The human looked terrified at the prospect. “’Cause if you do… If you really mean it, then I…” He didn’t say any more, just waited for Spock to answer him.
“Jim,” Spock said, his tone serious. “You are already aware that I am in love with you. You are my t’hy’la. There is nothing that I would not do for you.”
“Spock,” Jim replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t.”
And then, he slammed his window shut.
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Jim slid to the floor beneath his window, the claustrophobia already starting to bear down on him. Spock had said it. Spock had said it out loud. A shot of excitement ran through him at the thought. Spock had told him that he loved him in words, and even though he was already well aware of that fact, Jim was still ridiculously happy to hear it stated plainly without all of the other emotions between them getting in the way.
But even if he was happy about it, he still knew he couldn’t do a damn thing to reciprocate. It was why he had reacted as he had. Jim hadn’t been able to bear looking at Spock any longer. He needed the separation, the distance, to keep himself sane.
Jim knew what Frank would do to him if he found out. Jim had gone through countless possibilities in his head during the day, each one more horrific and gruesome than the last. And he also knew that there was probably no way to keep him from finding out, not if things kept going as they were going now. He needed to put a stop to it. He needed to keep all of those feelings locked up so deep inside of him that there was no chance they would ever see the light, and maybe, just maybe, if he did that, then he wouldn’t lose everything he was just beginning to allow himself to hope for. If he could hold onto it for just three short years, he would be free. In three years, he would be eighteen, he would be graduating, and he would be leaving Riverside and never coming back.
Just three years. Jim had survived worse than this, and he would survive this too. Three years, and he could tell Spock how he felt. Three years, and they could sail off in a starship and never look back.
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Spock stared at the window for a long time after Jim had slammed it closed. He did not understand why Jim continued to repudiate him. Spock knew from his contact with Jim’s mind during the meld that the human was in love with him. So why did he continue to deny it? Why did he say “I can’t” like it was tearing him apart just to utter the words? It did not make any sense.
He wandered downstairs, in the need of some advice from one or both of his parents. Perhaps they would be able to tell him why Jim was acting in this peculiar manner.
When he found them, they were reading companionably in the living room, Sarek seated at one corner of the couch while Amanda reclined with her feet in his lap. Spock entered the room slowly and waited for them to notice him.
Sarek was the first to acknowledge his presence. “Spock.”
Amanda looked up, her brow furrowed. “Spock,” she said worriedly as she stood up. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Spock forced himself not to react to the term of endearment. He did not wish for her to know that he drew comfort from it, as he had asked her on multiple occasions to refrain from utilizing them. Despite his attempts to obfuscate the matter, she somehow seemed to know that regardless of what he said, they still had a positive effect on his demeanor.
Spock shook himself free of his thoughts and inhaled deeply. “There has been some advancement with Jim in the past few days, but I am not sure what it means.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Amanda started. Spock couldn’t repress a slight grimace because he did not consider it to be the least bit wonderful. “I see. So whatever it was wasn’t good, was it?”
Spock shook his head, but didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure what to tell them because he didn’t quite know what was going on himself.
“Tell us what happened, Spock,” Sarek commanded.
So he did. He told them about how Jim had been mad at him and how he had asked for forgiveness. He told them about how Jim had requested Spock define the word, t’hy’la, and how he had attempted to do so in human words. He told them about how Jim had gotten angry and how they had melded in their dreams later that night. He told them about how Jim knew about Spock’s feelings and how he now knew that the human was in love with him as well. Spock told them everything, including the fact that Jim had just rejected him through their open windows.
“What did he mean by ‘I can’t’?” Spock asked, his gaze traveling instinctively to his mother, whom he considered the one to ask about human reactions. “I do not understand. I know that he is in love with me, so why can he not be with me?”
“Oh, Spock,” Amanda looked heartbroken. “I don’t know. Humans don’t have singular motivations for doing things. He could have a million different reasons for why he won’t open up to you, and I couldn’t even begin to guess at what those might be. He’s had such a hard life,” she said sadly. “Trust probably doesn’t come easy to him.”
