I know it's been a while, sorry, I've just moved house (my notes are in a box somewhere :c), city, uni and changed my degree. Stressful days.

To anyone who reviewed and I didn't get back to, I love you very much. You make me laugh and smile like a loon and want to write more chapters. You're awesome. c:

This is the last chapter. A lot happens. Including porn! Happy reading!

Ni'var: duality; two halves which make unity

fa-ko-mekh: grandmother

ko-mekh: mother

sa-mekh: father

lirpa, ahn-woon: traditional Vulcan melee weapons

March 30, 2263

Spock felt the moment James broke their bond. He heard the snap. Felt the ground rush up to meet him. The inside of his head was empty. There was no real pain to speak of. It was more a sense of confusion and loss and disorientation so strong he didn't think he'd ever be able to stand again. It hurt to think of Jim. Captain. James.

James was safe. He had no memory of using the name on... him. It didn't mean, it didn't mean anything. Nothing meant anything.

Spock felt something touching him. Warm hands soothing over his psi-points. Fa-ko-mekh? He wanted his ko-mekh. Her curly hair. Her soft brown eyes. The way she made him feel loved and accepted, if only he would let her.

Ko-mekh?

He felt like a child again. His fractured mind sought out his mother's bond desperately. But it was broken. As broken as he was. Incomplete without his mate.

Sa-mekh?

That bond was still there. Weak with time and distance but there, shining thorough the dilapidated centre of his katra.

Spock felt the hand leave his face as other voices rushed towards him. It took him a few moments but he recognised Doctor McCoy's gruff tone. It was reassuring. James would be cared for and Spock could sink into his mind and rearrange things to cover the gaping hole.

"Scotty, if you value your job, you'll beam three straight to medbay."

April 15, 2262

"Leonard, I can't tell you any more. They've both retreated far into their minds. Bonds are more than mind voodoo, they're connections of the soul. You can't rush treatment on that. I'm sorry." Spock listened to Dr. M'Benga, feeling faintly guilty. If he could break the trance early, he would have. He feared Dr. McCoy's mental health would suffer further deterioration if the waiting game lasted much longer.

"I know, I know the stupid green blooded idiot needs healing. But why is Jim in a coma? Are they close to waking? Will they be alright?" Spock could feel McCoy's gaze on his skin like a live wire. He forced himself not to retreat further into his own mind. He could... fix the damage and pay attention to the conversation the doctors were having. It wasn't likely to offer new information but any update on James' status would be welcome.

It was more disconcerting than he'd first realised, not having a bond. Like missing an appendage when he knew his body was whole. Relying on infrequent, unsatisfactory reports to assess his condition felt wrong. Every time Spock had to stop himself from simply checking through the bond. It hurt a whole lot more when he was visually reminded of his failures.

Over the last two weeks Spock had been busy fixing the wound in his katra. When the bond had been broken, it had been plucked right out. The bond which was formed from the very threads of his katra interweaving with James' own. Part of Spock's katra was ripped from him. Freely given, the transference of one's katra was painless. To have it yanked out against his will was to lose part of himself. One could not grow a new katra. Spock was left questioning whether the hole would ever heal.

The frayed edges had already softened. It was almost time to wake up. Starfleet needed it's best command crew. Enterprise needed it's captain.

"Perhaps I should put in a call, tell them I can't make the conference." McCoy had moved closer, hand now resting over Spock's forehead. His telepathy spiked, reaching out to the unguarded mind. The hand brushed his bangs out of the way. They had grown too long. Spock was overdue for a haircut. The fingers settled on his temple, lightly following a scar from his childhood. He could feel the conflicting Human emotions.

Fear. Loss. Sorrow. Pain. Anxiety. Hope. Love.

The inside of Spock's mind preened. Slowly, out of the uniform darkness, colours began to appear.

"Leonard, whatever it is you're doing, keep doing it! His vitals are up 15%." Spock, normally lost in the face of Human emotionalism and expression, could hear the joy and excitement in M'Benga's voice. They cared. They truly cared. Not just for James. For Spock. It was an odd sensation. It was nice.

"What? Touching his face?"

"I don't know. What are you thinking about? Vulcan's are telepathically 'open' whilst in trances. He could be picking up on your surface thoughts?" The commotion was drawing attention from the nurses. Chapel's distinctive perfume made his nose itch.

"Damn it man! I'm thinking about what to say when I cancel my bookings so I can stay here." McCoy's frustration and worthlessness coloured Spock's world. It was weird to think of the harsh doctor feeling such things in regards to Spock's own care. More often than not, McCoy would pick on anything Spock did or said to argue with him. Before Kahn, he'd resembled the bullies of Spock's youth, with his constant insults and argumentative manner. After Kirk's revival, there had been a certain understanding. The barbs had been less biting. They were not friends but, getting there.

