Title: Home (Multichapter fic with 35 parts)

Beta: un-beta'd D: D: D:

Warnings: bondage, torture, prostitution, explicit sex, drug use, attempted rape

Themes and Tropes: exploration/adventure, outlaws, bottom!Spock

Summary: Jim is heading towards a personal crisis. Their mission is vitally important: to find a new home world for the Vulcan race in the face of alien opposition. Soon it is clear that there is only one planet that will do. To secure the mysterious planet Jim must play his hand perfectly, but guilt at not having been able to save Vulcan and the responsibilities of captaining the Enterprise are wearing him down. Determined to be professional, he forces loneliness upon himself until a kiss he shares with his first officer changes everything.

"Life is short," Spock said.

Those words brought the tight feeling back to Jim's chest and he hugged Spock again. If he'd lost Spock … the idea that he might never have seen those eyes again pained him beyond belief. The excitement he felt paled in comparison to a sudden wave of raw urgency that broke over him.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters, Paramount does, and didn't create them either, Roddenberry did.

Author's note: Well, sorry this took so long to edit. I had a very bad case of RL XD. Hope you enjoy!

– Home-Part 35 of 35 –

Dinner had been the same somber affair it always was on Saketh, though Sarek had seemed glad, if only for a moment, to see his son. Jim had taken some comfort in that. The meal had lasted far too long, though-he'd wanted to be back onboard the Enterprise, to walk through her corridors, check up on every section, and discuss ship's business with Spock. Now, sitting in the briefing room of the Enterprise, he'd done all those things; he only regretted his wish-list hadn't included spending enough time in his quarters to take a shower.

Opposite him Spock straightened in his seat.

"If that it all, Captain-."

"Actually, there is one more thing … ."

Damn it, why couldn't he just wrap up this meeting? It had been a very long day, after all.

"I am listening," Spock prompted.

He paid attention as Jim explained about the worrying behavior of the Vulcan survivors. Then he turned his head to watch the stationary stars out of one of the room's small windows. Jim rubbed his eyes—he was tired; he'd tried to approach the subject sensitively, but maybe he should've waited 'til morning after all.

"Spock, I'm sorry if you think I'm being tactless by even mentioning it, but I'm concerned. Maybe Sargoni and I are trying hard to find a problem simply so we can feel like there's something we can fix. I … I don't know anymore. I mean, it's hard for us as humans to understand how it is for a Vulcan."

He paused and reflected on what he'd said then, calling Spock a Vulcan when the elder Sprinek had called him 'human'.

He tried to find his focus again. "Even if we could put ourselves into your position of having lost so much … since we have different genetics and different cultures, understanding your people is just-."

Spock fixed Jim with hard eyes. "Difficult? Uncomfortable?"

"Yes. I admit it. There. But still, I'm reluctant to disregard Sargoni's words. He's a specialist in xeno-medicine. He's seen how pain effects a whole range of different species."

"I still do not understand why you give his work any credence. You have already presented enough counter-arguments to his theories yourself. And you have no first-hand experience of being among Vulcans before the destruction of my home world."

"You don't think your people are behaving any differently?"

"I have not had enough contact with them to make a statement with any certainty, but of course we have been deeply affected by what has happened."

Jim noticed that Spock's hands were clasped in front of him, his knuckles white.

"I know that," he whispered. "That's what Sargoni is trying to say: that this has affected you all in a way that no one could've anticipated-because this is a situation no one could possibly have imagined. And I do know you, Spock. I've noticed differences in your behavior and I put them down to the change in our relationship, but coming to Saketh may have been the cause. Many people have told me that the Vulcan survivors seem to be getting worse, not better, on the planet. Sprinek told me that all he felt was anger. A Vulcan elder admitting emotion? I'm worried."

"A reaction to finally experiencing the world that is meant to replace our home," Spock replied flatly.

Jim shook his head and started to pick up the PADDs that were strewn across the table. Maybe they both needed some sleep and things would look better in the morning. When he'd finished stacking the tablets into a neat pile he turned to face Spock.

"Your older counterpart-he was different from the other Vulcans, you know? Even though his anger is also growing, although he suppresses it with his knowledge of Kolinahr … he still showed me kindness on Saketh."

Jim felt Spock's eyes boring into him; he held his own gaze level to meet them. In his chest he could feel his heart beating ever more loudly.

"Kolinahr is not the suppression of emotions: it is the purging of them. Once they've been purged they are gone."

Spock's voice faltered on the last word, breaking at the same time Jim saw his hands start to shake.

"I cannot believe he would do that," his friend went on.

Jim walked around the table and slowly put his hand on Spock's shoulder, but he needn't have worried—the alien didn't shrug him off.

Spock looked up at him. "I contemplated it once, but now...?" He shook his head. "The reason so many of my people are failing to purge themselves of their emotions is because we do not want to, could not bear to do it. Our pain, our anger, and our grief are all we have left of Vulcan. I cannot let go of that." His lips were trembling too now. "I will not."

Jim's whole body tensed. What Spock was talking about, it was self-destructive? Selfish? Illogical? But he could understand it. In a way it was very human.

"If your counterpart purged that anger, rather than suppressing it," Jim said. His mind was suddenly racing. "And he definitely told me he was using Kolinahr techniques ... then that anger must've returned. He also said the feelings of anger were growing stronger amongst the Vulcans on Saketh."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "That should not be possible. Once an emotion is purged, there should be no way for it to return."

"Well, I think that's what's happening, Spock. Every time I met him he acted more distant towards me. There's something about what's happening to those Vulcans down on Saketh, to their emotions, that's not right. I've given you all the arguments I have and I know they don't seem to add up to much, but … I know, alright? We need to investigate this; I'm going to ask Starflee-."

Spock stood up so quickly that Jim automatically took a step backwards.

"Your intuition?" Spock asked.

"Yes, my intuition," Jim shot back, his face starting to flush red.

"You once explained to me how your intuitive judgment was based on drawing together many facts in a way not possible if you had started a logical chain of reasoning."

Jim folded his arms across his chest, but said nothing. He wasn't sure where this was going.

"I trust your intuition. Although that is not to say that I think any less of the logical approach."

First Jim felt his back and shoulders relax, then the rest of him followed suit as he let out a short, relieved laugh.

"You are mostly correct, Captain."

"So now you're saying it's 'mostly' logical to trust me?"

One black eyebrow rose up in response. "We should test your theory. I am in no way capable of analyzing the turmoil of my emotions; I cannot tell with any precision what being on Saketh does to them. But I do believe being on the planet increases their strength. If I went down there while Doctor McCoy monitored my brain activity he may be able to record any possible changes and so determine whether my reaction to being on the surface is a natural one or not."

Jim grinned and slammed his fist down onto the table. "Now that's the kind of talk I want to hear! Spock, I could hug you."

But he didn't. Instead he cleared his throat and pretended he found the neat pile of PADDs on the table particularly interesting, while Spock similarly seemed to have developed a sudden fascination for the red colored floor panels.

"Now I don't mean to sound insubordinate, Captain, but-." Bones said as he and Spock shone their flashlights over the sandy beach.

In Jim's opinion 'I don't mean to be disrespectful, or rude, or specist, but …' couldn't possibly be followed by anything that was respectful, polite, or open-minded, so he knew that Bones was unhappy with his orders. Still, that didn't stop a smile from spreading across his face.

"-honestly, couldn't this have waited 'til tomorrow? What the devil were you thinking dragging us back down to Saketh this late at night?"

Jim chuckled. "I want to investigate this. And for all I know I'll get a sub-space call tomorrow sending us to the Romulan Neutral Zone. Without any proof that there's a problem headquarters aren't going to take this seriously."

"Can't someone here look into this tomorrow while we're fighting the Romulans? After a good night's sleep, I might add."

"Believe me," Jim said, his tone turning serious, "finding a co-operative Vulcan is a rarity."

Bones let out a huff.

"Come on, indulge me."

Not that his friend actually had a choice-he had his orders. But Jim knew he was only complaining because he liked to and he'd missed being able to do that under Spock's command. There was a whirr and a beep: the doctor was scanning said commander.

"Right," he said. "No change. So now what? It's past midnight, we're on a beach, it's cold, and Spock's brain's behaving itself. Does that mean we should go to the mountain city?"

The exclamations "No!" and "I do not think that would be a logical course of action," sounded across the beach.

"I'm sorry," he said, throwing up a defensive hand.

Jim drew his lips into a thin line. "Besides-only a few Vulcans have been into the mountain. We're looking for something that's affecting them all."

They paused their walk and Jim clamped his flashlight under his arm, leaving his hands free.

He rubbed them together. "You're right. It's cold and maybe we'll be here a while waiting for something to show up on your scanner, so let's make a fire to keep warm, eh?"

Bones mumbled something, but he didn't waste time, quickly picking up the first piece of wood he could find.

Jim hollowed out a pit, which he lined with shingle, as his friends gathered driftwood for it. When he'd gotten the fire going they all sat down to huddle around it.

"You know, this is one of the things I love about Saketh," Jim said. "It really is a beautiful place. The vegetation is green, you get used to the alien smell quickly, and there're plenty of opportunities to relax if you can find the time to."

He turned to Spock. "If we'd walked just a bit further along this beach, we would've come to a watercourse. Just a few minutes' walk inland the stream pools. Although the sky is always hazy, the sun does have some strength. You can easily bathe in the water there and let the warm breeze near the ground dry you as you lie on its banks."

