FIC: Divergence 17/?
The Narada, stationed near Dessica II, year 2246
Jim staggered to his feet, letting out a huff as he took Spock’s weight, the Vulcan’s good arm slung over his shoulder. He cursed when suddenly Spock stumbled, falling hard into him before he compensated for the shift in their joint centre of gravity. At the corner of his eye Tamura slung her rifle onto a shoulder and moved towards them, a look of concern on her sweat-slick face. In the distance, shouts and yells rang through the dark damp cavern that made up the vessel’s main body and an electronic horn sounded, its haunting cry reverberating through the air around him. Dammit, he had hoped the away team would have a little more time before the alarms went off.
‘I’ve got it, Lieutenant.’ He grunted, giving her a warning look. Any moment now, Jim expected them to be ambushed by some very unhappy Romulan crewmembers; when that happened he would need all of his officers ready and in position. Seeing his point, she moved back to cover Leslie who was attempting to access the ship’s systems.
‘Kirk.’
The gasp of his name was harsh and low. Startled, Jim turned sharply and stared at the sight of Nero, flat on the bridge floor with a hand over his throat and his mouth opening and closing as he rasped for air like a dying animal. Jim’s throat tightened in memory of Nero’s attempt to strangle him, the words the man had said…
I’ll deprive you of the life you should have had, just like I did your father…
‘Kirk!’ The Romulan rasped again, his body shaking as his face twisted with fury. ‘You… Human…!’
Jim stared hard at the Romulan, eyes focused not on the fallen but on revenge. He could do it, lift his phaser and shoot the fucker pointblank. A part of him wanted it so badly he could taste the burn, like ashes on his tongue… No, Captain, you cannot be certain that the Romulans will not pursue us in perceived offence for having killed Nero. In fact his death at your hand would almost certainly guarantee that the remaining crew would attempt to fulfill his vendetta…
He took a sharp breath and then exhaled it. Even without the Red Matter device, the Narada had advanced enough weaponry and shields to make short work of most planetary defenses. They knew from bitter experience the Romulans would have no qualms about firing on unarmed civilian transports and eliminating anyone caught between the crossfire. A shudder went through Jim. He had thought about this before, even discussed it with Spock, but - there was no chain of command, no military central administration and no government committee that could order Nero to stop. You’re right, I know - it’s the entire ship or nothing, but it would feel so fucking good. He imagined Spock silently nodding in agreement and again, Jim wondered if the Vulcan was in his head or not, and if he was, if he found it disconcerting or reassuring.
Suddenly the air around them sizzled with the high-pitched whines and cracks of phaser discharge, driving a surge of adrenalin through his limbs.
‘Sir!’ came Lemli’s warning shout, as another barrage of shots were let loose. ‘We have company!’
Jim let out a curse under his breath and kept his phaser aimed at Nero as he staggered back with his First Officer in tow, ‘Still with me, Spock?’
Spock gave a small terse nod, legs moving sluggishly with him. Nero bared his teeth at him, his hands grappling with the grille deck flooring. ‘You won’t escape…’ the Romulan croaked harshly.
‘Sir, we have to go.’ Leslie yelled, ‘the bridge - if they cut us off from…’
‘I know.’
If the Romulans cut off the route to the mid-section, they’d have a problem getting to the lower levels without using the maintenance shafts and there was no way they were going to be able to shoot and climb down ladders at the same time. His plans for a more discrete exit had been officially fucked back when they’d shot two Romulans in their rush to get to Spock.
Nearby, Hadley gave a yelp of surprise as a disruptor blast got too close for comfort.
Nero’s eyes flicked to the commotion and then back, his eyes smug. Jim felt a brush of nausea at the sight of the mocking grin leveled at him, full two rows of teeth tinged a muddy green. ‘You’ll never get off the ship, Human…’ the Romulan rasped.
Jim secured Spock’s arm over his shoulder, and tightened his grip on the man’s waist. ‘Watch me.’
