Archive of Our Own

“I am sorry you have to do this Lieutenant,” Jim Kirk commiserated as he jogged down the length of corridor to catch up with his communications officer, “I’d have given you the promotion straight away if I could, you’re most certainly qualified for it in my eyes.” 

Lieutenant Uhura glanced back over her shoulder at him, a soft smile crossing her face, “It’s no mind Captain. To be honest, I’m quite excited.” 

“Is that so?” Jim mirrored her smile as the two fell into step. 

The board had insisted on Uhura’s completion of a diplomatic mission in order to fill out necessary experience for her application to promotion. With the five year mission coming to its final year, many crewmembers were beginning to plan their future endeavors. Jim had tried with all his heart to persuade the admiralty that lieutenant Nyota Uhura was beyond qualified for any job she wished but his arguments did little to persuade and thus she was to accompany them on an away mission to Mesopagnesia.

“Oh absolutely!” Uhura nodded,  “Now, don't misunderstand me Sir, I take my duties on the bridge seriously…” She mulled over her next choice of words for a moment, “but it can get a little stifling sitting at the communications desk every day for four years.” 

Kirk thought to himself silently for a split second, away missions were undeniably one of the best parts of the job, “I suppose I owe you a second apology,” It embarrassed him to realise he’d never considered her wishes, she was the best communications officer they had but that was no defense against his ignorance. “I’ll make sure you get to come on more away missions in future if you’d like.” 

“Thank you Captain, but it’s alright. We all accept that mister Spock and doctor McCoy are unfalteringly top of the list.” Uhura made the statement as if it were a fact of the universe and not a shameful reveal of the truth. 

Jim didn’t know how to respond at all. Spock was his second in command, he and Bones were Jim’s balance- the voices of reason, why shouldn’t they be by his side? Yet Uhura delivered her comment with affectionate honesty, implying that the crew thought of Jim’s bias not as a professional choice but one of personal leaning. It was unprofessional of a captain to play favourites.

Before he could think on it much further the swift doors of the transporter room parted to let them through. Ever punctual, Spock stood in waiting, alone with the current shift’s operator.  The two officers seemed to be making light conversation on a particular study as Kirk and Uhura entered. 

The vulcan gave an acknowledging nod as his eyes latched onto the two of them. Kirk's eyes softened in response, feeling already more grounded. 

“Good morning Spock.” Uhura lilted, heading to stand close by the vulcan officer. 

“Nyota, Captain.” Spock acknowledged them both. Jim beat down the nagging jealousy that the lieutenant had been awarded first name honours. It would be inappropriate if Spock broke rank to call him Jim at such a time and yet he found himself wanting such a thing. He scolded himself for the feeling, the bitterness that Uhura would be allowed something because of a rank she wished to surpass. Yet all the same he could not prevent such bitterness, that she may be allowed an intimacy only given to him in the privacy of chess games in personal quarters. 

“Perpared for the event mister Spock?” Kirk asked, rolling his shoulders in the hopes of dislodging an ache. He really ought to go easier in training. Some better sleep wouldn’t do any harm either.

“I believe so.” 

“I’d like to hope I am too,” Uhura added, “You know I’ve never been to a masquerade, I missed the opportunity back in the academy because I had to study. My sisters scolded me for weeks, especially since the girl I- well- that doesn’t matter… But I do think the whole ordeal is awfully romantic. Don’t you Spock?” 

The vulcan shifted his footing, hands clasped firmly behind his back. “The goal of our mission is to aid diplomatic relations with the equatorial Mesopagnesians, not fraternisation.” 

Uhura caught Kirk’s eye with a sly smile, their brief eye contact enough for her to convey her amusement at trying to fluster her commanding officer. Kirk couldn’t decide whether to approve of the behaviour or not. Spock did look endearingly quite flustered, at least to him.

“Where’s Bones?” Kirk asked, noting a significant absence in their accumulated landing party. As if on queue the doors hissed open and a very tired looking CMO ambled through accompanied by Nurse Chapel.

“Im here, I’m here goddamnit,” Bones grumbled, joining the group. Jim patted him firmly on the shoulder, hoping it could provide some necessary pep. The last couple missions had been rough, they’d had to bring in two shifts worth of engineers to deal with technical malfunctions and it was safe to say that sick bay had been suffering the consequences too.

“Is anyone else beaming down with you sir? I’d only prepared the transporter for a party of five.” 

“Just us mister Kyle.” Jim replied to the operator with a smile as the five of them took their places to beam down. 

****

Unlike Miss Chapel, who seemed unaccustomed to the effects of the transportation beam, Spock fully materialised onto their destination planet with a sense of alert. The golden static of transportation gave way to decadent alien structures of the population’s gargantuan civic hall. He allowed McCoy and Nyota Uhura to tend to the nurse as the towering figure of the Mesopagnesian ambassador approached. 

“Well spirited?” Came the chittering accent of the ambassador as they greeted them. 

“Yes, quite. Thank you for your invitation, it is a pleasure to meet you ambassador…” Jim trailed his sentence off, stepping forward from the group with his dependable mask of bravado tightly placed.

“My name does not translate easily into federation standard. The Ambassador is a fine title to refer to me.” 

Jim flashed a smile of acknowledgement as he realigned himself next to Spock. The Ambassador was a being of great height, easily 1.467 times the height of the average vulcan. They adorned themself in geometrically laced silks and kept most of their appearance veiled, as was fitting to Spock’s cultural understanding of Mesopagnesian diplomats. 

“This is my science officer Spock, my chief medical officer Doctor Leonard McCoy, lieutenant Nyota Uhura and our head nurse Christine Chapel.” Jim swept his gaze across the landing party as he addressed each one. 

“Ah, yes. Medics McCoy and Chapel, it is with great comfort to us that you agreed to visit our society. I have many of our medical academics that would take great interest in learning care for humans as our culture begins to welcome new species of the federation.” The Ambassador leant towards the two medical officers, “It will be of little hardship to you that I draw you away from the ceremony’s opening for these discussions?” they asked. 

Spock watched as McCoy shared a glance with Chapel, their years of professional collaboration allowing them to assume each other's thought patterns with ease. A fascinating trait of humans, the ability to make correct assumptions. Swiftly Spock shoved back the unease he felt at the idea of having to rely on such a thing.

“Why I think that would be just fine with Miss Chapel and myself.” McCoy drawled.  

“Affirmed.” The Ambassador’s tail swayed slowly from beneath their robes. “You will change into the event attire and undergo the disconnection procedure and then I shall escort you to the hall. Medics- you shall depart with my two colleagues to exchange information.” exceedingly briskly The Ambassador motioned for two other Mesopagnesian’s to step forward and escort McCoy and Chapel away. 

“Ambassador,” Uhura addressed, stepping in line as best she could with the stride of the much taller alien, “would you be able to expand on the disconnection procedure, there is such little information available to Starfleet about it.” 

The Ambassador bristled slightly, their body rising in a posture more taught before quickly dropping back to their refined stance. A silence stretched out amongst the group as they were led further down seemingly non-euclidean hallways. Spock held on tightly to the dwindling chances of The Ambassador giving a reply, he too wished to know more about the procedure they were to undertake.

“Our society,” The Ambassador’s voice cracked open the silence finally,  “is built on the death of a joint consciousness. Our forefathers belonged to one mind, one identity, one soul. The Concord was our way of life until we found home here.” 

As The Ambassador explained their planet’s history, Spock noted the intricate carvings on the walls, formed like salt crystals, depicting the mythology being told aloud to them all. 

“The Concord was formed to maintain the life of The Creator, when our creator fell from the skies our forefathers took their duty to become the body of The Creator- to become the Concord.” 

Briefly Jim swayed into Spock's line of path, the backs of their bare hands brushing. The connection made Spock's sensitive nerves jolt, seeking out the radiating noise of Jim’s brain. Spock hoped in Surak’s name that Mesopagnians did not possess strong psionic abilities as thoughts of doubt and federation-esque moral judgements transferred from Jim's brain briefly into his own. 

“-concord is our history, they are our creator and we now are theirs. The Creator left us when we landed here, after our planet of origin had become uninhabitable. We were released from The Concord into the silence of singularity.” The Ambassador stopped in front of a metallic door with no visible hinges, “Our forefathers found the silence largely unpleasant and so, annually we host this celebration- the reconnection of concord. For one night we abandon ourselves in favour of unity.” 

Logically, The Ambassador explained how the Mesopagnesian people still retained a genetic ability to connect their minds. Fascinating. Spock blinked out of his own calculating thoughts in favour of maintaining his attention to the new information.

“You of alternative ancestry, we know, do not possess that which connects us. Our medics and understanders have spent good lengths to figure ways of including you. This is the disconnection procedure.” Slowly The Ambassador’s tail began to sway again in palpable excitement as they reached out a clawed finger towards the captain. 

“We have invited many species of the universe here, our first reconnection with foreign voyeurs,” Spock recoiled slightly at the turn of phrase, Kirk exhaling a silent laugh of disbelief beside him, “You will be cleansed for the safety of our people and then the medics will administer the temporary medicines so you may be free from the restraint of identity.” 

Without giving much time to process their words, The Ambassador swung their shrouded hand towards the door, signalling it open and sending the crew of the enterprise inside the awaiting darkness of their decon chamber. 