"Lovely image," Bones snorted. "Please tell me more about your nudist adventures on Saketh."

Jim laughed and nudged him gently in the side with his elbow. "Well, if you insist."

"I would not be averse to hearing more," Spock cut in. "About the planet, of course."

His eyes twinkled with humor in the firelight. Bones drew Jim out of his reverie with a smack to his upper arm.

"You guys, I'm right here."

The whoosh of the flames and the crackling of the dried wood eclipsed all other sounds around the campfire for a few long minutes. Jim stared at the sand in front of his feet.

"Huh. Sorry again, I guess," Bones said as he threw on some more fuel, sending sparks up into the starless heavens. "I didn't know you two weren't ... whatever you were, anymore. No one tells me anything after all." He shot Jim an accusing glare. "But you know, this place reminds me of a lake near my grandfather's on the border between a wood and some cornfields. We used to camp on its shore occasionally ... ."

And so the conversation picked up again and Jim told them of the cliffs he enjoyed walking along, how the cold spray of the ocean on a windy day could shroud the whole coast in white, and of the sight of the Sakethan sun turning yellow as it dipped below the horizon in the evening.

The light of the small fire was dimming as Bones went to kneel down next to Spock again, scanner in hand. But after studying the medical instrument for a few long moments he shook his head. Jim groaned and let himself flop backwards onto the cold sand. Above, the darkness was absolute; no stars. So black, he thought.

"The monuments!"

He leapt up, grabbed Spock's arm, and tugged at it. "Come!"

After they'd hastily filled the pit Jim ran on ahead of his friends, back the way they'd come. The way his flashlight reflected off the black stone reminded him of a still pool of water; he waited for the others to catch up.

"Bones, touch it. It feels odd right? No, Spock, you wait a minute. Did you touch it last time you were here?"

"No, I did not. But I have had opportunity to feel the texture of the material it is made of. It is the same rock as that into which the Katric Ark was cut."

"Yes! I remember thinking that when I was last in the Ark!"

"Going to explain to me what you're so excited about?" Bones asked, but then his eyes went wide and he pulled his hand back from the stone slab. "I don't like that thing."

"No! No human does."

"Doctor McCoy. If you are ready, I will touch the stone," Spock said.

Jim went to stand beside him. "Are you sure about this?"

"Positive, Captain."

The medical scanner buzzed menacingly and Jim stepped out of the doctor's way.

"Ready when you are," Bones said.

Jim bit his lip. He wanted to pull Spock away; he knew it was an irrational urge. After all, he'd watched other Vulcans touch these structures and at worst it had made them a bit more introverted. That was all it had done, right?

Spock knelt down at the edge of the road and reached out with his hand, palm outstretched. Those hands were so sensitive, Jim remembered. He wondered if the stone would even feel smooth to those alien fingers, or if they'd be able to pick up all the unevenness that he wasn't able to. Before Spock made contact with the monument he hesitated—his hand hovered in the air just above the surface and Jim hoped he'd never touch it.

He didn't. He stood up and fixed his eyes on Bones.

"Did you record anything?" he asked.

"How're you feeling?" the doctor replied.

"Not really the best question to ask him, Bones."

Maybe Bones hadn't seen that Spock hadn't touched the stone … or maybe the Vulcan hadn't needed to. He didn't look any different and if it hadn't been for the fact that they'd just done this as an experiment, no one would probably have thought to ask Spock if he'd just experienced anything out of the ordinary. Well, maybe he hadn't, Jim reminded himself.

"No," the doctor told Jim sternly before addressing Spock, "Let your feelings out. Don't suppress them now!"

"You do not know what you are asking of me there," Spock replied coolly.

Jim wanted to reach out and touch him, but he clasped his hands behind his back instead.

"That bad?" he asked.

"I do not know if it is 'bad' or not. I do not want to analyze my emotions. I … cannot."

"Right, course not," Jim replied softly.

Earlier in the briefing room Spock had been quite clear on his inability to analyze his emotions.

"Doctor, what did you register on your scanner?" Spock asked. "A natural or unnatural reaction?"

"Everything looks normal now. Increased activity in this one region of your brain here." He held out the device for Spock to take a look, but the Vulcan suddenly didn't seem to care, barely giving it a passing glance before averting his eyes.

"From what I know that's linked to more activity of your conscious mind. I guess you've got a lot to think about, eh?"

"Or it's taking a lot of his concentration to suppress his reaction to the monument," Jim said.

"Right," Bones took another look at the scanner himself. "But what I did see while Spock was near that road was a memory being put down. Of course we're putting down memories all the time, but this one seemed to go straight to his long term memory. Maybe that's normal for Vulcans, but I doubt it."

"Well, that's something. Forward the data to Doctor Sargoni, maybe he can make some sense of it and we can see if it's anything we can report to Starfleet Medical. It sounds like it could be! I want this investigated further tomorrow, orders from headquarters permitting. But we've found something, so let's go to bed now."

He hesitated before calling the ship, though. Spock looked alright, but something had happened to him then, Bones had recorded it. Spock hadn't shown an interest in the scan results, which was very uncharacteristic of the keen scientist he knew that man to be. Did the Vulcan know more than he was letting on?

Jim turned to face him. "Are you okay?"

A slight sigh seemed to pass Spock's lips. "Yes, Captain."

"Right."

Well, it had been worth a try. He flipped open his communicator.

"Wait," Spock said.

With a snap Jim closed the device in his hand.

"I do not know if this is related to what the doctor detected," Spock said, "but there may be more than a correlation here: when I am near that road, and other places like it, I can almost see how the colony might have looked. One second I imagine Vulcans walking down this road, laughing, but the next they are butchered in a terrible massacre. Illogical. I do not have enough data to construct such a scenario. But I reasoned that proximity to the Sakethan ruins, remains of a culture similar to that of my home world in ancient times, was sufficient enough to explain my overactive imagination. Now-," he tilted his head to one side. "I cannot say for sure that my supposition was correct."

"Come." Jim put his arm around his friend's stiff shoulders. "Let's get off this planet and back to the Enterprise."

It wasn't even what he'd describe as a proper hug, he'd held back from doing that, and yet Bones seemed to be looking away purposefully. Well screw him. This was just him putting a friendly arm around Spock, if Bones chose to interpret it any other way then there was nothing Jim could do about that. Sure, Vulcans weren't the most tactile of creatures, but still, it didn't mean anything.

"I hate you, Bones," he muttered when the transporter beam took hold of them.

He'd wanted to get some rest, but his bed had felt uncomfortably soft; not to mention that he thought his quarters smelt of Spock. While he was sure that was just his imagination, he'd still found his thoughts revolving around the alien.

The doors to the first officer's quarters slid open. Spock was sitting in the middle of the room meditating. Or well, he had been meditating until Jim had disturbed him by sounding the chime.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Spock seemed calm, but that could be a lie. He didn't get up, so Jim sat down next to him and started rubbing his back gently.

"Come on, we should both get some sleep."

Spock furrowed his brow. "Am I preventing you from sleeping?"

"I didn't want you to be alone; wanted to make sure you were okay. Vulcans might not worry, but humans do."

Although it was the truth—that he needed to assure himself Spock was alright—there was more to it than that. Examining his own ulterior motives made him uncomfortable, but it was hard to escape the truth: he didn't want to be alone, wanted to be close to Spock.

To watch the Vulcan stand up was to witness the slow unfolding of a graceful being. Jim always marveled at the high degree of control he had over his body; it was truly awe-inspiring. Once he was upright, he extended his arm towards Jim and opened his hand, palm facing upwards. Jim's vision narrowed down to the pale offering. If he touched that hand the alien would almost certainly feel how fast his heart was pumping. That was the very least he'd be able to feel. He reached out and grabbed Spock's wrist, which was covered in the material of his blue science shirt; Spock locked his fingers around Jim's in turn and helped him up.

For a couple of seconds they just stood where they were, their arms still linked. The sight caused a memory to flash across Jim's consciousness: cold, churning water, but between them an oasis of heat.

He let go. Spock didn't. Instead he felt the Vulcan increase the pressure slightly; just a squeeze.

"Spock?"

There was no response on his face, no indication of what he was thinking.

"You do not want me to be alone?" Spock asked eventually.

"Well, if you'd prefer to be alone of course ... but otherwise … ."

Spock placed a few fingers lightly on Jim's chest, and he knew then that all his effort from earlier to hide the state of his emotions was all for nothing at that point. Then Spock left him next to the meditation mat as he went to his sleeping area. When he came back he was carrying two pairs of Starfleet issue pajamas.

"I believe the human word is 'sleep-over'. If that is amenable to you?"

Was it? Just because he'd secretly—or as it turned out, not so secretly-wanted this, didn't mean that it was in any way sensible. He walked past Spock without taking one of the offered pajamas, sat down on the bed, and put his head in his hands.

"You read me right. This is exactly what I wanted. To be close to you. But it's probably also the worst idea in the galaxy."

Spock sat down next to him. "I am not very emotionally aware. Now especially. Please tell me what you need."

Jim laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. "I was meant to come here to comfort you, not the other way 'round, you know?"

"Your presence is comforting to me. I am very grateful that you did not choose to end our friendship."