----
En route to Helaspont: USS Enterprise, year 2246
Doctor Leonard McCoy took off his surgical apron and wiped hastily at his forehead with his forearm before storming out of Sickbay. He felt a brush of guilt at the sight of Chapel’s startled face as he completely ignored her, but this was his responsibility, and he should have known, should have known that this would happen - dammit man, you’re a doctor and you forgot that this was James T Kirk, whether he’s thirteen or twenty-seven, always too damn smart for his own good and making trouble…
Grabbing the first security officer he met, McCoy glared at the young man. ‘Who’s running the search?’
The Ensign blinked at him, ‘the - the - Lieutenant Uhura, and Chief of Security Sherman, sir.’
Dammit! He’d been in surgery for four hours already - had Jimmy been lost during all this time? ‘Where have you searched? Anyone try to use sensors or the Intruder Alert protocols to narrow it down?’ When the Ensign merely blinked at him, dumbfounded, Leonard McCoy felt frustration boil over. ‘Just give me the damn PADD!’
Snatching the young man’s datapad from him, McCoy scanned the checklist for himself. They had combed the ship’s public areas, leaving out private quarters and the heavily guarded areas like Engineering deck and the Armory. It had been a long four hours and there wasn’t a lot left on the list to be covered and they still had a missing kid on their hands. He stared hard at the screen and frowned - the hydroponics bay, the astrometry labs, and the quiet room/chapel were left, and judging by the time stamp on the checklist, they should have finished the search. And darn it, where the hell was Jim, the real Jim, hiding! Captain or no Captain, they were in warp now and the damn fool should be coming back to Sickbay. McCoy hit the intercom.
‘McCoy to Uhura.’
“Uhura here. Doctor…?”
‘I expect to see that boy in my damn office, you tell Commander Sherman that.’ He knew he was practically growling at the woman and it wasn’t her fault that one wily kid could put one over an entire Starfleet Security taskforce, but dammit, even if Jimmy wasn’t in any kind of immediate danger, the sooner he got that boy down in a bed and started cataloging the damage those Romulans had done the better - never mind attempting to heal any of it.
There was a guilty pause. “We’re still on it Doctor.”
‘Good.’ McCoy frowned, ‘and where’s the Captain, Lieutenant? Tell him that it’s not funny that he’s avoiding my comm. calls - I expect him down in my damn Sickbay on the double, you get him on the line, you hear.’
‘I’m sorry, Doctor, but the Captain-’ She paused, ‘The Captain isn’t on board, sir.’
‘What??’ He snapped, his eyes widening. Oh no, he didn’t… McCoy rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘He went after Spock, didn’t he?’
The hesitance in her reply was all he need. “Yes sir…”
Oh Jim… you stupid idiot!! ‘They’re both on that damn ship aren’t they?’
Uhura really didn’t need to respond to that one. “Along with an away team assembled by Lieutenant Sulu, sir -“ It was wonderful that she was trying to make him feel better but seriously, Sulu collected projectile weapons for a hobby and fenced - Lord only knew what kind of havoc they were wrecking and the danger that came with it, “- ah, Doctor McCoy? Captain’s last orders were to advance you to Acting Captain upon the completion of your duties in Sickbay if neither Commander Spock nor he returns within forty-eight hours time. You’re ah… meant to have the con as soon as you were cleared from surgery.”
The knowledge that Jim had actually thought that far ahead made him uneasy. ‘Isn’t the chain of command to fall on the Second Officer, Lieutenant?’
“Yes sir, but Commander Scott’s expertise is required on Engineering deck.”
Of course, McCoy sighed tiredly - this was Jim they were talking about, and the man was the sharpest stick in the box; Scotty was needed to tend the engines and that blasted cloaking device. ‘I see… well, Lieutenant, find some dark corner of space and hide. And for now at least, you have the con until I can find and treat my patient, McCoy out.’ When he turned to face the Security officer, the young man stood to attention. He glanced down at his list - Jim put him in charge for a reason, and now all he had to do was think like the wily son of a gun. Shouldn’t be too hard, he mused tapping a finger against his jaw, he wasn’t a qualified psychiatrist for nothing… ‘There were no quarters searched?’
The Ensign shifted nervously, ‘Ah no sir, as all quarters are locked and require code or voice recognition.’
