Weep Little Lionman 3/5
Jul. 6th, 2012 01:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
1lostoneTitle: Weep, Little Lionman
Author:
1lostone
Pairing: Kirk/Spock, Background (non-explicit) Bones/Uhura
Rating: Adult
Summary: Sometimes, break-ups are friendly. Sometimes, they are not. This is one of those times.
A/N: Thank you as always to
jademac2442 for beta-ing for me. I'm really nervous about this particular fic because darke_wulf won a bid on me for the 
fandom_helps planned parenthood auction. The prompt is amazing and I hope that I do it justice, especially since I've never written some of its elements before. Thanks to my cheerleaders: jlm121 and ninjaboots for the occasional kick in the ass. Fair warning- jlm121 told me that she "wanted to slap Spock until her hand turned green." I mean it about the angst. :) Title from Mummford and Sons song that's been stuck in my head for about forever, but it's not a songfic. This is a WIP, and I will be sticking to a update once a week schedule. ♥
Chapter Notes: This chapter unbeta'd.
Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Ao3
Chapter 3
Ensign Winona Kirk,
As you are no doubt aware since our wedding, my wife’s family has chosen to cease all acknowledgement of their daughter given Amanda’s subsequent choice to reside off-planet at my home on Vulcan. She has often spoken of you with a not insignificant amount of frequency. She is not prospering. The loss of her familial unit appears to be quite distressing to her emotional needs. I have taken the liberty of making a few inquires with my contacts at Starfleet. Your scheduled leave appears to be quite fortuitous. Doubtless, you will also note that I have included one first-class berth on the transport ship Nebula. Amanda is not aware of this missive. I ask that you keep this within the utmost confines of secrecy.
P.S. Additionally, Amanda has expressed a desire for something called Snickerdoodle Surprise, which unfortunately is not available on Vulcan. Indeed, I have been quite unsuccessful in attempting to procure this item. I would be most appreciative if you would assist me with this imperative matter.
Sarek, son of Skon of the House of Surak
****
I had no idea that I was broken until Sybok fixed me.
He insisted on going to the new colony to have someone check his work, repeating that he wasn’t a mind-healer.
I refused. Completely. No way. No way was I going to let those bastards anywhere near my head. I vaguely remember Spock’s dad touching me in the aftermath of the whole ripping-out-my-heart-and-stepping on it thing. If what Sybok said was true- and had yet to give me any reason to doubt him- the bond things recognized family. Sarek would have had to know what he was doing. It wasn’t so much that he had maybe -probably- broken the link between me and Spock. Sure, it sucked, but Sarek had never attempted to hide how he felt about me. He was hardly the first daddy to think I was no good for his kid.
Anyway, to make a long story short, no fucking way was I going back to the Vulcan colony. Sybok had done something so that I wasn’t so much the walking wounded. He seemed nervous about it, like he didn’t trust his capabilities, but I did. It had been a little weird, sitting on the bed with him, knees brushing as we both sat indian-style. Sybok had taken a deep breath and leaned over, touching both sides of my face with his fingertips. I could hear him in my head; felt his presence like a solid stone foundation, fixing everything that was fucked up. I could actually feel myself getting stronger.
In the two months that followed, I had settled into my new job. I’d been able to sleep more than two hours at a time. I’d even gained back a little bit of the weight that I’d lost. As far as I was concerned, Sybok had done plenty.
“Kirk. Food’s on, man.”
I grinned. Sybok was a vegetarian, like the other Vulcans I knew. For him though, I had the impression that it was more of a dietary thing than a pacifist thing. And he wasn’t all that bad of a cook to tell the truth. I slid into my chair, scratching idly at my stomach. I yawned.
“What’s on for today?”
“We’re going to have to pick up after that dumbass, Mitchell. He’s got the Telliarian shingles. That dude isn’t going far from a bathroom for about a week. Jesus. I don’t know why she continues to keep him. I seriously don’t think he could find his own ass in a dark room.”
Telliarian shingles was a STD. I snorted, digging into a plate of purple squishy...something that Sybok had handed me. I coughed, my eyes watering. I coughed again, wondering if it was possible to actually have your taste buds jump off your tongue, then grabbed for my coffee. “Ass-gaaack! hole.”
Sybok just grinned. “Be careful. It’s a little spicy.”
Once I got past the first blast of heat, the squishy stuff wasn’t too bad. “So. Mitchell?” I’d known Gary at the academy, briefly. He wasn’t a bad guy. He just didn’t see the point with busting your ass when there was a less labor-intensive way of accomplishing something. ‘Fleet hadn’t really appreciated this, and they’d parted ways right around the time Gary had failed the Kobayashi Maru.
“Yeah. He’s picking something up. Some bigshot.” Sybok whistled. “Wheeeew. That’s a lot of dignitary. Kirk, that’s three times our normal fee!”