Jim shook his head. "I was never mad at you. More … disappointed."

Spock looked down at the floor. "I am sorry for hurting you so much as I must have done for you to end our relationship. You were very forceful in wanting it despite my reservations that it would be a burden on you and lead to you being hurt-something I never wanted but which has occurred nonetheless due to my unfeeling actions."

"Huh. So you noticed too?"

Suddenly Spock looked a lot smaller; Jim's gut felt like it was twisting horribly. He averted his eyes, but that only made it worse because these quarters were stacked full of mementoes. A thick Vulcan tapestry hung on one wall, below which was Spock's lyre, and next to it some pot plant with blue flowers-it looked a bit like one of the plants he'd seen on Saketh. Above it a whole host of framed photographs were displayed on a shelf. There was one of Uhura. From within another frame the dark eyes of a small Vulcan boy holding the hand of a dark-haired human woman stared back at him.

If he'd come here to comfort Spock, then he really wasn't doing a very good job of that so far, was he? Had he ever done a good job in that respect? His personal logs didn't indicate that he'd thought to ask Spock about the loss of Vulcan or his mother, or even about the breakdown of his relationship with Uhura. But surely he had? He cared so deeply about Spock that he couldn't imagine that he wouldn't have offered him all the support that he could. It was clear his friend needed some right now.

He swung around and in the process dislodged the pajamas Spock had laid down on the bed between them; they tumbled to the floor. His hands felt their way over and around his friend's back-beneath the fabric of the blue science shirt he felt muscles bunch. Jim held Spock tighter as he rested his head on the other's shoulder.

"I don't want to fight with you," he said softly. "You're going through hell."

He felt strong arms encircling his body and then he was being hugged in return. Gradually he felt the knots of tension in his stomach unwind. It took a lot longer, but after a while Spock's back muscles started to soften.

Spock's voice was quiet, but clear. "So are you."

This was the moment Jim had been waiting for all day, for months if he was honest; he'd first had his hopes dashed after what had happened by the monument, but now the moment was here. He drew in a deep breath and savored the warmth of Spock's body pressed against his. This wouldn't last, he knew, but maybe he'd have an hour or two with his friend.

"Hopefully we'll know more tomorrow about what's happening to you on Saketh—on top of all that you've already had to suffer and are dealing with."

They held onto each other until Jim broke their embrace. "Sorry, but this position is a bit awkward and really doing my lower back in." He grinned. "We're also not getting much sleep."

He hurried off to the bathroom, one set of pajamas in hand, to get himself ready for the night and when he returned Spock had already changed. While Spock was in the bathroom Jim studied the bed. For once he was actually glad that Starfleet had never gotten around to finishing off the quarters to the newest standard. Instead of the slim thermal beds the ship had meant to be fitted with that would've allowed the crew to sleep comfortably in a uniform, they'd ended up stuck with old fashioned mattresses—which had the benefit of being slightly wider than their thermal equivalent though.

Jim lay down on one side as Spock exited the bathroom. Soon they were both lying down next to one another, each covered with a thick blanket of their own.

"Jim, are you comfortable?"

"I'm fine. Really," he said while staring up at the ceiling. "Um. How about you?"

When his friend didn't reply Jim closed his eyes. Even an hour had been too much to ask for, obviously. He was tired of this—bone tired. But that was life, wasn't it?

The backs of Spock's fingers brushed his bearded cheek. In response he felt the skin all over his body flush with blood-it wasn't fair that he was affected this much by only one simple touch, wasn't fair at all. Warily he opened his eyes.

"Hmmm?" he prompted.

"While you were away I was often afflicted by illogical thoughts. At times I would enter the bridge and my eyes would seek out the chair in its center hoping you would be in it. Of course you never were."

Spock's sensitive fingers were lightly carding through his beard. Jim turned onto his side, reached out with one hand, and ran his fingertips over his friend's slightly rough cheek. He held his breath; they weren't so close that they'd easily be able to kiss, but his eyes were drawn to the Vulcan's full lips nonetheless.

Spock noticed that and removed his hand. "Jim, I am attracted to you and you are my friend."

"But … ? Come on, I know there's a 'but' waiting just 'round the corner. So I'll save you the pains and say it myself: but you don't want a relationship with me. You never did, did you?"

"That is not entirely true. I thought that it was 'worth a try', as humans would say. It was only when you started to fight for our relationship that I understood you were serious about it, but by then I was certainly in no fit state to be your lover—I probably never was. And I am still not. And this time I will not allow you to change my mind."

As Jim let his fingers drop away from the cold cheek it had been resting against, Spock caught them with both his hands.

"I say that because I know that I wish never to hurt you again. Friend."

Jim nodded past the knot in his throat. "Friend."

He scooted closer to Spock so he could wrap one arm around the other man's shoulders.

"But just tonight, let me be there for you—let me hold you; because I know this isn't easy on you either." Jim put on a cocky grin. "You must be using a lot of that famed Vuclan control right now to stop yourself from undressing me, hmmm?"

Spock raised a devilish eyebrow. "Indeed. The discomfort I feel at having to resist the urge to take this further is considerable. But it is worth it to experience the contentment that your closeness affords me."

Well, there was no way he was going to fall asleep tonight, was there? He had to concentrate hard not to kiss that damnable Vulcan on the lips—or anywhere else for that matter.

The next morning Jim woke to the sound of a door chime. He opened his eyes and was about to ask the computer for the time when he realized that his head was resting on Spock's shoulder, while half his body and one of his arms were draped across the Vulcan. He drew his hand back quickly and wanted to use it to lever himself off; that was impossible though because he was being held tightly by an arm as immovable as a mountain. The door chime rang again.

"Shit. I'll, um, be in the bathroom."

Spock released him and Jim sprang to his feet. With practiced ease he found his balance on the soft mattress so he could leap over his friend's form to land on the other side of the bed; from there he dashed to the slim door in the wall. It took far too long to open but finally it allowed him entrance to the safety of the small room.

Heh, just like old times back in Riverside, he thought once he was inside. In the mirror his unkempt reflection showed a few white hairs amongst the blond, both in his beard and on his head. Time seemed to pass more quickly in space than it did in Iowa-or at the very least it had a greater effect on him out in the black. Which was not a bad thing necessarily; maybe he'd get his hairdresser to add a few more hints of white here and there, make him look more distinguished. He grinned and shook his head. When had he last had time to care about his appearance? Judging by the beard on his face, not in a while. Besides, thanks to the media everyone knew his age anyway, so there was no fooling people with his hair color.

He angled his head this way and that to examine all of his facial hair. Behind him the door opened; he could see in the mirror that Spock was standing in the doorway wearing some kind of heavy robe over his pajamas.

"Visitor gone already?" he said without turning.

Bones stepped into view behind Spock. "No, I'm still here."

"Oh! Hey, Bones! I was just thinking I really need a shave, eh? And I could do with a cut too."

"I'm a doctor, not a hairstylist, Jim. Sargoni contacted me less than an hour ago."

They all went to stand around Spock's desk.

"I sent him the data," Bones explained. "And he's excited. Spock, would you be willing to repeat what we did last night?"

"Of course, Doctor," Spock replied quickly.

Bones turned to face Jim, seeking his approval; after all, last night had clearly affected the Vulcan in some mysterious manner-and that was certainly something to be concerned about.

Slowly, Jim nodded too. "If you'll excuse me though, I think I want a shower and shave first."

Two days later Bones was standing outside on the main street when Jim exited the building where he'd met with the Vulcan elders.

"How'd it go?" his friend asked.

Jim put a hand on his back and led him down the road at a fast pace, away from the center of the settlement. They headed towards the coast.

"That bad, eh?"

Jim stomped his foot down on the ground. "It's frustrating. They're being difficult about this on purpose. They don't want to stop anyone from going near the black stone. Why do they like being close to those monuments when they seem to have such a bad effect on them?"

"I think you should ask Spock," Bones replied. "He loves those monuments just as much as the next Vulcan."

"No, he doesn't."

"Oh really? Because I've seen him around those black stones. He's always volunteering to touch them-beyond the call of duty."

Jim huffed. "Well, we've discovered a whole complex cut into that black rock by the shore. I'm going there now to join Spock in the investigation; I'll keep an eye on him."

"Any response from Fleet Command?" Bones asked.

"They've got the report on their desks, but they still haven't decided if we'll be the ones to continue looking into this or not. But they're taking this mystery seriously, which is what's important."

Bones put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Back to the topic of Spock ... ."

"Yes?" Jim said icily.

"Just want you to know that I'm here to listen, kid. I'd promise not to judge you, but you know me-that's a promise I wouldn't be able to keep. But I do know when to keep my mouth shut and listen instead. I think you really need to talk."

Jaw clenched, Jim resisted the urge to storm away down the coastal path. Instead he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What he saw in his mind then was Bones hunched over a table in the officer's mess, between Uhura and Chekov. It wasn't like Bones to make his problems public, and yet he'd done just that—because he'd finally been pushed to the point where he'd needed to. Jim didn't think he was quite there yet, but his friend was right. It was best not to let it get that far—he had a ship to command.

"Fine," he grumbled.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and waved for Bones to take a seat on the trunk of a tree that hadn't been strong enough to resist the gales.

"Where should I even start?" Jim asked.