Spock pondered this for a moment. It did make sense, but at the same time, Spock had gotten the sense that Jim did trust him. Or at the very least, he trusted him more than he did anyone else in his life. Besides which, Jim’s reaction earlier still did not seem sensible to Spock. He would have expected his t’hy’la to get angry again, but the human had looked miserable and his voice had reflected as much.
“There is another possibility,” Sarek interrupted Spock’s musings. “You have told me that you suspect his step-father of beating him. It stands to reason that this man may not like the thought of his step-son taking up with a male of a species that is not his own. If this is the case, Jim may be scared of his step-father discovering his feelings for you.” Sarek thought about it for a moment more before nodding his head. “His survival instincts are very strong. It is quite logical.”
Spock deliberated carefully on the matter. If this was true-and considering all he had heard of Frank, the probability was high-then Jim was in more danger than he had realized. He needed to meditate before he did anything else-get his thoughts and emotions in order so that his mind was clear of unnecessary clutter-and then he was going to think of a plan to get Jim out of that house and away from his step-father. He did not care what he had to do to make it happen.
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Jim was scared. Hell, he was fucking terrified.
It was worse than it had been in real life, because this time, he was fully aware of what was going on. He knew what was going to happen to him; he had already lived through it. But he couldn’t stop it. He knew what was going to happen, and he couldn’t fucking stop it.
Hands pressed him down into the ground. They were dirty hands, filthy with a bunch of shit crusted around the nails, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. Everyone was dirty on Tarsus. Nobody had the energy to worry about bathing when they were all starving to death. No, it was what those hands were doing to him-what they planned to do to him-that made him worry.
The fucked up part was that when this had really happened, he hadn’t had the presence of mind to be worried or scared. The guy had offered him food, and Jim had been so hungry. He had had a choice, and he probably would have died if he hadn’t eaten it. He had had a choice, and he had made the wrong one. Like he wasn’t just as hungry as every other person on the fucking planet. They were all hungry, and Jim had made the mistake of thinking that he was special because someone was offering him food. Free food. He should have known that everything had a price. He should have known better. Instead, he had just offered himself up. He deserved it for being so fucking stupid.
Jim remembered the food more than the man who had been holding it. He remembered a thick piece of bread and a bottle of fresh water and a god damned chocolate bar. Jim was sure it was the chocolate bar that had done it. He hadn’t felt it until after he had scarfed it down. He’d just felt heavy at first, like there was a weight on his chest, and then the world had started spinning.
He hadn’t known how he had gotten from there to lying face down in a rotting corn field, a man on top of him pulling his threadbare shorts and boxer briefs from his waist to his ankles. He hadn’t known how long he had been there or what had been going on.
But now he did, and it was so much worse because he knew and he couldn’t do a damn thing to fight back.
He remembered how he would end up though. Beaten and broken, stumbling to his feet with blood and come dripping down his legs and chocolate smeared all over his mouth and cheeks. He remembered that it was the chocolate he had scrubbed at later. The bodily fluids-both his and his rapists-had been easy enough to wipe off because they had still been fresh, but the chocolate had been caked on his face for who knows how long, and he remembered scrubbing and scrubbing until his skin was chafed and almost bleeding, and he just hadn’t wanted to think about it-he just couldn’t think about it-and then he had hidden himself away in a fucking hole in the ground until…
Jim couldn’t let it happen. Not again. But he couldn’t fight back either; he was drugged, and he couldn’t move.
Fuck, if Spock saw this…
Spock, Jim thought the name as a shot of dread ran through him. Spock couldn’t see this. Jim didn’t want him to know. Spock never had to know
If he found out, he would never want to have anything to do with Jim again. Jim had let himself be sullied. He wasn’t clean anymore; he wasn’t whole anymore. He wasn’t good enough for Spock, and he never had been. Even if Spock could forgive all of the things he already knew about, Jim knew that he could never forgive him this. Hell, he had never forgiven himself, so how could he expect Spock to look past it?
He couldn’t let Spock see it. He just couldn’t.