I raised my eyebrows, slurping the last little bit. I grabbed a carrot stick --Bones would shit himself if he saw that I was voluntarily eating my vegetables for breakfast-- and pointed it at my partner. “Yeah. Well, if the payout’s that good, then they must be a giant pain in the ass.”
Sybok was sitting ass-backwards on a chair, eating with half of his attention on his plate, and the other half on the small PADD. I had gotten to know him pretty well, in the way that you do when you spend a shitload of time rattling around a small space with just one person.
Sybok had adopted a lot of human characteristics. He was almost a caricature of human tics, colloquialisms and idiosyncrasies. But he was still Vulcan, and some things, like lying, didn’t come naturally to him. Sybok’s shoulders tightened as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Then in a bright, fake voice he said, “Oh.. no one special. Just a... lady.” I watched as his fingers flew over the PADD. I raised an eyebrow, glancing up to read the reflection of the PADD’s screen on the metal above Sybok’s head.
Who the hell was T’Pring?
***
“Pinksford to the Hellsbane.”
I grinned, the name of our raider never failing to make me snort. Sybok was hiding in his room. “Hellsbane here. Ready for transporter. On your mark.” I hit a few keys on the console to lower the shields and looked towards the small area to wait for our next job.
She was beautiful. Sybok had only said that she was from a very important family; he hadn’t really given me any details. I could only see half of her face from the way she was standing. Her eyebrow was perfectly shaped, a light, almost blonde color. Her hair was caught up in an elaborate style, small crystals braided into the fine strands. Her robes were a dark green that made her icily pale skin look absolutely luminescent. She turned and I got an eyeful of her face.
Holy shit.
Her eye was swollen, the dark greens and yellows of the bruised skin completely visible as she turned to face me headon. She met my gaze unflinchingly. It was so odd to see the remnants of violence on the body that seeing her bruised like that shocked me. Most people used dermal regenerators to get rid of bruising. I opened my mouth to try to give her some of the diplomatic courtesy that Starfleet had pounded in my head when her gaze shifted, slightly over my head.
“Sybok. Mr. Kirk. Greetings and long life.”
Sybok nodded. He could see a slightly different angle than what I could, but whatever he saw was making him flush greenly with emotion. I could see a muscle in his jaw twitching. He looked absolutely furious.
To be honest, it was pretty obvious that they knew each other. Yesterday, the poor guy had just about had a nervous breakdown when he saw who our next meal ticket was. Now, seeing her obviously hurt- he was thiiiis close to losing his shit.
“Hello.” I clumsily flashed the ta’al, and her top lip twitched at my attempt. “Can I offer you refreshment?”
“Not at this time. Sybok, I wish to converse with you.”
Oh-kay then. I glanced at Sybok who was moving towards T’Pring, his gaze narrowing. “Explain.”
T’Pring touched one elegant finger to her face. Her eyebrow winged. “You are angered.”
“Yes! Of course I am!” Sybok took another step towards her. I could see that he had a deathgrip on his hands, holding them behind his back. He was holding one hand with the other so tightly that his blood flushed green under the surface of his skin.
I watched from one to the other, feeling simultaneously like someone who was watching a very fascinating holo, and the biggest third wheel in history. It was pretty obvious that they had history together.
For some reason, T’Pring’s gaze flicked towards me, before looking back up into Sybok’s eyes. She gave a tiny, almost negligent shrug. “My intended was not an... ideal match. It appears as though he Burns for another.”
Seeing Sybok utterly gobsmacked was worth the price of admission. At first, I didn’t understand why he also glanced at me. Well, duh. Obviously they didn’t need me here listening to a private conversation. I turned back to the console and made sure we were on course for Geloas III then made myself scarce. They could handle their personal shit without me following along like a spectator at a football match. I started to slink out of the main area, but T’Pring’s cool voice stopped me before I could get very far.
“Kirk. James. I believe that this discussion shall, by necessity, include your presence.”
My eyebrows wrinkled. The imperiousness was obviously second-nature. It was hard to take offense. “Me?”
“Indeed.”
I looked over at Sybok. Sybok was staring at the bruise on T’Pring’s face, the muscle still twitching in his face. “You know that’s taboo.”
T’Pring’s eyebrow rose almost to her hairline. “I do not particularly care.”
Sybok’s shoulders slumped. “Shit. This is going to take awhile. You’re meant to be on Geloas III in twelve hours.”
T’Pring drew herself up to her full height. “James Kirk. I will take that refreshment now. Sybok will join us in ten minutes.”
My eyes bugged out. “Uh, yes. Ma’am, I can do that.” Sybok was very carefully not meeting my eyes, punching something into the console. I stood up and walked towards the other room, T’Pring following along in my wake like a very stately duckling.
“Would you like some tea?”
