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The Edge	By : LittleMuse Category: S through Z > Star Trek (2009) > Star Trek (2009) Views: 3770 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Star Trek and its original characters belong to Gene Roddenberry and I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part I
- 2-Part II
- 3-Part III
- 4-Part IV
- 5-Part V
- 6-Part VI
- 7-Part VII
- 8-Part VIII
- 9-Part IX
- 10-Part X
- 8
- 9
- 10
Part IX

Jim woke up unpleasantly hot.

It took him a moment to figure out why, blinking lethargically and groaning. A strip of bright light beamed across his face and he cringed away from it, down into the covers where it was even hotter. The warm arm gripping him tightened around his waist, and he blinked again, heart seizing for a moment before a lazy grin spread across his face and he rolled himself onto his other side to burrow up into Spock's neck.

"Hmm," he murmured. "You awake?"

Spock did not reply aloud, but the palm at the small of Jim's back smoothed up it and over the nape of his neck, long fingers working into his hair. Jim nuzzled like a contented cat.

"Did you sleep?" he asked.

Spock's fingers twitched. "Some."

Jim licked at Spock's neck and they moved again, either encouragement or discomfort; Jim was unsure which.

"You are aroused," Spock said, and Jim snorted.

"You're surprised?" He moved up to Spock's pulse point. "Besides, it's morning." He went to nip at Spock's ear and then paused, drawing back to look at his face, serene but not. "You're not freaking out on me, are you?"

Spock's features melted slightly. "No," he said, fingers petting. As if to prove this, he pressed a soft kiss to Jim's lips. Jim was lethargic enough to keep it slow, but not enough to keep it the short affair Spock had clearly intended. He carefully opened his mouth and coaxed Spock's tongue out, adding a few noises that he knew from the wonder of past melds were rather affecting. God, he had missed this; this comfort, this ease. Treating Spock as though he were only his first officer had been like treating a book as though it were only a paperweight.

He worked a thigh over Spock's legs and scooted closer, half on top of him. Then, difficult though it was, he broke away to smirk down at him. "You are aroused," he breathed, humming when Spock shifted with what may have been unease.

"Jim," he said, in that tone he used on the Bridge when Jim was making what he believed to be an inappropriate joke. Occasionally, he would hear it in Sickbay as well, if he made light of a serious, or even minor, injury of his.

Jim had been intending to rotate his hips a little, but he obediently relented. "You thinkin' about what to say to T'Pid?" he asked.

Spock's forefinger trailed his ear; sometimes Jim wondered if he was as fascinated with their roundness as Jim himself was with the angular curve of Spock's. "I am calculating the amount of time needed to prepare for this afternoon's luncheon in ratio to the current hour," he corrected him.

Jim blinked and moved more of his weight to his elbows, rather than Spock's chest. "I didn't mean that in a, like, 'get on it' kind of way-"

Spock silenced him with a look. "I know." But either way, he had changed the subject, even if telling the truth, and Jim decided not to ask again unless a lack of action was becoming suspiciously on-going. Clearly, Spock wanted to work out what to say to her alone, and really, Jim should have expected that. Spock was often that way with his problems; did not see the need to involve others if he could work out his own solution, especially when it came to bothering or endangering Jim. And Jim didn't know T'Pid or the way this was going to work, how Vulcans handled this sort of thing which surely must be viewed as distasteful. It might even be as personal as pon farr, which Spock had been reluctant to discuss with even him. Best to leave it alone, for now.

Jim cleared his throat. "So, what's the verdict?"

"The verdict?"

"That, uh... time ratio."

"We have one hour and seven minutes until our presence is required."

It sounded nice, before Jim really thought about it. He was now wide awake and they had decided last night and somewhat reiterated this morning that abstinence would be the course of action for the time-being. Lying in bed, naked, with Spock, unable to do anything about that was perhaps the most frustrating thing Jim could imagine right now. In that same vein, he was reluctant to leave. If he left, Spock might change his mind. This all might disappear, one way or another.