Jim didn’t know how he did it, but a second later he was sitting up in his own bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath in the wake of the nightmare. He could only sit there for a moment, replaying what had almost happened (again) in his mind
Jim pushed himself back so that he was resting against the headboard and put his head down into his hands. Then he looked up again, seeing the light shining from the Vulcan’s room. He was very lucky that Spock hadn’t gone to sleep yet, or he would have seen everything. And Jim knew that he sure as hell couldn’t let Spock witness something like that
Spock would never know. Jim would keep it from him. He would lock it up so deep in his mind that Spock would have to bring dynamite to get through the mental walls he was going to put up to protect it.
And so, Jim leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and started building.
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A/N: So as you guys may be aware, Looking For Shooting stars will soon be coming to an end. Fortunately for all of us, I don’t think I can tell the entire story with the chapters I have left, so I will be doing a sequel. The sequel isn’t going to pick up where LFSS left off, but instead it will take place during Jim’s time at the Academy. I am going to ask you guys to let me know if there is anything you want to see in the next fic. I don’t need you guys to give me a plot; I already have most of that figured out. All I want are general things you would like to see happen, and as long as they don’t conflict with my endgame, I will do my best to work them in. :)
Oh, and don’t forget to tell me how you feel about this chapter, especially the part where Jim is dreaming about the rape. I really want to know what you think. Please and thank you. XD
Chapter Nine: Entwined | Masterpost | Chapter Eleven: Written in Red
Author: Miss Meh
Universe/Series: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kirk/Spock, Amanda/Sarek
Warnings: AU, language, angst, h/c, references to rape
Word Count: 4500
Status: WIP
Summary: Spock and his family have moved to Earth. He has accepted this. But when Jim Kirk moves in next door and Spock accidentally gets a glimpse of the younger boy’s pain, Spock refuses to accept the fact that he cannot help. It may be illogical, but he will unravel the mystery that is Jim Kirk.
A/N: Okay! We are making progress, and somehow I managed to post within my deadline. Who’s excited?!? X
I do need to warn you though that this chapter contains very, VERY strong references to rape (though if you’ve gotten this far, you already know that Jim was raped, so that shouldn’t be an issue).
Without further ado, I give you chapter ten of Looking For Shooting Stars. :)
P.S. Thank you, delu, for being the most awesome beta ever. Seriously, you guys, she’s the shit.
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Chapter Ten: The Window Sill
...I see you sitting there at the window sill
Looking for shooting stars
I wanna get closer and closer still
I wanna take over your heart
You will be mine, mine
Over time, time
You’re gonna find, find
I’ll make you mine, mine…
Jim wasn’t good at being friends with people. None of the people he had ever considered himself friends with had ever stuck around for a long time, and after a while, he had just stopped trying. The situation he found himself in now was even weirder to him than the impulse to become friends in the first place.
Jim knew that Spock was in love with him. He also knew that he was falling in love with the Vulcan. He knew that he didn’t want to lose the Vulcan’s friendship, but how the fuck was he supposed to be friends with the guy when he couldn’t… when he needed… He had to hide his feelings. That was non-negotiable. He was sure that Spock had gotten more than an inkling of what Jim was feeling when they had been in the mind meld, but even so. Jim couldn’t let Spock know that he wanted anything more than friendship.
No, he didn’t want anything more than friendship, not a damn thing. Jim just had to keep telling himself that.
He was somewhat apprehensive about how things would play out after their shared dream the night before. Would Spock say something about it when he met Jim outside of his door that morning? Would he ask him about the beatings or…?
It turned out that he didn’t have to worry too much. Sure, Spock tried to make conversation as they walked to class, but he didn’t bring up what had happened while they slept. Jim didn’t know how to handle it, so he, in turn, ended up giving Spock the occasional monosyllabic answer.
It didn’t get better as the day went on, though by the time they were on their way home after school, Jim had stopped worrying about Spock bringing up the giant fucking elephant that seemed to have been following them around all day.
And then there was dinner. Amanda had made the most amazing vegetarian lasagna. He didn’t know how she made vegetables taste so damn good. It was a smorgasbord of noodle-y, cheesy, vegetable-y goodness-so good in fact that Jim didn’t even care that it was made with non-dairy cheese substitute. Hell, he had eaten worse things in his life. For a moment, Jim couldn’t help but be grateful that he had chosen to remain friends with Spock, if only because he got to keep eating Amanda’s cooking.