T’Pring tilted her head, staring at me. “You are quite aesthetically pleasing. I was not aware of this. The Elders have spoken of your mental acuity often. Of your aptitude for command.”
I froze. “That’s weird. What I got from your Elders was that I was a power-hungry cockslut, looking to pevert one of your chosen sons to my crazy human ways.”
T’Pring’s lips twitched.
“Is that funny?” I thought I had gotten past all the anger, but I could feel it boiling up in my gut, ready to spew up and out of my mouth.
T’Pring shocked me by reaching out and running her fingers lightly over my forearm. The absolute surprise of it caused me to pause mid-step. “I find no amusement from this, no. I have much to say to you, James Kirk if you will consent to listen.”
Well shit. Who could argue with logic like that?
I sat down, but couldn’t help the almost wooden way I did. The anger wasn’t all the way gone but nervousness had crawled up somewhere in my throat, matching it.
“I wish to speak of you about biology.” She was the Vulcan Madonna, completely and utterly serene, except tof the light tinge of green at the very top of her ears.
“Uh. What kind of biology?”
T’Pring arched an eyebrow. If she had been anything but Vulcan, I would swear that the glint in her deep brown gaze was amusement. “Vulcan Biology.”
I blinked, and unexpectedly, blushed. “You mean the biology of Vulcans? Biology as in... reproduction? Like, the birds and the bees?”
T’Pring’s lips twitched again. No doubt about it this time. For Vulcans, this was practically chortling on the ground. “The birds and the bees are not Vulcan, Mr. Kirk.”
Well, that was obvious. During my stint as Captain of the Enterprise, I had had several different kinds of awkward conversations, all varying in length and embarrassment level. Learning to put aside your secondhand-humiliation wasn’t something they taught at the Academy though necessity and the five years of experience had made me rather good at it.
This one, however, made me feel like my mom was explaining sex to me again- with all the hand puppets and banana-wearing rubbers and all. I just shut my mouth and tried to look more like I was listening, and less like I was trying not to giggle like a twelve-year old again.
“Mr. Kirk. Do you know how Vulcans choose their mates? I know that you must have wondered...”
And all of the sudden it wasn’t funny anymore. I understood who Sybok and this beautiful woman must have in common and it hit me like a punch to the balls, sharp and vicious.
T’Pring blithely continued, like she wasn’t sitting in front of me bruised and beautiful, dropping bombshells like phaser blasts. “I do not say this to cause emotional distress, Mr. Kirk. It is ... an... ilogical time in our otherwise logical species’ biology. In Male Vulcans, we call it the pon far. We shield it with ritual and customs shrouded in antiquity. You humans have no conception. It strips our minds from us. It brings a madness which rips away our veneer of civilisation. Pon farr.” She gave a slight movement, too delicate to be called a shudder. “The time of mating. There are precedents in nature of coure. The giant eelbirds of Regulus Five, once each eleven years they must return to the caverns where they hatched. On your Earth, the salmon. They must return to that one stream where they were born, to spawn or die in trying.”
A horrible suspicion began to take me out of my own problems. “But--”
I hadn’t even noticed that Sybok had joined us. “Yeah. We can’t exactly return to Vulcan to indulge this drive, Kirk. It’s...” Sybok looked off into space for a minute. “Imagine that something you can’t control... it takes you over and you must give over to it. Without your consent. Without even your knowledge in some cases, because as an extra fun bonus, it takes away your brain. As an even added extra bonus, you’ll die if you don’t... mate. We call it the Plak Tow, but what it really means is you are on fire. Your mind, and your body, and everything in your soul is screaming out to end the burning. You are on fire and...”
“Sybok.”
Sybok jerked as though she had slapped him. I saw his nails bite into his fisted hand.
“Mr. Kirk. This was before, when we had our planet. Since...” T’Pring broke off for just a second that even with everything else she was saying still broke my heart a bit. “But now our only hope is for isolationism. Logically, if the remaining Vulcans are not off-planet, then there is no chance of them making a link with any other. We have had three males perish over this. With a race so severely decimated, this is the ultimate injustice; that our own biology works so strongly against us.”
I somehow managed to keep the blue balls joke to myself. This was so, so far from anything approaching funny, but I hardly was the first to have inappropriate reactions to serious situations.“Okay. So... why do you need me?” I spoke slowly. I was pretty sure that I already knew the answer if the panic clawing its way up my balls was any answer.
Sybok’s shoulders slumped. T’Pring became very, very still.
“Since the age of seven, I have been betrothed to Spock. By our parents' arrangement. Less than a marriage but more than a betrothal. In this way our minds were locked together, so that at the proper time, we would both be drawn to...” She breaks off and I struggle with the bright green burst of jealousy that strangled me.
“Oh. So. Uh... what’s the problem? Why aren’t you guys making beautiful Vulcan babies right now?”