Jim could wake up, just as alone as he had the last time.

Either Jim's eyes had drifted off for too long, or Spock had picked up on the concern, because his previously wandering fingers moved to cup Jim's jaw. "T'hy'la," he said this time, in much the same tone as before. Jim leaned into the touch.

"I know," he mumbled. What he knew, he wasn't sure, but he knew he knew it. Spock didn't promise things lightly. Jim dropped his head down with a sigh. "I should go shower."

"Indeed," Spock said, in a way that Jim was certain was meant to imply he smelled or something and he snorted. A Vulcan, trying to lighten the mood; he apparently needed to stop being so maudlin.

"Okay, I can take a hint." He lifted his head and kissed Spock in farewell, laughing a little when he clung a bit as Jim tried to pull away. He obediently stayed put for another moment, allowing them to break apart naturally, fascinated by the way Spock's eyes remained shut when they did, fingers still tight on Jim's hips. Perhaps he was not the only one feeling unsure. "Hey," he said against Spock's chin, "okay?"

Spock nodded, hands moving to his back and absently stroking. "I am..." But he didn't finish.

"Nervous," Jim supplied, and Spock did not protest the assessment. "I would be too. Hell, am. But it'll work. Whatever it is we're gonna do with this."

Spock's eyes followed Jim's lips with a wan expression. "I can guarantee nothing beyond my devotion to you."

"I know that."

"And in Vulcan tradition, that will mean little."

"I know."

"What you are to me garners a certain... nominal respect, and it is on that we must rely, but even this will be viewed as antiquated and unnecessary."

Jim took that in, unsure if he should be having as much trouble translating Spock's point as he was. "You mean by T'Pid."

"Jim!"

Jim winced and groaned. "... That would be Bones," he said.

"I would come in, but I'm afraid to!" he heard, and damn, it could not be good for passersby to see the doctor standing outside their door, screaming, if anyone was out in the hall with him. "You go about your business and then you let me in, understand? Or better yet, just... meet me back in our room. I'm givin' you five minutes before I just come in anyway!"

Jim heard no more and had no proof that his friend had departed other than his word. He sighed and looked from the door back to Spock. He looked unimpressed.

"The doctor has a predilection for taking liberties with your personal life," he noted, unnecessary except to convey his annoyance.

"Yeah, well," Jim pecked his lips again, "he's not the only one." And he reluctantly hoisted himself off both the Vulcan and the bed, stretching. Spock's eyes, unsurprisingly, followed him. "I'm gonna go put out that fire. I'll meet you in the chancellor's anteroom in..."

"Fifty-seven minutes."

"Yeah. That." Jim lifted the blankets from the foot of the bed and extracted his sleep pants from them, wiggling into them and cringing at the idea of going out into the corridor in nothing but them by the light of day. "We'll talk more back on the ship." He shrugged. "When there's something to talk about."

Spock did not argue this and so Jim moved for the door, shooting a smile back at him before commanding the door open. There was no way to prevent it swinging open entirely, no hope for discretion, and he poked his head around the frame to peek into the hallway. There were noises, on down toward the next corner where it branched off, but no one present, and so he slipped out, making for his own room with more speed than his reluctance to arrive there would normally allow.

McCoy was tugging his boots on when Jim entered, looking harassed. He waited for the door to shut behind him again before fixing him with a glare. For some reason, Jim didn't feel joking it off his face would be the best avenue.

"You can't yell in the hall," Jim told him in his best command voice.

"Like I would have if there had been anyone to hear. Were you in there all night?" he demanded. "Tell me you just got up really early."

"Not... all night."

"Goddamn it, Jim." McCoy's foot dropped down to the ground, shoe in place. "Did you sleep with him?"

Jim's brow furrowed. "Why should that have to matter to you?"