The conversation didn’t hurt either. Jim had been irrationally worried when they had first gotten there that Amanda and Sarek would ask him about his relationship with their son or about Tarsus or about Frank. He knew now that they knew about all of it. They knew that their son was in love with him. They knew that Jim had almost been a victim of genocide on Tarsus IV. He was also almost positive that they knew that when he went home, Frank would probably beat the shit out of him. But they didn’t say anything, and to Jim it was a huge relief. Slowly, he allowed himself to relax.
Then it came time for him to go home, and for the first time since he had started joining them for dinner, Amanda said, “Jim, would you like to stay the night?”
And the elephant in the corner suddenly became very visible.
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Jim was late getting home that night, but some kind of angel must be feeling mercifully or something because Frank wasn’t home yet. Even so, Jim ran all the way to his room just in case, slamming the door and resting back against it, his breath coming in large pants. Tonight had been mostly fine, but the last thirty minutes had just been awkward.
There had been no fucking way he could have accepted Amanda’s invitation. For one thing, if Frank had found out, Jim would have regretted it. Frank’s beating would have doubled in severity, and Jim’s sense of self-preservation just wouldn’t let him go through with it
Besides which, Jim knew that if he had taken them up on it, he would’ve had to endure a sleepless night anyway. Jim hadn’t been able to sleep with someone else in the room (unless sedated, of course) since he had gotten back from Tarsus. It was one of the reasons he hated hospitals. People were always coming and going and coming and going, and Jim didn’t get a single god damned moment of peace.
He finally let himself move away from the door, going to his bed and fishing his notebook out from the space between the mattress and the bed frame. He head was all over the place. He needed to write it down, get his thoughts and feelings in order. He uncapped the pen and rested the end against his lips as he thought. Then he lowered his hand and began to write.
I am so fucking confused.
Jim lifted the pen, not quite knowing what to say next. It was a good start, but he needed to say more. He needed to get all of it down, and since he hadn’t had a chance to write since the night before last, there were a lot of things he needed to recount.
Spock has formed some kind of freaky alien sex bond with me. He knows about Tarsus. He suspects that Frank is the one kicking the shit out of me, and I don’t think there is any way I can persuade him that he’s wrong. He’s been spying on my fucking dreams. God, he’s such a bastard!
Jim broke off again, anger filling him, his fist clenching hard around the pen. He breathed in and out for a moment in an attempt to calm himself down. It didn’t pay to get upset about it now.
What’s done is done. He’s still a bastard, but I’m falling in love with him anyway. God damn it, what the fuck am I supposed to do about that. I really can’t return Spock’s feelings the way he wants me to. If I show any of it openly and Frank finds out about it, he will kill me. I’ll end up a bloody smear on the living room floor. There won’t even be enough of me left to make an identification. I want it so bad though. I want to allow myself to trust him. I want to not worry about Frank for once. I don’t want to kick him out of my life. I love the guy. I guess the only thing I can do right now is try to be his friend. Like, actually make an effort this time. I can’t keep freezing him out, or he’s gonna get fed up and stop trying. A part of me still thinks that, even though I saw into his head. Fuck, I know it’s not true, but I still can’t… I can’t just… Fuck it all. I need to make an effort. That is exactly what I need to do. I need to try to keep him interested even if I’m pretty sure he won’t abandon me. I’ve gotta try to talk to him. I’ve gotta...
Jim stopped. He didn’t know exactly what he had to do. He moved his head from side to side, trying to get the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. Fuck, he couldn’t write anymore. He needed to move
Jim rolled off of the bed and onto his feet. He paced from side to side in his small room. He didn’t know what to do. He supposed he would just have to see Spock tomorrow and actually talk to him this time.
He turned to make another round of the room only to pause when he noticed a pair of brown eyes staring at him through the gap in the curtains he had closed the night before. Jim gasped. Spock was staring at him from his own bedroom.
Jim marched over to his window and threw open the curtains. There was no time like the present to start on his new plan. He was going to have a conversation with the Vulcan bastard if it was the last thing he did.
“You’re a bit of a creeper,” Jim said. “You know that, right?”