Uhura let out a stifled squeak into the darkness before a warm light began to ascend upon the room. Spock could not deny the deep seated feelings of unease in his mind as a hue like spilled bloods of Vulcan painted the dark slate walls. Spock felt the light touch of the lieutenant as she gripped his sleeve, her masked fear strong enough to permeate across his skin. 

Within the chamber two further doors grated open, accompanied by a metallic broadcast in a distinct Mesopagnesian accent.

“Please enter your assigned cleansing room. We have catered to Terran cultural practices of binary sex separation as based on the medical records you have provided.” 

Stepping forward both Kirk and Uhura took to separate chambers. Spock found himself in a state of hesitation. He was not terran, though fifty percent of his genetics were human, Spock had always been vulcan- he was raised vulcan. His biology did not fit exclusively within a terran binary, not culturally nor structurally. The calculation of which would be the most appropriate room delayed him. 

“Spock?” softly, Jim’s voice called to him, his concerned face peering out of the doorway at his first officer. 

“I-” Spock fought the frown trying to make itself visible. 

“It’s alright, come with me. Don’t worry yourself over the-” He paused for a moment, “semantics, let us give lieutenant Uhura her privacy.” The captain smiled warmly at him. 

“I am not worried.” Spock insisted as he followed his captain inside. 

“Of course.” The smile in Jim's voice was hard to ignore. 

Once sealed in their ‘cleansing room’ the shroud of darkness evaporated into a blasting white, bright enough to trigger Spock’s second eyelid to close. The stark contrast in light pained the vulcan, it brought a gnawing sensation to the back of his skull where once the parasitic lifeform of Deneva resided.

“Damn.” Jim hissed in frustrated agony, the light enough to impact his less sensitive human sight. 

After a further second necessary to relax the muscles of his face, Spock opened his eyes. The small room appeared to be carved out of a quartz-like stone. Along one of its seemingly seamless four walls were multiple etched diagrams of what could only be assumed to be the mesopagnesian attempt at depicting a humanoid. Each diagram illustrated the actions intended for them: the removal of all alien garments, the subjection to an anti-bacterial mist and the application of some form of salve to the temples, spine and wrists.

“I’m not opposed to the idea but it would’ve been nice if they’d have given us a warning that this was a nude event.” Jim remarked to Spock’s left, the bright light of the room making his hair glitter in refraction. 

“Hmm,” Spock attempted to lay his concerns to rest through a logical interpretation of the mesopagnesian idea, “Perhaps, it is metaphorical- to be stripped bare- or perhaps they shall provide us with suitable attire later.” 

“A metaphor mister Spock, quite logical.” Jim laughed and began removing his outer layers. 

The captain seemed unperturbed by the requirements of the procedure. Of course it was unsurprising that he should find little discomfort in a state of undress. As Spock slowly tugged away his own uniform he found himself envious of such ease. Keeping his gaze firmly on the floor as he shucked off his underwear he found himself dedicating 87.5% of his attention towards emotional control. So much so that he quickly found himself losing his balance. 

“Woah, careful Spock.” Jim chided lightly, grabbing his officer by the arm to help him find his footing. 

“Sir.” Spock apologised, righting himself and prying his arm out of the human grip. 

Suddenly a pressurised mist hissed down upon them, filling the room with an acrid scent of unidentifiable chemical. Spock jolted rigid, the pressure of it hitting all of his nerve endings painfully. Thankfully as soon as the blast began it was over and the two stood- naked and drenched in the cold substance. 

Spock blinked across at his captain’s face and almost frowned at the expression he found there. Jim’s eyes were filled with a warm delight as he bit his lip in what was a poorly concealed attempt at laughter. 

“Forgive me, Spock.” the laughter refused to be contained, “It’s just well- you look an awful lot like a cat caught in a bad storm.” 

Spock sighed.

“Don’t worry, all we have to do is apply the uh- ointment I suppose?” Jim questioned as he picked up the alien container from its small plinth on the floor, “I’ve no doubt Bones is working with the medics right now to make sure the rest of the procedure works.” 

“That is exactly why worry is warranted captain.” Spock joked deadpan, as he reached out to take some of the salve from the container for himself. 

Administering to the temples and wrists was simple, although the effects were instantaneous. Immediately Spock felt an unpleasantness similar to that of the time he was bitten by fire beetle as a child. 

“Captain?” 

“Yes Spock?” 

“I am experiencing unusual sensory feedback from this salve, are you also?” he asked. 

Jim paused for a moment in thought and Spock's heart rate increased by one beat per minute at the idea this may be a unique and perhaps allergic reaction caused by the complications of his vulcan genetics. 

“Now you mention it, I suppose I am. It’s sort of like… well… someone I dated years ago used a mint scented body wash…” Jim shuddered as he recalled the memory privately. “Do you find yourself able to cope with it?” 

Spock was certain his captain noticed the barely perceivable frown that overcame him as the sensation of the salve registered as pain across his fingertips. He wanted to scream and yet he remained silent. 

“I… May require some assistance with the spinal application Captain.” Spock finally admitted. 

“I’ll do yours if you help with mine.” Kirk smirked to himself, as if the offer were some sort of private joke in which Spock could not participate. Sobering his expression, Jim signalled the other to turn his back to him and Spock obliged. 

Spock had anticipated feeling the temperate breath of his captain hit his back but Jim seemed to maintain his distance. A buzzing silence filled the room. When the human’s fingers finally made contact with his skin, Spock barely managed to retain his gasp. Jim’s touch was slow and possessed a slight jitter to its motion. 

“How high am I meant to apply this?” came a mutter from over Spock’s shoulder. 

“I believe it would be pertinent to begin at the nape of the neck and trace downwards.”

Spock had made a grievous mistake. Jim’s touch drifted upwards, pushing lightly at the downy hairs on his neck. The sensation itched and he felt himself tensing. Through their skin contact Spock could feel Jim's apologetic sympathy as he traced along the vulcan’s spine. The salve hurt undeniably and Spock exhaled shakily through his teeth. 

He tried to focus on anything but the confusing sensation. His eyes mapped each groove of the stone walls, he monitored the time between his blinking, he even tuned into the heavy human breathing of his captain. As the touch travelled southward he felt the untrained muscles of his tailbone tense, it was not something Spock was accustomed to and just as he was about to pull away from the unbearable contact he found himself devoid of Jim’s touch. 

“All done.” Kirk announced, the sound of his feet scuffing against the floor as he turned his own back to Spock. 

Steeling himself, Spock took some of the salve onto his own digits and began to replicate Kirk's actions. The human’s skin was softer than expected and perceivably hairless in comparison to that of a vulcan. Jim huffed as Spock tried to make as quick work as possible of the application. He did not enjoy the input of the salve on his senses, nor did he like the subconscious desire that creeped into his mind wanting to be spared separation. 

With the salve applied, Jim turned to Spock briefly and smiled, clapping his first officer on the shoulder,

“Well. Good luck, I’d say have fun but-” 

“Vulcans do not partake in fun.” They spoke in unison, 

“Right, of course they don’t. Mister Scott is ordered to lock onto our coordinates and beam us up at 2000 hours, All things being well I suppose I’ll see you then.” 

****

James T Kirk adjusted the mask on his face, one of the first things he’d been permitted to view since waking. The structure was alien, carved in swirling patterns that altered his appearance into something new, something unique. Around him others moved swiftly amongst the crowd. He was shorter than most in the room, even with the noteworthy platformed footwear he’d been provided. 

He felt the way the smooth fabric of his robes shifted as he moved. The fabric he wore was light, finely woven and cut into strips configured into a lattice across his arms. An overwhelming sense of comfort like being immersed in fresh waters seeped into him as he focused on the fit of it. 

Music, the chiming of wind through delicate glass, filtered into the grand room. Its walls shone as if each fragment of its crystalline material had been carefully crafted to refract the light and cast dazzling patterns across the space it contained. Jim smiled to himself and blinked his eyes clear. He did not remember them watering, he felt no reason for remorse.

He stood alone amongst the crowd, misty eyed and itching for conversation. It seemed as if all manner of the universe resided here in this grand place. Each crowdmember wore a mask much like his own, illusive in each unique design. His thoughts held little burden, as if a weight often placed on the back of his mind had been lifted and in its absence he found himself taken with wonder. 

The pressurised sensation of need for conversation pushed at his tongue. James Kirk’s mouth felt dry and he ached for conversation. Slowly he dragged his gaze across the room noting dancers, small groups of conversation, whispered musings between partners. Yet, as he searched for something to engage him, he couldn't help but find his eyes drawn back to the same figure- lithe and awkward, their posture held rigid across the room, it was as if they were as lost as himself and he could hardly fight the urge to help.   

“Human!” an excited voice called out, ensnaring Jim’s attention. 

Swiftly he turned towards the noise, noting a large being dressed in garment similar to his own, though their mask seemed to curl around their alien features in a way that felt far more natural than his own.

“Come here.” The being commanded, their tail swishing excitedly. “We wish to know more of you.” They spoke when Jim joined their company. 

“Well, you have me where you want me.” Jim smiled, forgetting his expression was shrouded. 

“Your species is unusually disfunctional, and yet your survival rate is incredibly high.” A second being joined the conversation, reaching out to trace a long talon along Kirk’s shoulder. 

Jim laughed, unsure how to answer, he could not remember details he usually used to fill a conversation. 

“They do not live long in comparison to many species,” the other commented, initiating a conversation from which he seemed to be excluded.

