1lostone | Strength of Men, Chapter 5 (Reply)

Title: Strength of Men
Author: 1lostone
Pairing/Characters: K/S, mentions of other relationships
Rating/Category: NC-17
Universe: ST Reboot
Wordcount: 25993 (so far)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. *eyeballs mortgage* Clearly.
A/N: This was a particularly hard chapter to write. I kind of need a hug. Thanks as always to

ladyblahblah for her amazinngness of betaing this monster- even when she has so many projects in the air- and for

ostia2006 for giving me the idea.
Warnings: H/C, Angst, Longfic, Attempts To Write Plot, Use Of Every Fandom Cliche Since The Dawn Of Time

Chapter 1 ~~ Chapter 2 ~~ Chapter 3 ~~ Chapter 4

Spock’s eyes opened and he came back into himself with a quick gasp of breath. He flexed his fingers and moved his hand from Jim's face. He shut his eyes, sorting through the memories, setting them into some kind of order in his mind so that he would later be able to catalogue each response when he was better able to do so without this inconvenient emotional chaos.

He heard a small whisper of sound from behind him, and turned his head. His counterpart stood there, patiently waiting, eyebrow raised in silent inquiry. Spock nodded, exhausted.

“And do you still wish that your bond be severed?”

Let’s get this over with so I can get back to my ship, and get you the fuck out of my head. Spock nodded, holding his counterpart’s gaze for a moment before breaking eye contact, looking down at Jim, who still seemed deeply asleep despite the small beads of sweat on his forehead. “The captain has made his feelings very clear.”

“Indeed?”

Spock did not reply.

“As you wish. I will perform the Breaking. It is my understanding that you do not wish for our father to know the particulars of your folly. It would be best to accomplish this task now before Jim awakens.”

Spock flinched minutely. “Yes.”

The Ambassador moved once again to his previous position on Jim’s other side. He expected the older man would bring Jim into the meld first, and was surprised when he was drawn in first instead. The sensual slide of his own mind against his… a bright spark of apology...and…

“Sleep.”

Spock slept.

He eased the younger version of himself back onto the small pallet, pleased at the sight of the slightly olive complexion against the skin of Jim’s healthy golden—although still slightly pale—skin. Jim made a small noise at the back of his throat and turned slightly so that his shoulders were touching that of his bondmate’s. The sight arrested the elder Spock, and he stood staring down at the two for quite some time, indecisive. Coming to a decision, he reached out.

He could not deny the satisfaction he felt by once again sinking into Jim’s mind. The earlier chaos had smoothed out, although parts were still wickedly raw. He gently manipulated images and memories so that when Jim woke he wouldn’t be incapacitated by what he had seen. They would of course still be there, but locked away well enough that remembering wouldn’t compromise his other duties.

He then focused on his younger counterpart, observing, ferreting out the answers to questions the younger man did not know how to articulate, or even understand. The conclusions reached simply strengthened his resolve. It was fascinating to be able to see all of the different facets of this ruthlessly logical mind. In his own time, he had struggled continuously against giving into to his Human side until Jim had laughingly pulled him into mutual respect, friendship, and a love so encompassing that it could not be denied.

Nero had changed all of that for Spock’s counterpart. Emotional responses came quickly to the surface, though they were rarely displayed. Their father’s simple declaration of his love for his wife had caused such chaos in Spock’s thoughts that the elder Spock was shocked at his ability to cope. He had struggled so hard to embrace his Vulcan half that hearing that had been its own form of torture. If his fully Vulcan father could love…

Emotion/logic, Human/Vulcan. The constant need to choose one or the other, the sense that one must be superior, and never knowing how to find a peaceful balance between the two. Indeed, never knowing if it was even possible. Spock did not envy his younger self’s journey. Truths he himself had learned much later in life were forced upon him at such a young age by the actions of one madman who was willing to destroy billions for his revenge.