Yeah and when did that ever stop Jim?
McCoy let out a deep long breath of relief. ‘Call off the search.’
‘Sir?’ The Ensign said slowly, confused. ‘Are you sure sir? I mean -‘
‘Call off the damn search, Ensign! That’s an order!’ The doctor said gruffly, slapping the PADD to the younger man’s chest as he headed for the nearest turbolift.
‘Deck Five,’ He said as he got in. He knew exactly where Jimmy would have gone - God, how could he have been so dense? This was still Jim even if he was only thirteen; Jim, whose tendency for rash heroics was only overwritten by his insatiable curiosity and unerring nose for trouble. Sighing, McCoy ran a hand through his hair and wondered what he’d say to the kid when he saw him, how he’d explain this, them, where they were from, who his dad was…
“Bridge to McCoy.”
His eyes flicked to the ceiling. Not a moment’s damn peace. “McCoy here, go ahead.”
“We’ll be dropping out of wrap in five minutes, sir. As soon as we’re in position within the nebula, Commander Scott recommends that we switch to emergency power standards to hide our energy signature. He’s left Sickbay power consumption to your discretion, sir.”
‘Leave everything in Sickbay except general lighting and you’d better tell him to keep all the turbolifts up and running. We won’t exactly be helping anybody if the only ones who can access medical assistance have to climb through five hundred meters of maintenance shaft.’ He mumbled, rolling his eyes even though the woman couldn’t see him.
“Aye-aye sir. Bridge out.”
The lift’s speakers chirped brightly before the doors slid open. Striding past the bulkhead bearing the words DECK FIVE, he headed straight for the Captain’s quarters.
-------------
The Narada, stationed near Dessica II, year 2246
Jim flung his shoulder into a pillar to avoid a disruptor blast aimed for him. He closed his eyes briefly in frustration and gave a sideways look at Martine and Leslie, who were similarly pinned behind a gutted computer console. Spock shifted uncomfortably against him, a choked rasp of pain escaping his pinched lips. Jim looked over and felt his stomach clench at the sight of the blood sluggishly flowing from the aggravated shoulder wound. The trail now reached Spock’s elbow.
‘Captain,’ Spock said weakly, ‘I must protest. This is most irregular-’
‘Shut up, Spock!’ If he wasn’t so happy that Spock was reasonably lucid, Jim would have shot the man himself for giving him the fright of his life, lying there dazed and confused, a sitting duck with a fucking disruptor pointed at him. Looking around the pillar, he snuck two quick shots at the Romulan who had been his most persistent pursuer and tensed, ducking with Spock in tow when retaliation came swift and hot. They couldn’t keep standing here, wasting their phaser batteries.
‘Captain,’ Spock began, but Jim cut him off, not wanting to hear Spock complain about his rescue.
‘I know you’re pissed that I’m here, but I swear, if you talk about Regulations now, I will hurt you.’ He snapped before rejoining the shoot-out.
Did Spock really think that he would have just let him go off like that? He couldn’t believe that his First would even consider that possibility - as if he could do that, not just to Spock but to anyone! If Spock thought he would even consider abandoning someone to the mercy of an enemy then dammit, they didn’t know each other at all. Jim was surprised by how much that cut him.
A quick glance at his chronometer alerted him that Sulu was due to make his second pass through the shields in seven minutes, and they had to be ready to beam out then. Jim spied a doorway leading to their destination and giving a shout, he waved for the crew to follow. There were angry shrieks, shouting and the sound of blaster fire behind him but he didn’t pause to look back, trusting the away team to cover him and Spock as they limped for cover, half-running half-stumbling along together. The occasionally hitched moan of pain from Spock sent a twist through his solar plexus and gave urgency to his steps.
‘Just hang on,’ he panted, ‘a little more.’
‘Jim,’ Spock breathed noisily, words disjointed by the quick pace they were setting, ‘coming back here… was a reckless decision… but I… though my actions in remaining seemed reckless… it was logical at the time…’
He wanted to laugh or possibly yell until the Vulcan came to his senses. Spock could talk - ordering his away team to leave without him, effectively marooning himself aboard an enemy vessel? That wasn’t logic, it was crazy!
