Long Way Home part four
Part Four
Jim was starting to hate sleep. Sleep meant dreaming - and while he got that dreaming was a necessary thing, for humans - he could really have used a week or two without them.
See, the thing was, Jim tried to never remember his dreams, not really. He got flashes, sometimes during the day or on an away mission, of the Enterprise and its crew, but all wrong. He dreamt of his ship full of fuzzy animals one night, remembering it only later at the end of his shirt. He dreamt again of strange men, half black and half white. Of Sulu fencing in the halls. Uhura with a lyre.
Most of the time Jim dreamt of the death of Vulcan, dreamt of old Spock and the bitter grief that choked him as he watched his planet be destroyed. Jim dreamt of red sands and dry, blistering heat, like a fire burning in his blood. He dreamt of laughter and whales and a lifelong connection too deep to name.
Sometimes Jim didn’t want to wake up from his dreams. Emotional transference his ass.
So, Jim found himself sleeping less and reading more. He read all the reports filed in his log. He read up on the state of the engines and the upgrades Scotty had implemented - which Jim wasn’t sure were regulation, but if asked, Jim hadn’t read the reports. Yet. Jim read up on diplomacy, on tactics, hell on anything and everything that could hold his attention. At least then he wouldn’t dream.
It was a long two weeks to Vega Station.
It came as a surprise, however, when the diplomats were boarding the Enterprise to run across an old familiar face.
“Sp -,” Jim clicked his teeth together. “Ambassador,” he amended. He was in the transporter room where the diplomats were arriving, along with Uhura and Spock the younger.
Which, Jim realized, was probably a really, really bad thing.
“You have met Ambassador Sparek?” An older human woman said at the older Spock’s side.
“Briefly,” Old Spock’s eyes were wrinkled in the corners. Jim had a flash of memory, of the same face in the mirror, side by side next to a man - god, that had to be the other Jim. Him. Whatever.
Jim shook his head and stepped forward. “It’s our pleasure to have you aboard,” the diplomacy books had come in handy. The older woman’s disapproving tilt to her mouth eased. Jim could swear he knew that the old Spock was laughing. Somewhere. Deep inside.
“Ambassador McKinely, Ambassador Wilson,” Uhura stepped forward. “I’ll show you to your rooms. Ambassador Sparek -”
“I’ll escort Ambassador Sparek,” Jim cut in. Uhura gave him a look, but Jim grinned at the older man and waved him to the door, the man’s personal bag in Jim’s hand. “After you.”
“Captain,” his first officer said.
“You have the bridge, Mr. Spock,” Jim moved to fall in step with the Ambassador.
The doors slid closed behind them. Jim was content to walk next to the older man, getting his thoughts in order. It seemed so natural, Jim wasn’t sure if it was the sleeping memories that were manipulating him or something else.
“You seem well,” the older Spock said as they entered a lift.
“With Bones breathing down my neck? Of course,” Jim shot him a smile - one that was answered in a ready tip of the head and a twitch to an eyebrow.
Somehow Jim knew this man. Perhaps it had been the meld - it proved to Jim that there were emotions behind that cold surface. Emotions Jim could understand, could relate to, could anticipate and read into the glances and tilts sent his way.
Hell, maybe it was just the meld, period.
“How have you found your first year of duty?”
They were at the Ambassador’s quarters. Jim hesitated a bare second before following the man in. Jim was off duty in a half an hour, anyway.
“Weird,” he trailed in after the man, setting the bag down on a chair. “Boring. Hard,” he shrugged. “You know.”
The elder Spock had the faintest curl to the corner of his mouth. “I see.”
“Well, I think you see more than I do,” Jim ran a hand over the back of his neck.
“And my counterpart?”
“What about him?”
Spock sat on one of the low couches. “How have you gotten along with him?”
Jim shot the man a wry look, but sank down next to him at the Vulcan’s gesture. “I forgot to ask, is the universe going to implode now?”
Spock’s eyebrows came up.
“You met him,” Jim said.
“Yes, I did.”
Jim tensed. “What?”
“My younger self perceived me to be our father,” this time a smile did curl Spock’s mouth. “A singular resemblance I am unsure as to whether or not I am pleased about.”
“Wait - you mean you met?”
“Yes. He did not tell you?”
“No,” Jim shifted back in his seat. “He - that is - huh.” Jim blinked. “He never told me.”
Spock clasped his hands in his lap. “The both of you are very young, yet. I believe you both shall learn each other, in time.”
Jim made a face. He slid an elbow onto the back of the couch, leaning in towards the older Vulcan. “I don’t know about that. I don’t think the younger you likes me very much.”
“Appearances, Jim, can be deceiving.”
Jim couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “You called me Jim again.”
“Yes.”
