Hello Everyone! I'm back and well rested. Whose ready to finish this journey with me? (^_^)

Memoirs of Tarsus IV, By JT

"He's a freak you know… That JT kid. Always knows the answer to every question in class, can tell things about your personal life just by looking at ya. Kinda like that Sherlock character he likes to read about all the time, just with a bad attitude and only moderate intelligence," a soft female voice sneered. James couldn't remember her face; narrow, pale, mousey brown hair, and maybe green eyes. He remembers her words, acidic and cruel leeching into the minds of all his friends on Tarsus.

"He's manipulating you, lying to you, doesn't care for you…" They were in a group, huddled around each other, on one of the colder nights before the famine hit, playing card games. James was coming back from the house with a mug of hot tea; he slowed to a stop on the edge of the light from the fire, hidden in the shadows…listening. The group was silent after her words, shifting uneasily for long moments before several people piped up in agreement. Slowly other voices were heard harshly biting into his attitude, his behavior, his looks, his everything. As if laid out like a bountiful feast, James' character, his essence was picked apart by these carrion birds, tearing him into grotesque pieces of inhumanity.

Children can be cruel. This he knew in spades. On Earth or on Tarsus, it made no difference. Silently he crept back to the house, cold tea clutched in a white knuckled embrace, the only evidence of his emotions. And in three weeks, when the famine struck hard, James made the decision to save and protect those who had been so cruel to him, not for manipulation, or inhumanity, but for his simple belief that life should be protected, even if their ignorance broke a small part of him.

James could see most of their faces, alive with laughter and hope superimposed on the bodies he remembers finding. D'novan, Jason and Cara piled together like dogs, blood sluggishly seeping into the ground by the fields. Phaser wounds or bullet holes, James did not know from his perch up a tree as he looked for food and spotted his friends. They were not the first, nor the last, but the image of their entangled bodies discarded like trash twisted something inside his heart.

Gw'nia was the last of his group of 13 to die, right before the Federation arrived. James wished the timing was better but mere hours after her body slumped to the side of their cave, eyes vacant and chest still, Federation search and rescue were scouring the hillside for survivors. Gw'nia was 6 years old, her race was unknown to him, but she was a beautiful child. Large almond shaped lavender eyes, soft peach skin, sharply pointed ears emerging from her thick curly strawberry blonde hair. When she had the nerve to speak standard to some of the smaller child, which was rare for the shy girl, her voice was high and bouncy like quick staccato notes dancing from a piccolo. She drew the attention of all around her, pulling them along until she stopped. A pied piper, if he had ever heard one. She wanted to be a princess when she grew up, twirling in elegant dress, helping her people and meeting those from distant worlds. She was a star, bright and warm; James was observing her in concern as she drew her final breaths. Her lavender eyes locked on his weary blue stained with red; in the last moments she smiled, as if forgiving him for the guilt she knew he would hold, thanking him for all he had done, and wishing for him something he never understood. Then a slow blink, an exhalation of air and the light was gone. Another star extinguished from his sky.

Gw'nia was the last in his group to parish on the blood soil of Tarsus IV, the one he would dream about, the one he would carry for all his life, the one he could not forgive himself for not saving.

The memories of Tarsus continued to play in JT's mind as he lay still in the hospital bed. Outside his room, Spock stood by the observation window, reading the information from the biobed, tracing the pale face with his eyes. For several moments after his mother told his of Jim's continued life, he was elated, but standing here, watching the young man so motionless and silent gave him pause. Their link pulsed in his head, alive yet static, as if a radio frequency was out of tune. The data from the biobed suggested brain activity was present, but it was odd and scattered. The doctors were still collecting brain scans, trying to determine the cause, while mind healers had tried to connect with the boy. Both were unsuccessful. Though alive and breathing, the statistics of either continuing diminished every day he was unconscious.

This was not what Spock had hypothesized when walking into the VSA. He remembers sitting next to his mother, listening to James' doctor and a mind healer tell them the details of his continued life, of the treatments they have tried, of the tests they have done. None of their words however describe his shallow face and prominent cheekbones, the bruising around his hand where the IV was attached, lackluster locks of blonde hair messily strewn about his pillow or the vacant stare of his watery gray eyes. His Jim was all but a corpse, somehow with the resilience to still breathe, but not live. For several minutes Spock stood in the hallway, simply observing this boy who stole his heart, his katra, whose very existence may hinder on his ability to connect the two. The burden was heavy, but as brown eyes caressed the sharp emaciated features, he would make sure to find their way together one way or another.