"Because it's my job to tell you when you're being unbelievably stupid! Lord knows, someone has to." He stood and tossed a shirt at Jim. "He's married, Jim. I'm not sure you get that."

Jim huffed, tugging the shirt over his head. "Believe me, Bones," he said. "I get that."

"No, you get that something is in the way," McCoy protested. "I'm not sure you get -- really get -- that other people are going to be affected by this. That she's a real person. And that no matter how Spock came to be hers, he is hers."

Jim swallowed, feeling more chastised than he had been prepared to. "He was mine first."

McCoy shook his head. "This isn't grade school. It's an affair. No matter what else you're calling it." He sighed and slumped back to the bed. "You know, I thought maybe... but I thought Spock would hold out."

"And that I wouldn't; is that it?"

"Be as offended as you like, Jim," he said, "but here we sit, don't we?"

Jim was trying to be angry, but he felt more sick than anything. The fact that he couldn't argue the point was only making it worse. It took him a moment to remember how to gulp down the feeling. "I'm..." he managed, before deciding there was no way to finish the sentence. He silently retired to the bathroom. There was hardly time to say more, anyway.

The luncheon had been a tense affair. It was the final event of the mission as it was, which always had a way of making Jim anxious, ready to move on as he customarily was by then, but then there was McCoy's tense presence to be borne as well, that try as he might, Jim could not ignore. His friend was hardly subtle about it in the first place; anger had always been one of the few emotions the doctor had no problem conveying without embarrassment, particularly of the righteous sort.

And much as Jim hated to admit it, he was right. Jim liked to imagine that there was plenty of gray area to be considered in this kind of situation, and that McCoy was being far too fundamentalist with a predicament that could hardly allow for it. But there was something to be said for knowing where the line stood, and Jim, ever a fan of the school of thought that any and all were always moving, had always had a hard time of it. And perhaps there was no clear-cut division; perhaps gray did bleed into black, but there was still black, and Jim was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't at least be able to look back and tell once he had reached it.

McCoy certainly seemed to think so, in any case.

Spock had been there to take the edge off, but his proximity was currently electrifying rather than soothing, buzzing up and down Jim's side any time he got too close. The previous night had taken some of the emotional edge off of the longing, but the humming awareness was still there, as undeniable as McCoy's vexation. Jim could hardly allow that to show, however, not if he didn't want to hear even more about this from the doctor. He had felt like a child in a china shop the whole time, hands clasped firmly behind his back with only mother's occasional warning glare preventing him from reaching for a shining glass bauble.

They arrived back on the ship late beta shift, and Jim did not bother debriefing his friends, telling them to simply have their reports sent to his PADD by morning. His official excuse was that, well, he had been there the same as them, but honestly, he had no desire to be cooped up in a room with McCoy for an hour, and he surmised the doctor's sentiments were much the same. Dinner and bed, he had told them, go check in with your departments, and with a not meaningless look at Spock, he had left it at that.

A quick check-in with the Bridge, which he had only grudgingly left at quick because he had to be up for alpha shift and last night's minimal sleep was beginning to catch up with him, and Jim was heading back to his quarters to flop down on his bed without dinner.

Spock would still be catching up with Munroe or someone down in the labs. Jim wondered if T'Pid would be getting a subspace transmission tonight. Was the hour too late? Even if it wasn't too late for receiving messages, perhaps it was too late for Spock to gear himself up for sending one. And what exactly was involved in this sort of message anyway? I'm leaving you for my ex? Were there papers to sign, or was their connection considered a wholly personal matter? Was there equitable division of the assets, alimony to pay? How long did the whole process take, and once it was seen to, how long before Spock could bond with him?

Jim's eyes flickered open for a moment. Did he want to bond with Spock?

"Yes," Jim snorted to his pillow, flopping his head to the other side, because how ridiculous that he had thought for a moment he might have to think. Of course, he wanted that.

