Vitiation: Epilogue
Title: Vitiation
Rating: R
Chapter: One Two Three Four Five Epilogue
Characters: Jim Kirk, Spock, Bones, Carol Marcus, Amanda Grayson
Warnings: Violence, language, references to drug and alcohol abuse
Summary: Hello, criminal underworld. Jim Kirk is here to fuck your shit up.
The crime rates in the city fall after Ayel’s death, and Jim has the data markers to prove it. They’re nowhere near respectable, and they probably won’t be for at least a decade. But it’s a start.
Spock has spent the better part of a week in a healing trance, according to Bones, and even though Jim knows it’s doing the Vulcan more good than he can properly appreciate, it still freaks him out. Sometimes, he’ll stop by Spock’s room and stay for a few minutes just to make sure he’s still breathing. Somewhere between nearly getting killed by the man and nearly killing him himself, Jim’s started to become a little bit fond of him, and he’d really rather he not die.
Patrols are a bit too exciting now, he finds. He’s gotten used to having Spock there to indirectly cover his ass, and it takes a few nights of bewilderedly shrugging when Bones asks him why he’s covered in burns before he figures that out. It annoys him, but he can toughen up if need be.
Spock wakes after ten days, and he’s practically as good as new. Jim decides it’s as good a time as any to start patrolling in shifts - say, any time Spock is awake. It almost works, too.
But, as always, Spock manages to mess up his plans. He joins him at the table for breakfast, placing a confusingly human dish of oatmeal in front of him instead of his customary soup. Jim swallows hard.
“I’m sorry I shot you,” he murmurs; then he takes a swig of coffee and coughs half of it onto his toast. Lovely. He buries his face in a waffle.
“Before I lost control,” Spock says, completely ignoring Jim’s apology, “Ayel mentioned that there would be a ‘next step.’ I believe he meant to indicate that he was not the only one working towards whatever goal brought him to devastate San Francisco.”
Jim picks his head off his plate. “Yeah. We have to assume he has allies.”
Spock nods. “It is eminently likely that there will be another attack on the city, probably of a greater magnitude than Ayel’s.”
“Great,” Jim groans. “And we barely got out of the last one.”
“Vulcan will protect Earth,” Spock says like it’s already been settled. Hell, his dad was the diplomat in charge of the case. It probably had been, and Earth was going to be the last to know, as always. “However, I intend to continue my work here.”
Jim pushes his plate away. He won’t be able to eat now; that’s for sure. “Same here,” he says firmly. “I’ll do my best to not have to shoot you again, though. I don’t think that was really-”
“It was of no consequence,” Spock tells him. He blinks. “Jim, you did what had to be done, and I am grateful for the action you took to hold me to my own beliefs. You do not need to apologize.”
Jim is gobsmacked for a moment. “But I shot you,” he deadpans. Spock nods.
“You did,” he agrees. “However, I believe we will be working together for some time to come. At one point I may have to take similar actions with you. I trust I will not have to apologize for what is necessary, Jim. Neither will you.”
Jim stares at Spock for a long moment. “Okay,” he says, though it comes out sounding strangled. He clears his throat. “Seventh to Broadway seems to be gang territory now.”
Spock meets his eyes, and for a moment there is something infinitely human in the look he gives him. Jim smiles as the look leaves his face.
“I believe Ms. Marcus should be able to assist with a plan to handle that,” Spock suggests, and Jim laughs.
It’s a start.
END
Previous Chapter
Rating: R
Chapter: One Two Three Four Five Epilogue
Characters: Jim Kirk, Spock, Bones, Carol Marcus, Amanda Grayson
Warnings: Violence, language, references to drug and alcohol abuse
Summary: Hello, criminal underworld. Jim Kirk is here to fuck your shit up.
The crime rates in the city fall after Ayel’s death, and Jim has the data markers to prove it. They’re nowhere near respectable, and they probably won’t be for at least a decade. But it’s a start.
Spock has spent the better part of a week in a healing trance, according to Bones, and even though Jim knows it’s doing the Vulcan more good than he can properly appreciate, it still freaks him out. Sometimes, he’ll stop by Spock’s room and stay for a few minutes just to make sure he’s still breathing. Somewhere between nearly getting killed by the man and nearly killing him himself, Jim’s started to become a little bit fond of him, and he’d really rather he not die.
Patrols are a bit too exciting now, he finds. He’s gotten used to having Spock there to indirectly cover his ass, and it takes a few nights of bewilderedly shrugging when Bones asks him why he’s covered in burns before he figures that out. It annoys him, but he can toughen up if need be.
Spock wakes after ten days, and he’s practically as good as new. Jim decides it’s as good a time as any to start patrolling in shifts - say, any time Spock is awake. It almost works, too.
But, as always, Spock manages to mess up his plans. He joins him at the table for breakfast, placing a confusingly human dish of oatmeal in front of him instead of his customary soup. Jim swallows hard.
“I’m sorry I shot you,” he murmurs; then he takes a swig of coffee and coughs half of it onto his toast. Lovely. He buries his face in a waffle.
“Before I lost control,” Spock says, completely ignoring Jim’s apology, “Ayel mentioned that there would be a ‘next step.’ I believe he meant to indicate that he was not the only one working towards whatever goal brought him to devastate San Francisco.”
Jim picks his head off his plate. “Yeah. We have to assume he has allies.”
Spock nods. “It is eminently likely that there will be another attack on the city, probably of a greater magnitude than Ayel’s.”
“Great,” Jim groans. “And we barely got out of the last one.”
“Vulcan will protect Earth,” Spock says like it’s already been settled. Hell, his dad was the diplomat in charge of the case. It probably had been, and Earth was going to be the last to know, as always. “However, I intend to continue my work here.”
Jim pushes his plate away. He won’t be able to eat now; that’s for sure. “Same here,” he says firmly. “I’ll do my best to not have to shoot you again, though. I don’t think that was really-”
“It was of no consequence,” Spock tells him. He blinks. “Jim, you did what had to be done, and I am grateful for the action you took to hold me to my own beliefs. You do not need to apologize.”
Jim is gobsmacked for a moment. “But I shot you,” he deadpans. Spock nods.
“You did,” he agrees. “However, I believe we will be working together for some time to come. At one point I may have to take similar actions with you. I trust I will not have to apologize for what is necessary, Jim. Neither will you.”
Jim stares at Spock for a long moment. “Okay,” he says, though it comes out sounding strangled. He clears his throat. “Seventh to Broadway seems to be gang territory now.”
Spock meets his eyes, and for a moment there is something infinitely human in the look he gives him. Jim smiles as the look leaves his face.
“I believe Ms. Marcus should be able to assist with a plan to handle that,” Spock suggests, and Jim laughs.
It’s a start.
END
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