Jim put his chin in his hand. “It’s weird. When I first met you, I thought you were batshit crazy.”
“A singular description.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “What, the old me wasn’t one for - oh yeah,” Jim straitened in his seat, attempting his best Vulcan brows-of-doom. “The use of obscene and inflammatory language is unfit for the captain of a Starfleet vessel.”
A rusty chuckle escaped the Vulcan. “I remember saying much the same thing.”
“To me?” Jim felt a flash of hope.
“No, Jim. By the time we served together, we were much older.”
“Oh.”
“My first tour with a Starfleet ship, I came under the position of an older human man who had been raised on a space station just outside of Sol System. He had a…singular use of profanity that confused me greatly my first few months on board.”
Jim couldn’t help but be drawn closer to the man. “Were you - did you go to Starfleet Academy, too?”
“Yes. It was a decision that caused much strife in my family, but I found it to be the best path I could have taken.”
Talking with the older Spock was like talking to a whole different person. Jim listened with delight as the old Spock talked about his time in Starfleet, feeling the same warm sensation spreading through his chest like in the dreams. In the dreams, it was often the two of them together - not together, or at least not in the dreams - but together, at the mess, in the halls or on an alien planet, side by side. It was strange for Jim, this warmth, this - connection, for lack of a better word. He felt as if he needed no distance from this Spock, no walls or words or wit or sarcasm to save him from blank eyes and a cold response. This Spock was all warmth and heat and passion, like the red sands in his dreams. Which reminded Jim of his own dreams he’d been having.
“So,” Jim ducked his head when the conversation had reached a lull. “I’ve been having these…dreams.” Jim took a breath, watching the Vulcan’s face as he laid it all out.
“I see,” Spock clasped his hands together in his lap.
“You do?”
“Emotional transference is common in a meld of the type which I initiated with you,” Spock said. “However, I was…distressed at the time of our meld. I fear I may have left more than I meant.”
“Left?”
“Transference of such is known in these examples. However, due to the recent destruction of Vulcan, and my own experiences with the singularity and Nero, I am afraid I may have transferred more than I meant.”
“So all the dream stuff,” Jim wiggled his fingers. “That’s normal?”
“To an extent. However, for you to still be processing the information a year after our meld concerns me.”
“Concerns you?” Jim sat up.
“Your mind should have processed the remnants and then discarded them. Humans are, for the most part, psychically null. The meld we shared should have been easy for you to assimilate and discard.”
“But I don’t want to forget,” Jim said.
“It is not a case of remembering and forgetting,” Spock spread his hands. “It is…complicated.”
“So what I’m dreaming about isn’t normal?”
“No.”
Jim let out a breath. “Is it going to harm me?”
“It should not, but if you would permit me. I would like to verify that your mind has not been altered due to my unfortunate lack of control.”
“You just saw your planet go boom,” Jim made a face. “I think you’re allowed to freak out.”
“Still. If you would permit me?’
Jim hesitated a long moment before nodded. “What do you need me to do?”
“Relax,” Spock moved closer to him on the couch. Jim relaxed at the familiar warmth - though how it was familiar, he was not sure. “My mind to your mind,” Spock intoned. “My thoughts to your thoughts.”
There was no rush of images and words this time. Jim was sucked into a peaceful darkness, heat and the feeling of comfort surrounding him. He felt as if someone was sifting through his thoughts - but it was Spock, just Spock, he trusted Spock. Spock was his friend, close as family, closer still. It was Spock. He never had to worry.
A strange feeling of pressure eased from his thoughts. Jim relaxed, noting the tension that had knotted his shoulders as if for the first time.
“There,” the fingers on his face withdrew, along with the dark warmth.
Jim blinked open his eyes. Then blinked again. “Um,” he said.
“Captain,” Spock the younger said.
“When’d you get here?”
“Shift change ended fifteen minutes ago. There was no answer when I attempted to contact the Ambassador, so I came to verify his location.”
“Oh.” Jim squinted at the younger Vulcan. Then he glanced at the ambassador. “Is it all…?”
“I have corrected the matter,” the Ambassador said. He laid a hand on Jim’s shoulder.
“Awesome,” Jim said.
“What matter?” The younger Spock was glancing between them.
“Oh, nothing,” Jim flicked his hand and stood.
Spock the younger hesitated, glancing between them. “Are you…well, Captain?”
“Just peachy,” Jim flashed his second in command a smile. “The rest of the ambassadors settled?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll leave you to get unpacked,” Jim said to the elder Spock, unable to stem the smile on his face.
“Good night,” the Ambassador’s eyes were crinkled in the corners again, causing the younger Spock’s brows to shoot up.
“Mr. Spock,” Jim gave the younger Vulcan a nod as he left. “Don’t stay up too late,” he called as he left the room, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.