He really had no clue. It occurred to him then that until he'd come out of the Katric Ark, barely alive, that he'd never shared his problems or his private life with anyone.

He felt his airways constricting-there'd been a reason for that. But now he didn't remember. That one experience, and with it a part of his personality, had been excised from his mind for ever.

Bones placed an arm around his back. "Are you two in a relationship or not? How about we start there?"

"Okay," Jim whispered. "And after that can we also talk about my memory losses?"

Immediately Bones looked more concerned and leant in closer.

"Of course," he said.

Jim wrung his hands. "The first night back on the Enterprise… I really felt like I'd not only gotten my ship, but also Spock back. The last days he's been more distant than ever though. I don't know where I stand with him right now."

Bones hadn't been lying, Jim decided as he started to explain things which he knew were surely uncomfortable for his friend to hear-he really was a good listener.

The tide was low, exposing the stumps of an ancient forest that had been claimed by the sea. Jim stood on the beach, a comm channel to his ship open.

"Enterprise, do I have confirmation that there are no storms approaching, no bad weather?"

"Clear skies, sir," Sulu replied.

"Good, Kirk out."

He motioned to Spock, Ensign Howard, and Lieutenant Khmer to enter the natural cave in the steep cliff in front of them.

The air inside was cooler and the sound of the waves muted.

"Lieutenant, so far this looks like a natural cave to me."

"Ah yes," Khmer replied, "I think this part is, but further on it was extended. Look here."

He aimed his flashlight at a small lump of rock jutting out of the wall near the ground. It looked normal enough to Jim. Then the lieutenant swung his beam away, a few paces up ahead. The same structure. And then he was pointing out another on the opposite wall.

"What are they?" Jim asked.

Spock hadn't even taken out his tricorder. "Wall lights. The floor of this cave used to be considerably lower centuries ago."

Then Spock ran his hand reverently over the cave wall. It made the hairs all over Jim's body stand on end.

"Let's move on," he said.

The further in they went, the more obvious the signs of a Vulcan influence were. The craggy rock gave way to smoothed surfaces; they were clearly in a room now, not a cave. At the far end their flashlights illuminated an archway. Symbols, carved into the rock at the apex of the arch, seemed to move with a life of their own; their forms stood out sharply through the shadows the flashlights left in the deep grooves as they passed under the arch. Beyond it was a broad passageway. The walls were inscribed with deep groves which formed large symbols that even the harsh ocean air had not been able to corrode. They came to a steep incline; once they'd climbed it they reached another chamber, only this one had not been silted up by sand. It was not as vast in size as most of the rooms in the mountain city-instead it was humble both in its design and layout: a simple square. The bright light of all four of their flashlights lit up the whole room and revealed that there were no corridors leading off it.

"This is the end," Spock whispered.

Jim studied him. It was uncharacteristic of Spock to simply state the obvious.

"The end of what?"

"The Sakethan civilization."

Howard and Khmer closed their beeping tricorders and turned to listen. Spock's eyes weren't focused on any of them though; he was staring at the walls, as if looking for something. Then he darted forward and put his hands against the stone.

Jim dashed to his side. "Spock! Look at me."

There was no response. He tried to shake him, pull him back into the center of the room, but the Vulcan's body was unyielding.

"We've got to get him out of here!" Jim said. "Help me."

Howard and Khmer joined him and together they were able to prize Spock away from the wall. There was a dazed look in his eyes.

"Spock? Spock! Howard, help me carry him out. Lieutenant Khmer, contact Doctor McCoy. I want a medical team standing by outside the cave."

When they got him to the entrance, Bones and nurse Chapel rushed up to them. They laid Spock down on the sand and Howard stepped back.

"What happened?" the doctor asked as he turned on his hand-held scanner.

"There was a room in there. He touched the wall-."

"Move him!" Bones barked. "Get him right out of this cave so the transporter can get a fix on his signal."

Jim was sitting behind the desk in the doctor's sickbay office. Damned if he was going to leave here until he knew whether Spock was going to be okay or not.

"Captain Kirk to Lieutenant Uhura. Are you in the cave? Have you got any idea what those inscriptions say?"

"I'm standing in front of the archway. The symbol there is the Vulcan equivalent of our omega."

The final letter of the Greek alphabet. "The end," he mumbled.

"Yes. Or death. We're in the passageway now. The writing here is almost identical to High Vulcan."

Jim mulled that over. Spock would also have been able to read that then, although they hadn't stopped to study the writing in detail.

"I think it's a … a memorial, sir."

Jim leant forward in his chair, closer towards the comm panel. "It doesn't say anything else?"

"A telepathic memorial."

The office door hissed open and Bones entered silently, heading straight for one of the terminals in the far corner.

Jim hid his clenched fists under the desk. "So it's another Katric Ark?"

"I don't think so, no. At least it doesn't mention Katras. I think the Sakethans built this memorial when they knew the end of their civilization was imminent. It says here: 'We leave this record for those who will follow us in making this planet their home'. I remember what it felt like to have the Vulcan Katras in my mind-."

Jim's fingers were starting to hurt now and his arm muscles vibrated as he tightened his fist.

"-and they definitely spoke High Vulcan. I think they must have constructed this for other telepaths who might not understand their language."

Jim drew his eyebrows together. "But you need language to communicate; unless they'd planned to just use visual portrayals of Sakethan life."

"I think with telepathy they could do more than that. They might be able to pass on sounds, smells, and emotions; sensations such as touch, too."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

He cut the channel and looked over towards Bones; the doctor turned around.

"How's Spock?" Jim snapped.

That Spock had even entered the chamber, without a word to indicate what that place held, rubbed Jim wrong in every single way. But it was comparable to this behavior in the Katric Ark when he'd almost gotten them killed, wasn't it? But there were no Katras here Uhura said. Maybe Spock had just stopped caring about his responsibilities. If he had … was that really a conscious choice on Spock's part though? He remembered shouting at his mother once.

You chose to leave! You chose not to care about me!

He'd been ten years old. The boy inside of him wanted to shout at Spock too-as did the grown man.

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. Bones had come to stand next to him.

"He's alright," the doctor said. "I'm about to wake him up. The same thing that happened near the road happened again. But a lot stronger this time—far more memories were being laid down. There's only so much even a Vulcan can handle. He can pick up the telepathic signals just as easily as you can hear my voice, but to commit everything to memory perfectly? To concentrate on that his body decided to shut down non-vital functions one by one."

"Right." Jim knew he was being curt, but this was serious. "Spock went into that chamber knowing what would happen, Bones. Well, he might not have known that he was going to lose consciousness. But the rest—he knew."

He clenched his jaw.

Bones folded his arms across his chest. "That's one hell of a conclusion to jump to without talking to him first. Only a few months ago you were the one defending him-without even any evidence that there were Vulcan ghosts on that planet messing with his mind. And he'd nearly gotten you both killed! But you turned out to be right."

"That seems like another lifetime. We've both changed."

"I'll put him on medical leave-before you decide to do something you'll regret, such as dismissing him from his post as your first officer."

Jim gaped at him. "I was never even thinking about doing that!"

"No? Well I'm glad to hear it. Because if you really didn't trust him to care about his responsibilities anymore, then that's exactly what you'd have to do."

Jim knitted his brows and got up out of the chair.

"You're right. I'm just ... this is confusing and it's really doing my head in."

Bones clapped him on the back. "Let's talk to him, see what he has to say."

When Jim went to stand at Spock's bedside he felt a tightness across his chest that convinced him Bones had been right. He was sick to the stomach at the mere thought of any telepathic invasion of Spock's mind; but he had to make sure that worry didn't turn into anger. Stay calm, he told himself.

Gently, Jim squeezed Spock's forearm as Bones administered a hypo. Bleary eyes opened and stared up at the ceiling.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked in a soft voice.

"Okay is an imprecise word."

Jim breathed a sigh of relief. "What happened? What do you remember? Uhura explained that place was a telepathic memorial."

Spock looked at him, but his eyes were still unfocused.

"Yes."

Worry gripped Jim. He took Spock's hand in his and started rubbing it with his thumb.

He turned to the Bones. "He doesn't seem quite with it."

The scanner whirred. "He's definitely thinking-a lot! Maybe too much. I guess it might be like you said the first time: that he's working to suppress his emotions."

Spock continued to stare up at the ceiling blankly.

"That doesn't come easily to him, you know," Jim said. "He's only half-
Vulcan."

"Well, if he'd only let it out ...," Bones mumbled.

"You want him at my throat again?"

"No, but I guess we could restrain him first."

Jim remembered the gag he'd placed into Spock's mouth when he'd bound his hand.

"That's not a bad idea."

"What is?" Bones frowned.

"Never mind," Jim replied. "Spock, I'm going to stay here, alright. I'm not going anywhere so just take your time and when you're ready, I'm here to listen."

Spock blinked. "They are all dead."

It had turned into a long night. Spock hadn't looked like he was going to sleep, but he hadn't talked either. Eventually Jim had nodded off.

"Jim. Wake up."

When he did, he noticed Spock was sitting up in bed, legs crossed.

He yawned and shook himself awake. "Right, I'm listening."

Spock nodded. "I will try to be brief. Then I am afraid I will have to meditate again. I do not think that I am fit for duty, Captain."

"Yeah, we'd figured that." Jim smiled weakly.

"I will seek treatment though. My father, I believe, has learnt some Kolinahr techniques from my counterpart."