Walking into the room, Spock turned toward the electronic keypad and typed in a locking sequence. Then with a sharp echoing, 'thud' he proceeded to ensure the room was secure, wiping fragments of the broken screen from the knuckles of his left fist. Stepping over to the bed, he slowly fell into the chair next to Jim, locking eyes with the vacant blue stare.

"I have come for thee, as I promised," he whispered as his trembling hand connected with the meld points on Jim's face. "T'hy'la, you mustn't leave me."

Gazing once more at the stoic face before him, Spock closed his eyes and fell into the darkness.

Standing in the shade of trees outside the VSA, Amanda sighed. Her thoughts were cluttered with emotions. Her hope upon seeing Jim broke slowly as she listened to the medical staff that had attended to him thus far. She remembers the percentages and words like, comatose, brain damage, life expectancy. Spock sat stiff backed next to her, silent and emotionless. Amanda didn't believe her son heard a word spoken by the healers, anxious to see Jim, but even that left a mark. Lying so still, James looked fragile, and broken against the harsh sterile background. Turning to her son, she placed a hand softly on his shoulder before moving down the corridor and to the entrance, giving him time.

There had been some who spoke out against her marriage to Sarek when it was first announced, others believed it was irresponsible and disturbing for the two to try for children. The first few years of their marriage were rough with strife, vicious rumors, discrimination, and cultural mistakes. There were moments, where she would leave the ambassador's complex, distraught or enraged, walking the long dirt pathway away from the city into the countryside, if only to get some relief from the oppression she felt. Those years were difficult, but they allowed her and Sarek to grow strong in their relationship.

If she had wished for anything, while holding the newborn Spock in her arms for the first time, it was for him to find such a love as she had. Perhaps, she thought, I should have stipulated for the love to come easier than it has. Letting out a soft bitter laugh, Amanda straightened her scarf and walked back into the VSA towards Jim room. As she got to the entrance of his corridor however, she paused watching with anxiety as several VSA personnel were trying to get into Jim's room.

Striding quickly into the chaos by his door, Amanda shouldered her way to the observation window and peered inside. Her eyes widen as she witnessed Spock sitting pale next to Jim, his hand braced tightly on the human's meld points. James' biobed reads were off the chart, fluctuating irregularly as red flashing lights in the ceiling came alive and sharp alarms resounded against the glass window. Turning to those gathered around the door, she spied one of the doctors she had talked early. Making her way to him, she paused at his side.

"Doctor Stolir, how long has this been going on?"

The short Vulcan doctor looked at Amanda, his dark eyes surveying her face. He was a plain looking Vulcan, with no discernable features, and a soft slow speech pattern.

"The locks to Mister Kirk's room were engaged 43.58 minutes ago, however the alarms did not start until 23.37 minutes after that. Your son has aptly locked himself in the room, disallowing interference from all others. If, Mister Kirk's readings decline anymore however, we will have to find other modes of entry and separate them."

Amanda nodded, standing on the balls of her feet to look into the room once more. Jim's body had begun to thrash from side to side, hands white knuckled in the sheets. Pulling her comm unit from her pocket, she quickly dialed one of the few Vulcans she could trust implicitly.

"It's Amanda. I need a favor." Her brown eyes took one more glance at the two young men in the locked room, before she set a fast paced walk out of the VSA.

"Now look what we have here, Tyson, a pretty boy and his little friends," one of the armed men sneered, pacing around the huddled group of children. JT stood tall, blue eyes flashing fire as he stared silently at the three men. He could take them; they were tired, hungry and low on ammunition, but with the three smaller children cowering behind him, he had no doubt at least one of them would have been killed in the crossfire if he tried.

"I don't know, Lowel, the lil'un over there with purple eyes seems like she might scream prettily." All three of Kodos men laughed as JT's fist clenched and he shifted slightly to the left, blocking their view of Gw'nia.

"This one, though, he's gonna put up a fight. You always liked the one who struggled. Adds excitement to conquest, right?" the man named Lowel smirked, reaching out a hand towards JT and howling with laughter as the boy swatted it away. JT tensed his muscles, calculating the odds of who would strike first and how. The third unnamed officer, had yet to be addressed or speak beyond the laugh moments ago, but his dark eyes stared unnervingly at the children on the ground.