But then what to do once they had? Jim could hardly fathom how they had even gotten here, let alone the future. Where would they be another seven years from now? Effective rape or murder, one of the two, and Jim could see Spock forgiving himself neither, no matter how altered his state.

Jim shut his eyes against the thought.

"I did not realize you would be resting."

Jim cracked an eye back open, squinting at the rigid form of his first officer standing just inside the doorway.

"M'not," he said, finally forcing himself to half sit up as he had not for the buzzer. "Or I wouldn't have let you in."

"Perhaps you should be."

"I see Bones has recruited you, as well," Jim huffed, sitting up entirely just to prove he could. The newly regenerated skin and the bandaging at his waist protested the move, but he ignored it. "I'm fine."

"Fine has variable definitions," Spock pointed out primly. "And I was not 'recruited', nor would the doctor's opinion be likely to sway me had I not already shared it. I am here of my own volition."

"Couldn't wait to chew me out until I was fully recovered, huh?"

"Your comportment planetside was reckless and unnecessary."

Jim lifted a finger, which somehow also managed to strain the bandage, he noticed too late. "'Reckless', I give you. I'm not so sure about the 'unnecessary'-"

"-You should consider your actions more carefully-"

"-I always act for a reason-"

"-if in deference to no more than the crew's albeit somewhat ill-placed concern for you."

Jim paused. "The crew's concern," he repeated and Spock straightened a bit more.

"The whole scenario was less than I would expect of the man I know," was all he conceded, and Jim could hardly even take it as a point, because ouch. "You occasionally still behave as a boy with nothing to live for, which can be, to be frank, somewhat insulting."

Spock probably meant to the whole crew again or to Starfleet, or would at least pretend he did if asked. Jim grit his teeth. "Gettin' a little personal, aren't we?"

"It is my duty to inform you when your choices are misguided or detrimental."

"Fine, then," Jim said, tone clipped. "Duly noted. Anything else?"

"No, sir."

Jim scoffed. "Yeah," he said, adjusting his pillows, "I didn't think so. You know, anytime you wanna talk about what's actually eating you, you just let me know."

"... Eating me, Captain?"

"Oh, don't do the thing," Jim snapped. "Talk about insulting."

Spock said nothing to that and Jim braced his hands on the edge of his mattress, either side of his knees.

"How long exactly are we planning to ignore this?" he asked.

He watched Spock swallow, clearly considering whether or not to brush the question off as another misunderstanding. "... I believe you mistake a carefully considered choice for ambivalence."

Jim squinted. "You're choosing to ignore it, then?"

Spock hesitated. Jim knew that hadn't been what the Vulcan had meant, but the question would prompt him to inform Jim that he had chosen not to act, which would force him to admit there was something to act upon in the first place. Jim was perhaps pushing too much, but hell, someone had to, because it wasn't going to be Spock and Jim knew he wasn't imagining this. It had been steadily growing for months now, to the point of undeniable just shy of annoying, and always frustrating.

If Jim was entirely honest with himself, the whole thing scared the shit out of him, but he had always excelled at leaping before he looked, as this conversation had demonstrated thus far.

"I did not come here to discuss this," Spock finally settled on.

"Oh, I think you did." Jim had lived with McCoy long enough to recognize fear and concern masked as anger and scolding. "Admit it," he said with a slight grin, "if I died, you'd miss me."

Spock looked exasperated with this request, but neither did he deny it.

Jim's smile faded. "Spock," he said. "I'm fine." He lifted his arms wide to display this. "Look, I'm-"

He could not suppress the wince this time, or the instinct to immediately lower his hands again and press one to his side, where the pain was flaring. Spock was beside him the next instant, it seemed, and Jim had not intended to entice him closer, but apparently faking injury or illness would work like a charm, should he ever be so inclined.

"You will rupture your dermal bandaging," Spock warned, placing his hand alongside Jim's, appraisingly. His fingers bled warmth through the gauze.

"I'm fine."