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Spock tilted his head. He had no understanding of the word ‘creeper’, but he could extrapolate from its meaning from its root word.
“What are you doing anyway?” Jim asked him. “Other than looking at me, of course.”
“I was looking at the stars,” Spock replied. “Well, what I can see of them, in any case.” There was not a great deal of space between his house and Jim’s, and as such, much of his view of the night sky was obstructed. “I have always been fascinated by space. There is so much to explore, so much to discover.”
Jim’s nose wrinkled, and his brow furled. “Fuck space. I hate it.”
Spock could feel his face twisting into an expression of confusion. “Why do you hate space, Jim?”
Jim hesitated for a moment, as though unsure whether he wanted to say anything at all. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. “I don’t have a good history with it,” he responded slowly. “I’m sure you know some of it already. Aside from the shit that went down on Tarsus, my past is public record. It’s taken everything from me. My dad, my mom, Sam. They all left me for space. They left me here alone with that asshole, Frank.” Jim shook his head angrily, not saying any more.
Spock nodded in understanding. “I can see why you would feel that way.”
“Sometimes I do that too though,” Jim added suddenly. “Look at the stars, I mean. I’ve always wanted to see a shooting star, but…” he trailed off
Spock could comprehend this as well. “Shooting stars represent hope,” he told Jim in a gentle voice. “It is only natural that you would look elsewhere for something that you yourself lack.”
Jim did not respond, but his eyes grew wide with something like panic. Spock could see it as plain as day, and this in itself brought a moment of clarity. Jim was scared. He was terrified to let himself hope. He was worried that if he did, his hopes would be crushed and he would be left in a position worse than the one he was in now. Spock didn’t know how to reassure him that he would not let it happen. No matter what took place, Spock would make sure that Jim’s quality of life improved. He would never allow Jim’s hopes to be crushed.
“I have always wished to explore space, and I believe the best way do so is to join Starfleet. I know that you are not Starfleet’s “biggest fan”, as my mother would say, but I believe that it is the only way that I can travel in space and study it simultaneously.” He catalogued Jim’s expression and noticed that the human looked intrigued. “What are your plans for the future? Your parents were in Starfleet; do you have any intentions of following in their footsteps?”
Jim looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I…” Jim paused to think for a moment. “My gut reaction would be to say ‘hell, no’ and leave it at that, but I can’t say that without lying through my teeth.” He shook his head. “I hate space, but there’s just something about it. I’ve always had the feeling that Earth was too small, and space, well, it’s endless. There are no limits; there’s nothing to hold you back. And that is what I want,” he admitted. “Someday anyways. I don’t want to be confined anymore.”
Spock could only stare at him for several long seconds, an idea forming in his head that made him unspeakably happy to think about. “Jim, would you by any chance be interested in joining Starfleet with me? We could explore it together. We could protect each other. We could…”
“Do you…” Jim interrupted. “Do you mean it?” The human looked terrified at the prospect. “’Cause if you do… If you really mean it, then I…” He didn’t say any more, just waited for Spock to answer him.
“Jim,” Spock said, his tone serious. “You are already aware that I am in love with you. You are my t’hy’la. There is nothing that I would not do for you.”
“Spock,” Jim replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t.”
And then, he slammed his window shut.
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Jim slid to the floor beneath his window, the claustrophobia already starting to bear down on him. Spock had said it. Spock had said it out loud. A shot of excitement ran through him at the thought. Spock had told him that he loved him in words, and even though he was already well aware of that fact, Jim was still ridiculously happy to hear it stated plainly without all of the other emotions between them getting in the way.
But even if he was happy about it, he still knew he couldn’t do a damn thing to reciprocate. It was why he had reacted as he had. Jim hadn’t been able to bear looking at Spock any longer. He needed the separation, the distance, to keep himself sane.
Jim knew what Frank would do to him if he found out. Jim had gone through countless possibilities in his head during the day, each one more horrific and gruesome than the last. And he also knew that there was probably no way to keep him from finding out, not if things kept going as they were going now. He needed to put a stop to it. He needed to keep all of those feelings locked up so deep inside of him that there was no chance they would ever see the light, and maybe, just maybe, if he did that, then he wouldn’t lose everything he was just beginning to allow himself to hope for. If he could hold onto it for just three short years, he would be free. In three years, he would be eighteen, he would be graduating, and he would be leaving Riverside and never coming back.