Sybok tenses and glares, and for one second I’m actually afraid of him; afraid of the menace in that stare.
“The problem, as you so aptly term it, Mr. Kirk, is that Spock has no interest in mating with me. He made that abundantly clear when he attempted to break our betrothal two years ago.”
At this both Sybok and I jumped as though goosed, staring at her.
For a species who claimed not to pander to human emotionalism, they sure do ‘smug’ incredibly well.
“Indeed. I do not claim to know all of what transpired with you and my former intended, but he attempted to... how do you say... ‘kick me to the curb’ when he realized certain obvious truths about himself.”
“What?” Sybok breathed.
He took the word right out of my mouth. My brain had been going over what they were telling me, over the specifics and that damn Vulcan hedging that they were so good at, and one thing she said finally filtered through my brain and out of my mouth. “Did you say... die?”
T’Pring ignored Sybok and focused on me. “Yes.” She didn’t try to sugar-coat it. “That is why I attempted to. Well. Spock and I have never been ... emotionally invested in one another. But even I could not stay away if there was a chance that I could save him.”
“What?” Sybok had recovered only to gasp out another question.
“Mr. Kirk. I have come at the request of one who has no other recourse but to seek supplication. I do not know why Sarek did not break our betrothal bond when Spock asked him to do so, so long ago,but I am quite certain that even he has accepted the futility of pushing a suit between his son and myself.” She didn’t have to point at the bruise on her face to make her opinion clear. “He wished that I convey a message to you.” She held up a small comm chip.
“Wait!” Sybok grabbed her arm with the lightning-fast reflexes that Vulcans seemed to often ignore. “You can’t just come here and start...”
There was a reason that Sybok and I were such good friends.
T’Pring simply turned her head, staring at Sybok without blinking, and he let go of her as though she had burned him.
Huh.
“What Sybok is trying to say is that... I just recently got over... some things. That Spock did to me. It messed me up pretty...” I blew out a frustrated breath. “Look, I’m sorry that he’s sick or whatever, but I just don’t see how it is my problem.” Lies, liar liii-aaar My brain practically screamed at me.
She nodded and took a step forward, catching my hand and putting the chip onto my palm. “You are under no obligation to watch. You have done more for my people than...” she broke off. “I do not wish you any more emotional distress, Mr. Kirk. I was asked to deliver a message, and I have done so.” She turned to Sybok who was practically vibrating in place, not sure whether to assist T’Pring or to help me with the emotional backlash that she’d just lobbed my way.
My fist closed around the small communication chip and I made my excuses, needing to just get away from all of this for a few minutes. The ship was so small that there weren’t all that many places that I could go. My bunk was pretty comfortable. I’d gotten a slightly larger one, mostly as a small rebellion against Starfleet’s instance on giving their senior crew what amounted to beds used for lonely military personnel. There was plenty of room for two people, although the only other ‘person’ I’d had in my bed was Sybok. Not sexually, of course. Sybok didn’t swing that way no matter how much liquor there was in the galaxy, but he was a good friend and he’d indulge my need for cuddling. For thinking. For cuddle-thinking every once in awhile.
I tossed the comm chip up, catching it, tossing it again and again as I thought. Occasionally I heard the murmur of T’Pring and Sybok’s voices. I kind of figured that Sybok would be bunking with me tonight, which was good. I.. I didn’t know what to think. What to do.
Did I owe Spock anything?
Did I want him to die?
I can’t say how long I lay back against my blankets, tossing the chip up and down, those two questions pinging around my brain.
Eventually though, I sighed and sat up, reaching over for my PADD to plug in the little chip. No. Of course not. I couldn’t possibly let Spock die, not if I could do something to save him. I was over wanting to be with him. Well, okay. I don’t know if I would ever be over it, but I couldn’t just let him... no. This porn far thing couldn’t be that bad, right? It was kind of weird to realize that Vulcans actually had sex, to tell the truth. I could do sex. And quite frankly, the fact that I hadn’t had sex with Spock while we were together because he hadn’t matured enough to want it skeeved me the fuck out. If this could make it right, then well. Maybe we’d be even. Maybe whatever kept him in my thoughts and dreams would burn itself out.
Maybe.
***
Mr. Kirk,
A mutual acquaintance has explained that you do not owe anything to my family, and pointed out the irony of my request given the circumstances of our last meeting. He rightfully extolled all of the ways your ... friendship... with my son has benefited both Spock’s mental and physical well-being in the five years that you served together. And yet, I find myself breaking the emotional expectations held in such high regard by my race as I write this. I have no expectation of your cooperation in this matter. Indeed, it is a bitter truth that my own rigid yet utterly completely faulty logic has brought my son to this. I can offer you no explanations at this time. Nor would I expect you to listen to them. I can only ask that you... please, Mr. Kirk. Please save my son.