“This is unfortunate.” They agreed and Jim found himself increasingly discomforted by the interaction. He sought something, a solid reassurance he was unable to find in his own mind. With the emotional security, he felt he ought to have, missing, he fell back on other means of finding his footing.

“What are the flowers called?” Jim asked, interrupting the conversation by noting the arrangement behind the beings. 

“Hmm?” The beings chittered in question.

 “Those?” One asked, pointing to the arrangement. 

“Yes, they’re rather breathtaking, I’ve never seen flowers like this before.” Jim uttered in awe, stepping past his present company to get a closer look at the plants. 

The bouquet was huge, easily the size of Jim's own person. Built of multiple different unearthly species, it bathed its area of the room in a captivating glow of bioluminescence. Gently Kirk reached out to brush his fingertips against the petals of the closest bloom. 

“That one is called fifbleaum, it grows on the cliffs closest to our capital urban living space.” one of the two informed him. 

“It’s… beautiful.” Jim murmured. He felt he should be showing the discovery to someone, as if his fascination over the pearlescent purple bloom did not belong entirely to himself.

“Yes. They are The Creator’s fondness.” 

“The Creator?” Jim queried. 

Swiftly the two beings exchanged eye contact, a personal and inferrably internal conversation passing between them. 

“We must not discuss it at this time. Humans must be rehydrated at frequent intervals, yes?” 

“Oh… Yes I suppose so.” 

“Good. You will drink, we provided for you on the other side of the room.” The being pointed hastily towards a structure that almost held the image of an ancient deity, her body etched in rivulets carved out by what appeared to be a natural spring.

“Thank You.” Jim offered his politeness before heading in the direction he was ushered. 

The liquid was refreshingly sweet though distinctly tasteless. Jim thought he ought to seek out whoever hosted this event and express his gratitude. It really was such a stand up event. 

“Good ain’t it?” Someone spoke to his left, breaking his moment of thought. 

“Yes, it is.” Jim smiled over at the other- a being of his own height although the icy blue antenna they sported were not something that Jim possessed himself. In fact from what little identifiable aspects of them Kirk could see, this being definitely wasn't the same as him… she was an Andorian his mind supplied him. 

“Rivin.” The andorian held out her hand towards Jim. 

“James Tiberius Kirk.” he took her hand in his own and shook it, “My friends call me Jim.” 

“Jim huh?” she dropped his hand raising her glass to her mouth, “Humans have such strange names.” She muttered to herself. 

“So, Why did the mesopagnesians invite you as a witness then?” Rivin asked. 

“Sorry?” Jim did not understand much of what she was saying. 

“The mesopagnesians? Our hosts? They really did a number on your brain huh?” She laughed. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t know, I haven’t had a chance to really talk to them much yet I suppose. They seem amicable, I would like to talk to them more if I get the chance.” He smiled back at Rivin. She was a very beautiful person, her white hair flowed loosely from behind her mask. 

“Yeah… I don’t know why I’m here either. It’s real annoying, you know? I don’t remember half the things I feel I ought to. Like- I know I underwent some procedure and I know I come from out there- the stars or whatever,” She punctuated each point with a gesture of her glass, “But I don’t remember anything of it. Jim, I’m not even sure what my starship is called.” 

Jim smiled and nodded along with her ranting in silence. 

“I mean, talk about losing yourself in a parking lot! That’s a little terran reference for ya!” Rivin laughed to herself and sobered when she noticed Jim hadn’t joined her, “Shucks, I really thought that was a good one, I bet you can't even remember what a parking lot is can you?”

“I’m sorry.” Jim smiled apologetically at her. 

“Nah, don’t apologise, You can’t help your inferior biology Jim. I’m just bored and lonely. They don’t want us knowing anyone- I think that is mighty unfair.” 

“How so?” Jim walked around her to refill his glass. 

“Well. They get to prance around pretending to be a totally unified hivemind whilst they wait for their god or parasite or whatever the ‘creator’ is, And I- I know I’m not alone but they wont let me- I mean I think I had relation to people…” Rivin trailed off.

Frowning slightly, Jim took note of her meaning. He couldn't help but feel the same, some deep need sat at the back of his mind like an alert for hunger, thirst or sleep. He could not remember a life before this moment to compare his isolation and yet- like the andorian- he knew he was not meant to be alone in this world. 

“You’re not alone Rivin.” Taking the last mouthful of refreshment, Kirk discarded his glass. 

“Huh?” 

“I’ll be your company if you’ll have me.” He turned bodily to face her. Perhaps, for just a moment, they could fulfill each other's needs. 

“Yay, the amnesiac human will take pity on a lonely andorian.” Rivin intoned sarcastically, “No offense.” 

“I might take some offense there Rivin.” Jim laughed, “it’s not so bad, I’m alone, you’re alone, we don't have any worries about whatever duties we have outside of this, just some good drink and a nice atmosphere.” 

The andorian slouched against the wall behind her, arm propped at her side. “I suppose you're right. Not much else to do eh? Well, I never saw myself seeking out human company but you’re a pleasant person and I’m not one to turn down an offer… just don't be expecting me to fall in love like them.” 

“Hmm?” Jim had begun to drift off into the thrum of the environment around him, the soft sounds and warm air pulled him further from himself. At Rivin’s remark he startled, following the nod of her head towards a couple dancing in the centre of the room. 

The two dancers held each other in tender embrace, a palpable trust between them. They too were shorter than most of ‘the hosts’ as Rivin called them. Their dance was familiar, Terran, and composed. Both of them seemed smitten, giggling lightly between themselves. 

“They're humans too I’d guess.” The adorian was beginning to develop an air of boredom watching the others. “You should talk to them later.”

“Later?” 

“Well I believe you just offered me company didn't you?” Jim watched as Rivin's antennae curled slightly, enticingly. She held out her hand, and the human took it.

“I hope you're alright with my lead, I took some classes on terran dance once…” She laughed, “You know I think I might have taken a sabbatical on your planet.” 

Gracefully she pulled him into the dance floor, her other arm shifting to wrap around his waist. Jim felt himself melting into the hold as he slightly clumsily followed her footing. 

“Careful.” Rivin chided as their feet clashed. 

“Sorry, it's been a while.” Jim murmured. 

Her hand was like ice in his own, sharp and distracting from the moment around them. 

“So, tell me Jim, how do your people make good company?” Rivin asked, tugging him forwards to avoid the step of another couple. 

“Oh, I-” 

“I could show you how mine do if you'd like?” Her voice softened, more than Jim had heard it before, as she leaned forwards. “In case you're still a little out of it, I'm asking if you'd like to kiss me.” 

“Rivin, I’d like that very much.” Jim smiled back at her, moving the hand on her shoulder to her waist. 

The ache deep in his mind tugged, like a thread leading into the unknown. Gently the andorian woman cupped his jaw, pressing their foreheads together before freezing. 

“You didn't tell me you were bonded.” She muttered displeased. 

“What?” Jim didn't understand as she wrenched apart from him. 

“My people have abilities that yours don't. You ain't hiding anything from me Jim. Is this a Denobulan type of situation?” 

“Huh? No.” Jim wasn't sure he understood anything she was implying. 

“What's wrong with you? Did you come here so you could cheat on her? Because I'm no homewrecker!” Rivin seemed in an increasing state of agitation. 

“I… I don't have… I don't…” Jim tried to remember, flickers of a fondness came to his mind, a yearning, a pain. He remembered vague snippets of conversation, his complaints over someone… a woman… who his love for was unrequited. 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me. They're keeping bond mates from each other? These people are sick-” Rivin began pacing in front of him, “I mean one city on an entire planet? No planet is ever a monoculture! Where's the rest of them? There's something wrong here.” 

Her head snapped up towards Jim, her stance as if she were about to bolt, “Human Jim it was fun meeting you, if we ever cross paths again I'll buy you and your bondmate a drink, but I have to go find my people, I suggest you do the same.” And with that she fled into the crowd. 

*****

Like a bellowing choir the synchronized thoughts of hundreds of beings hit the vulcan at once. He did not recognise the being who led him into the room, nor the robes he was wearing. The room screeched with an eerie hum, as if its crystalline walls were alive. The volume of psionic and auditory input was louder than anything he’d ever faced as he tried to ignore a murmuration of many synchronized heartbeats.

“This is where I leave you Vulcan. Be free to move as you please, you have been deemed unneeded.” The towering being to his right announced before slinking away into the crowd, leaving him alone and overwhelmed. 

His memory held less than he knew it should. The mechanisms of his perfected behaviour left him with nothing. In his mind sat an amorphous void and the chorus of alien thought surrounding him sought to fill it. The vulcan whimpered, his ears barely recognising the sound as his own. He had to find a logic to follow, without it he was lost. 

In a manner that could be perceived as frantic, Spock surveyed the room. The crowd was towering and unfamiliar. It was near impossible to pick out anything that might spark recognition when all were shrouded in a similar manner. Wherever he found himself was a diverse place, he noted several different species amongst the crowd. 

“Hey, Watch it!” A being smaller than himself huffed as he drifted into their path. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t intend to-” The vulcan frowned, the expression pulled foreignly on his face muscles. 

“Yeah yeah whatever just get out of my way, I’m too dazed and confused to deal with you.” The angered one cut him off before continuing forth. 

Spock did not know how to act, his mind missing the necessary functions to complete calculations that could help him. He stood and tried desperately to seek out a sense of control. Breathing aids regulation, if he could calm his breathing then maybe he could figure this out. 