Just three years. Jim had survived worse than this, and he would survive this too. Three years, and he could tell Spock how he felt. Three years, and they could sail off in a starship and never look back.
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Spock stared at the window for a long time after Jim had slammed it closed. He did not understand why Jim continued to repudiate him. Spock knew from his contact with Jim’s mind during the meld that the human was in love with him. So why did he continue to deny it? Why did he say “I can’t” like it was tearing him apart just to utter the words? It did not make any sense.
He wandered downstairs, in the need of some advice from one or both of his parents. Perhaps they would be able to tell him why Jim was acting in this peculiar manner.
When he found them, they were reading companionably in the living room, Sarek seated at one corner of the couch while Amanda reclined with her feet in his lap. Spock entered the room slowly and waited for them to notice him.
Sarek was the first to acknowledge his presence. “Spock.”
Amanda looked up, her brow furrowed. “Spock,” she said worriedly as she stood up. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Spock forced himself not to react to the term of endearment. He did not wish for her to know that he drew comfort from it, as he had asked her on multiple occasions to refrain from utilizing them. Despite his attempts to obfuscate the matter, she somehow seemed to know that regardless of what he said, they still had a positive effect on his demeanor.
Spock shook himself free of his thoughts and inhaled deeply. “There has been some advancement with Jim in the past few days, but I am not sure what it means.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Amanda started. Spock couldn’t repress a slight grimace because he did not consider it to be the least bit wonderful. “I see. So whatever it was wasn’t good, was it?”
Spock shook his head, but didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure what to tell them because he didn’t quite know what was going on himself.
“Tell us what happened, Spock,” Sarek commanded.
So he did. He told them about how Jim had been mad at him and how he had asked for forgiveness. He told them about how Jim had requested Spock define the word, t’hy’la, and how he had attempted to do so in human words. He told them about how Jim had gotten angry and how they had melded in their dreams later that night. He told them about how Jim knew about Spock’s feelings and how he now knew that the human was in love with him as well. Spock told them everything, including the fact that Jim had just rejected him through their open windows.
“What did he mean by ‘I can’t’?” Spock asked, his gaze traveling instinctively to his mother, whom he considered the one to ask about human reactions. “I do not understand. I know that he is in love with me, so why can he not be with me?”
“Oh, Spock,” Amanda looked heartbroken. “I don’t know. Humans don’t have singular motivations for doing things. He could have a million different reasons for why he won’t open up to you, and I couldn’t even begin to guess at what those might be. He’s had such a hard life,” she said sadly. “Trust probably doesn’t come easy to him.”
Spock pondered this for a moment. It did make sense, but at the same time, Spock had gotten the sense that Jim did trust him. Or at the very least, he trusted him more than he did anyone else in his life. Besides which, Jim’s reaction earlier still did not seem sensible to Spock. He would have expected his t’hy’la to get angry again, but the human had looked miserable and his voice had reflected as much.
“There is another possibility,” Sarek interrupted Spock’s musings. “You have told me that you suspect his step-father of beating him. It stands to reason that this man may not like the thought of his step-son taking up with a male of a species that is not his own. If this is the case, Jim may be scared of his step-father discovering his feelings for you.” Sarek thought about it for a moment more before nodding his head. “His survival instincts are very strong. It is quite logical.”
Spock deliberated carefully on the matter. If this was true-and considering all he had heard of Frank, the probability was high-then Jim was in more danger than he had realized. He needed to meditate before he did anything else-get his thoughts and emotions in order so that his mind was clear of unnecessary clutter-and then he was going to think of a plan to get Jim out of that house and away from his step-father. He did not care what he had to do to make it happen.
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Jim was scared. Hell, he was fucking terrified.
It was worse than it had been in real life, because this time, he was fully aware of what was going on. He knew what was going to happen to him; he had already lived through it. But he couldn’t stop it. He knew what was going to happen, and he couldn’t fucking stop it.