"Proving this is hardly worth realizing the contrary." Spock pressed gently and Jim bit his lip.

"Okay, okay," Jim agreed. Spock's eyes remained downcast, hand still in place, even once Jim was sure he must have ascertained there was no new damage. "Spock," he said again. After a moment of hesitant debating he leaned forward to drop his forehead against his friend's. "I'm okay."

Tension. Spock's eyelids drooped, obvious up this close, and he breathed out carefully like he was the one in pain, here. His hand traveled to Jim's hip, where it could tighten.

Jim moved his own hand from his bandage to settle over Spock's and Spock made a slightly strangled noise before turning his head and catching Jim's lips like it was an accident. Jim took a moment to be more surprised than he had thought he would be, to note the strangeness of kissing a man rather than a woman, but the whole assessment was over in a split second, and then there was nothing left to do but react. He opened his mouth on instinct and Spock eagerly plundered it, the hand that wasn't at his waist reaching for his neck. Jim had never been on the submissive end of this sort of thing, and that too, took a second of adjustment. He reached for Spock's shoulders and looped his arms around them, a litany of closercloser ringing in his head and Spock followed the movement, pressing Jim backward onto the bed, and then both of them realized at the exact same time why this was not the best idea at Jim's shout.

Spock withdrew, clearly alarmed, and Jim had to clench his fingers hard on his shoulders to prevent him leaving his position and, most likely, the room. "I'm fine," he insisted, hands sliding up to cup Spock's face. "Don't freak out on me."

"... This is ill-advised."

Jim snorted a laugh, still blinking through the ripples of pain. "That's what I like about it."

He kissed Spock again before he could protest.

"I did not realize you would be resting."

Jim blinked, turning his head to face the door again, disorientation only augmented by finding Spock much closer than he had imagined he would be. He was crouched beside the head of the bed, and now Jim realized that, he could feel a warm palm on his back, through his shirt. "Wha-?" he managed, still confused as to the time, hell, the year.

"Did you eat?" Spock asked and Jim had to think to remember.

"No," he said. "M'fine. Sleep."

Spock's mouth twitched. "As you wish."

He made no move to leave, but Jim shimmied a hand up to clutch at his arm and tug. "Stay," he mumbled.

Spock hovered for a moment, perhaps debating, then he obediently hoisted himself onto the edge of the bed to pull off his boots. Jim watched all clothing but his pants removed before he was standing again and Jim smirked, lazily.

"You'll wrinkle 'em," he pointed out.

There was another thoughtful pause, before Spock seemed to see the logic and removed those as well.

Jim's eyes flicked down to the Starfleet issue briefs. "I bet those wrinkle, too," he said.

But Spock only raised an eyebrow at that before shoving gently at his shoulder. Jim smugly scooted over to his own side of the bed, where he had had no cause to sleep for months and then settled against Spock with a contented sigh the moment he had slipped beneath the blankets Jim had not bothered before to turn down.

He would probably think the evening all part of the same dream, by the time ship's morning came around.

When Jim woke this time, it was still dark.

Not that it was not always technically dark on a starship, but the lights in his quarters were set to rise with the alpha shift alarm, and neither the sound nor the sudden brilliance he was used to had roused him. There were certain nights, he had found, that he awoke like this. He had only really noticed it since his relationship with Spock had begun, and he was unsure if that was because no one else had ever spent the night, or because it was Spock, but he would wake up, not just horny, but affectionate, downright tender. It was an almost desperate feeling, occasionally; it used to lead to lazy middle of the night or very early morning sex.

Spock was awake. Jim could sense that right down to his toes. His fingers were tracing patterns -- kisses, Jim thought -- along his hip bone and the groove between it and his groin. His breath was shuddering over Jim's neck, just beneath his ear, lips brushing, but no more. He had to know Jim was conscious by now, but Jim was certain he had not been trying to wake him.