Slowly stepping backwards he focused on timing the cycle of his breaths. Each inhale was followed by a shuddering exhale, the task was futile. 

Spock stood, rigid and afraid, as the swirling thoughts of hundreds battered at his senses. He did not know his purpose, he did not know his role, only his feelings could guide him but he knew little of what they were. The deep ache in his chest, thrumming at his side, the shaking expansion of his periphery sought to take him somewhere he did not know how to follow. Spock was lost. 

“Would you relax sweetheart, you're killing the atmosphere over there.” 

Spock startled at the drawling alien voice behind him. He looked over his shoulder and was shocked to see they were a human and one who was barely masked. Unlike others, this human’s mask only covered over the eye sockets and bridge of the nose. From behind it came the piercing blue of the human’s gaze. 

“I apologise.” Spock said, shifting on his feet, ready to move away from the human. 

“You're forgiven,” the human said softly, swirling the drink in his hand, “just lighten up would you?” 

“Lighten up? How would you suggest I do this?” Spock shifted his weight, leaning closer to the other out of curiosity. 

“It's a phrase darlin, means relax, have fun. You're worrying too much. I can see it.” 

Spock’s eyebrow furrowed of its own accord, he wanted to hide from the scrutiny of his conversation partner. Something about the stranger made him feel uncomfortably known, it made his senses buzz in and out of focus. In the back of his mind memory pushed against an unidentifiable barrier like a feverish shiver.

“I don’t know how to respond to my current emotional state.” 

“Procedure freaking you out?” The human smiled ambiguously as if both endeared and mocking. 

“Procedure?” 

“I feel like if I tell ya you'll worry about it, so let's talk about something else hmm?” 

“What do you wish to talk about?” 

“We’ll figure that out when you stop looking like all the universe’s sorrows are on your shoulder. Would you come sit down?” calmly the human nodded him over. 

For a short moment against the raging clamour of the room they stood in complete vocal silence. Spock watched the human, so lax in form and demeanour. Yet beneath it all, as he honed his focus, he could smell the unpleasant odour of anxious sweat emanating from the other. Spock wondered if, to someone with lesser senses, this being held strong the mask of total composure.

“See there you go,” the human's smile slipped, “your ears are weird, a surgical alteration?” 

“I… am not sure.” Memory held the answer in its hungry maw, waiting so if Spock reached for it he was certain the knowledge would hurt him.

“Humans don't have ears like that.” 

“I am Vulcan.” Spock corrected automatically.

“Hah” The other’s  laughter rang out beautifully like a string of bells. “You know, something in the back of my mind says I knew a Vulcan once. Damn well got on my nerves too if my feelings have anything to say about it.” 

“Then, I hope that I will not be such unpleasant company.” Earnestly Spock replied.

“I’m sure you won’t.” The stranger smiled, his cool hand reaching out to politely pat him on the forearm. 

Spock did not know how to respond to the brief contact, the touch was short and soothing. Something within him redirected its want or perhaps a smaller want grew in volume alongside that which seemed embedded into his soul. Hesitation brought with it a noticeable tension. 

“You alright? I hope I didn't offend your Vulcan sensibilities.” 

“No.” Spock paused, “your touch brought me comfort. I’d like thee to do it again.” 

“Oh.” Voice pitching up a couple octaves the human reached out again, this time Spock held his hand out. 

The chorus of the room dimmed into an absence. All psionic energy seemed to shift towards their encroaching touch like iron filings to a magnet. Something, the constant voice of need, seemed to refute his choices, the quieter voice urged him to ignore it. 

Lightly the human brushed over the soft skin at the back of his hand. Spock had expected the same calm as before, a quieting of his senses and emotion,  The consequential effect was firmly not able to meet such expectations. 

They both winced as they quickly pulled apart. The touch was like a static shock, like the first time Spock had ever eaten a frozen desert, sharp and momentary. With it came the sudden acknowledgment of memory, repressed by something and now free. 

“Spock?” The doctor stared at him wide-eyed. 

“I-” Spock blinked, as if he could clear the metaphorical sleep from his eyes so that it wouldn't be Leonard McCoy standing in front of him. 

“God damnit, I didn't think this through.” the doctor began muttering to himself frustratedly. 

Spock found himself once again frozen as his brain meticulously recovered as much information as it could. The past (at an estimate) fifty eight minutes felt like an obscure dream. Two realities merged into one as Spock looked back on his actions with his judgement returned. Embarrassment seared through him almost enough to hurt. 

“Doctor, I apologise for my behaviour. I hope that we can-” he started. 

“Forget it? Trust me, already done. I don't want to start dreading the day I might have to put you under.” McCoy quipped, looking distinctly less relaxed than he had before. 

“We need to find Jim. There's something wrong with this event.” The doctor said after a moment. 

“I will look for him.” 

Before Spock could turn to leave McCoy reached out to grip his shoulder. 

“You can't let them find out you're not under the procedure’s influence. Be careful.” 

“I shall.” 

Swiftly Spock surveyed the crowd. His breathing was even, a mask of calm coating his thoughts, and he moved calculatedly between the other guests. More than anything Spock was determined to find his captain.

Eventually Spock found his target, standing relaxed and alone, an Andorian woman darting away from him. Of course, Spock thought to himself, this is how his captain would be if he were  James T Kirk without his captaincy. Spock thought of every conversation, every admission, every brief love Jim had found and lost. It almost felt a cruelty to know he must pull him back towards burden, back to the enterprise, back to- 

Spock watched as a mesopagnesian’s gaze locked onto the human, their tail beginning to sway as they altered their course towards him. 

Grievances quickly became unimportant as Spock let his instincts lead. He swerved between the crowd and wrapped an arm around his captain's waist, pulling him away from the clutches of the other. 

****

Jim blinked softly as the stranger swept him into the orbit of dance. He felt lost, allowing himself to drag into the pull of his lithe dance partner. The Andorian, Rivin, had left him in a state of bewilderment and he faced no time to recalibrate.

There was no certainty in his memory. The mesopagnesians around them seemed to move in perfect unity, as if the unintelligible song of the hall called out to them and guided them in a language he was not able to hear. It felt shameful to think he might have been so swept up in the company of another not to notice the tone of the room shift. Either way it didn't matter now. Rivin had left and now he was taken by a new company. 

Jim assessed his new dance partner, firm and calculating in their movements. They were far shorter and of a different build to the other aliens that swarmed rhythmically around the two of them. He’d seen them before, his eyes had returned to this figure repeatedly throughout his time in this place. 

“Hello.” He spoke with a charm filled smile. 

The stranger made no reply. Instead they righted their hold on Jim and began to lead their steps in a unified pattern through the crowd. There was a great deal of intention to this interaction, that much was clear. Jim noted the way they made careful work not to touch his palm to their own. Perhaps they too knew the bond which was withheld from him. 

He knew he shouldn’t engage if what the Andorian had said was true. He had things to remember, information to retrieve- a duty to which he was untraceably bound. Even with everything taken into consideration he did not want to remove himself from the unfurling moment. The stranger manipulated their dance with purpose. 

“Do I know you?” Jim asked, emanating a human warmth between them. 

The stranger seemed to measure each step, fine tuning their movements to keep them safe from intrusion. It would appear they weren’t familiar with the alien waltz they tried to imitate. 

“Yes.” They finally replied. 

“Oh.” Jim blinked, unsure if he should relax or tense in reaction. “I'm sorry, I don't have my memory running at top speed at the moment.” 

The stranger’s composure faltered, as if their whole body was fighting to curve into a smile. Jim tried to glance around the room, to take note of the murmuring swarm of dance but his periphery was obscured by his mask. 

“You must trust me, Jim.” The stranger's gaze fell on him with an unshakable weight, dark eyes shimmering from the shaded sockets of the mask. Kirk nodded fractionally, given his current position he had little other choice but to follow, although his trust remained guarded.

Slowly the stranger guided them through the crowd, they moved in waltzing pirouette. It was undeniable, the stranger was mesmerizing, in that moment it felt as if their movement had locked them in their own twin orbit. Jim did not know where they were headed but he could tell that he was being led with a purpose. 

The way Jim's fingertips itched with a desperation to touch, to slip his hands against the strangers, hit him like an unforeseen storm. As if heavy raindrops of unplaceable want were falling on his nerves. With the feeling came a conscious discomfort, he had no just reason to feel such a thing.

Impetuously the stranger swerved them away from another dancing couple, their feet catching in the movement causing them to stumble ungracefully towards the floor. Acting on instinct Jim reached out, catching a warm hand in his own, steadying them.

“Are you Alright?” He asked quickly. The strangers eyes were wide with panic. Cautiously Jim looked around, making sure they hadn’t gathered the attention of the crowd, checking to find the source of his partner’s worry. 

Jim did not have time to find a target, or source of the other’s response. In a microsecond the fusion of their touch ignited a spark that sent an incomprehensible wave through his body, ramming through his brain and kick-starting the circuit of his memory. Reflexively his muscles flinched, hand tightening its hold on Spock’s own. 

“Spo-” The vulcan did not allow him a moment longer to speak, instead the familiar sensation of their psionic connection flowed through him, blocking the thought before he got the chance. 

Delicately Spock adjusted his grip, no longer withholding their contact. As he continued to move them Jim’s mind's eye flickered through a rush of memories. He found his thoughts landing on under cover missions the two of them had partaken, cipher classes at the academy that he’d failed to pay attention to (disappointment not of his own rose at the shared realisation), and unspoken communication- the telling smile given in chess matches. Spock was urging him to stay silent, and pleased when he finally caught on.