Sarek
TBC!
Author:
Pairing: Kirk/Spock, Background (non-explicit) Bones/Uhura
Rating: Adult
Summary: Sometimes, break-ups are friendly. Sometimes, they are not. This is one of those times.
A/N: Thank you as always to
jademac2442 for beta-ing for me. I'm really nervous about this particular fic because darke_wulf won a bid on me for the fandom_helps planned parenthood auction. The prompt is amazing and I hope that I do it justice, especially since I've never written some of its elements before. Thanks to my cheerleaders: jlm121 and ninjaboots for the occasional kick in the ass. Fair warning- jlm121 told me that she "wanted to slap Spock until her hand turned green." I mean it about the angst. :) Title from Mummford and Sons song that's been stuck in my head for about forever, but it's not a songfic. This is a WIP, and I will be sticking to a update once a week schedule. ♥Chapter Notes: This chapter unbeta'd.
Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Ao3
Chapter 3
Ensign Winona Kirk,
As you are no doubt aware since our wedding, my wife’s family has chosen to cease all acknowledgement of their daughter given Amanda’s subsequent choice to reside off-planet at my home on Vulcan. She has often spoken of you with a not insignificant amount of frequency. She is not prospering. The loss of her familial unit appears to be quite distressing to her emotional needs. I have taken the liberty of making a few inquires with my contacts at Starfleet. Your scheduled leave appears to be quite fortuitous. Doubtless, you will also note that I have included one first-class berth on the transport ship Nebula. Amanda is not aware of this missive. I ask that you keep this within the utmost confines of secrecy.
P.S. Additionally, Amanda has expressed a desire for something called Snickerdoodle Surprise, which unfortunately is not available on Vulcan. Indeed, I have been quite unsuccessful in attempting to procure this item. I would be most appreciative if you would assist me with this imperative matter.
Sarek, son of Skon of the House of Surak
****
I had no idea that I was broken until Sybok fixed me.
He insisted on going to the new colony to have someone check his work, repeating that he wasn’t a mind-healer.
I refused. Completely. No way. No way was I going to let those bastards anywhere near my head. I vaguely remember Spock’s dad touching me in the aftermath of the whole ripping-out-my-heart-and-stepping on it thing. If what Sybok said was true- and had yet to give me any reason to doubt him- the bond things recognized family. Sarek would have had to know what he was doing. It wasn’t so much that he had maybe -probably- broken the link between me and Spock. Sure, it sucked, but Sarek had never attempted to hide how he felt about me. He was hardly the first daddy to think I was no good for his kid.
Anyway, to make a long story short, no fucking way was I going back to the Vulcan colony. Sybok had done something so that I wasn’t so much the walking wounded. He seemed nervous about it, like he didn’t trust his capabilities, but I did. It had been a little weird, sitting on the bed with him, knees brushing as we both sat indian-style. Sybok had taken a deep breath and leaned over, touching both sides of my face with his fingertips. I could hear him in my head; felt his presence like a solid stone foundation, fixing everything that was fucked up. I could actually feel myself getting stronger.
In the two months that followed, I had settled into my new job. I’d been able to sleep more than two hours at a time. I’d even gained back a little bit of the weight that I’d lost. As far as I was concerned, Sybok had done plenty.
“Kirk. Food’s on, man.”
I grinned. Sybok was a vegetarian, like the other Vulcans I knew. For him though, I had the impression that it was more of a dietary thing than a pacifist thing. And he wasn’t all that bad of a cook to tell the truth. I slid into my chair, scratching idly at my stomach. I yawned.
“What’s on for today?”
“We’re going to have to pick up after that dumbass, Mitchell. He’s got the Telliarian shingles. That dude isn’t going far from a bathroom for about a week. Jesus. I don’t know why she continues to keep him. I seriously don’t think he could find his own ass in a dark room.”
Telliarian shingles was a STD. I snorted, digging into a plate of purple squishy...something that Sybok had handed me. I coughed, my eyes watering. I coughed again, wondering if it was possible to actually have your taste buds jump off your tongue, then grabbed for my coffee. “Ass-gaaack! hole.”
Sybok just grinned. “Be careful. It’s a little spicy.”
Once I got past the first blast of heat, the squishy stuff wasn’t too bad. “So. Mitchell?” I’d known Gary at the academy, briefly. He wasn’t a bad guy. He just didn’t see the point with busting your ass when there was a less labor-intensive way of accomplishing something. ‘Fleet hadn’t really appreciated this, and they’d parted ways right around the time Gary had failed the Kobayashi Maru.
“Yeah. He’s picking something up. Some bigshot.” Sybok whistled. “Wheeeew. That’s a lot of dignitary. Kirk, that’s three times our normal fee!”