His younger self had many gaping holes in the education of his Vulcan mind. Spock felt a quick burst of anger at his counterpart’s teachers. Bias was illogical. Spock had come into contact with this particular emotion countless time in his adventures on the Enterprise, and it never failed to astound him at how quickly it came into play, regardless of the species. But for these Vulcan educators, whose greatest gift was to cultivate young minds, to perpetuate this feeling of disgust for something the younger Spock had no control over was … highly disquieting. Because of this bias, this unreasonable disgust of Spock’s humanity, he had never been properly taught some of the particulars of melding with another mind. And never made aware of these discrepancies.

Seething, Spock quickly put the training he would need in his mind, ready to access whenever needed, for if ever there was a certainty in the universe it was that this young man would eventually be asking questions. Perhaps his younger self had made a mistake. Perhaps he had just been too emotionally invested in Jim to be able to maintain the separation of self required for a mind meld. An ‘accidental’ bonding was not unheard of, but extremely rare.

To sever a bond that was so strong without physical contact, existing without being properly consummated would be… illogical. Their bond burned between them, pulsing as though awaiting acknowledgment. Spock manipulated this too, forcing it into the back of their awareness so that they would be unaware of its existence.

Until it was time.

***

Stardate: 2259.63

Jim was blissfully warm. Almost too warm. His eyes slowly blinked open, the unfamiliar ceiling slowly coming into focus. It looked as though it had been sculpted from dusky marble, the low light in the room glinting off of slight imperfections in the stone. His eyes drifted lazily shut again.

With consciousness came awareness; Jim wasn’t alone in the bed. Whoever was next to him was breathing the slow, deep, even breaths of sleep. He couldn’t tell if they were male or female, and was horribly confused for a moment. Normally when he woke up next to someone and didn’t remember how they got there, there was the murky memory of the maniacal consumption of alcohol or at the very least a pounding headache or nauseous stomach warring with the reek of sex in the room. Not so this time. He was clothed. He could feel their heat behind him, although they weren’t touching. And Jim felt… amazing.

He stretched, making a small sound in the back of his throat as he did so, a sort of stuttering, sleepy yawn. Some of his joints popped, and he thought ruefully that he was definitely way too young to be creaking like that. He felt as though he had just had an extremely peaceful nap after an even more pleasant vacation. His mom would have called him “bright-eyed and bushy tailed” in that wry way she had.

The breathing next to him paused for a moment as the other person woke up, exhaling on a whoooosh of sound. They must have been facing the same way he was, because he could feel the breath hot against the back of his neck. Jim shivered. He could feel the other person’s sudden tension, then the bed dipped and they got up.

Jim stretched again, rolling into the heat still clinging to the bedclothes, yawning hugely. He kept his eyes shut, enjoying the lassitude.

“Captain.”

Jim’s eyes snapped open as he looked up at his First Officer. Spock had, for a moment, the strangest look on his face before his pale features smoothed into their normal impassivity.

Okay, waking up in bed with Spock was not what he had anticipated. Perversely, he found his cheeks heating in a sudden blush. He popped up quickly, tugging down his shirt that had ridden up just slightly.

“Ah, uh.. good… morning?” He threw his legs over the side of the pallet and stood up, surprised at the sudden onslaught of dizziness. Jim shook his head. “Where are we?”

“In my father’s home. On New Vulcan.”

Jim blinked and remembered.

“Your … mind. We are in your mind. Well, parts of us are. We are physically on New Vulcan in one of my father’s sleeping chambers. You have been… ill.”

“Oh.” Jim sat down heavily on the bed again as his legs gave out. He was all at once completely disgusted, horribly embarrassed, and sick with remembering everything that had happened. His stomach felt like it was going to explode through his esophagus. “Can I… can I have a moment, Spock? Alone?” Jim’s voice was strangled as he put his finger to his temple like he was trying to push the sudden bright burst of pain from his head.

Spock didn’t speak, but he left the room. The door made a soft “click” behind him as it shut, the sound making Jim smile despite the maelstrom of his emotions. It wasn’t often he heard that anymore. Most doors were computerized. The sound was one he remembered from his childhood in Iowa, in the old farmhouse that his mother refused to update.