With little else to act on Jim allowed himself to be led, leaning into their dance, allowing his vulcan to pull him wherever he was needed. For a short while that evening Jim’s identity sat in a suspended state between the void of id and the man who had risked his career over the sands of Vulcan. The solitary status of command could not close itself around him. As he floated through his own memory he found himself free from the great hall; one of two beating hearts in a service passage. 

“Jim.” Spock said, his eyebrows fractionally tilted in concern. 

“What’s going on? I- uh-” Kirk fumbled, the mask on his face had become notably uncomfortable trapped sweat itched at his skin. 

“Would you like a mission report?” Spock offered. 

“Oh. Yes.” Of course they were on a mission afterall. They and other crew were on a diplomatic mission and… his head hurt as he tried to bring his thoughts into focus. 

“It would seem our brains have been… tampered with, Captain.” Spock began to pace the small space they stood in as Jim leant back against the wall for support. “I’m afraid I don’t know more at this time. I believe it is imperative that we reserve our trust for each other and stay wary of guests. I have not had more time to collect information. After I regained my awareness I sought you out straight away.” 

“Good work. I… I’m sorry I think I’m still struggling to piece things together. It's hard to navigate one’s mind when someone else has reconfigured it or… Well I suppose we don't know huh?” He laughed, a hollow sound that echoed around the mask. He needed it removed. 

“No. Though my suspicions point towards our hosts.” 

Jim frowned, lifting himself from his point of rest to join in the pacing. 

“This is a serious violation of universal peace agreements, wouldn't you say Spock? I don’t think Starfleet will take kindly to having their representatives' minds violated.” 

Spock abruptly stopped, letting a tense silence span out around them. Kirk hoped he would speak up, offer the comfort of a resolution, examination or at least support. 

“I believe we may have consented to the procedure.” It was unnerving to hear Spock uncertain. 

“Right. But do we know why the procedure was completely necessary? I met an andorian woman, Rivin, who seemed displeased with the event. Perhaps we ought to find her and gather what she knows.” 

Spock shook his head.

“No. We must find the doctor. He insisted I find you and I believe he knows more than either of us.” 

“Bones is here?” Kirk's head snapped up, eyes seeking out Spock’s own. How foolish he was to let himself believe they were the only two compromised on this mission. 

“Yes.” he nodded, “So are Lieutenant Uhura and Nurse Chapel.” 

“Of course. I don't know what’s gotten into me.” He tried to laugh it off, “I appreciate your assistance Spock.” 

The silence fell over them once again. A plan was necessary, find the crew, find their equipment and at the very least attempt to resolve things peacefully. At his side Spock seemed contemplative, stock still in his stance as if there were something he was trying to word perfectly. Jim refused to entertain the idea that his Vulcan first officer might be afraid.

“Well I suppose it's likely we're being monitored, let's head back out there and find the crew. We can figure out a better plan when we have our numbers, wouldn't you say?” Kirk forced as much pep into his voice as possible and began to head back out into the hall.

Spock’s hand reached his shoulder with ease, gripping his robes tightly and halting his exit. 

“The doctor insisted we do not express our lack of influence. If I may suggest a solution.”

“Please.” The palm against his shoulder was warm, searing in its touch.

“I am aware it would be unprofessional…But I think it may be possible to initiate a meld between our minds allowing for not only mental support but also private communication.” 

Spock’s grip loosened fractionally as he began to pull away and, with little consideration, Jim quickly reached up to stop it leaving his shoulder. 

“Yes. do it.” He affirmed giving a shrouded smile. 

Carefully Spock moved his touch upward to Jim’s face, to the mask that covered him. At first he didn’t follow what was happening, still somewhat inhibited by the procedure (or at least that’s what he’d have argued if anyone were to ask). The mask lifted easily, and the vulcan took measure to make sure it was placed safely by their feet. The air on Jim’s face was more temperate than he’d have hoped for but at least it was free of his own breath-induced humidity. 

Spock’s fingers found his meld points and soon, thought to thought, their minds slid together into a new crosshatched consciousness. Indiscreetly Kirk found himself taken to the experience. Spock’s cognition brought with it the soothing touch of warm water on aching muscle. Parted they were in body, yet bound they stood in mind. Command was no longer necessary as they turned towards the hall together. 

****

It was as if no change had occurred as they first lay eyes on the event, yet Spock noted quickly the more central concentration of the Mesopagnesian crowd. They merged with the other guests in unison, slipping through the crowd in search of their target. 

Not long after immersing themselves did they find the crowd’s opening- a circlet around the ongoing dance. Jim subtly adjusted his mask, subconsciously counting Spock’s breaths. A hand, humanoid and smaller than their own, reached out to take Spock’s in an offering he had no choice but to accept. 

They, two, both soon found dance partners. Dragged into the hum of the dance Jim tried to observe- guide them both as he learned each step. They moved with the center. Exchanged partners when pointed to. He’d survived so far through improvisation, much to Spock’s desperately hidden worry, he knew he could survive further. 

“Jim” , a voice he’d heard through fitful sleep in sickbay, called to him, taking his hand and pulling him to the front of his own mind.

Chapel spun the captain away- her own partner taking Spock in deft hand. Nyota Uhura spoke to him softly in Vulcan, her formalities the kind a student would tend to rely on. 

“Sir. We have an issue.” Her irises shook, revealing a panic she refused to let seep into her voice. “They have taken the doctor.” 

Spock fought against Jim’s emotion as he maintained the dance.  

“Taken him to where?” He asked. 

“I do not know… thee must find him. I worry for him. They do not communicate in spoken word.” Nyota informed hurriedly.

“No?” 

“Not at all. They speak standard but for as long as I have been returned to my sensibilities, sir, they have been communicating alternatively alongside.” 

“Thee has been trained in their language.” Spock stated his question. 

“They do not speak… it is code… they speak in ways secretly. They have… hidden their words from those who may understand them.” She shook her head, guiding the dance. 

“We must try and decode their words soon.” Spock spoke openly before passing her to a new dance partner and weaving his way back towards Jim. 

Jim heard it all, like a memory dragged from Spock's mind to his own before it could be filed away. His vulcan skills had never been particularly strong and yet, clarity befell him as he processed the conversation. Find Bones, rescue him, get back to the ship and contact Starfleet. Or better yet- find out what is going on. Spock seemed reluctant to agree and yet Jim felt his trust- his certainty. 

They took each other in hand again, dancing together. Jim's head hurt, Spock could feel it. He could feel everything- the way their unified breaths disturbed the air, the feel of the fabric against Jim's skin, the way his body responded to the temperature of the room. The ache of longing reverberated between them with its origin unidentifiable. They needed to find McCoy, to solve the puzzle of the current events. 

Spock's composure was beginning to falter, he could feel the strain like a hairline fracture. Words he’d dared not speak, needs he dared not acknowledge, were fighting towards the surface- a human heartbeat driving them like a war drum. Perhaps melding like this was as dangerous as some scholars suggested. Spock did not know how much longer he would be able to hold their tether, he hoped Jim's untrained mind wouldn't be able to identify the reason why. 

Suddenly the light of the room became unreasonably bright and the reverberations of the walls hummed loud and painful in both of their ears. For Spock it was too much to bear and he wrenched himself out of Kirk's touch- dragging his mind away with it. 

“My friends. New and old.” the brittle voice of the ambassador called out to the crowd from above. As Spock looked up he saw what would seem to be a chasm in the ceiling. It’s dark tunnels probing out into the night sky outside. It was as if an observatory had been carved out of a shell- as if the inside of one of his mother’s poppy seed-heads had become an architectural structure. In the centre, on a platform slowly descending, stood the ambassador, multiple guards and the smaller- unmasked frame of doctor mccoy. 

“For many years we have attempted to return to the collective. To be whole again. And yet the creator abandoned us.” 

The crowd hissed, looking around Kirk noted the confused and anxious demeanours of various other alien guests.

“But I will not allow our divide any longer. I have worked tirelessly as your faith permitted me to find the solution. To return the creator and for this I have concluded a need: an offering.” The ambassador stalked around McCoy- holding themself like a predator circling in for the kill.

“Spock…” Jim stepped closer to the Vulcan, poised for action.

“Captain. What are they doing to him?” Chapel whispered, she and Uhura appearing at their sides.

Jim frowned, lost for words as he watched the anguish on one of his oldest’s friends' faces. He could not reach McCoy from such a distance and he tried hard to figure out any alternative means available of rescuing the doctor. 

“The truth: Our creator has grown tired of us. The creator desires more- and today I have brought more. Today I have gathered all the minds of the galaxy together so that the creator may be satiated. Through our medic’s tests and procedures I have found a viable host species for the creator. If I can lure the creator back with this fresh body- we can ask to be joined once more” The ambassador finished their monologue. 

“This is outrageous!” The booming voice of a guest cried out- breaking the crowd’s silence and unleashing an uproar. 

“I have apology for you all, but none of your minds are as worthy.” The ambassador informed, signaling to his guards to gather equipment placed around them and begin attaching various tubes and wires to the doctor. 

Kirk took the moment to speak up, there was no longer use in feigning confusion. 