‘The ship cannot … Regulations are clear… the chain of command… the mission…’
‘I know, I know, broken a dozen regulations, blah, blah, blah!’ Jim snapped testily as they stumbled down the empty corridor, ‘You can file an official complaint once we’re back on the ship, but until then, just shut the fuck up and let me-!’ Jim grunted as his shoulder muscles protested at their load when Spock stumbled, his full weight falling against him for a few moments. ‘Fuck, you’re heavy.’
‘Vulcans possess a denser skeletal frame than humans… a logical development, to resist the gravitational forces natural to our planet…’
Jim felt one edge of his lips tug up in a grim smirk, pleased by the Vulcan’s attempt to humor him. You dispel tension with inappropriate commentary, often offensive or irrelevant remarks, to a comical effect, Spock had said when they managed to get through another skirmish with some race that didn’t like them just because they were there. He had asked if Spock disapproved - and Spock’s response had surprised him:
Jim, I can hardly fault you for using your own unique method to remain in control of your emotions. Despite the unorthodoxy of your method, I perceived a 3.2 percent increase in the level of your efficiency and a 22.7percent drop in your stress levels during our latest engagement. You are, at this point Spock had give him a look, the non-smile that he had when his eyes were slightly curled and his lips were pursed as if mid-expression, in fanciful Human vernacular - in your element…
‘Lay off those tofu burgers, Spock, and then we can talk about your big bones.’
He expected a quip but Spock suddenly stilled, dragging him to an abrupt stop. Jim’s heart skipped a beat when Spock swayed dangerously, and gave a grunt of surprise when the Vulcan fell against him with a twisted grimace flashing across his face, teeth clenched tightly together.
‘What’s wrong?’ He said in alarm, fear crashing through him as he struggled to keep Spock from toppling over entirely.
‘What’s wrong, Spock? Spock!’ A sharp twist of fear seared his stomach lining, hot and painful. Despite all evidence on Spock’s body pointing to the extreme violence of the brawl, one that could have cost the Vulcan’s life, Jim had expected his First to keep pace. Some part of him railed against the idea of Spock in pain, injured or incapacitated because dammit, that was meant to be him; Spock was meant to be the one who came for him, to be fucking Vulcan and logical and keep shit together, and be there as the show goes down. Jim felt like they were playing the wrong parts.
‘Hang in there, Spock, just a little longer,’ he muttered under his breath when the Vulcan looked to him, eyes unfocused.
A movement from down an intersecting corridor sent a jolt of panic racing along his limbs and Jim raised his phaser without thinking, sending a barrage of shots in the Romulan’s direction. The Romulan ducked, coat tails fluttering as he or she disappeared around a convenient corner. Jim swore under his breath. This was not going according to plan.
It never does, Bones’ voice drawled in his mind.
It wouldn’t do to have a random Romulan crewmember gunning for them while the away team passed this corridor. Easing Spock against the wall, he hoisted his phaser and cautiously peered around the corner into the adjacent corridor.
SHWOOT!
Jim pulled back abruptly and cursed under his breath. This had to stop - NOW! He executed a rolling dive, firing at will and trusting his constant movement to give him some cover. The Romulan fell with a thump. He spared only a cursory glance at his fallen opponent before returning to where Spock remained slouched against the wall.
Breathing heavily, Spock’s face was tight with barely suppressed pain. ‘I believe there is damage to my lower right ribs, Jim,’ the Vulcan rasped, eyes shining with some strange sense of apology.
Jim holstered his phaser and lightly tugged up the hem of Spock’s shirt. There was a lump under the skin, the size of his fist and faintly olive-colored. Spock let out a breathless moan and cupped the area protecting but not daring to touch it.