I raised my eyebrows, slurping the last little bit. I grabbed a carrot stick --Bones would shit himself if he saw that I was voluntarily eating my vegetables for breakfast-- and pointed it at my partner. “Yeah. Well, if the payout’s that good, then they must be a giant pain in the ass.”
Sybok was sitting ass-backwards on a chair, eating with half of his attention on his plate, and the other half on the small PADD. I had gotten to know him pretty well, in the way that you do when you spend a shitload of time rattling around a small space with just one person.
Sybok had adopted a lot of human characteristics. He was almost a caricature of human tics, colloquialisms and idiosyncrasies. But he was still Vulcan, and some things, like lying, didn’t come naturally to him. Sybok’s shoulders tightened as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Then in a bright, fake voice he said, “Oh.. no one special. Just a... lady.” I watched as his fingers flew over the PADD. I raised an eyebrow, glancing up to read the reflection of the PADD’s screen on the metal above Sybok’s head.
Who the hell was T’Pring?
***
“Pinksford to the Hellsbane.”
I grinned, the name of our raider never failing to make me snort. Sybok was hiding in his room. “Hellsbane here. Ready for transporter. On your mark.” I hit a few keys on the console to lower the shields and looked towards the small area to wait for our next job.
She was beautiful. Sybok had only said that she was from a very important family; he hadn’t really given me any details. I could only see half of her face from the way she was standing. Her eyebrow was perfectly shaped, a light, almost blonde color. Her hair was caught up in an elaborate style, small crystals braided into the fine strands. Her robes were a dark green that made her icily pale skin look absolutely luminescent. She turned and I got an eyeful of her face.
Holy shit.
Her eye was swollen, the dark greens and yellows of the bruised skin completely visible as she turned to face me headon. She met my gaze unflinchingly. It was so odd to see the remnants of violence on the body that seeing her bruised like that shocked me. Most people used dermal regenerators to get rid of bruising. I opened my mouth to try to give her some of the diplomatic courtesy that Starfleet had pounded in my head when her gaze shifted, slightly over my head.
“Sybok. Mr. Kirk. Greetings and long life.”
Sybok nodded. He could see a slightly different angle than what I could, but whatever he saw was making him flush greenly with emotion. I could see a muscle in his jaw twitching. He looked absolutely furious.
To be honest, it was pretty obvious that they knew each other. Yesterday, the poor guy had just about had a nervous breakdown when he saw who our next meal ticket was. Now, seeing her obviously hurt- he was thiiiis close to losing his shit.
“Hello.” I clumsily flashed the ta’al, and her top lip twitched at my attempt. “Can I offer you refreshment?”
“Not at this time. Sybok, I wish to converse with you.”
Oh-kay then. I glanced at Sybok who was moving towards T’Pring, his gaze narrowing. “Explain.”
T’Pring touched one elegant finger to her face. Her eyebrow winged. “You are angered.”
“Yes! Of course I am!” Sybok took another step towards her. I could see that he had a deathgrip on his hands, holding them behind his back. He was holding one hand with the other so tightly that his blood flushed green under the surface of his skin.
I watched from one to the other, feeling simultaneously like someone who was watching a very fascinating holo, and the biggest third wheel in history. It was pretty obvious that they had history together.
For some reason, T’Pring’s gaze flicked towards me, before looking back up into Sybok’s eyes. She gave a tiny, almost negligent shrug. “My intended was not an... ideal match. It appears as though he Burns for another.”
Seeing Sybok utterly gobsmacked was worth the price of admission. At first, I didn’t understand why he also glanced at me. Well, duh. Obviously they didn’t need me here listening to a private conversation. I turned back to the console and made sure we were on course for Geloas III then made myself scarce. They could handle their personal shit without me following along like a spectator at a football match. I started to slink out of the main area, but T’Pring’s cool voice stopped me before I could get very far.
“Kirk. James. I believe that this discussion shall, by necessity, include your presence.”
My eyebrows wrinkled. The imperiousness was obviously second-nature. It was hard to take offense. “Me?”
“Indeed.”
I looked over at Sybok. Sybok was staring at the bruise on T’Pring’s face, the muscle still twitching in his face. “You know that’s taboo.”
T’Pring’s eyebrow rose almost to her hairline. “I do not particularly care.”
Sybok’s shoulders slumped. “Shit. This is going to take awhile. You’re meant to be on Geloas III in twelve hours.”
T’Pring drew herself up to her full height. “James Kirk. I will take that refreshment now. Sybok will join us in ten minutes.”
My eyes bugged out. “Uh, yes. Ma’am, I can do that.” Sybok was very carefully not meeting my eyes, punching something into the console. I stood up and walked towards the other room, T’Pring following along in my wake like a very stately duckling.
“Would you like some tea?”
T’Pring tilted her head, staring at me. “You are quite aesthetically pleasing. I was not aware of this. The Elders have spoken of your mental acuity often. Of your aptitude for command.”