“Ambassador, this is a violation. Neither I, the federation, nor most importantly my doctor- whom you have abducted- agreed to this procedure. This is not what we were called here to do. We came in the name of peace!” He shouted, the ambassador’s head whipping around to focus on him. 

“Your people will be fortunate, Kirk.” The ambassador spoke, “This will unite our people- the concord and humanity- together in universal harmony. You will see soon, the joy of the creator.” 

“I can’t allow you to do this!” Jim yelled out in anger. 

“And also, you can not stop it. It is the way that the universe must play out.” The ambassador moved forward to touch McCoy and Spock nearly growled at Kirk's side. 

“He will not be harmed. He is lucky.” The ambassador smiled down at McCoy, “Medic you are of great importance. You will help us bring all your people into the concord.” the doctor merely mumbled through the haze of interference in response. 

The room hummed louder, surrounding mesopagnesians joining in the melody. Alien machinery whirred to life, enacting something incomprehensible. 

Uhura gripped at Kirk's robe, “Do something.” she hissed. 

“I-” Kirk’s eyes darted around the room looking for a way up. He’d scale the walls if he had to. It had been a while since he’d altered his bouldering routes in the Enterprise’s gym and his grip strength was not at its peak, but he knew the adrenaline would hold him together. He spotted a decent starting point and began to run. 

An echoing blast of laser fire shot across the room. With it, cast a bright aberrated light that bounced across the walls and finally the distinct thud of a body. Jim turned, wide eyed, fearing the worst. Instead, he cast his gaze upon the fallen form of the ambassador and several Andorian’s fighting the still standing guards. 

“Rivin…” Jim muttered under his breath with a smile as he watched the tall form of the woman he had so recently been acquainted with charge across the platform towards McCoy. 

“Show’s over folks!” Rivin yelled down to the crowd, throwing a punch at the guard lunging for her as she freed the doctor, hoisting him onto her shoulder in a singular swift motion. Below her the crowd erupted into frenzy. The Mesopagnesian guests seemed to panic and attempt to flee without leadership and many of the outside guests shifted aimlessly- still under the influence of the procedure. 

Kirk tore the mask from his face as he returned to the center of the room. Spock and his other officers joined him promptly. 

“Captain. What’s going on?” Uhura asked in confusion at the unanticipated intervention. She flinched- pushing chapel behind her as the unconscious form of one of the guards fell to the floor beside them. 

“I’m not sure. I need you both to find our communicators and contact the Enterprise.” He ordered, eyes wild with thought as he began to rapidly reconstruct a plan. 

Another thud sounded out next to them as Rivin dropped to the ground, McCoy cradled in her arms. 

“Hey, take this would ya?” She handed the unconscious doctor over into Spock’s grasp before making a double take at Jim’s unmasked face, “Huh. didn’t think you’d have a face like that.” 

“Rivin, What’s going on?” 

“Ah… Well- see me and my folks have been tracking the silent concord for a while. You’re federation people right? Starfleet I’m guessing.” 

“Right.” 

“we,” she nodded to other andorians, “are sorta like… private investigators if you will. See the president of the southern mesopagnesian allegiance- what? You didn’t think they were a monoculture did ya?” she sighed “Well, anyway, she hired us after she found out an exiled group had made interstellar communications. See, they have an agreement if you like, they- these folks here-” she gestured to the hosts scratching uselessly at the locked doors of the room "aren't allowed to meddle in international diplomacy on behalf of any mesopagnesian government since their united global council is secular and these guys are a bit of a cult.” 

“We’re here to shut this down before interstellar relations go south. I’m sure your organisation will hear from the council soon enough. My guys can’t let you walk out of the room yet but it seems like the starship enterprise has a transporter that’ll get you outta here just fine.” She held out her hand for him to take 

“Well. Best of luck Captain Kirk.” 

****

The rest of the night passed by in a blur. Jim tried in earnest to keep note of everything that had happened but it was hard to track when he wasn't in command of the situation. He could not remember when the vulcan’s mind had become untethered from his own. After Rivin left them alone amongst the calamity of confused guests there was little else need for starfleet officers. 

Someone, he could no longer remember who, returned their uniforms and communicators and, as Chapel tended to McCoy there was little else to do but beam up. Whatever tranquility he had found that evening no longer mattered as Kirk ordered medical teams, navigations and communications into action. The doctor roused upon materialising, unleashing a litany of curses and shoving away the hands of the staff tending him. Jim found himself quickly on the bridge waiting for a clear moment to vacate to sickbay and check up on his good friend. 

Bones was packing away his own medical equipment by the time Kirk made it down to see him. The doctor seemed exhausted as he ambled around the room, barely acknowledging the other’s presence. 

“Come to hassle me, Jim?” He murmured, ducking down to rifle through a cabinet. “If you're injured, m'benga is on shift soon.” 

Kirk watched as bones triumphantly pulled out the aged bottle he'd been searching for. 

“Nope. No hassle or injuries.” He held his hands up in innocence. 

“Great.” Deftly with his teeth, McCoy yanked out the bottle's cork and began to head for the door. Before he could escape Kirk jolted out, blocking his exit and locking on to a pair of overly tired eyes. 

“Wait would you. Captains orders.” 

“Doctors' orders are to let me go lick my wounds in peace.” Bones tried to shove past him, scowling as he lost the battle

“I just want to make sure you're alright.” Jim insisted, placing a hand on the doctor's shoulder in hopes of comfort. 

“I'm peachy, Jim, now can you please-”

“It's alright if you need to rest.” 

“What do you think I'm trying to do?” McCoy huffed, trying to slip away again. 

“You almost- I'm not even sure what happened, but we were worried for you- especially Spock.” Jim was certain he’d felt it, the surge of plummeting cold terror that brushed against his own fears like waves of an ocean fighting against the tide.

“What's that supposed to mean?” McCoy fixed him with a gaze, the kind of look he’d use back when they first met, when he wasn't yet used to the reckless lifestyle of james t kirk. 

“I- we-” Jim fumbled over his words, he felt suddenly embarrassed over what had been necessary. 

“Oh. Right. Glad to know what delayed your help.” 

“It was necessary for the mission!” Kirk defended hopelessly, “But that's not the point. Point is I was in his head. I could feel what he felt, he was as scared for you as I was.” 

“Find anything else whilst you were rooting around in there?” McCoy asked, his voice more strained than he seemed to intend.

“No- I can't- he projected that feeling to me, Bones. He really cares for you, you know we both do right?” 

“I know Jim.” McCoy sighed wearily, a small smile passing across his face. 

“Good. Well, then, I guess I'll let you drown your sorrows.” Kirk finally stepped to the side allowing the doctor a clear exit out of sickbay.

“Thanks.” Jim watched as his friend trudged away down the halls. 

“Just- don't be late for shift tomorrow!” 

“Love you too Jim.” McCoy called out as he stepped into the turbolift, the doors sliding shut behind him.

***

Fighting the urge to evade all remaining contact Jim sought out Lieutenant Uhura. He found her sitting amicably with friends in a corner of the mess hall. She seemed to wear a peaceful smile but Kirk could tell it only hid a wearied demeanour. 

“Lieutenant Uhura.” He announced, clearing his throat. 

Uhura looked up at him startled, she formed her face into a smile excusing her lack of attention on the conversation she’d been immersed in. Silently he nodded to her, asking her to remove herself from the group and join him briefly. 

“Are you alright?” He finally asked once they were out of earshot. 

“Yes, quite alright, Captain.” She smiled at him softly. Part of him wished for another life where they could be nothing but friends. 

“I’m sorry about the mission. I know it didn’t go the way we’d planned.” 

“Oh. Right. Some things we can’t control, It’s what we learn from them that matters.” Nyota tried to comfort him.

“You’ll get the promotion. I’ll fight whoever makes the choice myself if you don’t. Anyone would be a fool to waste your talents.” Kirk wanted to reach out and pat her on the shoulder, instead he kept his hands by his sides. 

“Thank you Jim.” She smiled softly, ignoring rank for a moment to hug him knowingly. 

“Check in on Nurse Chapel would you?” Kirk made his final request. Uhura blushed upon hearing it.

“Of course, Sir. I’d like to hope you’ll do the same for Spock?” She asked with a wink before heading back towards the mess. 

***

Finally alone, returned to his own quarters, the weight of the mission hung heavy on Kirk's mind. Too much had occurred in too little time and he felt hardly able to search his memory for answers. Twined existence sat on his mind, the stranger he’d danced with and Spock. The procedure had been a violation and yet it had been too long since he’d felt such freedom. 

Kirk clasped his hands over his chest as he lay on his bed. Did his captaincy define him so much that an entire group had separated him from it to gain his manipulation? Even Rivin, who for a time had seemed a budding friend had returned to formalities when she’d learned who he was. 

His com chirped, signalling multiple new reports waiting for his review. 

Sighing, Jim began to kick off his boots. It wasn’t right to entertain such thoughts, to let alternate realities of role, rank or lifestyle be entertained. He was the youngest captain in the fleet, he’d spent his whole life working towards this- it would be selfish to feel so burdened. 

As if one moment’s peace was too much a privilege his door chimed with a request for visitation.

“Enter.” There was only one person who would ever come to his door at this time without initiating any kind of com. 

“Captain.” Spock stood in a vulcan robe silhouetted in the doorway, his irises reflecting fluorescent against the ship’s low lighting. Relief and frustration flooded Kirk as he moved to sit up and face his officer. He waited for the Vulcan to speak, to announce a new issue, report or purpose of his visit. Instead, spock seemed to hover tautly in the door. 

