Dr. McCoy pronounces him safe to leave sickbay after only a week, and Spock finds the lack of permanent damage logical. After the destruction of Vulcan, the vulcan slaves owned by orion slaveholders would have gained instant rarity value, even those who were useless for breeding purposes.

But the doctor will not pronounce him fit to return to active duty, because he is not a trauma psychologist, damnit, and he unofficially confines Spock to quarters. Spock sees no reason to disobey these unofficial orders, and spends twenty-three consecutive hours in meditation. It is inconclusive, and Spock sleeps fitfully for six hours before once again attempting meditation.

Jim is there after only four hours. "Is it helping?" he asks, sitting on the edge of their bed. "The meditation, I mean."

"It... it is not," Spock admits.

Jim nods and holds Spock's hand loosely, pushing love through the bond which turns to mourning when his fingers brush against the metal cuff on his wrist. "I wish I'd found you before they did this to you, Spock. I should have kept you safe."

Spock is silent for a long moment, and then says, "I suppose you can, now, if you want to."

"What?" Jim says, confusion crossing his face. Then, making one of those leaps in logic that Spock finds so fascinating, Jim is horrified. "No, Spock! I know we shared fantasies before- but I- I wouldn't do that, not after- god, how could you think me capable of that?"

But Spock presses on, shaking his head. He needs to say this. "Sometimes, the only thing that made it bearable was pretending it was you at the controls. That no one but you could see me and you were... that you..."

Now Jim sits silent for a long time. "Spock-"

But Spock is already lying back on their bet, hands at his ankles. "Jim," he says quietly, "Please."

Jim stands and looks at the door. Spock can feel no condemnation through their bond, only... conflict. Spock could try to understand the conflict, to pull it apart and make Jim laugh with logic, but he does not have the strength. Instead, he just closes his eyes and again whispers, "Please."

Jim is silent for another little while, until he says, "Computer, lock the door, authorization Alpha-One. Lights to twenty-five percent." The bed dips beside Spock. "Spock? Look at me."

Spock does so.

"I don't want to hurt you. So... if you tell me to stop at any time tonight, I'll stop. I won't leave you, okay? You never have to worry about me leaving you."

Spock nods when it becomes clear Jim is waiting for a response.

"I'm not going to use those... those cuffs." As Spock opens his mouth to argue, Jim interrupts him. "Not tonight, Spock. Maybe sometime, but not tonight." Spock relents, nodding once.

Jim kisses Spock slowly, the depth of his love traveling between them, as it always does. Spock does not resist as Jim rearranges him on their bed, his hands above his head and his knees loosely bent Jim's kisses have left his mouth; one long one lands on his pulse point, just above the collar. His mouth is benediction to Spock, each kiss blessing Spock's body in some way.

"Jim," Spock says, growing hard with none of the shame he has become accustomed to feeling over the past month. Jim does not respond verbally, although the love and associated emotions that come through the bond grip Spock like fingers.

Jim spends his kisses on Spock like Spock is worth everything he has, which Spock believes to be false, or else like his kisses mean nothing, which Spock knows to be false. His human eyes grow wet, and somewhere along the way his clothes have disappeared, and so have Jim's.

This time, as they cum, their tears mingle. But for Spock at least, they are tears of relief, and the sleep he sinks into is not a prison, but a cocoon.

And Jim is there, and Jim does not, will not leave him, not ever; and Spock begins to heal.

A/N: I don't usually beg... but do you guys even like this? I've had no reviews...