I froze. “That’s weird. What I got from your Elders was that I was a power-hungry cockslut, looking to pevert one of your chosen sons to my crazy human ways.”
T’Pring’s lips twitched.
“Is that funny?” I thought I had gotten past all the anger, but I could feel it boiling up in my gut, ready to spew up and out of my mouth.
T’Pring shocked me by reaching out and running her fingers lightly over my forearm. The absolute surprise of it caused me to pause mid-step. “I find no amusement from this, no. I have much to say to you, James Kirk if you will consent to listen.”
Well shit. Who could argue with logic like that?
I sat down, but couldn’t help the almost wooden way I did. The anger wasn’t all the way gone but nervousness had crawled up somewhere in my throat, matching it.
“I wish to speak of you about biology.” She was the Vulcan Madonna, completely and utterly serene, except tof the light tinge of green at the very top of her ears.
“Uh. What kind of biology?”
T’Pring arched an eyebrow. If she had been anything but Vulcan, I would swear that the glint in her deep brown gaze was amusement. “Vulcan Biology.”
I blinked, and unexpectedly, blushed. “You mean the biology of Vulcans? Biology as in... reproduction? Like, the birds and the bees?”
T’Pring’s lips twitched again. No doubt about it this time. For Vulcans, this was practically chortling on the ground. “The birds and the bees are not Vulcan, Mr. Kirk.”
Well, that was obvious. During my stint as Captain of the Enterprise, I had had several different kinds of awkward conversations, all varying in length and embarrassment level. Learning to put aside your secondhand-humiliation wasn’t something they taught at the Academy though necessity and the five years of experience had made me rather good at it.
This one, however, made me feel like my mom was explaining sex to me again- with all the hand puppets and banana-wearing rubbers and all. I just shut my mouth and tried to look more like I was listening, and less like I was trying not to giggle like a twelve-year old again.
“Mr. Kirk. Do you know how Vulcans choose their mates? I know that you must have wondered...”
And all of the sudden it wasn’t funny anymore. I understood who Sybok and this beautiful woman must have in common and it hit me like a punch to the balls, sharp and vicious.
T’Pring blithely continued, like she wasn’t sitting in front of me bruised and beautiful, dropping bombshells like phaser blasts. “I do not say this to cause emotional distress, Mr. Kirk. It is ... an... ilogical time in our otherwise logical species’ biology. In Male Vulcans, we call it the pon far. We shield it with ritual and customs shrouded in antiquity. You humans have no conception. It strips our minds from us. It brings a madness which rips away our veneer of civilisation. Pon farr.” She gave a slight movement, too delicate to be called a shudder. “The time of mating. There are precedents in nature of coure. The giant eelbirds of Regulus Five, once each eleven years they must return to the caverns where they hatched. On your Earth, the salmon. They must return to that one stream where they were born, to spawn or die in trying.”
A horrible suspicion began to take me out of my own problems. “But--”
I hadn’t even noticed that Sybok had joined us. “Yeah. We can’t exactly return to Vulcan to indulge this drive, Kirk. It’s...” Sybok looked off into space for a minute. “Imagine that something you can’t control... it takes you over and you must give over to it. Without your consent. Without even your knowledge in some cases, because as an extra fun bonus, it takes away your brain. As an even added extra bonus, you’ll die if you don’t... mate. We call it the Plak Tow, but what it really means is you are on fire. Your mind, and your body, and everything in your soul is screaming out to end the burning. You are on fire and...”
“Sybok.”
Sybok jerked as though she had slapped him. I saw his nails bite into his fisted hand.
“Mr. Kirk. This was before, when we had our planet. Since...” T’Pring broke off for just a second that even with everything else she was saying still broke my heart a bit. “But now our only hope is for isolationism. Logically, if the remaining Vulcans are not off-planet, then there is no chance of them making a link with any other. We have had three males perish over this. With a race so severely decimated, this is the ultimate injustice; that our own biology works so strongly against us.”
I somehow managed to keep the blue balls joke to myself. This was so, so far from anything approaching funny, but I hardly was the first to have inappropriate reactions to serious situations.“Okay. So... why do you need me?” I spoke slowly. I was pretty sure that I already knew the answer if the panic clawing its way up my balls was any answer.
Sybok’s shoulders slumped. T’Pring became very, very still.
“Since the age of seven, I have been betrothed to Spock. By our parents' arrangement. Less than a marriage but more than a betrothal. In this way our minds were locked together, so that at the proper time, we would both be drawn to...” She breaks off and I struggle with the bright green burst of jealousy that strangled me.
“Oh. So. Uh... what’s the problem? Why aren’t you guys making beautiful Vulcan babies right now?”
Sybok tenses and glares, and for one second I’m actually afraid of him; afraid of the menace in that stare.