Part Five
Jim was starting to hate sleep. Sleep meant dreaming - and while he got that dreaming was a necessary thing, for humans - he could really have used a week or two without them.
See, the thing was, Jim tried to never remember his dreams, not really. He got flashes, sometimes during the day or on an away mission, of the Enterprise and its crew, but all wrong. He dreamt of his ship full of fuzzy animals one night, remembering it only later at the end of his shirt. He dreamt again of strange men, half black and half white. Of Sulu fencing in the halls. Uhura with a lyre.
Most of the time Jim dreamt of the death of Vulcan, dreamt of old Spock and the bitter grief that choked him as he watched his planet be destroyed. Jim dreamt of red sands and dry, blistering heat, like a fire burning in his blood. He dreamt of laughter and whales and a lifelong connection too deep to name.
Sometimes Jim didn’t want to wake up from his dreams. Emotional transference his ass.
So, Jim found himself sleeping less and reading more. He read all the reports filed in his log. He read up on the state of the engines and the upgrades Scotty had implemented - which Jim wasn’t sure were regulation, but if asked, Jim hadn’t read the reports. Yet. Jim read up on diplomacy, on tactics, hell on anything and everything that could hold his attention. At least then he wouldn’t dream.
It was a long two weeks to Vega Station.
It came as a surprise, however, when the diplomats were boarding the Enterprise to run across an old familiar face.
“Sp -,” Jim clicked his teeth together. “Ambassador,” he amended. He was in the transporter room where the diplomats were arriving, along with Uhura and Spock the younger.
Which, Jim realized, was probably a really, really bad thing.
“You have met Ambassador Sparek?” An older human woman said at the older Spock’s side.
“Briefly,” Old Spock’s eyes were wrinkled in the corners. Jim had a flash of memory, of the same face in the mirror, side by side next to a man - god, that had to be the other Jim. Him. Whatever.
Jim shook his head and stepped forward. “It’s our pleasure to have you aboard,” the diplomacy books had come in handy. The older woman’s disapproving tilt to her mouth eased. Jim could swear he knew that the old Spock was laughing. Somewhere. Deep inside.
“Ambassador McKinely, Ambassador Wilson,” Uhura stepped forward. “I’ll show you to your rooms. Ambassador Sparek -”
“I’ll escort Ambassador Sparek,” Jim cut in. Uhura gave him a look, but Jim grinned at the older man and waved him to the door, the man’s personal bag in Jim’s hand. “After you.”
“Captain,” his first officer said.
“You have the bridge, Mr. Spock,” Jim moved to fall in step with the Ambassador.
The doors slid closed behind them. Jim was content to walk next to the older man, getting his thoughts in order. It seemed so natural, Jim wasn’t sure if it was the sleeping memories that were manipulating him or something else.
“You seem well,” the older Spock said as they entered a lift.
“With Bones breathing down my neck? Of course,” Jim shot him a smile - one that was answered in a ready tip of the head and a twitch to an eyebrow.
Somehow Jim knew this man. Perhaps it had been the meld - it proved to Jim that there were emotions behind that cold surface. Emotions Jim could understand, could relate to, could anticipate and read into the glances and tilts sent his way.
Hell, maybe it was just the meld, period.
“How have you found your first year of duty?”
They were at the Ambassador’s quarters. Jim hesitated a bare second before following the man in. Jim was off duty in a half an hour, anyway.
“Weird,” he trailed in after the man, setting the bag down on a chair. “Boring. Hard,” he shrugged. “You know.”
The elder Spock had the faintest curl to the corner of his mouth. “I see.”
“Well, I think you see more than I do,” Jim ran a hand over the back of his neck.
“And my counterpart?”
“What about him?”
Spock sat on one of the low couches. “How have you gotten along with him?”
Jim shot the man a wry look, but sank down next to him at the Vulcan’s gesture. “I forgot to ask, is the universe going to implode now?”
Spock’s eyebrows came up.
“You met him,” Jim said.
“Yes, I did.”
Jim tensed. “What?”
“My younger self perceived me to be our father,” this time a smile did curl Spock’s mouth. “A singular resemblance I am unsure as to whether or not I am pleased about.”
“Wait - you mean you met?”
“Yes. He did not tell you?”
“No,” Jim shifted back in his seat. “He - that is - huh.” Jim blinked. “He never told me.”
Spock clasped his hands in his lap. “The both of you are very young, yet. I believe you both shall learn each other, in time.”
Jim made a face. He slid an elbow onto the back of the couch, leaning in towards the older Vulcan. “I don’t know about that. I don’t think the younger you likes me very much.”
“Appearances, Jim, can be deceiving.”
Jim couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “You called me Jim again.”
“Yes.”