‘It is most likely broken. Jim,’ Spock paused and met his eyes, ‘I will only slow your progress, you should-’
‘No.’ Jim said firmly as he realized what Spock was going to say, what Spock was thinking. Readjusting Spock’s arm, Jim ignored the soreness of his shoulders and kept going, his eyes resolutely staring ahead. Losing Spock was unacceptable. The guy was an important member of the crew of course, but as his First Officer, Spock was absolutely irreplaceable, not only had he been privy to more of his private affairs than anyone except maybe Bones, he had been his fucking rock in the rough times these last two years. No one in Jim’s life had ever been so fucking dependable; Spock came through for him, again and again, even when Jim had no expectations. He had run out of fingers to count the number of times that Spock had saved his ass, and now that their roles were reversed, he felt a whole new appreciation for the shit Spock had to put up with as his First Officer. And those were only the official reasons, off the books…
‘I am not leaving you behind, not even if I have to carry you.’ His eyes focused without seeing on the long dimly lit corridor. He didn’t expect anyone to commiserate with him in his problems, didn’t expect them to put in the hard work to know him, to understand his motives or his goals let alone help. He didn’t even expect that sort of thing from Bones, though they could be said to be best friends, and yet Spock…
‘Jim you must-’
‘Shut up Spock!’He clenched his teeth. Don’t tell me that you would do it differently - I don’t believe any of your Vulcan I’m-so-detached-thus-all-my-decisions-are-logical crap. ‘When you’re captain, Spock, you can tell me what to do but right here, right now, I am running this and so don’t you dare fucking neck pinch me or I will cite you for disobedience of a direct order, and Bones can fucking write your ass up for therapy - for suicidal behavior!’
He knew these were not the words of relief that he’d been expecting to say, but they’d been scraping at his insides since he’d woken up, disorientated and pissed off in the Sickbay. His delight in seeing Spock on the Narada had been summarily destroyed by Spock’s actions - funny, the Vulcan had a knack for that. Finding out where Spock was and the fact he was without back up had made everything worse. The sight of the Vulcan in such obvious pain reigned back Jim’s harsher retorts. Behind them, the sounds of their pursuers continued, an ongoing screech of phaser fire and, several times his skin pricked in response to a blast that seemed too close for comfort. But Jim didn’t look back, his legs moving autonomously as he dragged, limped and staggered with Spock’s weight at his side.
‘Sir…’ Spock rasped, pausing for a beat that seemed to stretch like silence between them. ‘Jim,’ Spock breathed, his voice taking on a softer quality, ‘I truly hoped we could avoid this.’
The sincerity of the Vulcan’s voice stripped away any lingering feelings of resentment and annoyance. He glanced over and found Spock looking back at him. He felt something in him soften because he got it, that under the uniform they were friends and Spock didn’t take that lightly. ‘Be careful, Jim’ Spock would always say before away missions, to which Bones’ would lovingly snarl, ‘We will, thank you!’ and Spock would raise his eyebrow as if to say, “I wasn’t talking to you, Doctor, so please stop being so offended” and he’d snigger about it. These days he was certain Spock did it on purpose.
‘Me too,’ Jim said in a small tight voice, trying to save his breaths. He wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to but he didn’t care. It was some kind of strange apology from Spock, the only one he was going to get besides a scintillating account of why it had been logical to neck pinch him and send him back to the ship like a disobedient crewmember. Strangely, Jim wanted nothing more than to NEVER hear that explanation, because then he would have to explain why he was here to club Spock over the head and drag him back to the Enterprise. Somehow he didn’t think his blathers about friendship and epic destiny (he still hadn’t gone into detail over what he’d seen in the mindmeld, and it always seemed to be the wrong time, and he wasn’t comfortable with admitting what he’d seen and felt from Spock’s counterpart) was going to cut it in the face of Spock’s dry logic.
Jim grunted under the physical exertion of keeping them upright and moving. ‘Shit Spock, ordering the away team to leave you behind, that was reckless, stupid - illogical! Me, I expect such stupidity, that’s my MO but what the hell were you thinking?’
Or rather, Jim silently added, what had Spock been feeling? If there was one thing that Jim had taken away from the experience of melding with Ambassador Spock, it was that Vulcans do feel, strongly, and tend to pack it down so tightly they didn’t even recognize a motivation for its emotional bearing when it showed.