"Ok, that isn't it." M'Benga was pacing to Spock's left. It was not an unusual motion for the doctor to take when trying to think of a solution to a particularly difficult problem.

"You know, it might be nothing, but his brother..." M'Benga started. His hands were tapping against his legs.

"Sybok's a pretty powerful empath. Doesn't happen very often but they make amazing mind healers. If Spock's got latent empathic abilities, or hasn't mentioned them, because god knows unless you ask a Vulcan directly they don't tell you anything, he could be picking up on your emotional state and using it as a sort of booster."

Was it unusual for Vulcan's to pick up emotions? Spock had never thought about it. Sybok was always infringing on everyone's feelings. It seemed normal, in comparison. Then again, compared to Sybok, McCoy was normal. And wasn't that a truly horrifying thought.

Surprise. Hope. Determination. Loneliness. Worry. Confusion.

"How do I feel things at him?" McCoy's hand stopped gently stroking his skin. M'Benga chuckled.

"You're thinking about it too much. But it's still working. He's at 65%. Almost-"

"Doctor McCoy, it's the captain! I was changing his fluids and his hand twitched. His heart rate's accelerating and his cranial activity is almost back to normal."

Astonishment. Relief. Joy. Love. Excitement. Expectancy.

Spock's eyes opened to see a beaming Doctor McCoy and a positively giddy Doctor M'Benga.

"I do believe it would be in your best interest to check on the captain." Spock sat up and rolled his shoulders before raising an eyebrow at their expectant faces. M'Benga laughed as McCoy blushed and hurried into the next room, muttering under his breath about 'ungrateful hobgoblins'.

April 27, 2262

"If you need me, call, or I swear to god, I will hypo you within an inch of your god damn fool life and then release your medical history to the press." Spock watched the captain pat the doctor on the shoulder. A flash of jealousy flooded through him. It took considerable effort to confine the vicious emotion for later reflection.

"You worry too much Bones. I'll be fine, I'm not even going on shore leave. It'll be me, Enterprise and the engineers." Jim smiled and pulled the doctor in for a hug.

"Have fun. Do nerdy doctor stuff." Before the doctor could reply, Jim nodded his head and both men on the transporter pad were gone. Jim's smile fell, blue eyes dulling. It would be a long, awkward week without McCoy's presence between them.

Part of Spock rebelled at the need for the doctor's presence, even though their relationship had vastly improved since their awakening.

A rush of heat surged through Spock, accompanied by the need to hit something. He pushed it down immediately, having gotten used to the weird aggressive needs of late. The first time he had experienced them, Spock had made a call to T'Pau. She had explained them as an after effect of the breaking of his bond. Whilst the bond was in place, he had other methods of releasing emotion. It had been one of the many conversations Spock, quite illogically, wished he'd never begun. It rated somewhere between the time when he was seven and asked Sybok why ko-mekh and sa-mekh were away on a holiday without them and when he'd had to explain Pon Farr to both Dr. McCoy and M'Benga.

Spock leaned passed the captain and hit the button for deck seven. A little exercise would hopefully burn off some of his frustration. Although the bridge master might personally come after him if he were to destroy any more of the training dummies. A punching bag would suffice. He just needed to punch something until his knuckles bled. It was a shame they didn't have any moving targets or another Vulcan on board. Practise with his lirpa or ahn-woon would be more than welcome.

"Spock, we need to talk. This is effecting our command it's-"

"Bridge to captain, we have a transition from Command, sir." James flipped open his comm and stared at it for a few seconds, clearly torn.

"Have it sent to my ready room. I'll be there momentarily. Kirk out." The turbolift door slid open and Spock made his hasty escape. Being close to the captain was clouding his logic. He needed space, time and something to rip apart.

May 2, 2262

In a way it was like being distanced from his body, an outsider watching through eyes that used to be his. He had almost no control over his actions. Enough not to kill the ridiculous security personnel attempting to corral and trap him. It wasn't much but something was better than nothing. Or rather, better than knowing their deaths were on his hands.

Such stupid, feeble Humans. It was so easy, with their weak bodies and foolish minds, to deceive, separate and attack them.

Jim was Human. Jim with his pretty eyes and his big, warm smile and his perfect mind.

They were keeping him away from Jim. But that didn't feel right. Not to Spock, at least. Nothing could stop Jim from getting what he wanted. He was a force of nature, barely leashed. Spock needed that. Needed him to stop the pain and the hunger and the want. His blood burned. Each pump of his heart sent agony through his veins. His mind searching for his Jim's. Where was Jim? And Spock remembered. Jim left him, didn't want him.

