Oooooohhhhhh, I am back! And here's some plotty plot plot! I really sincerely hope you all haven't disregarded this story :O I'll try to update more frequently and regularly but this story more or less slipped my mind in favor of another story I had. Which slipped my mind in favor of another story.. Which slipped my mind in favor of another story .-. I really need to get these plot bunnies spayed and neutered because they are breeding like mad .-.

Any hoozles, enjoy!

Spock felt an intense urging from deep within his mind, his meditative state nearly slipping at the sheer force of the pull. He wandered toward it in his mind's eye, going closer to his barriers than he had in a great while. He knew what the pull was. It was Jim. The human, never ceasing in his surprises, had somehow figured out a way to tug at their bond. Spock had never gone close enough to see the what was most likely a starved and tattered cord connecting the two of them. It would no doubt bring waves of emotion crashing through Spock's self control and would no doubt be entirely too overwhelming for him.

He had wanted many a time over the past few months to go to Jim, the pulling becoming stronger and more frequent overtime. It had become a constant tug at the back of Spock's mind, its endless pulling and varying intensity leaving him drained by the end of the day.

There were times when the pull became more of a yank and Spock was thrust into his mindscape without warning, being forced to stare at the meticulously built walls that separated him from Jim. He often heard the echos of growling and swearing that seemed to come from himself in those moments, as well as whimpers and cries that were so alike to Jim's tone and timber that the Vulcan's chest seemed to empty itself of all filling, leaving it hollow and vacant minus an immense longing. His inner savagery always appeared at these times, playing out violent scenarios of smashing the barriers to mere debris and dashing to the bond he so craved.

These moments of incoherency had happened at extremely inconvenient times, once in a meeting with the grand counselors of New Vulcan and twice when attempting to have dinner with his father.

Each incident, Spock had metaphorically awoken to the sight of emotionless brown eyes upon him, his body suddenly being on its feet, having overturned anything he was sitting on or around and seeming to move of its own accord toward the nearest exit, a snarl on his lips.

Each time, he had composed himself and been excused from the room, generally spending the next day or so hauled up in his mindscape, searching for a remedy within himself to ease the suffering of the bond and perhaps dissuade it from socially ostracising him every chance it was shown.

Today's incident, however, was the worst yet.

Spock had been with his father at the New Vulcan Science Academy, discussing matters that had previously been adjourned at their last meeting with the council, an odd report from one of the outlying colonies having taken precedence of the grand counselors' minds, when he had felt it. There was a horrifying moment of desensitization in which he saw the world around him being sucked away and his intricately built matrix-like inner self being formed, before he realized that it was happening again.

Spock resisted the urge to take a leveling breath, walking in the direction he knew Jim was calling him. Eons passed and a heavily reinforced metal fortress stood before him. It was layered with sheet upon sheet of thick metal, leaving no gaps or possible weak points.

Yet, a faint light had peaked through a miniscule seam in one of the hulls. This faint light seemed to shriek at Spock, demanding to be let out, demanding nourishment, demanding to be acknowledged. Spock fought himself, a side of him wanting to rip and peel and tear away the metal inch by inch, layer by layer, until he had freed the bond and could embrace Jim for all he was worth. He heard those resounding howls and snarls, the sheer anguish and animalistic quality to them making him shudder.

However, the other side of Spock recoiled from the glow, harrowing thoughts of a similar light fading from Jim's eyes as Spock foolishly took what remaining strength his Captain had, like a pathetic leach sucking painfully away at a wounded anemic man.

Spock fought himself, the snarling seeming to grate his sensitive ears while Jim's light began to erode the metal of his barriers. Spock was paralyzed between the conflicting pulls of his logic and his need to be with Jim.

"T'hy'la, t'hy'la, t'hy'la," those snarls turned to fevered growls, chanting primitively the single word, "T'hy'la, t'hy'la, t'hy'la." The word became so heady, so resounding, that it shook Spock's mindscape. The bolts holding the layers of metal before him together began to tort and break, popping off with tiny clinks and cracks, shooting every which way. The light from Jim's bond was blinding now.

Knowing that if he did not regain control of his body and escape his mindscape now the pulling bond would break through and take him, ruining all of the work and restraint he had used to keep himself from hurting Jim ever again, Spock turned away, sprinting far from the fortress and back into consciousness.

As the world reappeared around him, he found himself far from where he had been before the incident. Sarek was staring at him blankly, several meters down the hall of the Space Academy.

Luckily none of the students nor professors had come out to see what the barrage of snarls were, leaving Spock some dignity as he made his way back to his father's side.

"Spock," the man began calmly. The half-breed looked at him emotionlessly, acknowledging his clear loss of control without words. "You have been having these episodes frequently. It would be wise to see a mind healer." This was said matter-of-factly.

Spock had explained to his father before that these moments of savagery were tied with being thrust into his mind without warning. That he was unaware of their cause. He knew he should see a healer but that would mean revealing his bond with Jim, something he was weary to do for fear of more ostracizing and outing his bond with a human. He could never be ashamed of Jim and their connection, not ever. However, that did not mean he was eager for the world to know that he was illogically and foolishly ignoring a bondmate and consequently causing himself to lose control because of human emotions such as guilt.

"Father, I apologize for my outburst. I will see the healer as soon as it is convenient." It was a lie. And while Vulcans do not lie, humans do, so Spock felt no shame in doing so. Being partially human was not something he scorned anymore.