Jim didn't like the sound of that, but he nodded anyway.

"When I entered the cave," Spock said, "I could see in my mind how it looked in ancient times. It was not dissimilar to being near other monuments. But it became increasingly harder to step back into the present. I ... ," Spock swallowed, "lost control."

"If you lost control, then I can't imagine I would've lasted five seconds trying to resist," Jim said.

Spock gave him a thankful look before he continued. "Uhura is correct. The chamber was constructed as a memorial. That is one function, but its most important one by far is to inform. While many other worlds are still uninhabitable due to radioactive contamination after the ancient civil war, Saketh is littered with telepathic relics."

"Which are no less toxic?" Jim guessed.

"Indeed."

Jim ran his hands over his face. This was sounding more and more hopeless by the second.

He groaned. "There are monuments all over the planet!"

"I believe that it may be necessary to consult the Katric Ark, but my estimation from the impressions I was exposed to in the chamber is that the whole planet is affected. I know from my own lessons in history at school that for a long time only a few select Vulcan tribes were involved in the colonization drive."

"Tribes in which the majority of the Vulcans weren't affected by the instinct to return home to mate?" Jim asked.

"A reasonable assumption," Spock said. "Saketh could be colonized by people from all tribes due to the home stones. It seems such stones would not have had much effect on any other planet though, but the rock here is more susceptible to telepathic influences than even that of Vulcan was. While the Katric Ark on Vulcan bleeds into the mountain around it, this one diffuses into the entire continental shelf. The Sakethans dug down to the bedrock to allow access to the planet from almost any location at the surface."

"The black monuments!" Jim exclaimed.

"Yes. The Sakethans were telepathically attuned to their planet at all times. It was this that proved to be their downfall. The Vulcan Katras are not 'ghosts'. That description fits the Sakethan Katras well, though. And they are angry, restless ghost; upset and demanding. Their anger at the destruction of both their own civilization and its cradle saturates the very foundations of this world. The Vulcans who lived here fed their negative emotions to the planet via the monuments, which in turn disturbed the Katras. They turned the mood of the planet dark, and as a consequence received even more negative emotions in return. A downwards spiral to which the Sakethan civilization succumbed."

Jim jumped up and grabbed hold of Spock's arm tightly. "So in the end it was like trying to escape the gravitational pull of a black hole? We can't let that happen this time!"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "We have managed to defy physics once before. I believe detonating our warp core was the solution. So it is certainly possible to escape a black hole."

"But will the Vulcans fight? The Sakethans didn't!"

Jim knew his grip was now surely bruising Spock.

"As I said, the chamber's function was to inform. I now know how they routinely interacted with the planet; how they usually upheld the balance."

"But what if your people can't fight this? Isn't the Katric Ark essential for your people? We can't destroy it! I guess we could get rid of the monuments. But that wouldn't help would it? Not if this telepathic stone makes up most of Saketh's surface."

Spock tilted his head to one side. "Captain, I am determined that we will bring the planet back into equilibrium—it is the logical course of action."

Jim's heart was still racing as adrenaline and worry pumped through his system.

"I must meditate." Spock's eyes were suddenly wide and he reached up to rest a hand on Jim's.

When he let his eyelids fall shut, Jim released his hold and let his hands fall to his side. He thought his arms might be shaking ever so slightly. As he looked on, Spock straightened himself as the rhythm of his breathing started to slow. Jim launched himself at the meditating Vulcan and placed a kiss on his lips. The man's eyes didn't open, but Jim was sure he hadn't just imagining it: he'd felt some movement of Spock's mouth against his, as if the Vulcan was trying not to smile.

When Jim walked towards Spock's quarters a few nights later Sarek was just leaving them. The Vulcan gave him a particularly intimidating look that stopped Jim from greeting him formally; instead they each bowed their heads slightly in respect as they passed one another. Tricky Kolinahr session, Jim surmised.

He rang the chime. "Spock?"

The doors opened revealing a sight he'd become all too familiar with over the last couple of days: Spock meditating on the floor.

"Can I come in or are you too busy?"

"Please sit with me."

Jim sat down opposite him. "How's the Kolinahr going?"

"I am gradually managing purge the rage and sorrow of Saketh. It is not mine to hold onto."

"What about your own feelings about Vulcan's destruction?"

"I will attempt to deal with those at a later date, though not through the Kolinahr."

Jim nodded. "That's good to hear. Are you sure you want me to stay?"

"Your presence helps me focus, since you are a reminder of why I am doing this."

"Okay." Jim smiled.

He leant forward and kissed Spock's forehead lightly. As he gradually pulled away his friend looked up and his nose brushed Jim's chin. Their faces were still close, although they weren't touching; Spock's breath was warm. Ever so slightly, the pink lips on that pale face parted. Then they formed a thin line-the moment had passed and Jim sat back down again.

"I must meditate."

Jim thought he heard a touch of a dry throat—he was glad to have at least that much indication that he wasn't the only one intoxicated by the other's presence.

"Before you do, I just want to let you know what's going on so," Jim said. "These orders aren't definite, but according to Pike it seems likely we'll be staying here for the one year anniversary of Vulcan's destruction. The President of the Federation will be attending, so the Enterprisewill be providing security and we'll be guests of honor at the ceremony—in which I hear you want to include some old Sakethan ritual?"

"It is a fitting opportunity to do so. We must work hard to restore the planet to a state of equilibrium."

"Sounds good."

"And what will our mission be after that?" Spock enquired.

Jim sighed. "The Romulan Neutral Zone."

Spock held Jim's gaze for a few moments. "I see."

Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Jim watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, which was calming him almost as much if not more than any of his previous attempts at meditation had (barring the time he'd used that drug of course). There was only one thing disturbing his peace now and that was the growing need he felt to reach out and stroke the stoic alien's cheek.

Jim surveyed the scene from the top of the valley, where he was standing next to the inscriptions on the rock face. Around him were the Vulcan elders, the President, a security brief, and the senior officers of the Enterprise. Below in the valley were nearly five thousand Vulcans, standing on the long road down to the estuary. Some humans stood next to the black polished stone, while large screens had been erected at the roadside. Jim wondered if they were only for the benefit of the humans, because with all the telepathy that was going to be happening, he doubted the Vulcans would need to see the broadcast of this event, which he knew was also going out Federation-wide.

His chronometer showed that it was time and on cue the noise started to die down. Along with the other non-Vulcans he went to take his seat to one side of the black road—Spock joined the ranks of the Vulcan elders. The commander was officially on medical leave, but he'd sent a report to Jim detailing exactly what would happen during the telepathic part of the ceremony. Jim appreciated Spock's effort, but really, he still didn't feel comfortable with the idea that all the Vulcan survivors were going to open their minds up to a hateful planet that was trying to suck them into a mental pit of doom (because that was how he'd started to visualize the problem).

Although it was not a cold day by Sakethan standards, and his dress uniform was very warm, the hairs on his skin stood on end. Silence fell over the valley; an eerie lack of noise, he felt. Sarek stepped forward. It should not have fallen to him to make this speech, but the head of the council of elders, although present, did not care for this ceremony apparently. A great omen that was, Jim thought bitterly.

Sarek welcomed the President and both the participants and the guests. As far as Jim understood this was as tedious as it would get out here; there would be more speeches later at dinner, he'd have to give one himself, but Vulcans didn't see the point in unnecessarily wasting words.

And so Sarek cut straight to the chase. "It has now been four hundred and sixty-one standard days—one Vulcan year. We have come together today to grieve for our loved ones; for each individual life lost. But we are also gathered here to celebrate their lives and to pay tribute to them by starting out on a path towards a future both for ourselves and those who will come after us.

"I know only half of our number are gathered here today, that the other half does not see the point in what we hope to achieve with this ancient ceremony. Such apathy is something each and every one of us must fight to overcome. So I ask you now to all join hands and minds-."

There was some shuffling as the Vulcans up and down the valley linked hands to form one twisting, but uninterrupted, line. Spock was last: he stepped up to take his father's hand to complete the chain.

"I ask you to join minds and open yourselves up to the planet; to our new home. Saketh is consumed by the loss of life. So we must be strong in our determination that there is still much left in this universe that is worth caring about. Surak taught us the doctrines of a life based on logic because he cared deeply for the world around him. Logic allows us to live in peace and to respect all life. That is the essence of our culture and it is worth protecting, I say. As a species we are not facing extinction."

Sitting next to Jim on his right was the President, who let out a small gasp. On his left, Bones looked confused.

"There are enough sons and daughters of Vulcan in this universe. Most notably the Romulans."

Jim watched as the doctor's face slowly changed to one of horror as comprehension dawned at what Sarek had just stated: the Vulcans were formally acknowledging that there was no difference between them and the Romulans—biologically at least. The air was buzzing in equal measures with anticipation and dread at what Sarek's next words might be; Jim held tightly onto the edge of his seat.

"What makes us Vulcan and them Romulan, though, is our culture and our ideology, which is in direct conflict with theirs. The United Federation of Planets is on the brink of war with the Romulan Star Empire. Do we let them win the war before it has even begun?"

He paused to let his words sink in. Jim loosened his grip on the chair. When Sarek continued, his tone was softer.