"Planning to molest me in my sleep?" he murmured, just above a whisper.

He felt Spock swallow hard against his shoulder. "Attempting not to," he said, just as low.

Jim felt his own breathing suddenly pick up and his already full cock twitch. Against his better judgment, he reached down and settled his hand over the back of Spock's, guiding it downward. Spock groaned right in his ear and pressed more tightly against his back, a hardness like his own sliding over the juncture of his thighs. He ground back into it, moving his hand up Spock's arm and over his shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers scrabbling to grip.

"Jim," he gasped, half scolding. His knuckles skirted along Jim's erection, but did not really touch it.

"Y'started it." Jim turned over onto his other side beneath Spock's arm until he was facing him; the Vulcan was radiating heat. "God," Jim whispered appreciatively, snaking his arms over Spock's shoulders and pressing their mouths together. So warm, all of it; Spock's mouth, the blankets, this feeling in his belly. He pulled away long enough to breathe and instantly wanted more. And Spock was losing quite a bit of control, he could tell from the insistence of his kisses, the soft, hungry noises coming up from the back of his throat that Jim swallowed. It was really easy to feel like they were still asleep, like morning wasn't coming nor the outside world, like this was excusable, and there were supplies here, right in the nightstand drawer, if Jim would just reach for it... "Fuck me..." he said breathlessly, hips writhing almost of their own accord. Spock groaned again, pulling him closer. Jim could feel the length of him against his own, hot and firm, even through the fabric of his pants and Spock's briefs. "Yes, come on."

"Ashayam..."

Jim jerked back at the sudden blaring, startled from his hazy contentment, and he felt Spock freeze beneath him. The lights rose to one hundred percent and Jim squeezed his eyes shut against it as his pupils constricted painfully. By some silent consent, they waited until all of the alarm's chimes had passed before speaking.

"Shit," was the first thing Jim could think to say. He flopped off of Spock and onto his back in a boneless heap. He was unsure if he was protesting the interruption or the close call.

Spock sat up at his side, eyes forward. "I will speak with T'Pid this evening," he said, and Jim felt his heart rate pick back up. "... This cannot go on."

With a furrowed brow, Jim reached over to place a hand on Spock's lower back, and Spock visibly flinched, but allowed it. Since he had, Jim sat up himself and shelved his chin on the Vulcan's shoulder, hand moving to half wrap around his waist. Spock's eyes slipped closed and Jim dug his nose into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "S'gonna be fine," he assured him.

Spock said nothing, but the little voice in Jim's head that had grown to sound less and less like himself and more and more like his lover petulantly told him fine had variable definitions.

Alpha shift dragged on more than Jim could ever remember it having done in the past. An ion storm warning that it turned out was very easy for them to divert course from and never saw was about as exciting as it got. Spock actually had no cause to speak to him for almost the entirety of it. And if Jim thought up something to randomly say to him just to touch base, Spock would see through it, and while he wouldn't think less of Jim for it, Jim would still feel foolish. So he sat as silently as the Vulcan, speaking only to those he needed to.

When the end of shift rolled around, Jim purposely did not look in Spock's direction. He would not invite him to dinner tonight. Spock had things to do, or so he had said, and Jim would leave him to them in the hopes that they got done. He honestly didn't know what to say to Spock until it was done; this morning had been uncomfortable enough.

So instead, while Spock attended to his business, Jim rode down to deck seven to take care of his own.

McCoy glanced up when Jim leaned against the doorway to his office, and then pointedly returned to his data PADD. "I'm busy," he said.

"Liar," Jim said. "Paperwork's not due 'til the end of the month, and you only have rounds to do before you're off for the night." He shrugged a shoulder. "Barring unforeseen emergencies."

"Okay, so then I have rounds I gotta do," McCoy conceded. "Get lost."

"Bones," Jim said, in a less teasing tone. "Don't make me break a leg just to get you to talk to me. You know me; I'll do it."