Hands pressed him down into the ground. They were dirty hands, filthy with a bunch of shit crusted around the nails, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. Everyone was dirty on Tarsus. Nobody had the energy to worry about bathing when they were all starving to death. No, it was what those hands were doing to him-what they planned to do to him-that made him worry.
The fucked up part was that when this had really happened, he hadn’t had the presence of mind to be worried or scared. The guy had offered him food, and Jim had been so hungry. He had had a choice, and he probably would have died if he hadn’t eaten it. He had had a choice, and he had made the wrong one. Like he wasn’t just as hungry as every other person on the fucking planet. They were all hungry, and Jim had made the mistake of thinking that he was special because someone was offering him food. Free food. He should have known that everything had a price. He should have known better. Instead, he had just offered himself up. He deserved it for being so fucking stupid.
Jim remembered the food more than the man who had been holding it. He remembered a thick piece of bread and a bottle of fresh water and a god damned chocolate bar. Jim was sure it was the chocolate bar that had done it. He hadn’t felt it until after he had scarfed it down. He’d just felt heavy at first, like there was a weight on his chest, and then the world had started spinning.
He hadn’t known how he had gotten from there to lying face down in a rotting corn field, a man on top of him pulling his threadbare shorts and boxer briefs from his waist to his ankles. He hadn’t known how long he had been there or what had been going on.
But now he did, and it was so much worse because he knew and he couldn’t do a damn thing to fight back.
He remembered how he would end up though. Beaten and broken, stumbling to his feet with blood and come dripping down his legs and chocolate smeared all over his mouth and cheeks. He remembered that it was the chocolate he had scrubbed at later. The bodily fluids-both his and his rapists-had been easy enough to wipe off because they had still been fresh, but the chocolate had been caked on his face for who knows how long, and he remembered scrubbing and scrubbing until his skin was chafed and almost bleeding, and he just hadn’t wanted to think about it-he just couldn’t think about it-and then he had hidden himself away in a fucking hole in the ground until…
Jim couldn’t let it happen. Not again. But he couldn’t fight back either; he was drugged, and he couldn’t move.
Fuck, if Spock saw this…
Spock, Jim thought the name as a shot of dread ran through him. Spock couldn’t see this. Jim didn’t want him to know. Spock never had to know
If he found out, he would never want to have anything to do with Jim again. Jim had let himself be sullied. He wasn’t clean anymore; he wasn’t whole anymore. He wasn’t good enough for Spock, and he never had been. Even if Spock could forgive all of the things he already knew about, Jim knew that he could never forgive him this. Hell, he had never forgiven himself, so how could he expect Spock to look past it?
He couldn’t let Spock see it. He just couldn’t.
Jim didn’t know how he did it, but a second later he was sitting up in his own bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath in the wake of the nightmare. He could only sit there for a moment, replaying what had almost happened (again) in his mind
Jim pushed himself back so that he was resting against the headboard and put his head down into his hands. Then he looked up again, seeing the light shining from the Vulcan’s room. He was very lucky that Spock hadn’t gone to sleep yet, or he would have seen everything. And Jim knew that he sure as hell couldn’t let Spock witness something like that
Spock would never know. Jim would keep it from him. He would lock it up so deep in his mind that Spock would have to bring dynamite to get through the mental walls he was going to put up to protect it.
And so, Jim leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and started building.
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A/N: So as you guys may be aware, Looking For Shooting stars will soon be coming to an end. Fortunately for all of us, I don’t think I can tell the entire story with the chapters I have left, so I will be doing a sequel. The sequel isn’t going to pick up where LFSS left off, but instead it will take place during Jim’s time at the Academy. I am going to ask you guys to let me know if there is anything you want to see in the next fic. I don’t need you guys to give me a plot; I already have most of that figured out. All I want are general things you would like to see happen, and as long as they don’t conflict with my endgame, I will do my best to work them in. :)
Oh, and don’t forget to tell me how you feel about this chapter, especially the part where Jim is dreaming about the rape. I really want to know what you think. Please and thank you. XD
Chapter Nine: Entwined | Masterpost | Chapter Eleven: Written in Red