Jim was coughing. Spock could hear him from the kitchen where he was making tea. The water was about to boil, and Spock wondered if he should turn off the burner and go check on his soul mate. Jim was at the other end of the house in the study. Spock had gotten him settled there so he could enjoy the sunlight coming in the window.

"I'll check on him, Dad," a voice called out. It was his daughter, Kianda.

"Thank you, Kianda. I will be there in a moment." Spock could hear his daughter speaking to Jim, but couldn't make out what they were saying. The water came to a boil. He poured it into the teapot to steep, then left the kitchen and went to the study.

Jim was bent over and Kianda was patting him on his back. It was a practice known as chest percussion, and was useful in helping Jim to purge the excess mucous from his lungs. Spock could hear the rattle in his soul mate's chest as he coughed, fighting to get the stuff up so he could expel it.

Kianda looked up at her father. "He needs an oxygen shot. His lips are turning blue." Spock left the room briefly and came back with a hypospray. He put it against Jim's neck and triggered it. He knew Jim hated getting these shots in the neck, and normally he'd have deposited the dose into his arm, but there wasn't time. Jim wasn't getting enough oxygen from breathing. The injection would work quickly, boosting his soul mate's blood oxygen level. Once he'd administered the shot, he bent and spoke close to Jim's ear.

"I am sorry, Jim, but there was not time to put the dose into your arm." He kissed Jim on the cheek and straightened. Kianda was still patting Jim's back.

"Kianda, I will take over. I left tea steeping in the kitchen. If you will pour it and bring it to us I will be grateful."

"Of course."

"Thank you." He sat down on the chair she had vacated and started slapping Jim's back, quite a bit harder than she had. It had the desired effect. Jim's coughing became productive. He was able to clear his lungs, spitting the mucous and phlegm into a container so that Spock could check it for blood. He sat back in his overstuffed recliner and Spock handed him a box of tissues. Jim wiped his mouth and the tears the fit had brought to his eyes. Spock was relieved to see that his lips were no longer blue. The episode had tired him out; he sat with his eyes closed, breathing as best he could. Finally, he spoke, his voice thin and raspy.

"Thanks, Spock. That was a bad one. Kianda needs to stop being afraid to hit me too hard. It works better if you hit harder."

"I will speak to her..."

"I don't mean to complain. I'm grateful for her help. I think she's afraid she's gonna hurt me. Just let her know she can really pound on my back and it'll work better."

"What will work better?" Kianda had returned with the tea. She handed a mug to her father, and one to Jim. He took it, and offered her a weak smile.

"I was just telling Spock that you can hit me a lot harder than you do. You won't hurt me. It works better if you can smack my back pretty hard."

"The next time you employ chest percussion, I will show you how hard I hit him."

"I appreciate your help, Kianda."

"I know you do, uncle. I'm happy to help you in any way I can." She bent and kissed his cheek, then left the two men alone.

Spock looked at the thick fluid Jim had coughed up. He was relieved to see that there was no blood. If there had been, he would have had to contact Bones and have him come out to check on their friend. He took the container and emptied its contents, rinsed and dried it so that it would be ready for Jim's next fit of coughing. He hoped it wouldn't be too soon. The coughing, and more distressing, the trouble breathing, were happening more and more often. Spock's logical mind knew the progression of Jim's illness was accelerating. He also knew that there was no way to stop it. No cure. After 33 years of good health, Jim had begun to weaken and have lung problems. After much research by Dr. McCoy and himself, they had ascertained that the healing and restorative affects of the serum made from Khan's blood had started to wear off. They had considered a lung transplant, but had determined that Jim's body would reject the organ. There was nothing to do now but try to make the man as comfortable as possible, and give him what quality of life they could.

There was plenty of help nearby. When Jim had become ill, everyone had come together to decide what would be the best course of action. They now lived on a large piece of land on which they had built houses for each of the families. Spock, Uhura, Jim and Ree shared a large house, and Kianda lived in another with her husband and their three children. Spock and Uhura's other daughter, Yemaya, had followed in her mother's footsteps and become a communications officer. Jim and Ree's son George, along with his wife, twins sons and daughter, lived onboard the Enterprise where he had taken over as captain. They had a house on the property, but George was much like his father in that he felt most at home on the Enterprise. The twins had been born on the ship.

Bones lived on the property too, in a small cottage close to the main house. It took him until he was in his late forties but he was remarried to a woman who was also a doctor with a private practice. Bones had retired from Starfleet and was now Jim's personal physician, a job which Starfleet paid him to do. Not that he wouldn't have done it for free. He was 68 years old. Spock was 65, and Jim was 62. Spock had retired from Starfleet three years ago when Jim had become ill. He was determined to spend as much time with his soul mate as he could in what time they had left. He did his best not to think about losing Jim. It caused him anxiety that bordered on panic. He simply could not face the thought of having to go on without his soul mate, the other half of himself, the person he loved more than any other. The entire family knew how difficult it had been for both Spock and Jim.