‘While my actions may have appeared to be similar to… that particular human excess… it was logical and-’ Spock swallow thickly, ‘Please accept my apology for that… I did think… you- and Doctor McCoy…’
Jim read between the lines: I really thought you were dead. ‘You were, you thought… ’ he fell quiet.
They had developed a habit to do their reports after rough missions together. Spock didn’t ever say much during those depressing paperwork sessions, didn’t offer him a drink or even a pat on shoulder, a word about how it would be okay, because dammit it wasn’t. Spock understood, and somehow the Vulcan offering his presence without trying to probe, sometimes even outright ignoring the emotional charge emanating from Jim, was more soothing than any self-conscious attempts at heart-to-hearts. Jim knew that it wasn’t healthy to bottle things up but it felt like if he ever let it out he’d explode and it would never stop, and his pride demanded that he keep his game face on. The fact that Spock pretended to never notice in moments when it came off, Jim treasured that, more than he was willing to admit.
‘Spock, you know me - more lives than a cat.’
It had been an intense twenty-four hours, dropping out of warp on the edge of Tau Ceti to discover the Romulans breathing down their necks and arbitrarily attacking passenger transports, getting aboard the Narada and then being dropped by Spock as a “I’m glad you’re alive” greeting - crap, why couldn’t the Vulcan be more conventional and just give him a freaking hug already? Jim allowed a wry grin to surface as he wondered if he would have accepted it, or just asked Bones to give Spock an immediate check-up, Captain’s orders.
‘Sir!’ The sound of Matine’s shout caused his head to snap back around. The young woman was hurtling towards them at high velocity, her eyes wide with urgency, ‘Grenade!’
Swearing under his breath, Jim hurriedly pushed Spock against the wall and threw himself over to cover the man, his hands firmly clamped over the Vulcan’s more sensitive ears to muffle the sound of the explosion. The sound of the grenade going off careened down the narrow corridor. The blast sent an almost physical wall of hot air and shook the deck, knocking him into Spock and them both against an upcoming doorway. Jim’s ears were left ringing as he jerked back to look at his XO. Spock’s eyes were squeezed shut tightly, and he was slumped against the metal door, listing to the left. Almost immediately Jim grabbed an arm to steady the Vulcan.
‘Shit, I’m sorry, Spock!’
The First Officer gave him a weak nod and drew a deep shuddering breath.
Jim gently placed his hand at the edge of the torn section of Spock’s shoulder. It was soaked in dark green blood that seemed almost black in the dim lighting, smeared in rivulets down the length of Spock’s arm. But that was not the site of the deepest wound. Under that along the length Spock’s flank was a dark sodden patch, a curled blackened crater signaling where the disruptor blast had hit. If Spock wasn’t wearing black, he knew that there would be a scorched mark, that he would see the smears of green. The overwhelming stench of copper filled his nostrils and though he did not naturally associate the smell with blood, it was suddenly too much, too real. He forced down the rising nausea and wondered how much of that blood was from him dragging the Vulcan around and expecting him to just take it.
‘Spock…?’
The Vulcan’s eyes fluttered open and regarded him through thin slits, ‘Jim… ‘I estimate based on my current perception and rate of blood loss, I will become unconscious in 4.5 minutes.’
Jim nodded tightly and swallowed. ‘Right, let’s hurry then.’
‘Jim…’ Spock began.
Not listening anymore, Jim resolutely kept his eyes on the task at hand. Sliding his arm under Spock’s good arm, he moved so that Spock’s arm was slung over his shoulders. The high-pitched whine of weapons fire had died down a little in the aftermath of the sonic grenade, but Jim couldn’t tell if that was just his ears or if they had managed to slow the Romulans down a little.
‘Jim…’
‘Not now Spock.’
‘No, Jim I must….’ Spock said in a hoarse whisper, a complete contrast from his usual strong confidence. ‘Regarding my decision to render you unconscious…’ Spock continued painfully, ‘I know that I sent you back to the Enterprise without your consent, in direct violation of your orders… but, allow me to explain…’
‘It’s okay, Spock, you don’t have to, save it.’ Breathless, Jim came upon an intersection and paused for a moment, fussing with the basic tricorder strapped to his utility belt to triangulate their position. ‘Tell me back on the ship,’ when we have the time and you’re no longer bleeding from two different holes and possibly one on the inside, he added silently.
