Hello kids! I'm back! Short chapter for now, but since we're jumping back a day in the next chapter, this is what you get. Yay for in medias res and stuff. You may have noticed that I changed my name if you had me on your alert. I was Chisa Yume before, but as I no longer use that pseudonym (which I created way back in like… 2002) I decided it was time for an update. On to the warnings! This fic isn't going to be fluffy. I'm planning on putting Spock through some things that might make people question my sanity. But I have this obsession with hurt/comfort… tragic really… and shall unabashedly use Spock to that aim. So yeah, if you are not a fan of HurtSpock, AbusedSpock, KirkSpock or any other thing I decide to come up with down the road- this is definitely not your cup of tea.

I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters. I'm just borrowing them for my own sick pleasure.

Spock's vision was blurry as he slowly regained consciousness. His head throbbed and he could feel dried blood caked to the side of his head. Slowly regaining focus, he found that his arms were shackled to large posts embedded in the ceiling. A sharp scraping noise quickly brought him to alert, and he tensed.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this day, Spock," A dark figure spoke cheerfully as he opened a metal door and entered the dark cell. As he came closer he slowly circled the immobile Vulcan. His hand slowly trailed along his prisoner's body as he moved. "You're not an easy to man to capture, I will give you that. It's no wonder my father had such difficulty defeating you." Tapered fingers wound their way through the short and glossy black hair. "You didn't think it would end with him did you?"

"I am unaware to whom you are referring," was the slow reply. Spock was still reeling from the events of the previous days, and he was uncertain as to why this man held such contempt for him. The dim lighting made it hard to register important characteristics that he would no doubt need when his captain recovered him.

The grip in Spock's hair suddenly tightened, and with a sudden jerk, his neck was bent awkwardly, and he found himself looking into dark, rage filled eyes. "Is it so easy to forget Spock?" Another sharp jerk assaulted his head. "Did killing him mean nothing to you?"

Comprehension dawned on Spock as he took in the man before him. Taller than Spock himself, with large broad shoulders and sharp facial features. The more telling sign was the distinctive curvature of the ears. And Spock would forever recognize the tattoos that marked the face in front of him.

"You are the son of Nero."

"Yes Spock, I am."

TBC

Whoot!! I'll try to get the next update out soon!

-Kym