“Come in, you’re no stranger Spock. Take a seat,” Jim began to stand heading towards the table in his quarters. He wordlessly offered the other a drink from the replicator as he collected one for himself. Spock declined with a shake of his head, stepping towards the table and yet refusing to sit down.

“I am here to make sure there have been no side effects from the abrupt end to our meld… and to apologise that you had to engage in such activity.” Spock did not frown and yet the non-expression on his face conveyed his own dismay, Kirk wondered if having been in his brain so recently allowed for that kind of knowledge or if it was always this way.

“I- what would ever make you apologise spock? It was necessary to the mission, I was okay. You really helped me out a lot today.” Kirk smiled softly, rubbing the hem of his shirt between his forefinger and thumb.

“A vulcan mind meld can have harsh effects on those untrained, I have concerns that you may-” 

“I’m fine Spock.” 

“But-” 

“No. Not now. Let's just play chess. I believe I owe you a rematch.” Jim half understood why bones had been so eager to escape him earlier when he’d tried to do the same thing. Birds of a feather he thought to himself, huffing a slight laugh. 

“If you insist.” Spock finally took a seat as he helped set up the chess set, replicating their last unfinished game from memory before resetting the board.

They played in relative silence, two opponents well versed in each other's playing styles. Jim wondered if Spock got bored after so many years playing against him. He tried to learn new forms of play, tried to act on impulse whenever he felt like it and yet it felt as if they were running out of match formations to play. Spock had a better memory for those sorts of things, vulcan schooling harnessed pattern spotting from a much younger age than the culture Jim had been raised in. 

As pawn took pawn and knight narrowly avoided rook, kirk found his thoughts drifting away towards the night, towards thoughts not of his own mind still residing in his head. He could feel Spock's residual emotion choking him and he could barely make sense of what he felt. He recalled the cold burn of the ointment they’d applied on each other although it had long since washed off his skin, recalled the drag of Spock's hands. He tried to ground himself, tired to take more of Spock's pieces and work his way towards checkmate. Spock raised an eyebrow at his obvious mistake and he felt the foreign beat of a heart where it ought not reside in the side of his chest, felt the pushing of indistinguishable desire, found his head ached horribly.

The wince Jim expressed was audible by his third blunder. Spock had slowed down his moves, it was embarrassing to be accommodated for it in such a way. He didn't need to be treated like a child- though perhaps this was worse, Jim had seen the speed at which Spock had played against children when they’d visited one of the vulcan institutes months prior. 

“You are not at the top of your game right now Jim.” Spock all but frowned as he made the observation.

“Sorry Spock. Something’s stuck in my mind is all.” He took a deep breath and tried to recentre his focus on the game.

“You insisted you were alright, if the procedure or meld had lasting physiological effects it is necessary that you visit sickbay.” 

Jim watched as articulate fingers carefully moved a bishop to a new level and felt his jaw tighten.

“Its just some human emotional problem, it’s… not the meld’s fault.” 

“It’s understandable if you require assistance from one of the ship’s psychologists, humans are not built to process the extent at which a vulcan feels. I tried my best to shield you, I have failed you.” 

Kirk righted his posture, frowning. There was only so much defeat he was capable of taking. He didn’t want to shut Spock down but it wasn't as if Spock was offering his personal assistance. He wanted to talk about it, the yearning he was no longer sure was entirely his own. He wanted to knock the tridimensional board from the table and so desperately command Spock to tell him the truth. To ask for such a thing would be an abuse of his power and any positive result would only compromise their relationship. In his mind he asked the question of probability, Spock in front of him remained silent. 

“Look, Maybe we should call it a night.” he said, abruptly standing from the table and knocking over one of Spock's taken pieces as he did so. They both reached out to catch it, hands accidentally locking onto each other instead of the piece. The contact jolted through his nerves with hurt and the want surged between them in a desperate reunion. 

“Jim.” Spock said, removing his grip to retrieve the missed piece from the floor. “Please, Let me help you.” 

“You can’t.” Kirk sighed, sitting back down. 

“I would invite you to mediate with me, I can show you how to heal yourself from this.” 

“What if I don't want to heal from this?” Jim asked, running a hand through his hair. Absently he began to arrange the pieces in front of him. 

“That would be an unwise decision. You have avoided medical officers since returning to the ship, there could very well be long lasting effects, I could have… I could have caused you harm”

“I’m not hurt Spock.” regretfully jim snapped the assertion. He was tired of this, tired of Spock’s lack of understanding. 

“If you are not hurt then tell me what you do not wish to heal.” 

“Sometimes Spock, us humans would rather live with the hurt of love than remove it in its entirety even if we so desperately wish we could forget it.” 

In another lifetime they might have met like they had momentarily during the dance. Two people, unburdened by responsibility. For a brief moment Jim had passed into that reality, for a brief moment Spock had been nothing but an alluring stranger taking the lead from him. It wasn’t as if their relationship wouldn’t be allowed- perhaps it would be easier if the barrier between them was rules rather than obligation. Kirk knew it, they’d  both worked too hard to be compromised by the unspoken truth. 

“This is an issue of love?” Spock asked after a moment’s silence. 

“I have always denied this because my heart lies with my duty, a captain cannot be allowed to love any more than the ship which eternally denies him” 

"But you do love, I have seen you love many.” Spock spoke with genuine confusion, a curiosity to understand.

“And I have lost many in turn,” Kirk sighed. He couldn’t have this, it wouldn’t be fair. Too many barriers would  befall them. There had been a reason they’d been dancing around their feelings for so long after all. Each rumour that grew by the day was all they could ever be. 

“you are not something I could afford to lose.” He finally admitted, eyes glancing back up to lock onto the steely stare of the vulcan in front of him. 

“Am I the subject of your struggle?” Spock asked, his fingers splayed out on the table in front of them. Kirk nodded in defeat. “You will not lose me.” 

“That is not within your control, mister. This mission will end one day. It would be foolish to think it wouldn't.” Everything he wanted was there for the taking, a fantasy that no longer had to be more than fleeting. His hand gripped against the table and Spock’s own cautiously moved towards it. 

“It would be foolish,” Spock announced, running his fingertips lightly over Jim’s knuckles, “to believe there is no chance I would follow you to the heat death of the universe, you are my captain, you are my friend… you are… Jim I-”  Jim couldn't bear to hear another utterance from the Vulcans mouth. It may be a grievous error to believe that they should be owed infinitely but it would be more so to do anything but lean over and claim Spock’s mouth in a swallowing silence. 

The first kiss was short. Jim couldn’t contain his laughter when he pulled back to see Spock’s affronted or possibly awestruck expression. As he went to apologise Spock interlinked their fingers, pulling him up out of his seat. 

“You are not Vulcan, do not deny yourself this, do not deny me, let me help.” Spock insisted. 

“Help, Mister Spock?” Kirk teased, the weight of burden falling from him as he was anchored in Spock’s grasp. 

“With your problems.” Spock replied, pulling them both together. Jim let his arms rest over Spock’s shoulders, swaying them in their step as he backed Spock slowly towards his bed. 

“I didn’t know you could dance by the way.” Jim mused, smiling up at the other. Spock raised a singular eyebrow at him in return and took one of Jim's hands from his shoulder inelegantly cueing him to pirouette. Jim laughed- the onslaught of the day's emotions welled up within him. 

Spock quickly pulled him close, accidentally crashing their bodies together awkwardly, “you do not have to feel this alone.” He murmured, brushing one hand up towards and around Kirk's temple gently. 

“Anything could’ve happened to him,” Jim whispered, “I’m tired of losing people I care about on this job, Spock.” 

Spock swayed them slightly, taking over from Kirk's lead and pulling them both down onto his bed. His touch didn’t leave the human's face, slowly as tears welled in his eyes the weight of his exhaustion and grief seemed to flow and dissipate between them until it became nothing more than white noise in his mind.  

Lazily he leant up to seek out Spock’s mouth again, pressing in search of familiar comfort. This time Spock kissed him back with increasing passion. With each kiss, in the back of his mind he remembered the warmth of sand brushing against his bare skin, water running over him, the sound of vulcan songbirds. Denial held no place in the moment they shared as they began a new mission of exploration. 

Spock’s fingers inched under his shirt, hiking it up. His nails scratched lightly along back muscle as he pushed the message into Kirk’s mind. Gone. The shirt ought to be gone. Spock’s desire bombarded him, there would be no border between them, not of fabric nor mind. The human, stripped of his title at this moment, was eager. Kirk complied, hitching himself up onto his knees to make quick work of his partner’s wish. 

A moment of indecision crossed his mind as he sat, shirtless over Spock. The Vulcan’s pupils consumed his eyes, wide and awestruck. Jim wanted to lean back down and kiss him senseless, and he wanted to stay forever still like this to see Spock’s own enjoyment. To take and to give in equal measure- an impossibility he wanted more than anything under such gaze.

For a split second Jim recalled the gentle visage of the masked stranger, leading him blindly. Draped in his ornate robes the fragmented memories of the procedure came together such that Spock was undeniably that same figure of mystique. Jim found himself needing to unveil the form underneath. The universe owed it to him, the privilege of gazing upon a form seen countless times before now in the most selfish of light. 