The arm slung over his shoulders suddenly tensed and Jim looked to Spock quickly, expecting another injury to come up and bite them in the ass because he’d aggravated it somehow. The Vulcan stared at him intensely, his eyes burning with anger and yet the pinched strain of his face spoke of sorrow. ‘It was my duty to look after the interests of the ship and- Jim, when you and Doctor McCoy were… lost… crew morale fell, Jim, no one was… unaffected, and myself most of all - I realized… I could not… it was difficult without you. ’ Spock finished quietly, his exhaustion reaching its peak.
Jim averted his eyes to the tricorder display, peering down at it. Somehow, all the fanciful declarations that could have been made, all the heartfelt proclamations of friendship and loyalty, didn’t quite match up with Spock’s quiet and simple admission that he was needed. He was not the upstart cadet who had challenged him or a stowaway on the Fleet flagship who had charged onto the bridge and ordered a full stop mid-warp. No, he was Captain and not just because of a rank handed to him by Command but because he’d earned it, because Spock gave freely gave him respect, trust and loyalty.
Spock swayed against him, his head listing to the right as he started to lose consciousness. Swearing under his breath, Jim ignored the heaviness of Spock’s feet as they gradually became unable to keep up with him. Listening to his own scratchy gasps for air to keep pace, Jim finally came to a stop when the tricorder beeped, letting him know that he was finally within range.
‘Spock, still with me?’
The sounds of his crew holding their own against the Romulans no longer seemed so urgent, they receded until all he could hear was Spock breathing, quick and shallow. Jim loosed his grip on his First Officer’s arm, and slipping it over his head, gently set Spock down in a seated crouch resting against a wall and dropped down to his knees.
‘Spock…?’ He hesitated before leaning closer as his hand patted insistently at the Vulcan’s clammy cheek. Cupping Spock’s face, Jim had to resist the urge to shake the Vulcan awake, because how the hell could Spock drop out of the game now! ‘Spock, shit, this isn’t the time, come on buddy… Spock, we have orders, we’re meant to be protecting the timeline, making sure Nero doesn’t screw more shit up - you can’t-!’
Jim choked on the words. ‘You can’t fall asleep…’ he finished lamely. Distant faint memories of that rushed mindmeld came back, bits and pieces that he had spent the last two years mulling over due to their weight. Jim stared at the prone figure, filled with panicked concern and a strange sort of pride, because one day Spock will be an Ambassador, instrumental to peace treaties, able to hold the attention of entire Klingon battalions and Federation councils. Spock wasn’t allowed to die, not today, not when he had that amazing destiny to fulfill, not while Jim Kirk was around.
‘Come on, Spock, hold it together!’ He firmly gripped Spock’s face between his hands, urging the Vulcan to focus on him.
Spock’s eyes fluttered weakly and rolled up to meet his eyes. ‘Jim…’ He murmured sluggishly, lips hardly moving, ‘I can no longer counter the effects of blood loss… please, I must insist - return to the ship… the crew needs you…’
And I need you.... Jim flinched at the sharp pang he felt, startled by the intensity of his reaction and the automatic horror that followed, because FUCK he hadn’t let anyone get under his skin like this since he was a little kid, and he’d wanted his friend Johnny to be his friend above all their other friends, to pick him first always, and he’d been left wanting. This was like that, but so much more. ‘This isn’t a popularity contest, Spock.’
‘For … the crew and the mission… Jim you must…’
He shook his head, ‘No, Spock you listen to me - we’re going back on the Enterprise and then we’re gonna kick some Romulan ass, together, you got it? I’ll get you back there, even if I have to carry you or drag you by your hair.’
‘Jim…’
‘No, Spock,’ He said, his voice wavering from the massive influx of emotions, things that he rarely felt. ‘You’re suffering from blood loss for fuck’s sake - Sulu will make the pass, we’ll beam out and the Doc will hit you with a few blood replenishment hypos, we’ll fill you up and then you’ll be fine.’