Jim groaned, resting his head in his hands.

This was horrible. He felt bombarded by remembered sensation. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and was surprised as some of the feeling faded. It was still bad, but not... unbearable. What he was feeling was nothing like the numbness of those first few weeks after being rescued from Tarsus IV, or the exquisite skin-crawling-off-his-bones feeling when he woke himself up from a nightmare, the echo of his cry still ringing in his small bedroom at the farmhouse. Jim felt. . . well, not quite like an impartial observer, but certainly one who could step back from the rawness of the past few days.

When he had gone through command training, several of his lectures had been on the expectations of the tortures often inherent when captured by an enemy. While sitting there, lounged in the classroom, the idea of taking strength from the simple fact of repeating your name, rank, and ship’s identification had seemed asinine. Jim had a vivid memory of incurring the wrath of the Commander giving the lecture when he snorted under his breath at a couple of key points.

He owed the man a fruit basket or something.

The repetition had kept him grounded while on the enemy ship. Each time he could say the words, whether it was through clenched teeth, or a gasping moan of agony, it was its own retribution. A small defiance in the face of his tormentor. He had felt so very afraid (and boy was that uncomfortable to admit, even to himself) when he had first seen Kodos smirking at him. He hadn’t seen the older man, but the younger, virile and exquisitely cruel phantom of his nightmares. At first everything that made him James Kirk had slithered away, leaving a petrified child in its place.

And then he got angry. That anger had kept him focused, as well. Every repetition of James Tiberius Kirk- Captain, U.S.S. Enterprise, SC937-0176CEC somehow proved to himself who he was. Each word had called up an image of his ship, his crew, confirming every damn thing he had accomplished to get to be the youngest Starship Captain in Starfleet’s history.

True, he still was ashamed. Jim was honest enough with himself to admit that part of that would probably never go away. But he had dealt with it as a kid, and was… well, mostly… confident that he could handle any lingering results from his experiences. True again, that it had been downright horrifying to have Spock as a witness to his worst memories. Of all people, Spock would have been the most affected. . But hadn’t Spock gone through the same thing? Jim could see in his mind’s eye the look on Spock’s face after losing his mother, hand still outstretched in entreaty, watching the lights of her aborted transport fade away into obscurity.

That look had haunted his dreams, too.

Jim sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face, and stood up. He was starving. His bladder felt like a Ga’ha’r spongebeast that had been left in a rainstorm. His mouth tasted like something had died, been reincarnated, then burned and killed again. He had a million different questions he wanted answered.

It was time to go.

***

Spock hadn’t gone far, Jim found. He gave a sharp jerk of his head at Jim’s inquiring look and soon the two were walking in sync as they had done countless times before on the Enterprise. “Dr. McCoy would like you to contact him as soon as you are able.”

“I just bet he does.” Jim’s smile was wry. “He’s probably twitching out of his skin about now.”

They had not walked all that far before reaching a larger chamber. It looked like more of a receiving room, and Sarek and Ambassador Spock seated near a small alcove, speaking quietly. The other men both looked up at their entrance before moving to stand.

“Jim. I am pleased to see you looking better.”

“I’m pleased to be looking better, old friend.” The endearment slipped out without Jim thinking about it. He could sense Spock stiffen suddenly, like an animal who had just sensed danger. “Also, I’m thrilled that the universe doesn’t seem to be exploding at you two being in the same room, acknowledging each other.”

He didn’t imagine the flicker of a smile on the old man’s face. “Have you eaten?”

“Nope. I think I can take care of all of that when I’m back on my ship. I did want to thank you for your help. I don’t… remember much of what happened, but I do know that Spock wouldn’t have taken me here unless you had both agreed to it. Thank you too, sir, for your hospitality.” He inclined his head towards Sarek who, looking aloof from the conversation, nodded politely back.

“The debt was owed.”

Jim felt the familiar guilt assuage him. “Ah, with all due respect, sir your people have no debt to me. I truly thank you for your help, but anything else is unnecessary.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, wincing at the awkwardness of the conversation.