"So let us now return to the origin of what it is to be Vulcan and bring to the forefront of our minds everyone and everything we hold dear. Let us remind ourselves that through leading lives guided by reason we can be a positive force in this galaxy; to be that is our cause, it is our fight."

Sarek closed his eyes and the others followed suit. Jim watched with baited breath for what he knew would happen next. Slowly Spock led the line to the mossy rock face, where he placed his free hand over the ancient inscriptions. All were silent and Jim didn't think he could've made a sound even if he'd wanted to. He tasted electricity in the air. When he closed his eyes he saw Vulcan imploding; he saw the moment on the transporter pad when a small part of Spock gave up and retreated—what was the point in it all now?—Jim understood then why he'd simply reiterated Pike's order to head for the Laurentian system and the knowledge caused a cold shudder to run down his spine. But he also saw the Sakethan sun rise over ancient ruins and he saw Spock meditating cross-legged on a bed in sickbay, the line of his back hard with determination.

When he opened his eyes again the brightness of the light reflecting off the polished black stone caused them to ache for a moment. The Vulcans were letting go of each other's hands; none of them moved to step away from one another though. Still, Jim couldn't speak. Sarek did not have that problem.

"We were losing our equilibrium long before we arrived here. I hope that as we work towards restoring the balance of Saketh we can restore the balance within ourselves. For all the help that Starfleet medical already has and will continue to provide us with in that regard, I wish to express my gratitude. And to everyone who came today: thank you. Dif-tor heh smusma. Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life," Jim and the others at the side of the road replied, while the attending Vulcans responded in their own tongue.

"Well, I do look forward to you giving me your own quick tour of Saketh tomorrow," the President said.

"I'm looking forward to that too," Jim replied with a smile.

"Good night." She nodded at him and exited the dinner tent, which the other guests were rapidly leaving too.

"We should head up," Bones said, coming to stand next to Jim, their elbows brushing. "It's late."

Jim looked over his shoulder, but Bones already had a hand on his back and used it to gently push him towards the door.

"Your Vulcan's still talking to Ambassador Sarek. Probably debating what the most logical course of action is on some issue or other, since, you know, it's barbaric to let your feelings help you make a decision once in a while."

"I don't think Sarek was trying to imply we humans weren't civilized-."

"Sure he wasn't. Right, now, you: bed."

Jim smiled and they both left together.

Well, despite his friend's hassling, Jim was sure he wouldn't fall asleep any earlier than usual. His mind was far too active. The door chime rang. It had to be Spock, he thought. Quickly he flung on a bathrobe and answered the door.

"Come in, Spock."

"Sorry for coming by so late, but I had some matters to discuss with both my father and with Doctor Sargoni."

"I understand," Jim replied. "You're … um … going to stay on the Enterprise, right? If you want Bones to give you extended medical leave, that's fine too, of course-."

Spock cut him off. "I will be resuming my post tomorrow."

"Glad to hear it."

"Jim." Spock clasped his hands behind his back and fixed him with a penetrating stare. "I wish for us to resume our relationship—if that is something you also desire."

Like father, like son, Jim thought; no tiptoeing around an issue that needed to be addressed.

He took a deep breath. "I know you've been working hard on those Kolinahr techniques. But that's not some magical cure-all. Nor was today's ceremony, am I right?"

"You are correct."

Now it was Jim's turn to glare and Spock seemed to understand that he needed to explain further.

"It will take time, maybe a lifetime, to deal with the turmoil inside me," Spock said eventually. "I do, however, feel some significant improvement in myself already. I would not propose for us to be romantically involved if I thought I had nothing to offer you but the chance of further pain. Though I understand and respect it if you do not want the burden of being my partner."

The gap between them was starting to make Jim restless, because it didn't feel right. He inched closer. Maybe he'd go to those counseling sessions Sargoni wanted him to take—and he'd make sure he spent more time talking to Bones.

"I'll look after myself better in the future too," he continued. "I won't hide my problems. If you agree not to hide yours? Even the ones you're embarrassed about. Deal?"

Spock had the good grace to look away and inspect his boots at that point. "Agreed."

"Right, well, I don't really want to dwell on the past. It's rather hard for me to do that now anyway," Jim added sarcastically. "But I thought Vulcans were generally patient; so how come you had to urgently see me tonight?"

Although Spock opened his mouth to reply, Jim's right hand shot up and he shook his head. "On second thoughts, knowing you, it's going to be some rather morbid reason connected to the looming war with the Romulans; the dangers of us dying on our next mission. So yeah, scrap that question." He chewed on his lip for a while. "If we get back together, this still isn't going to be easy for me, is it?"

"No." Spock's eyes looked sad. "And I would not want you to resent being with me-our friendship is important. I care about you."

To hear that from a Vulcan was no small thing, Jim knew. To talk about their emotions was very unsettling for them; he understood that what Sarek had done down on the planet had been an incredibly bold move. During the ceremony, had Spock thought of him? The way Jim's heart felt like it was hammering against his ribs didn't seem healthy. He mused that he might need to ask Bones for a check-up on it when he was through with this conversation.

Spock's dark eyes were wide and he held out his hand, two fingers stretched out. Jim didn't meet them; instead he sprung forward and kissed him the human way. As he pressed himself flush against the strong body, feeling the softness of the pink lips with his tongue, it felt familiar and yet novel at the same time. There was so much to rediscover when Spock let his tongue slide over Jim's.

Dexterous hands exerted a light pressure on his hips as Jim brought his own arms up around Spock's shoulders to pull him closer. He nipped his lips, and pulled back just enough to kiss his nose. How he'd missed every part of this amazing person! With his nails raking through hair, chest pressed against chest, and teeth running over green tinged skin he tried to show Spock just how much he'd missed him. Spock's long fingers ran up Jim's side to stroke his neck. Jim pressed himself into Spock's tender, reverent caresses.

"Guess I'd missed this, eh?" Jim said sheepishly. "I think I'm ready for a fresh start." He grinned while nodding. "Though, um, your blood's not still burning, is it?"

"No. I have had no further direct contact with the Katras. And I have no plans to go to the Ark before we break orbit—but if I did, it would not be without first preparing myself through extensive meditation."

"That's good to hear. Although I must admit-."

He interrupted himself to kiss Spock again—he wanted to make sure that what he had to say next didn't come across in the wrong way. But the kiss left him out of breath and he had to gather his thoughts again from scratch.

"I've got to say, I'm a bit … not worried, just curious, to find out what the sex will be like now."

It had never been amazing; but at least there'd been some passion—now Spock might be even less responsive than before. Jim bit back the rest of what he'd meant to say, though, as he felt Spock shift uncomfortably.

"Hey, hey. I love you." He placed his lips to the base of one of the Vulcanoid ears. "I understand if things will be different now. And that's okay. We just need to talk about it, hmmm?"

He felt Spock nod.

"I can control every organ in my body to a high degree," the alien replied.

Then long fingers were stroking the back of his head, along his jaw, and on to his check. They moved further up to his temples though—he grabbed Spock's hand and yanked it away. The action had taken less than a second and Jim's body was only just starting to catch up, his breathing heavy as he went into fight or flight response mode.

"Just … ." Jim wetted his lips.

Spock stared at him with his mouth slightly open and an eyebrow raised high.

"I know you were just stroking my face. You were, weren't you?"

"I was. I am sorry that you interpreted my actions as anything other than that. You should know that I would not enter your mind without your expressed permission, except in the case of an emergency, when presented with no alternative."

"Yeah, I know. I'm really sorry. You've got to believe me that was an instinctive reaction. I'm a bit sensitive about my mind, you know? I need more time."

Spock pulled him closer again and held him there. "I was not aware you felt that way."

"Huh, well, we have a lot to talk about. I'd like to do that whole mind-meld stuff. To know you as well as possible. I'd really like that … in time." He smiled weakly.

Slowly Jim felt his ribs starting to ache in the tight embrace, but he didn't want it to end.

"I understand, Jim."

And it was because of simple things like this that Jim loved him. He knew this man would show him infinite patience.

"I take it, it is because my lack of responsiveness that you do not like topping?"

Jim started laughing, but the sound that escaped his confined chest sounded more like he was choking. Immediately Spock loosened his grip.

"Only you could change the topic of conversation so quickly and believe it all to be 'completely logical'."

"Well, I was thinking that if I cannot share how you affect me verbally or telepathically, then we can at least work on physical forms of communication? You wanted to talk about sex, did you not?"

There was a grin hiding somewhere on those Vulcan lips, Jim could see it, although he knew the minute he blinked, that it would be gone again, as if it had never been there at all. He liked the fact that Spock had a smile that only he could see.

Although the incident with Spock's fingers on his temple had certainly quashed his desire for sex, he knew that he was sure to regain it soon enough-it had been such a long time.

He put on a broad grin. "The good doctor did order me to go to bed. You wouldn't want to stand in the way of those orders, surely?

"Absolutely not. If you want some rest I should leave now."

"Mmmmh, really? Is that a promise that I won't get any if you stay?"

It thrilled him that Spock could see the humor in their situation; they could get over any problems they had, he just knew it. The energy that thought gave him, made his smile broaden so much it hurt his cheeks.

"I estimate the probability of-."