When the problems first started, Jim tried to brush it off, saying that he just needed more exercise, needed to eat better, wasn't getting enough sleep, etc. But deep inside him he knew, as Spock had known, that something was seriously amiss with his health. When Jim collapsed, gasping for breath while shooting hoops with Spock, the research began. The Vulcan and the doctor were unable to find a cause for Jim's lung problems. It wasn't cancer, or emphysema, or asthma, or even any extraterrestrial malady. When they finally figured out that Jim's lung tissue was essentially disintegrating, they were able to pinpoint the cause. Khan had his revenge after all, albeit while he was in cryogenic stasis and 33 years after the battle between the Enterprise and the Vengeance, the death of Christopher Pike and the sacrifice Jim made to save his ship and crew, the act that necessitated needing Khan's blood in the first place. Jim had been living on borrowed time, and now time was up.

In the silence that followed Jim's coughing fit, Spock became aware of the hum of the oxygen concentrator. He looked at Jim and noticed he wasn't wearing the delivery tube. He'd taken it off when the coughing became severe. He always said it got in his way. He hated wearing it, but it was necessary to supplement his oxygen intake. Spock looked around and saw it on the floor beside Jim's recliner. He picked it up and went to put it back in place.

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice I wasn't wearing that damn thing," Jim said wearily.

"I know how much you dislike having to use it, but it is the only way to get enough oxygen into your blood. Your lips are turning blue again." With gentle, skilled fingers, Spock put the tube back in place, securing it behind his soul mate's ears and fitting the clip in his nostrils. He checked to make sure the tube was properly connected to the concentrator and checked the gauge to make sure it was delivering the proper amount of oxygen. Satisfied that all was as it should be, he turned the chair so he could sit facing Jim.

"It's getting worse, Spock. I'm starting to get scared. I don't have much time. I know it, and so do you."

"Doctor McCoy will give you a checkup on Friday. He will give us his assessment of your condition."

"We don't need Bones to tell us I'm dying, Spock. The question is, how much time do I have left?"

Spock fought the surge of fear he felt. It would not help Jim to be reminded of how terrified he was of losing him. He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to settle himself. "However much time you have, we will make the best of it, will we not?"

"Yes, we will. Where are the wives?"

"They went to the market. It is time for a grocery run. They took the grand children with them."

"Ah. That's why the house is so quiet. How long have they been gone?"

"They left just before you woke up from your nap."

"Then they'll be gone for a while. Wanna spend some soul mate time?"

"Are you certain you are feeling up to it?"

"Yes. I wanna go where I'm still all in one piece. Please."

Spock felt tears sting his eyes. He disconnected Jim's oxygen tube from the concentrator and turned it off. He would connect it to the one in the bedroom they shared. Their wives had realized, as they had, that they needed to be together as much as possible. Jim would sleep with Ree two, sometimes three nights per week. Spock would spend those same nights with Nyota. The women had time with their husbands, and Jim never slept alone.

He handed the tube to Jim. Slowly they made their way to their bedroom. Spock closed the door and pushed a button which turned on a light outside the door. It told the other inhabitants of the house that the soul mates were on the ethereal plane. They knew not to disturb them. Spock helped Jim onto the bed. It was the kind that could be adjusted so that Jim could sleep sitting up if he was having a hard time breathing. He'd become too weak for them to sit facing each other as they did in the past. Their new configuration was Jim lying supported by the mattress into a half-sitting position, with Spock on his side snuggled against him. Spock handled the mind meld, taking Jim with him onto the ethereal plane.

xxxxx

Jim didn't get startled anymore. He'd done this with Spock so many times, the shock of the transition had finally worn off. He did feel a sense of motion as their ethereal bodies went to what, for them, was home. The ethereal plane was always a nice place to be, but lately, for Jim, it had become a refuge, an escape from the reality of his failing health. Here he was still whole, still healthy and strong. His ethereal body was not ravaged by the illness the way his physical one was. He could breathe, he could run, he could dance. The first time he'd taken off running across the rolling, featureless plane, he'd pretty much freaked out his soul mate. But then they discovered that Spock could run and play with Jim, not just observe him. Now they had one of these play sessions every time they did a meld/bond/merge.

Jim opened his eyes and saw Spock facing him. They looked as they had years ago, not long after they'd soul bonded. Gone were the wrinkles, the pains of old age... the illness. The Vulcan looked at him, a small smile on his lips. Spock still only rarely smiled big enough to show teeth, but the 'almost smile' had become an actual one over the years. He even laughed occasionally, which made Jim insanely happy. It was another thing they shared that they hadn't before.

Jim smiled at Spock. "Let's run!" He took off at a sprint, and Spock followed. He caught up with him and they ran side-by-side across the featureless landscape. They slowed to a walk and then started playfully shoving each other until Jim knocked Spock down and they ended up wrestling on ground that felt soft and yielding under them. Jim pinned Spock under him and threw mock punches at him, laughing all the while. Spock laughed too, and it made Jim laugh even louder. He lifted his weight from Spock and pulled the Vulcan to his feet.