Spock crumbled in on himself. Let the phaser stun him. Let the Humans move him back into the brig. His Jim didn't need him. The plak tow would burn it's course. He would take no other mate. Was too far gone for saving, regardless.

Behind the force field, Spock watched as the red shirts shifted wearily. He had already escaped once. It would take more than convincing the guard to get close enough, enter his mind and get the Human puppet to let him out. Spock felt his eyes change, a light itching as his body began to activate the previously unused rod cells in his retina. If Vulcan had survived, ShiKahr would be approaching darkness. His eyes had adjusted accordingly, to improve his ability to see in the dark and protect his mate from the dangers it housed.

On a starship it was as useless as the armour which coloured the skin beneath his shirt.

With trembling hands, Spock removed his shirts, the two layers uncomfortable against his sensitive skin. He turned in a circle, eyes searching for an exit whilst he listened to the arguing Humans. They were debating locking the outer door.

There.

Spock ran his hands along the wall panels, sensitive fingers feeling each weak point in the wall. This would do.

He drew a hand back and struck the wall with an open palm, bending the thick metal. Again and again he systematically hit the panel until it was warped enough to simply pop free. From there, Spock reached inside and pulled at the wires, careful enough not to break them and alert anyone to his escape. If he was to die, he would do so in his own space.

Once the contents were sufficiently displaced, Spock entered the cavity and began to wiggle his way through. Every other minute, or thereabout, he ran his hands along the wall, feeling the vibrations of the containment field. Once he was free of it, he turned, braced his back against the wall and kicked out. The metal bent enough to fit his fingers through the crack.

"What's wrong with him, ensign?" Spock paused, his blood boiling, as he heard Jim's voice. His beloved, golden Jim. Here as his captain, superior officer, friend but never his mate. Holding on with only his fingers, Spock pushed with his palm and distorted the door enough to remove it, exit and prop it against the floor.

"Spock? Hey Spock, it's Jim, are you alright?" Panicked, Spock search for somewhere to hide. If he saw his Jim, there would be no guarantee the he could hold himself together. In the past, Vulcans had been known to force their chosen into the bond with the violence of Pon Farr. It was possible all he would do was beg for his mate back and humiliate them both before dying. Or worse, Jim agreed, to save his life. He could not, would not be a burden. Was it so wrong to want love and acceptance from his life partner? Love and acceptance like his parents shared.

Just before Jim walked into view, Spock jumped up above the door and held himself in place.

Jim stepped into the room. Spock felt a shift in his katra. He craved.

With precise, silent movements, Spock landed on the floor, locked the door and ripped off the keypad. His eyes tracked Jim's movements. Keeping to Jim's back, he slunk over to the other side of the room. His Jim had noticed his escape and the jammed door but apparently not his continued presence.

As Spock shifted, the floor creaked and Jim stilled. From across the room, Spock listened to his heart rate accelerate and breathing become more shallow. Like prey, trapped by a predator.

Spock kept his eyes on Jim as he turned slowly. Seeing his mate, face to face, nearly undid the last vestiges of Spock's control. For a few minutes nothing happened as Jim continued to watch him wearily. Then, ever unpredictable, he raised his hands in a rather suggestive, submissive manner. Which couldn't be right because his Jim didn't want him. Had taken part of him away in his effort to be free of Spock.

Jim walked forward cautiously, eyes travelling over Spock's exposed chest with interest. The warrior markings he wore, ancient armour of his ancestors. They were carved into his skin, mind and katra after his kahs wan and only reappearing in extreme losses of emotional control. The Golic words, written by the head priestess, Alveria, depicted the personal dangers and challenges he'd faced and would face in the future.

Death. Chaos. Hatred. Sorrow.

"Spock, what's wrong? I want to help. Let me fix this." Jim was within reach, everything he wanted, needed and couldn't have. He shouldn't have come. Spock wasn't worth it.

"T'hy'la? You have come to me. Why?" Spock's throat felt like it was filled with rocks, straining each breath, each word. He strained against himself, wrestling with the temptation to take Jim in his arms and squirrel them away somewhere no one could find them. To merge their bodies until they were inseparable.

"Parted from me and never parted." Jim moved forward, hand outstretched in invitation. His too blue eyes glowed in the sterile setting, determined and clear. It was an offer Spock could not, would not refuse. It wasn't as if he'd ever really had a chance. Jim Kirk made him feel. In an instant, he stood before Jim, chest to chest. Jim breached the final millimetre between them, sinking bonelessly into Spock.

"Mine, Jim." Possessive instinct raged beneath Spock's skin, his world shifting on it's axis to reorientate around Jim. His everything.