Spock didn't get any further as Jim drew him closer for another kiss. The battle of their tongues lasted all the way to the bed, with only a few interruptions to allow them to catch their breath or for Jim to check where he was walking. They were pressed groin to groin, which made it even harder to ignore that neither of them were hard. It didn't matter, Jim told himself. He knew why he wasn't getting aroused right now, the knots in his stomach from the unexpected mind-meld scare were only slowly dissipating, and Spock was … Spock. He didn't care if that meant that outside of Pon Farr their sex life might be a little more complicated, he loved this man exactly the way he was. Although, sex was important of course; he liked sex. But they could work with whatever the Vulcan's alien sexuality allowed them. He sure as hell didn't like the idea of Spock only willing himself to be hard for Jim's benefit, but they'd work out something. Right now, the feel of soft lips and scraping teeth on his skin was a good sign, an excellent sign, that they wouldn't really have too many problems.

The hand that had until then been carding reverently through Jim's hair moved down to undo the tie on the bathrobe. He was wearing pajamas beneath; another layer of clothing his lover would have to remove. That thought made him run his hands under Spock's blue top and over his black undershirt—feeling his way from the rock hard abs up to well developed pecs. Those shirts had to come off; both of them. After removing them he paused so that he could run his fingers over the hairs on Spock's chest and lick his nipples. He liked slow undressings, but they were both of them too impatient for that today, and Spock hastily took off his boots as Jim drew down his own pants. When they'd finished they stood in front of each other naked. Knowing that Spock was surely surveying every detail of his body just as he was taking in the exact rise and fall of the features of Spock's was leaving his mouth even dryer than it had already been.

He reached out and ran his fingertips over his lover's bulging bicep; leaning down he placed his lips over the skin there and started sucking and licking it before running his tongue up along Spock's shoulder all the way to his Adam's Apple.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips hovering over wet skin.

He could feel the rumble of Spock's vocal chords when he replied.

"I am thankful to simply be in your company," Spock said.

Jim pulled back to look into dark eyes.

When two Vulcan fingers were offered this time, Jim didn't ignore them in favor of a human kiss.

"What does this touch tell you about me?" he asked.

"That your body is still experiencing a stress reaction. It has not fully metabolized the chemicals released into your bloodstream when you feared a telepathic invasion of your mind."

"Wow."

Spock entwined their fingers. "I think we should lie in bed-."

"And 'definitely not' cuddle?"

Jim slowly drifted up out of a deep sleep. He couldn't feel his arm, which was mildly alarming. When he turned his head to look for it he saw Spock. Craning his neck forward he managed to bump noses with him; that didn't wake him up though. A least he knew now why he'd lost all sensation in his arm—someone thought it would make a good pillow, did they? He poked his tongue out to tickle Spock's face; he ran it over the rough skin above his lips—a shadow of stubble had already appeared there. He wondered what Spock would look like with facial hair, but he couldn't imagine it and his lover still wasn't waking up so he smacked a sloppy wet kiss on his nose. It twitched in response.

"Your head's heavy, you know?" he said quietly. "I wouldn't complain otherwise. Maybe you could shuffle closer? Move onto my shoulder?"

While Spock did move closer, he moved far closer that Jim had been expecting him to. The Vulcan went from deep sleep to wide awake within the space of time between heart beats and laid himself on top of Jim with all his weight.

"That's impressive," Jim said with what little breath Spock hadn't squeezed out of his lungs.

It didn't quite encompass everything he was feeling in response to Spock's boldness, but hey, he was still half-asleep. At first Spock ran his lips slowly over the flushed, exposed skin; it didn't take long until Jim was writhing beneath his lover. Although he knew Spock's technique needed work, at the same time he thought that what his lover was doing to him was just fucking perfect. Everything was starting to blur; not his vision, but his inner world. His heart had been in this man's keeping for a long time and now he had no second thoughts on allowing himself to succumb to its wants. He could hear shuffling about on the covers, then some kind of scraping.

"Where are the condoms?" Spock asked.

"Uh." Jim felt his stomach drop. "Shit. I didn't think to get any from the med supply cupboards in sickbay."

"Then you will top."

"Alright!"

Holding onto Spock tightly, pulling him closer, he rocked his whole body to the right, putting the most swing into his hips, reversing their positions. Then he put his lips to Spock's earlobe and sucked on it.

"Got you now," he whispered.

"Indeed. But, Jim, I am not comfortable with this."

"Computer, lights—fifty percent."

They both sat up. Jim didn't know what to think. A minute ago everything had been exactly the way it should be; he sighed.

"I want you to enjoy this," Spock said.

"What? What made you think I wasn't enjoying myself until you put a stop to it? I might not want to top you all the time, but the moment was right." He shook his head and chuckled. "Though I guess it's gone now. Let's get back to sleep."

"No."

Jim rearranged himself so he could lie down with his head in Spock's lap, looking up at him.

"No? There's always tomorrow you know."

"I want you to understand." Quickly Spock placed the palms of his hands on his lover's chest. "It is difficult for me to give up control-but that is what I would have to do to be affected by our lovemaking."

Those words cut at Jim's heartstrings. "Oh Spock."

He turned his head so that he could ghost kisses over the lightly haired skin of Spock's thighs.

"I don't want you to put on some act for me. If you don't enjoy sex … ."

"I do," Spock explained. "I did when I had no option but to relinquish some control to my base instincts. But having control wrenched away from me in such a manner is an experience I would not want to go through again-although I know that my biology will eventually leave me little choice in that regard," he added.

He didn't want to feel sorry for Spock, but it was hard not to view this situation through the filter of his own mind.

"There is something that might work," Spock said quietly.

His thigh muscles felt tighter beneath Jim's head.

"I want you to restrain me."

Jim remembered his conversation in sickbay with Bones; he reached out for one of Spock's hands and when he found one he brought it to his mouth so he could kiss its palm.

"But that was different," he whispered in reply. "You were in a lot of pain."

"I trusted that the gag you made would make control over my vocal cords unnecessary, to a certain extent at least."

Jim laid Spock's hand against his cheek as he mulled over the idea. It might just work. He could foresee that those restraints would have to be strong to hold Spock in place tightly enough that he felt they were doing a job equal to his willpower.

"I believe you would enjoy sex more like that, too," Spock said.

"Well of course I'll enjoy it more if I know you're not faking it!" Jim sat up and took the alien's face into his hands. "I … I'll do just about anything to make sure you get what you need during sex."

Spock raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes minutely. "I would like you to put that declaration into practice."

With that he got off the bed, picked up the bathrobe from the floor and started tearing it into strips.

Jim watched him slack-jawed. His lover's muscles rippled in the dimmed light as he made light work of the sturdy material.

"Unexpected, but kinky," Jim said voice slightly hoarse.

He cleared his throat. "Will those strips of cloth be enough to hold you down though?"

"I will control myself that much at least."

If this worked he would definitely find stronger restraints.

"Alright!" Jim leapt out of bed. "So, um, how do we do this?"

He looked around his quarters. Could he tie Spock to anything? Was he even meant to?

"Have you done anything like this before? 'Cause I really don't know where to start." He laughed. "This would be so much easier with a four poster bed. Though I guess I could wrap you to the bed with the bandages-by running them underneath it."

In the end neither could think of a better plan, so after tying together many of the strips Jim had bandages long enough to do just that. Carefully he tied each of his lover's ankles to the opposite wrist, forming an 'X' under the bed. He stepped back to survey his handiwork. There were still some strips of bathrobe left and so he got back to work again to somehow create more of a 'frame' of bandages. Having witnessed firsthand how strong Spock was on several occasions he made sure to tie the knots as well as he could. Still, if Spock wanted to, he'd be able to free himself-which reassured Jim. He didn't actually want to take away Spock's ability to tear himself loose. Not tonight at least. He noticed that Spock had gone very still; maybe that was only because he couldn't move anymore.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Spock nodded, but it didn't convince Jim. He knelt on the floor next to the bed and stroked the neat hair.

"Are you sure?"

Spock averted his gaze. "Positive. I am willing to cede some of my control to the restraints."

Jim kissed his cheek and let his lips linger there. He understood Spock's mixed views on the matter. Although it might allow him a freedom he could otherwise not experience, it meant letting go of years worth of tightly held control-for a Vulcan, that was a high price to pay.

"Please cover my eyes, too, Jim. I have been told they show a lot of emotion when I do not check them."

It was that emotion Jim wanted to see more than anything else of course; but he got that there were undoubtedly also some cultural issues here too. He'd lived long enough amongst the Vulcans to realize how disdainful and embarrassing they thought any slip-up in their discipline was.

"Anything else?"

"I think there is still enough material for a gag."

Jim hesitated. "If you can't speak, I won't know if what I'm doing is alright or if you want me to stop at any point."

"That will not be an issue," Spock said evenly. "I trust you."

"Eh … okay."

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Yes, he knew the whole point of this was that Spock would not be able to show any responses, but it was only now sinking in that he'd not be able to get much, if any, feedback from Spock.

"Um … fine. Just one last thing."

As he thought of what he was going to ask Spock next he felt the blood rush to his cock.

He grinned. "How much prep do you want?"

"Not much."

"Thought you might say that."

He brushed his lips over Spock's eyelids before blindfolding him; then he put the gag in place. As he finished the last knot he realized just how turned on he was by the sight of Spock lying there, completely vulnerable. It wasn't really that he liked the idea of his partner held down by restraints, but the fact that Spock allowed him to see him like this … that he was going to let Jim witness as he let go of the iron grip with which he normally held onto every fiber of his body.

