AN: Hello there! This was my first venture in the Star Trek fandom, even though I've been reading fics in it for more than a year. Maybe now that this bunny has been purged, I can go back to Sherlock. That is, if I don't get inspired for something else entirely. I just hope I didn't butcher the characters too badly. What do you think?

P.S. I might have been a tad influenced by the Star Trek: The Original Series fanfics I've been reading lately, just as Star Trek: 2009. :D

Rating: T;

Pairing: none. There is strong friendship in this, you guys can read it as you like.

Warning: Mentions of major character death, but not really - just read it until the end. Some swearing - this is Jim Kirk we're talking about. Unbeta'ed. That's all.

Summary:

"So tell me Captain. What would it be? Fame, fortune…everlasting life?"- But how can Jim choose, when Spock is lifeless at his feet? "I want my First Officer back." he says, voice barely wavering.

xxx

"So tell me Captain. What would it be? Fame, fortune…everlasting life?" the voice is darkly amused and seductive. It wraps around him as sheath of velvet and give Jim any other circumstances, he would have thought this to be one-hell-of an experience.

But, how can he ever feel pleasure when there's a gaping hole where his heart used to be? Numbness spreads through his limbs like a disease, while fury, angst and helplessness battle for supremacy in his belly, and all he can think about is the fallen body beside him.

Spock, lifeless, at his feet.

The voice might as well offered him pebbles to throw at the wind for all he cares.

"I want my First Officer back." His voice quivers only a little and he has to blink rapidly against the stinging in his eyes. He can't afford to lose it, not when the stakes are higher than everything he knows possible.

"Oh?" a hint of surprise and intrigue colours the disembodied voice as it booms across the empty hall. The ruins tremble a little, dust filling the air and debris roll until they stop near the centre of the room where he is standing. Jim couldn't care less, even though the temple around him looks as if a strong wind might collapse it.

"I want my First Officer back." He reiterates slowly, as if speaking to a particularly dim child.

"Perhaps you do." There's another dark chuckle and Jim has the sneaking suspicion that the alien Mind is toying with him. Jim wants to snuff it so bad, it actually hurts. He barely keeps himself from glancing down, where Spock's body is already cooling - as his senses tell him. His mind however, shies away from that knowledge.

Jim closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, putting a frail lid on the storm brewing inside of him. The voice is still speaking. "You may want him back, but do you know who he is?"

Images spill forth, battering at his shaky hold on his composure, almost drowning him.

Spock, a child locked in a fist battle with another boy...

Spock teaching at the Starfleet Academy as students cling to his every word in a mixture of awe and dread...

Spock, standing before the Vulcan High Council...

Spock, flying the Vulcan Vessel at Narada...

Spock...

A million instances of Spock, some so intimate they make Jim blush while others are concentrated on the most mundane of daily tasks.

"So tell me, Captain. Which one is him?"

Kirk doesn't even take his time responding. He knows, deep in his gut, what is the real answer. "None."

"Are you sure?"

"…And all of them."

"How?"

"You are trying to confuse me. But you forget, I know my friend. And all of this that you have shown me? Could never cover the complexity that is the real Spock. Now, for the last time. I want my First Officer back."

"If you are so certain, then you shall have him." Spock's body disappears from the temple's floor and Jim has a brief moment of panic, just as all the images coalesces in front of him making up the figure of his lost friend. Spock' eyes are still closed though, as if sleeping, and Jim still feels weary. Somehow, he knows, there's one more test.

The voice doesn't disappoint him. "Before we give him back to you, isn't it anything that would you like to change about him?"

And for the first time since this nightmare began, Jim wavers a little. He remembers all the arguments they had when their equally stubborn natures clash, how annoyed he gets when Spock refuses to acknowledge having even a shred of emotion under his I-Am-Vulcan guise, or how he longs, sometimes when he's alone in his quarters, that they could be now what the older Spock has hinted they would become in time.

He's tempted, oh so tempted, because he's an impatient sonofabitch who wants things his way right now and he's not afraid to cheat his way to get them.

But Spock…Spock is too important for quick fixes and Jim knows deep down, that if he settles for less than the whole package, no matter how irritating some Vulcan traits may be, he won't forgive himself for the rest of his life. Besides, it's not as if he and his emotional baggage are a walk in the park.

He has made his decision and as he speaks, he can feel a sliver of peace slowly blossoming inside for the first time since this cursed mission began.

"I want him back, unchanged, just as he was when you took him. I wouldn't change a thing about him and if you do, so help me God, I will hunt you to the end of the Galaxy and take you down." Jim puts his whole conviction in his promise, body tense and ready to fight.

The voice is elated. "Well done, Captain Kirk." There's something that sounds suspiciously like a delighted giggle in it, and Jim is too dumbfounded and feels too cheated from the lack of confrontation to be weirded by it. Intense light suddenly gathers around him, and as the familiar sensation of transports dematerialization hits his body, there's one last whisper in his ear. "You have chosen well. Keep him beside you and all that you've been promised will be yours as long as you are together. Remember that…"

And the next thing he knows, Jim is laying down on the floor next to his command chair on the bridge of the Enterprise, Dr. McCoy scanning him with a tricorder.

"Jim!" he hears someone calling for him, as he tries to get up, twisting and turning without coordination until the Science Officer's desk comes into view. It's empty, and for along terrible moment he feels his insides turning to lead as he scans the worried faces around him.

"Jim!" he barely hears the call again, until warm fingers cup his face and force him to look into the worried eyes of his friend.

"Spock", Jim breaths, almost not daring to believe, but the hands holding him down are tender and real, and way too warm to be human. And as the ice invading his veins starts to finally thaw, relief flooding in its wake, Jim finally loses the tenuous hold he has on his conscience.

He can let go now, he's in good hands, he knows, as in the background McCoy swears a blue streak.

The end.

AN: What do you think?