"What are we doing? Let's go merge!"

xxxxx

Jim grabbed Spock and swept them across the landscape to their sanctuary. They didn't have separate doors anymore. And the inside had changed a lot since they'd first been there. Their rooms were blended together now and the merging chamber was a small room off the combined rooms. They did their walkthrough of the sanctuary and then went to the chamber. There had been a time when Spock was afraid to merge with his soul mate, worried that it would harm Jim's physical body, but it didn't. In fact, it had a restorative effect. Jim felt better when they returned to the physical plane after a trip to the ethereal.

Their meld/bond/merge sessions were precious to both of them. Jim reveled in the freedom, albeit temporary, from the ravages of his illness. Spock felt a great joy in being with his soul mate here, where they could be as they once were. He saw the sparkle in Jim's clear blue eyes, the boyish smile, the lean, well-muscled body, the energy, the strength. The sweetness of these times filled Spock's heart to overflowing, made him smile, even laugh, in spite of the fact that he was a logical Vulcan. Back on the physical plane, in these last few weeks of Jim's life, he loved him more than ever, always remembering the man he was before he became ill. Here, he could see it, feel it, celebrate it.

He caught Jim in a tight embrace. Jim responded, hugging Spock tightly as well. They began to merge, to reach out to each other. The sensations were unlike any they experienced in their physical bodies. What they felt here was stronger, deeper, more profound, more fulfilling. It was like unbelievably good sex, only it wasn't sexual at all. It was spiritual. All the pleasure and subsequent release was centered in their hearts, their souls, not in their genitals. They touched, caressed, teased, but they did these things with their ethereal bodies. When they moved into each other, it brought pleasure far beyond any sexual union. The merge culminated in a climax so intense that it made an orgasm feel like a sneeze. They didn't remember it once they went back to the physical plane. It would have been far too distracting. It would have made them want to spend all their time merging. Back in the physical realm they remembered only an echo of the actual merging, and a pleasant feeling of well-being.

The soul mates had learned to take their time, and make the merge last as long as possible. Once they climaxed, they had only a short time before they had to return to the physical. T' Pela had told them it was a safety feature to keep them from getting too caught up in being in the ethereal. Although it was a part of their lives, it wasn't where they were supposed to spend a lot of time. When they couldn't hold back any longer and the climax finally came, they were completely caught up in it, and everything else was swept aside in the overwhelming pleasure and release it gave them. They held tight to each other as wave after wave swept through them, their ethereal bodies shuddering in ecstasy. Finally the waves subsided and still they held each other, basking in deep, abiding love.

Spock felt Jim shaking. He was alarmed until he realized that his soul mate was crying. It happened occasionally; Jim would simply be overwhelmed by the experience. Spock kissed him on the side of his neck, something he did in moments of strong emotion in either of them. He stroked Jim's back and shoulders, projecting, with his mind, his unconditional love for this man with whom he was bonded for eternity.

"I love you too, my soul mate," Jim said. "God, I love you so much."

Spock could feel, through the resonating harmony of their bonded souls, that the time to go back to the physical realm was approaching. Suddenly Jim clutched him tightly, a sob escaping from deep inside him.

"I don't wanna go back, Spock. I don't wanna go back!"

"I know you do not, but we must. I too wish that we could remain here. We cannot. We must go back. If you wish, I will sleep with you tonight. It is all that I can offer, and it may not be enough, but it will be my honor to hold you through the night as you sleep. Will that make the transition easier to bear?"

Spock felt Jim sob again. He found himself imploring whatever deity might be out there, please, has he not suffered enough? If you cannot take me, instead of him, please allow him some peace!

"Just when I think I couldn't possibly love you any more," Jim said, "you say something like that to me and prove me wrong. It would be my honor to have you hold me while I sleep. After all these years I still don't know what I could possibly have done to deserve you."

"I believe you have it backward, my friend. I do not know what I did to deserve you."

To Spock's amazement, Jim laughed. "Welcome to the Kirk and Spock mutual admiration society."

"We will have a soul mate date. We will eat a meal together, engage in some sort of recreational activity. We have already merged. We will sleep together. I will spoon you. Surely that will make going back at least somewhat easier to face."

"It will. It gives me something to look forward to. OK. Let's go back."

Spock took them through the transition. They opened their eyes to find themselves back on the bed in their room. Spock felt Jim take a breath, as deep a breath as he could with his damaged lungs. There were times when it made Spock feel short of breath just to listen to Jim's labored breathing. His hand was still on Jim's face and he heard the thought he'd heard many times before... what I wouldn't give to be able to take a full breath... he shifted on the bed so that he was face-to-face with Jim.

"If I could breathe for you, I would."

Jim reached up and pulled him into a hug. "Dammit, Spock, don't say things like that. You always make me cry." The words might have sounded harsh had they not been followed by Jim kissing Spock on the tip of his ear. It was a gesture of affection, as when he kissed Jim on the neck. Spock pulled back to look at Jim. There were tears in his eyes, but he was smiling.

"I still can't figure out what I did to deserve you," he said.

"I do not know, but I thank whatever deity gifted me with you."

"I love you, Spock."

"I love you, Jim."