Eager to give him what he longed for Jim put his tongue to good use. His heart was beating at least two hundred beats a minute, surely, he thought. Then he licked, kissed, massaged and touched every part of Spock's flesh he could reach, especially his pointed ears, which he had such a soft spot for. Who wouldn't have done the same, faced with those ridiculously cute ears? Spock would probably kill him if he told him just how cute he thought they were.

"I'll be right back," he whispered into the ear's shell. "I think I've got some oil in the bathroom that we can use as lubricant."

When he returned he poured some of the oil onto his hands and started massaging Spock's thighs, arms, and shoulders; and then because he really saw no need to suppress the urge, he started caressing Spock's ears with his oily fingertips. It came on slowly, but he felt small tremors run through Spock's body.

"Is everything okay?" he asked Spock gently.

Spock seemed to be nodding, but Jim didn't want to do anything wrong and the tremors … he'd never felt the Vulcan's body behave like that before except under extreme stress. He was lying on top of Spock and could feel his lover's erection dig into his stomach. To be safe he left the ears alone and cautiously continued his massage; then he shifted off Spock so that he was kneeling between spread legs. All the time Spock was shaking minutely. He knew it was probably a good sign, but how could he be sure? This wasn't a human lying here!

He couldn't take it anymore; he untied the gag.

"Are you okay? You're trembling."

Spock's breathing was ragged. "Yes," he hissed.

The frayed tone was such a turn on. "If I retie this gag then how can I know you don't want me to stop?"

Spock didn't reply, but his breathing was just as heavy as Jim's was. Jim wanted to be inside him right now, but he had to reassure himself that it was going to be alright.

"I love it when you're inside me," he said and a moan escaped his lips at the thought and he could feel himself sweating where their skin touched. "But sometimes I tell you to do something different, to change the angle—and I don't have amazingly sensitive hands. Some signal if I'm doing something wrong? Alright?"

Spock's voice was gravelly. "I apologize. You are right."

Too much talking Jim thought and moved against Spock. "Uhhh … so I won't retie the gag?"

"Retie it. If something is wrong I will shake my head."

"Show me."

When Jim was satisfied he fumbled to replace the gag quickly. His erection slid against Spock's; this was already hotter than any time when the Vulcan's blood had been burning. Thighs moved against hips, sticky skin against sweat slicked abs. For the first time ever Spock was really allowing himself to be affected by these touches—and it was driving Jim crazy to feel and hear even a small amount of evidence of that. He wanted more of that feedback. Below him Spock's hips strained against the bandages; not much, but enough to encourage Jim to reach for the oil.

As much as he wanted to untie Spock he knew that this would not continue if he did. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he slid in. The effort it took to hold himself back like that caused beads of sweat to drip from his forehead onto Spock's hot skin. It had never felt like this before. He had his hands placed firmly on strong shoulders and he could feel the muscles there move beneath his hands, could feel Spock trying to push his hips upwards to match his rhythm. The sight of the pale skin of his lover's haired chest turning bright green almost undid him; he was panting hard, fighting for each breath in an effort to hold back, because he never wanted this to end. He felt so close to Spock, who was laying himself completely bare. That thought cause him to moan loudly—and although it was subtle, there was a reaction to that, which he could feel in the tensing of his lover's muscles. Knowing how he'd affected Spock left him shuddering with exertion as he battled again to put off the completion of their joining.

He knew he wouldn't last much longer, so he shifted his weight onto one hand and took hold of Spock with the other, stroking him with a quick even pace. When Jim came he groaned and squeezed Spock's cock tighter-he knew he could still thrust a couple more times before he went soft and he tried to make those movements count. He gasped when he saw Spock come too and immediately collapsed on top of him. Drenched in sweat, he simply lay where he'd fallen for a while.

"That was ... I love you, Spock."

He forced himself up out of bed and cursing his lack of foresight searched for something to cut the ties with. There was no way he'd be undoing any knots now. As soon as he'd found a small blade that was suitable he freed Spock.

His lover was perfectly composed again, but the black bangs were plastered to his face and his stomach covered in his own semen.

Jim winked at him. "Let me help with that."

Spock sat patiently as Jim licked at this stomach. The skin there had returned to its natural color already.

"I love you," Jim repeated. "That was pretty mind-blowing, eh? And damn, you could walk out of here onto the bridge right now, couldn't you? Well, at least after throwing on some clothes. I was barely even able to take those bandages off you."

He climbed back into bed and lay there. It felt like someone had messed with the gravity controls.

Spock went to the bathroom to clean himself up. The situation was too familiar to ones in the past for Jim's comfort; he shut his eyes.

He felt a damp, warm towel pressed against his stomach.

"Jim? Would you like me to clean you?"

Spock was kneeling down next to the bed, looking almost perfect again-when Jim looked into the brown eyes, though, he saw that they were dark and intense.

"Yeah, I'd like that," he mumbled as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'd like that a lot."

After finishing that Spock lay down next to him and pulled a cover up over both of them. Jim was close to sleep, as he felt Spock's fingers slide between his.

He thought he heard Spock whisper something as the Vulcan placed a careful kiss on his lips. And although he must have misheard, because, well, it was Spock, it had sounded a lot like: "You make me happy."

Maxim flashed his Earth citizen pass at security as he stepped out of his craft and onto the deck of Luria II. He'd never been to a space station outside of the Federation before. His palms felt clingy. Would security ask why he was here? Surely not, free travel to this station was allowed, he'd checked that.

The guards nodded and waved him on. Maxim sprang forward and headed towards a data access point. He brought up a layout of the station then headed for the main deck. Not much further now. He forced himself to take measured strides, when what he really wanted was to bolt right down the corridor, pushing aside everyone who was slowing down his progress. Here, out in space, searching for news stories—this was where he belonged. The Vulcan report had been the first step, something to build on. If he got a good documentary together on another shocking news story then everyone would want to watch it and he could further cement his reputation; prove that he hadn't just been lucky.

When he finally stepped out into the open space of the main deck he checked his chronometer. Should he go to the bar early, or wait around here and arrive just in time? It was best to be punctual, not early, he decided; for all he knew, he might accidentally insult the alien otherwise.

He dragged himself past all the shop window displays. In the last one something finally caught his eye. It was small, round, and furry, was in a cage, and had definitely moved. Well, if this interview turned out to be a complete failure then at the very least he'd be able to bring Pierre back an exotic pet. His boy loved feeding and looking after alien animals.

Right, it was time. He headed for the bar without the sign, as agreed. It looked just as horrible on the inside as on the outside. There was no one waiting for him at the agreed table. No worries. This man sounded busy, but Maxime was sure he'd turn up. So he ordered two drinks, which the barman poured from an industrial container—how horrible.

"Thanks for the drink," someone behind him said. "My name is Quol."

Maxime turned and studied him. He had beady eyes and large—very large-ears. Not a species he'd ever heard about, but then he'd already spotted a great many aliens on the promenade here who'd probably travelled to this station from the other side of the galaxy.

"Mr. Lessard," he replied. "So, you have a vitally important story to tell?"

"I do. In the security interest of everyone in the Federation it should be heard. I am just doing my civic duty as a soon to be citizen of the Federation. You have the documents to get me in and the trading license?" Quol asked.

He tried to stop himself from studying the curve of the large ears, tracing their shape with his mind. It was hypnotic in a very disgusting way, he thought.

"No. I have the comm frequencies of people who can arrange that for you. The Federation will be thankful if you really do have good information and if it checks out," Maxime said darkly.

He hoped the alien didn't notice the increased perspiration on his brow. Maybe he didn't know much about humans? What was this information? The man had gone to great lengths to contact him, and it hadn't been easy for Maxime to arrange this meeting. He'd had to fight himself more than anything else, but the phaser on his belt and the fact they were meeting in a public bar gave him some reassurance. This had better be worth it—although it could hardly be worse than his last interview: some mad man talking about flying alien pancakes that enslaved whole planets mentally. And before that the woman who'd tried to convince him of a coming epidemic of apocalyptic proportions caused by some kind of fluffy space-rats which people had started keeping as pets; 'Tribble' she'd called it. Why did people try and take him for a fool? Did they really expect him to believe such nonsense?

"Oh this is quality information that I have to share with you! I think as a journalist who wants to advance his career you will appreciate it." Quol nodded and lowered his voice. "Very scandalous. It's a tale of pirates, drugs, Vulcan demons, prostitutes, and the illicit and turbulent affair of one captain and his first officer ... ."

"I'm all ear," Maxime replied, though he was already wondering what he'd done to deserve such bad luck. Although at least Quol hadn't mentioned any evil, flying pancakes—yet.

~ The End ~

Author's end note: Wow, never written a long story before and this one is long XD. I don't seem to be able to be concise without a beta. My chapter lengths just exploded from being ~2000 words each as in the original third draft, to... ugh, lots more after the edit, lol. attack of the plot bunnies forcing me to re-write the pirate scenes with Chekov included instead of some boring OC. good choice I think on that one :P. Still, the original document is over 500,000 words long with notes, outtakes and random ramblings. I had to cut out a few lovely scenes such as kirk and spock bathing in that stream on saketh and talking over their problems, hahaha. but they can always return to saketh and do that another time :P. hope you enjoyed this story and thank you all for reading and commenting! :-D :-D :-D