“Indeed.” Sarek’s right eyebrow twitched slightly, which Jim took to mean the Vulcan equivalent of ‘yeah, right.’ Or possibly ‘go fuck yourself, I’ll do what I want’. Vulcans- textbook definition of enigmatic.

“Well, thank you. Spock, are you about ready to go?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Jim took a few steps back to give Spock some privacy, and took out his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise. Two to beam up at my mark.”

“K-eh—keptin! It is wery, wery good to hear your woice. Aye! Ah, I mean... yes sir. On your mark.”

Jim had to grin. Chekov sounded like he was about to wet himself. He waited for a moment, standing out of earshot while Spock spoke quietly with his father and his other self.

And fuck it all, if that wasn’t just weird seeing them side by side.

Jim watched as they finished their conversation and found himself strangely reluctant to meet Spock’s eyes as his First Officer walked towards him. “I am ready, Captain.”

So much for calling him Jim. Jim tried not to sigh as he flipped his communicator again.

“Enterprise. Two to beam up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jim gave the Ambassador a little wave, which seemed to amuse him as the transporter began to send them to the ship. Then the split instant of nothingness and all of a sudden light and he was blinking at the familiar transporter room.

“ My God Jim.” He barely had time to blink before Bones was running a tricorder over him, practically pushing Spock aside in his haste. Jim stifled a grin and clapped his friend on the shoulder. Chekov was practically vibrating in place, somewhat like a puppy wagging its tail so hard it couldn’t sit properly. Before things could get out of hand, Jim raised one hand for silence and spoke.

“Chekov, can you handle calling a meeting of all the bridge officers for me? I’ll need you and Scotty there too. I know we’re just about at shift change, so it can wait until then.” Bones swooped in with something that looked suspiciously like a hypospray. “Bones go stick someone else with that damn thing. You’ll have to wait to get your filthy hands all over me. I’ve got captainy things to do. Spock, you’re with me.”

Jim stepped off the transporter pad and started to leave. He paused, thinking. “Actually, Spock there’s something you can do for me. I need you to take the transporters offline. I want this ship on lockdown.”

Spock’s normally unflappable features looked a tad bit … flapped …at the randomness of the order.

Jim fucking loved doing that to him.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Catch up with me later. I’ll be in my quarters.”

Jim walked off, feeling like he had a purpose. Bones, not one to be deterred for long, scrambled along behind him. “Listen one damn minute. You can’t just blow this off!” He waved the tricorder in emphasis, and it beeped distressingly as though being forcibly kept from a warm and fuzzy place. Jim gave it a dirty look. He could hear the undercurrent of worry in Bones’ normally curmudgeonly tones. He sighed and stopped for a minute, not particularly eager to have this conversation in the middle of a damn corridor.

Bones reached out to grasp his forearm, mouth working as he started to splutter his objections. It was a gesture both of them had done to the other hundreds of times.

Jim froze. “Let go of me.”

The hiss surprised him with its intensity. He shut his eyes at the look of shock on Bones’ face. All at once he wasn’t all right, the pleasant buzz of taking back his command fading in a swirl of inexplicable fear. He forced himself to take a deep breath, realizing that Bones had let go of him as though burned.

“I… I know.” He started off haltingly, forcing words out through his suddenly tight throat. “I know you must feel... I just…have something to do first.”

He could hear Bones breathing harshly and knew what it was costing him to not give in to the questions he must have.

“I’m okay. You’ll have to just trust me until I…” His heart was beating so fast he felt like it was sucking out the air in his space around him, growing and lodging in his throat until he thought he would--

“Captain.”

Inexplicably, Jim felt some of his tension abate at the clipped interruption. It was too much. Opening his eyes, he turned on his heel and didn’t look either of them in the face as he walked towards the turbolift. He felt like a coward for being relieved when the doors swooshed shut behind him, giving him blessed space and the sweet obscurity of white noise in order to try to collect his thoughts. Oh fuck. Oh damn and bloody fuck. I don’t have time for this now. He rested for just a moment against the wall of the lift, raising one shaky hand to cover his eyes.