Jim put his chin in his hand. “It’s weird. When I first met you, I thought you were batshit crazy.”
“A singular description.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “What, the old me wasn’t one for - oh yeah,” Jim straitened in his seat, attempting his best Vulcan brows-of-doom. “The use of obscene and inflammatory language is unfit for the captain of a Starfleet vessel.”
A rusty chuckle escaped the Vulcan. “I remember saying much the same thing.”
“To me?” Jim felt a flash of hope.
“No, Jim. By the time we served together, we were much older.”
“Oh.”
“My first tour with a Starfleet ship, I came under the position of an older human man who had been raised on a space station just outside of Sol System. He had a…singular use of profanity that confused me greatly my first few months on board.”
Jim couldn’t help but be drawn closer to the man. “Were you - did you go to Starfleet Academy, too?”
“Yes. It was a decision that caused much strife in my family, but I found it to be the best path I could have taken.”
Talking with the older Spock was like talking to a whole different person. Jim listened with delight as the old Spock talked about his time in Starfleet, feeling the same warm sensation spreading through his chest like in the dreams. In the dreams, it was often the two of them together - not together, or at least not in the dreams - but together, at the mess, in the halls or on an alien planet, side by side. It was strange for Jim, this warmth, this - connection, for lack of a better word. He felt as if he needed no distance from this Spock, no walls or words or wit or sarcasm to save him from blank eyes and a cold response. This Spock was all warmth and heat and passion, like the red sands in his dreams. Which reminded Jim of his own dreams he’d been having.
“So,” Jim ducked his head when the conversation had reached a lull. “I’ve been having these…dreams.” Jim took a breath, watching the Vulcan’s face as he laid it all out.
“I see,” Spock clasped his hands together in his lap.
“You do?”
“Emotional transference is common in a meld of the type which I initiated with you,” Spock said. “However, I was…distressed at the time of our meld. I fear I may have left more than I meant.”
“Left?”
“Transference of such is known in these examples. However, due to the recent destruction of Vulcan, and my own experiences with the singularity and Nero, I am afraid I may have transferred more than I meant.”
“So all the dream stuff,” Jim wiggled his fingers. “That’s normal?”
“To an extent. However, for you to still be processing the information a year after our meld concerns me.”
“Concerns you?” Jim sat up.
“Your mind should have processed the remnants and then discarded them. Humans are, for the most part, psychically null. The meld we shared should have been easy for you to assimilate and discard.”
“But I don’t want to forget,” Jim said.
“It is not a case of remembering and forgetting,” Spock spread his hands. “It is…complicated.”
“So what I’m dreaming about isn’t normal?”
“No.”
Jim let out a breath. “Is it going to harm me?”
“It should not, but if you would permit me. I would like to verify that your mind has not been altered due to my unfortunate lack of control.”
“You just saw your planet go boom,” Jim made a face. “I think you’re allowed to freak out.”
“Still. If you would permit me?’
Jim hesitated a long moment before nodded. “What do you need me to do?”
“Relax,” Spock moved closer to him on the couch. Jim relaxed at the familiar warmth - though how it was familiar, he was not sure. “My mind to your mind,” Spock intoned. “My thoughts to your thoughts.”
There was no rush of images and words this time. Jim was sucked into a peaceful darkness, heat and the feeling of comfort surrounding him. He felt as if someone was sifting through his thoughts - but it was Spock, just Spock, he trusted Spock. Spock was his friend, close as family, closer still. It was Spock. He never had to worry.
A strange feeling of pressure eased from his thoughts. Jim relaxed, noting the tension that had knotted his shoulders as if for the first time.
“There,” the fingers on his face withdrew, along with the dark warmth.
Jim blinked open his eyes. Then blinked again. “Um,” he said.
“Captain,” Spock the younger said.
“When’d you get here?”
“Shift change ended fifteen minutes ago. There was no answer when I attempted to contact the Ambassador, so I came to verify his location.”
“Oh.” Jim squinted at the younger Vulcan. Then he glanced at the ambassador. “Is it all…?”
“I have corrected the matter,” the Ambassador said. He laid a hand on Jim’s shoulder.
“Awesome,” Jim said.
“What matter?” The younger Spock was glancing between them.
“Oh, nothing,” Jim flicked his hand and stood.
Spock the younger hesitated, glancing between them. “Are you…well, Captain?”
“Just peachy,” Jim flashed his second in command a smile. “The rest of the ambassadors settled?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll leave you to get unpacked,” Jim said to the elder Spock, unable to stem the smile on his face.
“Good night,” the Ambassador’s eyes were crinkled in the corners again, causing the younger Spock’s brows to shoot up.
“Mr. Spock,” Jim gave the younger Vulcan a nod as he left. “Don’t stay up too late,” he called as he left the room, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.
Part Five