Sarek seemed assuaged by the statement, turning to continue to their destination. Spock made to follow but realized his mindscape was surely falling to shambles at the moment and, the longer he allowed it to do so, the more likely it would be he would have another outburst.

With a leveling breath, the noiret turned on his heel, stalking down the corridor with a curt farewell and excuse over his shoulder toward his father.

Now, Spock was on the meditation mat of his room in the far corner of his father's home on New Vulcan. It was a blank room with pale blue, empty walls and a plain bed pushed against the wall adjacent to the door. The meditation mat was beneath the only window of the room, light spilling onto the owner of the room's still body.

His beige court robes were discarded in favor of a blue tunic and loose, black capri pants. His fondness of blue had not waned despite the constant reminder it held of his time as the first officer and chief science officer of the USS Enterprise and her enthusiastic, idiotic captain.

He continued to move towards the fortress containing Jim's constantly imploring light. The walls had been reconstructed after today's incident, the crack in the outermost layer successfully covered and reinforced, the bolts that had broken and burst now replaced and tightened.

Spock stared at the shining metal, longing aching in his chest. He hadn't the faintest idea of how Jim knew how to pull on their bond. He couldn't even fathom how Jim had found out about their bond. He wondered what the blond had thought when he found out, what he had felt.

Knowing the hot tempered man, he had most likely been angry. Angry that Spock had left, angry that Spock was ignoring the clear pull, angry that Spock was refusing to acknowledge him, angry that Spock was unreachable by all intents and purposes. But, the Vulcan could also imagine that Kirk was hurt, hurt by the fact Spock had abandoned him.

The noiret dropped his gaze from the wall before him in favor of the white matrix lines of the flat blue ground beneath him. It pained him to know he was hurting Jim with his absence. Pained him in ways he had only felt when his mother had passed.

However, he could not bare the guilt of having killed Jim for this bond. He had lost his control, seeking strength from a man who had no strength to give in a time when he was the one in need of strength and comfort. It was a despicable act, one that could only be punishable by never being able to indulge in that strength again.

Spock was being foolish, he knew. It was unheard of to ignore a bondmate's call. Most full Vulcans would become emaciated and unresponsive if they were without their bondmate for the period Spock had been without Jim. He surmised that it was his half human nature that allowed him to still function properly. It was a logical deduction.

It was one of the few times Spock thanked his human genes. They allowed him to punish himself, to repent for his crimes against the person he cherished most.

He missed Jim, that was clear. The urge to go to him was nearly as great as the urge to stay away. He missed that brilliant smile, those endless eyes, that unbelievably readable handsome face, their heated banter, that constant warming presence at his side as they traipsed the galaxy.

It was abhorrently uncharacteristic of a Vulcan to miss such things but it was all Spock could think of when he was in his mindscape. His entire being ached to be with Jim, to hold him and never let him go, to never allow harm to come to him ever again.

Spock shook his head, coming from his mindscape and back into his body. He kept his eyes closed.

Normally, meditation would calm him, allow him to sort out his thoughts and bring some semblance of clarity to whatever problem he was affronted with. And yet, now it only brought forth a deeper sense of disorder and confusion, leaving him on edge at all times. Jim Kirk was bringing Spock to his knees with emotions without even realizing it.

Spock got the strange urge to curse himself, to curse his foolishness in allowing a bond to form with a man in his last dying moments. He wanted to curse himself for allowing himself to bring this chaos into his mind and body. He was so lost in his own vehement self damning that he hardly noticed the entrance way to his room hissing open nor the stifled fall of footsteps on his carpeted floor till his father was standing nearly beside him.

"Spock," The younger Vulcan barely hid the surprised tensing of his muscles at his father's voice. "We have received another transmission from one of our outlying colonies." Spock made no move to turn towards Sarek, though curiosity vaguely nudged at his quickly thrown up barriers as he realized his father would only come directly to his room if the matter was of great importance. His father's tone was vacant as always but somehow that didn't dissuade the idea something was terribly wrong.

Sarek, realizing he would receive no response, his son seeming to deem it an unnecessary pleasantry, something he agreed with in the face of the situation, continued, "There has been an attack. Klingon ships have overrun the entire Western city and are now making their way to the capital. It is an estimated two point eight days before they are at the outer borders." Spock's eyes flew open, shock barely hidden in their endlessly dark depths as the information hit him, making him thankful to have been facing away from his father and towards the window.

His mind flew to various conclusions and scenarios in the span of a few seconds. They had no army, no means of protecting themselves. Their society was hardly beyond reconstruction, most Vulcans barely settled in their new homes and work positions. An attack by the battle affluent Klingons spelt certain doom for the citizens of New Vulcan.

Spock rose gracefully to his bare feet, turning to face his father and placing his hands behind his back in his usual fashion. Sarek's face was grimmer than normal, though still giving nothing away of his own inner thoughts.

"I am to assume the council has been called to convene and I am to attend." Sarek nodded, his mask falling for a moment as he reached forward in an entirely out of the ordinary display of emotion to place his hand on Spock's clothed shoulder. The younger was entirely taken aback by the gesture, not remembering the last time he and his father had openly touched or given any form of comfort to each other aside from after his mother died. It attested to the severity of the situation and a heavy feeling settled in Spock's stomach.

"Spock, my son, we are at war and I fear none of our race will survive."