When the doors swooshed open again Jim only had the strength to look up blankly. Spock stood there for a second, cocked his head minutely to the left and walked inside.

“Deck seven.”

Oh great. He hadn’t even started the damn turbolift. He half expected Bones to come parachuting in from the Jefferies tube, hollering about psychoanalysis and relieving him of his duty.

“Are you well, Captain?”

Was he? His heart was still pounding, skin covered with a light sheen of sweat. “I just… I need… I need to be accomplishing something.”

“Did the doctor say something to upset you?”

“No, of course not. I just overreacted to something stupid.” The turbolift’s speaker gave a little cheep of sound, indicating that they were at their destination. Jim visibly pulled himself together and took a deep breath. “When I was taken, they knocked me out with something. It was someone who works on this ship, Spock.”

Jim, staring at the floor, missed the way that Spock’s eyes narrowed.

“Who?” The syllable is cold and tight with suppressed fury.

“Ah, that’s the tricky part. I only saw her for a second before I passed out.” The turbolift doors opened and both turned to look at the startled ensign that stood there, eyes jumping between the two senior officers. Jim forced a smile and nodded to the crewmember. “Ensign. We were just leaving.”

“Yes... sir?”

Jim and Spock walked down the corridor to the captain’s quarters. Jim sighed as he walked in, enjoying the little rush of ownership he felt when he saw his belongings neatly put away. The yeoman that kept his quarters neat did a fantastic job. He glanced around, all at once feeling better. He crossed to one of the chairs in the sitting area and sat.

“Everything is kind of unclear about that. Whatever they hit me with did something to my eyes. Or maybe I had an allergic reaction or something, but whatever it was, it was like looking at things underwater. I remember the pain in my neck, and turning to knock the shit out of Bones. But it wasn’t Bones that jabbed me. I can remember the red uniform, and blonde hair, and then nothing. I don't even know if it was a man or a woman. I woke up on the other ship.”

Spock crossed to the console and started entering data, fingers fairly flying across the keys. “There were fifteen uses of the Enterprise’s transporter device within the last twenty-three days. According to the records, seven crew members beamed off the ship and beamed back. Captain, you were the abnormality.”

Jim snorted, actually finding that he had to bite his tongue to not say the smartass comment that was bursting to be shared.

“Everyone else was part of the rescue party, either on the planetside away team or on the search and recover mission on the enemy ship. You don’t show up as leaving through the ship’s transporters the first time, but arriving back onto the ship approximately fifteen minutes ago.”

There was a small whistle and his doors slid open. The small woman that entered was staring down, unfocused on her surroundings. She walked to the captain’s bed, letting her fingers ghost over the black duvet that was folded crisply onto the mattress.

“Yeoman Karidian.” Jim spoke softly, with pleasure in his voice.

The woman gasped and jumped, spinning to face her captain.

Jim laughed, holding up his hand. “Relax! Wow, you were pretty focused there. Did you miss me?” The flirting was second nature by now and Jim relaxed back into it with a feeling of gratitude.

She simply gaped at him for a moment, seemingly astounded.

“Hey.. it’s okay. I guess the word hasn’t gotten around that I’m back. You’ve done a great job here with keeping up my rooms, Yeoman.” Using her title seemed to wake her up.

“Yes. Ah... yes sir. It’s great to have you back. I’m so very sorry; I didn’t realize you were here. I can come back later.”

Jim nodded, understanding that his words would make her even more uncomfortable. He was used to his crew suffering through slightly varying degrees of hero worship and tried to be kind but professional when it happened.

“Dismissed, and thanks again.”

“Yes sir.”

She walked quickly through the doors, not sparing a glance for Spock who stood staring at her as she left out the door.

“She’s cute, huh? Does a great job. Very organized.”

Spock’s head turned to face him as though doing so caused the tendons in his neck to creak with disuse.

“Captain… where is Yeoman Rand? Who was that woman?”

Chapter 6
~~(sorry such a short chapter... next part up tomorrow evening!)~~