“The problem, as you so aptly term it, Mr. Kirk, is that Spock has no interest in mating with me. He made that abundantly clear when he attempted to break our betrothal two years ago.”
At this both Sybok and I jumped as though goosed, staring at her.
For a species who claimed not to pander to human emotionalism, they sure do ‘smug’ incredibly well.
“Indeed. I do not claim to know all of what transpired with you and my former intended, but he attempted to... how do you say... ‘kick me to the curb’ when he realized certain obvious truths about himself.”
“What?” Sybok breathed.
He took the word right out of my mouth. My brain had been going over what they were telling me, over the specifics and that damn Vulcan hedging that they were so good at, and one thing she said finally filtered through my brain and out of my mouth. “Did you say... die?”
T’Pring ignored Sybok and focused on me. “Yes.” She didn’t try to sugar-coat it. “That is why I attempted to. Well. Spock and I have never been ... emotionally invested in one another. But even I could not stay away if there was a chance that I could save him.”
“What?” Sybok had recovered only to gasp out another question.
“Mr. Kirk. I have come at the request of one who has no other recourse but to seek supplication. I do not know why Sarek did not break our betrothal bond when Spock asked him to do so, so long ago,but I am quite certain that even he has accepted the futility of pushing a suit between his son and myself.” She didn’t have to point at the bruise on her face to make her opinion clear. “He wished that I convey a message to you.” She held up a small comm chip.
“Wait!” Sybok grabbed her arm with the lightning-fast reflexes that Vulcans seemed to often ignore. “You can’t just come here and start...”
There was a reason that Sybok and I were such good friends.
T’Pring simply turned her head, staring at Sybok without blinking, and he let go of her as though she had burned him.
Huh.
“What Sybok is trying to say is that... I just recently got over... some things. That Spock did to me. It messed me up pretty...” I blew out a frustrated breath. “Look, I’m sorry that he’s sick or whatever, but I just don’t see how it is my problem.” Lies, liar liii-aaar My brain practically screamed at me.
She nodded and took a step forward, catching my hand and putting the chip onto my palm. “You are under no obligation to watch. You have done more for my people than...” she broke off. “I do not wish you any more emotional distress, Mr. Kirk. I was asked to deliver a message, and I have done so.” She turned to Sybok who was practically vibrating in place, not sure whether to assist T’Pring or to help me with the emotional backlash that she’d just lobbed my way.
My fist closed around the small communication chip and I made my excuses, needing to just get away from all of this for a few minutes. The ship was so small that there weren’t all that many places that I could go. My bunk was pretty comfortable. I’d gotten a slightly larger one, mostly as a small rebellion against Starfleet’s instance on giving their senior crew what amounted to beds used for lonely military personnel. There was plenty of room for two people, although the only other ‘person’ I’d had in my bed was Sybok. Not sexually, of course. Sybok didn’t swing that way no matter how much liquor there was in the galaxy, but he was a good friend and he’d indulge my need for cuddling. For thinking. For cuddle-thinking every once in awhile.
I tossed the comm chip up, catching it, tossing it again and again as I thought. Occasionally I heard the murmur of T’Pring and Sybok’s voices. I kind of figured that Sybok would be bunking with me tonight, which was good. I.. I didn’t know what to think. What to do.
Did I owe Spock anything?
Did I want him to die?
I can’t say how long I lay back against my blankets, tossing the chip up and down, those two questions pinging around my brain.
Eventually though, I sighed and sat up, reaching over for my PADD to plug in the little chip. No. Of course not. I couldn’t possibly let Spock die, not if I could do something to save him. I was over wanting to be with him. Well, okay. I don’t know if I would ever be over it, but I couldn’t just let him... no. This porn far thing couldn’t be that bad, right? It was kind of weird to realize that Vulcans actually had sex, to tell the truth. I could do sex. And quite frankly, the fact that I hadn’t had sex with Spock while we were together because he hadn’t matured enough to want it skeeved me the fuck out. If this could make it right, then well. Maybe we’d be even. Maybe whatever kept him in my thoughts and dreams would burn itself out.
Maybe.
***
Mr. Kirk,
A mutual acquaintance has explained that you do not owe anything to my family, and pointed out the irony of my request given the circumstances of our last meeting. He rightfully extolled all of the ways your ... friendship... with my son has benefited both Spock’s mental and physical well-being in the five years that you served together. And yet, I find myself breaking the emotional expectations held in such high regard by my race as I write this. I have no expectation of your cooperation in this matter. Indeed, it is a bitter truth that my own rigid yet utterly completely faulty logic has brought my son to this. I can offer you no explanations at this time. Nor would I expect you to listen to them. I can only ask that you... please, Mr. Kirk. Please save my son.
Sarek
TBC!
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Date: 2012-07-09 05:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-13 01:12 pm (UTC)