A silence fell between them as they regarded each other, Spock with a haggard solemn look while Jim stared back with a stubborn tilt to his jaw. Slowly Spock reached up, hand shaking as it came up to touch his face even as Spock’s eyes blinked weakly, drooping. ‘Captain… Jim, I am glad to have… taken the post of First Officer…’ A look spread over the Vulcan’s pinched features, softening them. ‘He was right.’
‘Who?’ Jim asked quietly.
‘Myself… the other, the Ambassador… about you, Jim…’
Jim stared at Spock’s face, not sure how he should interpret this new piece of information. He would have settled for having Spock’s respect, trust and loyalty as his captain, and he’d been honored with Spock’s extension of friendship. To be told that Spock agreed with the wily old Vulcan’s assessment that they would grow to be a force to be reckoned with, that Jim would have such an impact on Spock that he would change his outlook and decisions, that even over a hundred years after his death, Spock would remember his name, honor his memory, and recognize him in an instant, that was… pretty damn scary.
‘You have the worst timing in the world, Spock,’ was all he managed to whisper.
Jim grasped the offered hand and squeezed, a fresh wave of fear rushing through him at the unexpectedly cool feel of Spock's hand. With their higher body temperature, for the Vulcan’s hand to be cool to the touch he knew they didn't have much time. ‘Jim, I wish that I could have-’
‘Yeah well I’m not the tooth fairy,’ Jim said roughly.
Spock’s eyes fluttered open a crack and Jim flinched at the slightly glazed look in those dark orbs. ‘Thank you…’
‘For what?’
‘Coming back… I didn’t expect it,’ Spock said weakly, his voices slurred, and Jim felt a rush of affection at the paraphrase of something he would say to Spock, in the awkward aftermath of yet another rescue mission. ‘I am… glad and I want you to know- I am pleased…’
There was a lilting chirp and Jim jerked in surprise and alarm before realizing the sound had come from him. When the sound went off again, he realized that it was the communicator he had tucked inside his protective vest. Was it…? Spock met his eyes weakly, a surprised look crossing his ashen face before it dulled a little, not daring to hope and then just as quickly, astonishment when his senses had verified the source of the sound.
Flipping the communicator open, Jim responded with a barely restrained, ‘Kirk here!!’
Sulu’s voice was scratchy but recognizable, “Sir, we’re have locked onto your signal and are ready to beam you and Commander Spock out!”
A feeling not unlike euphoria hit him. For the first time, he realized that there might be something to that crazy theory Bones had about having their own personal guardian angel. ‘Ready when you are, Sulu!’
“Aye sir! Sulu out!”
Slinging one of Spock’s arms over his shoulder, Jim dragged the Vulcan up onto his feet when Spock grabbed his shoulder and snapped, ‘Romulan!’
Swinging his arm around, Jim pointed his phaser and pulled the trigger blindly, not caring that he hit anything as long as it would stop them from being targeted until Sulu beamed them out. Adrenalin roared in his ears and flooded his limbs with terror and nervous energy when he realized that his phaser had not reacted, had failed. His eyes flicked to the pistol grip - it was fucking out of power. With a sense of impending horror, Jim watched the Romulan launch himself at them, hand reaching for his disruptor.
SHNAP!
Blinking in shock at the fallen Romulan, his head snapped back around to face Spock, stunned and speechless. His shaking arm dropping limply by his side, bloody hand still clenched around his phaser, Spock faced him. ‘I’ve got you, Captain…’ he whispered, before the taunt line of tension in his body snapped.
Jim caught his First Officer with a grunt, concern warring with his desire to squeeze the man to death and laugh in relief and exhilaration. He picked the second option.
‘Dammit Spock,’ He grinned as the world started to pixelate into white blurry lights, ‘I told you: today, it’s Jim.’
part eighteen
NEXT: McCoy tracks down the young Jim and works to bring the boy back to Sickbay; the Hendrik Lorentz heads to rendezvous with the Enterprise