Unbidden, he reached out to touch Spock below him. Lightly his fingers traced the downy hair coating the back of spock’s hands, disappearing up into the sleeves of his robes. Jim ached to continue his tactile exploration, ached to know the sensation of slipping his fingers between the soft alien silk and the warm skin of his companion. Instead he refrained, pulling his fingers back, along and over the tips of Spock's own, softly rubbing the pads together, interlocking their unique fingerprints so that vulcan nerves could read the code that offered up his individual being. 

Spock unleashed a shuddering breath through his nose at the contact. Instantly Kirk’s attention shot up to his face. Spock’s eyes could no longer meet his, instead his gaze lay heavy on the connection of their hands. Jim stilled, marvelling at the lax expression until a crease formed in between Spock’s eyebrows. The vulcan let out a near whimper of dissatisfaction before pulling his fingers down Jim's palm leaving a flame in its wake. Jim burned with want, keening for it, mouth slightly agape, warm air huffed out of his nose, until Spock kissed him the human way once more.

In many ways Spock was a work of art, a carving of vulcan form, a love letter between vulcan and human. Kirk disrobed him gently, helping him remove and fold each piece of ornate fabric in a chaste prelude of continued passion. Their shared air buzzed with restrained breaths of heady anticipation. Spock’s body shimmered pale in the light off the room, the hair coating his body glistening in a dispersion of the illumination. It became Jim’s turn to marvel, slack jawed and salivating. Spock’s body was that of a being formed marmoreal and yet, undeniably his body was one warmed with blood. 

Spock looked across at Jim through thick lashes, an insecurity expressed in a taunt of challenge. Do you not want this? His posture seemed to ask. A ridiculous notion, there was barely anything left of Jim Kirk but want. I need, Jim answered in the surging forward of his own body, taking tactile note of his lover. 

Muscles rippled along the arms of a being built for hunt, refraining from expressing all their strength in a passion intended tenderly. Spock’s longing caged Kirk within his arms, pulling their bare figures flush. Between them shared the overwhelming freedom of inquest.  Spock’s fingers traced and grabbed, digging into the soft flesh of his sides as if confirming the mass of him. The act put a tension in Jim’s sinuses that made it hard to think about anything other than claiming the love offered to him. 

A pulling desire urged an infinite moment of frisson. Jim brought a knee up between Spock’s legs, arching to find comfort and suddenly desperately aware of the increasing dampness. They caught eyes in a silent question followed by an answering plea. Jim prided himself in seeking out and memorising that which his lovers got off on best. Often he found his mouth worked successfully in more than just verbal forms of diplomacy- in this moment he found the most dire union. To drive any whimper or grunt from Spock became his life mission and he worked his tongue over the vulcan’s sheath with as much enthusiasm. 

He pulled back, planted a gentle kiss against unshorn thigh and splayed his thumb against a heartbeat too fast to be human. 

“So beautiful.” Jim uttered in gentle awe.

Spock arched once he returned to his ministrations, a hand hovering over him too tense to make contact, to urge Jim onward. The attention of Jim's mouth was soon not enough and diligently he probed the fingers of his left hand- seeking through a velveteen sheath wall to seduce Spock’s enclosed Lok. 

At first contact Spock’s hand shot to Jim’s temples, pushing his head back and locking their eyes in heated contact. The psionic charge of their proximity rippled warm and smooth through his mind. Still, there was no need for telepathy- the heaving sigh Spock expressed, the tension of his brow, the way his lower lip hung signalled additional want. Where in a moment Jim had considered the possibility of overstimulation, he was now certain he had been mistaken.

“Use your words. I’m not a mind reader” Jim joked, smitten, as he wiped at his mouth with his thumb before sucking it into his mouth in obscenity. 

“I- You, Inside.” Spock managed to utter, scowling, unbidden by his usual composure. His index and pointer fingers twitched, subconsciously reaching towards Jim’s meldpoints. 

“Anything for you.” The human smiled softly, resting his head lightly against Spock’s trembling thigh as he submitted his mind to the vulcan. 

Their minds came together in an amalgam and Jim felt the universe expand around him, felt the aggregation of all his senses. He would die like this if he could. Then, he felt the heated presence of Spock within him like a rush of water from a summer storm along  a stream. Spock reached through his every nerve, interrupting his devout focus of providing, bringing his own heavy desire to the forefront of his mind. 

Emotion, as strong as a roaring tide, battered against him. Spock growled without his typical revision. The sound was primal, eliciting a petrifying carnality that raised the hairs on the back of Jim’s neck. Spock wanted more, wanted a human phallus within him so much Jim found himself twitching in anticipation.

“Are you sure?” For all they were intertwined, Jim still had his human sensitivities, still needed a verbal confirmation. 

“Yes.” Spock bit out. 

The sheath was evolved for the penetration of the ko-lok and such Jim was wary of such coupling between them, per contra Spock made clear there should be no worry with a transference of his own certainty. Studiedly Jim entered. His length frotting against Spock’s own, grinding them together in an undulating wave. They were each other's , touching and touched, one and separate. 

“I love you.” Jim admitted, initiating a string of passionate prattle, punctuating each admission with a chaste kiss over each of Spock’s features. “You’re so… cerebral,” A kiss to the nose bridge, “I can always count on your logic.” A kiss to the brow bone, “sometimes I feign ignorance just to hear you explain things to me.” A kiss to the pointed ear tip. 

“Jim.” 

“And your wit, your talent, do you know how many people desire you Mister Spock?” He hissed out seductively through gritted teeth. Spock’s lok was beginning to distend, brushing up, seeking preliminary release. Kirk’s breathing was staggered. 

“Jim” 

“You should never feel shame, do you know how beautiful the extent of your feelings are?” 

“Jim.” 

“I feel them now, I would let you give me your feelings, feel what you feel for the rest of my life.” Jim buried his face into the Vulcan’s neck, his hands gripping in a white knuckled hold. 

“James.” Spock ground out, using his strength to push their chests apart. “It is uncomfortable for me to refrain my lok, If you desire to continue it would be wise to explore alternate forms of penetration." 

Jim stilled, facing Spock with wide eyes. His mouth snapped shut, swallowing heavily.  The idea of Spock being inside him both mentally and physically overwhelmed him. 

“Would you let me care for you? Not as my captain, not as my duty, but because it is my simple desire.” Spock asked, exhaling heavily through his nose as Jim eagerly pulled out freeing the lok from its confines. 

 Swiftly Spock rolled them together until Jim was the one spread out on his back. It was as if 

Something shifted in Spock’s focus, as if the lax yielding of his form had been another layer of control. Jim found his own thoughts easily dismissed as precise vulcan fingers began to trail and map down his body. 

His touch was soft and gentle, something once learned Jim knew would be impossible to forget. Jim felt as if time had ceased to exist, wished it truly had. Spock abruptly removed his touch and pulled his own fingers into his mouth. The image was indecorous and if he could, Jim would’ve captured the image to keep on his person forever. Spock took his time, making clear the display of his self pleasure. Once sufficiently wetted, he returned his attention to the human running them around Jim's hole before pushing inside and slowly beginning to work him open. Regretfully it had been some time since Kirk had been offered the opportunity of receiving pleasure in such a way and he found the familiar ache of the act maddening. 

Spock worked with a calculated almost surgical precision, as if Jim had become a subject of his study. It was the kind of thought that left Jim preening and brought a blush to Spock’s own face. Once satisfied with his preparations Spock made his penetration, drawing a low mewl from somewhere deep within Kirk.

Spock made careful use of his vulcan strength, driving in, making use of his purchase on Jim’s legs. Jim whimpered, unable to stay silent. It wasn't long before he started to gasp Spock’s name loudly- disruptively as Spock seemed to decide. In an act of mercy, to himself, the rest of the ship, Jim's own vocal chords; Spock pressed his fingers against Jim's lips in a chaste kiss. Jim could help but kiss the fingers with intent, his lips falling open in his hunger. Spock took the opportunity  to trace the edges of his lips and slide his fingers in. 

Jim was overwhelmed with the sensation, lost to himself with all but his own pleasure. Spock plowed his entrance, kept a steady pressure on his tongue and seeped into every corner of his mind. To last any longer would’ve been an impossibility. They shared the sensation between them, the give and take, in equal measure as in succession they tipped over the edge to completion. 

Through the aftershock the sharing of minds became too much, Spock sensed it quickly, retracting his psyche from Jim’s own and dropping down to the mattress. As they lay side by side, disconnected and satiated Spock pulled their foreheads together, allowing a soft transference permitted by the gradually growing bond they shared. Jim smiled, the sweat coating his body beginning to cool. A memory of the earlier events began to surface. 

“Rivin said I was bonded.” He blurted, shifting up to rest on his elbows. “Did we… back on Vulcan did we?” He could barely think to form a coherent sentence. 

“No.” Spock answered simply. “There is a tether in our dual souls that drags like a compass. I wish us never to be parted, but I would not ensnare you in a bond you did not want to be in. ”

Jim frowned, looking over at the vulcan. Spock’s hair was mussed out of its usual slicked composition, there was something heartwrenchingly endearing about the scene. 

“You think I wouldn’t want to bond with you? Perhaps I’m jumping the gun here but from what you’ve seen in my mind and equally what I’ve seen in yours- I’d reroute to Vulcan and bond with you tomorrow if I could.” 

Spock’s eyelids crinkled slightly before he closed them, throwing out an arm and tugging Jim back down into the mess of their bed. 

“That is good.” He murmured, “Perhaps later- when we’re freed from our duty.”