Then out of the corner of his eye, JT noticed another figure walking calmly toward their group, tall and lean, with pointed ears, a Vulcan. Blue eyes unfocused, confused at the sudden addition as if he was not suppose to be present. The three agents seeing JT's distraction struck. Lowel ran to tackle JT, who barely dodged the attack, but could not sidestep away from the harsh punch to the jaw. Throwing an uncontrolled jab at Tyson, JT searched for his children, noticing the third agent had Gw'nia balancing on her toes as he gripped her throat. Ducking Lowel's kick and using his momentum to shove him into Tyson, JT sprinted to toward the small group only to pause as the Vulcan stood over the crumpled body of the officer. Confused blue eyes met concerned brown briefly before they widened in horror.

"JIM!" he heard a second too late as Tyson punched him solidly at the base of his spine.

White spot over took his vision as his back throbbed in time with his heart and he fell limply to the ground, winded. He could hear a scuffle behind him, the sound of two more bodies dropping to the floor, the sniffling of his children a few feet in front of him, but out of his vision range. The world slowly came back into focus as his body was painfully rolled on to his back. He arched helplessly as the pain increased, hands scrabbling at the dry dirt, a groan of anguish falling from his lips. His children gave a startled whimper as he thrashed on the ground.

Then a warm hand grasped his head and a soothing comfort began to push the pain to more manageable levels, until he could breathe again. Panting on the warm Tarsus ground, JT opened bleary eyes and stared at the young Vulcan in front of him. He was familiar but JT did not know from where. Staring into the stranger's brown eyes, soft equations and observations began to fill his mind. Then he knew.

"You're Spock."

"Yes, my Jim."

Confusion flickered across his face as he slowly sat up. Turning his eyes away from his odd companion, he looked at the children. Scared but alive, bruises and slight scraps being the only injuries among them.

"You alright? Any injuries?" The children shook their head, eyes on the Vulcan at his side.

"This is…" Jim hesitated as an unfamiliar word crossed his mind, 'T'hy'la,' "Spock. He is a friend." JT turned towards Spock, eyebrow raised in question.

"Indeed."

Smothering a smirk, Spock helped JT to his feet, hand gripping the human's shoulders as he found his balance again. Flashing the Vulcan a smile of gratitude, he turned to his children and began herding them back to their hideaway. Spock kept pace with JT, brown eyes flickering towards the blond man every few minutes.

The bruise along the underside of the human's chin was slowly turning purple, and Spock itched to sooth it away. He did not want to think how JT's actual encounter ended, how bruised or broken the young human had become. Nor the injuries sustained by those in his care. Weary, and exhausted were the words that came to mind as Spock watched the small children begin to trip and waiver at the slow pace.

Gw'nia was the first of the three to collapse, trembling with hunger and exertion. Spock watched silently as he crouched next to the young girl still for a brief moment before her arms reached for the blonde. JT stood, arms secure around the child, but his eyes surveyed the two left standing. Oscar was the youngest, barely four but tall as a six year old, while Hemish was short for being eight. Both looked ready to drop, and before JT could ask for help, Spock crouched next to the two boys, asking in a soft voice if they would like to be carried. Then as the two arranged them selves on either side of Spock, the Vulcan stood securing a tighter grip on both before nodding at Jim. They began their journey again, silently making their way on a path only Jim seemed to know through the forest and valley.

Spock was careful to match Jim's movements, as he slowed down and listened. Perhaps he heard something in the silence, Spock could make out because no sooner at they stopped, a barrage of phaser fire filled the night and the Vulcan cried out as right side burned. He felt JT pull him to the ground, watch as the boy fiercely told them all to stay down and silent before he crept away into the shadows.

Spock shifted examining the graze on his side, shallow but painful. Then he turned to Hemish who he had held and observed the red blood bleeding through the back of his shirt at an alarming rate. The boy in question shook his head as Spock tried to move closer. He didn't understand why until a moment later, as the boy slumped to the ground, still and silent. Spock's heart fluttered, as he stared at the boy. He knew this was JT memory, that he never really held the boy in his arms, had not protected him from the officers, but he had felt the warmth of the child's body as it clung to him, heard the soft whispers of his voice as he talked to Oscar. Understood the fine tremble in his body as the boy tightened his grip on Spock's shoulders when they stilled.

The boy had been as real as everything else in Spock's reality, and as he lay there silent, watching the blood seep deeper into the soil, there was nothing he could do to stop the swelling of grief rushing through his mind.

He heard footsteps approaching, and then the vicious snap of a tree branch breaking.

Everything went black.

*shifts slight with a small smile* Cliffhanger anyone? Please review, it feeds my soul and adds stars to my sky. Thank you for reading.