Spock ripped Jim's gold command tunic and black under shirt off with one hasty tug. Black dress pants were next to go and then Jim was kneeling in the middle of his bed, watching expectantly as Spock divested himself of the rest of his own clothes. A golden arm grabbed at Spock's, fingers tangling and sending electric sparks flying between them. Spock fell to his knees, free hand searching blindly for the lube while he drunk in the sight of his naked partner. The cool surface met his burning touch and his hands wrapped around the bottle.

The blood fever was almost overpowering. He needed Jim, his cool skin to sate the searing of his Vulcan heritage. And although he burned he would rather die than harm his mate. He couldn't lose whatever control he had left. His mate was Human and precious.

"Spock, please." Jim whined and it took all Spock's training not to simply pound into him.

Instead he steadied his shaking hands and flipped open the lid. Instantly, the smell of apples invaded his superior senses. Spock was fairly certain -his memories weren't really all that accessible at that point in time- Jim didn't have flavoured lube the last time they had sex. He growled at the briefest thought of Jim with someone else.

Mine.

With only the slightest of issues, Spock coated three fingers in the sweet scented lubricant. He slid the first in, right up to the knuckle. Spock could feel Jim's impatience and need as he clenched around the sensitive digit. Ever happy to oblige his mate, he slid the finger out and added another, stretching Jim while he located his prostate.

His cock leaked as he watched his fingers being swallowed in avid fascination. How he would love to take his time. Draw orgasm from Jim, over and over. Claim him so thoroughly no one would ever doubt the sincerity of his affections.

Spock slid his fingers in and out of Jim, stimulating his prostate with each pass. This was Vulcan heaven.

Three fingers was a bit of a squeeze. It had been too long since they had last done this. Much too long. He could feel the residue of his control splintering even as Jim loosened around him.

He couldn't take it anymore.

The tattered remnants of rational thought left his head as Spock lined his slicked erection to Jim's puckered entrance. Inhumanly hot hands gripped Jim's waist in a possessive hold. Spock felt Jim's desire to be marked through bites and bruises and tightened his grip over his mate's jutting hipbones. The rough treatment would definitely leave bruises.

In one smooth motion, Spock jerked his hips forward and buried himself to the hilt within Jim. Only a moment passed before he pulled out and thrusted forward again and again, setting a brutal pace.

"Spock, Spock, oh gods, please Spock." Jim was moaning and wreathing beneath him, trying to match each possessive thrust.

"Please. Harder." Spock growled his approval and snapped his hips forward, filling Jim once more. With each impossibly deep thrust, he could feel Jim tightening around his cock, drawing them both closer to orgasm.

"Jim." Spock chocked out, sounding somewhat like a desperate animal. His hips rolled as he rammed himself into his mate, hitting his prostate with excessive force. They were so close. Just on the edge of ecstasy.

Spock reached around and turned Jim's face. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes screwed shut. They opened, barely more than a ring of blue surrounding his blown pupils. Breathless moans brushed against Spock's lips as he descended for a kiss and slipped his tongue inside Jim's mouth. His taste was everything he remembered. His tongue just as eager for battle and just as ready to submit. It was heady to have his mate like this. To see his captain so undone. It painted the most beautiful, lewd picture.

Moulded to Jim's back, he released his mouth to suck and bite along the back of his neck. Jim spread his legs wider and bucked back, sending Spock deeper. He impaled himself with feverish abandon, consumed by the ancient fire of Spock's blood.

The velvet walls wrapped around Spock's shaft tightened. It was almost too much and yet, never enough.

The sound of slapping skin filled the room, driving their mutual need. Jim arched back as Spock continued to drive vigorously into him. Spock's hand slipped down Jim's toned body, teasing pink nipples along the way. Having found it's target, he pumped Jim's erection in time to his thrusts.

Spock could feel his impending orgasm through the tightening in his belly. His free hand released Jim's hip and moved to cover his psi-points.

"Please, yes, please." With his mate's assent, he connected their minds fully and white flashes appeared almost instantaneously behind his eyelids. Jim, driven by their lust and the additional sensations, came. Hard. Spock, followed seconds later, howling and bucking into Jim as he filled him with his hot seed.

He pulled out and Jim turned himself around with a slight wince. Spock watched with warm, affectionate eyes as Jim reached up and traced the line of his eyebrows.

"I love you." His voice was soft, reverent and those eyes stared up innocently. The edges of Spock's mouth twitched.

"And I, you." Sapphire eyes turned smouldering as tanned legs wrapped around Spock's waist. He ground up into Spock's erection and waggled his eyebrows.

"Think you can handle another round?" Jim asked with a cheeky wink.

"I will defer to your good judgement, captain. However, I do believe it is I who should be asking whether you are 'up to another round'."