His friend looked up again, expression flat. "Fine," he said. "Sit."

Jim did, crossing the ankle of one leg over the knee of the other. He sat there silently, leg shaking, eyes roving the room, until McCoy slammed his stylus down and fixed him with a glare.

"Spit it out, whatever you want to say," he insisted.

"Okay." Jim sat forward. "I'm not sorry."

"Neither am I," McCoy said. He lifted his eyebrows. "We done?"

Jim stared at him until the doctor looked uncomfortable. "This doesn't have to be about us," he said.

"Doesn't have to be," McCoy agreed. "Even isn't. But when I get angry, you actually listen. And you do need to listen. So, I'm stayin' angry."

"I need to listen... but you're not talking to me?"

McCoy blinked and Jim grinned. "Damn it, Jim, you know what I mean, don't do that."

Jim sat back. "Bones, if you want me to put an end to me and Spock now that I have him back... you're gonna be angry for a long time."

"That's just my point; you don't have him back."

"I'm not some cheating idiot who deludes themselves into thinking their lover will leave their wife-"

"But you do think he will?"

"That's my point; that's why I'm not. This is Spock we're talking about. This is me and Spock. He will. He's up there, right now, calling her. Said he was gonna this morning."

McCoy squinted at him. "What exactly is he saying to her?"

Jim opened his mouth and then stopped himself. He didn't exactly know the specifics of the plotted conversation, but he did know the gist. "I don't know. That we're back together or whatever. Or maybe he's just letting her know that they need to talk in person, I don't know. But he's talking to her about it. We've been waiting 'til he does to do anything, if it makes you feel better," he added bitterly. Mostly, anyway.

"Jim," His friend blinked like he wasn't understanding him, "what... do you know anything about Vulcan bonds?"

Jim could tell him he knew some, but thinking perhaps it wasn't entirely the point, he simply said warily, "Why?"

"You really thought..." McCoy sighed and rubbed at his forehead, "Well, at least this makes you less of an ass than I was thinking, but... Look, kid, I might be wrong here, I'm not positive, but... I'm pretty sure they can't be broken."

Jim stared at him. "... What do you mean?"

"Bonds, Vulcan bonds, I'm pretty sure they're permanent. At least the real ones, the full ones. They... did Spock tell you they could be?"

"Well, of..." Jim stopped himself from assuring the doctor that he had, thinking back. Spock had said he would speak with her, had implied he and Jim would be together, nothing more. "I... don't know."

McCoy looked a lot less angry and that was about the only good that had come of this conversation so far. "I think you need to talk to him, then. 'Cause I'm not so sure he can come back from this."

Jim swallowed.

To the service, yes... but not to you.

Jim did not seek Spock out. He waited for him to come to him, as he knew he would. He sat at the edge of his bed, thinking and getting no work done, until he heard the door swish open. Apparently, they were back on familiar enough terms to refrain from buzzing. He entered as rigidly as always and Jim watched him.

Spock blinked as the door closed behind him. "Are you ill?" he asked.

Jim huffed a humorless laugh, gazing down at his hands. "No," he told them. He lifted his eyes but not his head. "Did you do it?"

Spock stood straighter. "I spoke with her, yes."

"What'd you tell her?"

"That my feelings for you could no longer be ignored. That you and I are t'hy'lara. That we must speak further upon the nearest return I could make to the colony."

"And when's that?"

"As soon as you can authorize it, Captain."

Jim nodded to the floor. He wondered how quickly he could swing that. Spock had used up at least half of his leave this year, but then he had not taken the last one along with them, and he surely had more saved up that could be used retroactively. Of course, if Jim wanted to go with him, that would be trickier, but then he supposed he didn't have to...

"How did she take it?" he found himself asking.

Spock took a moment. "She did not seem entirely surprised. Nor hurt. Though perhaps... somewhat condescending."

Jim scoffed. No doubt Spock's lack of control disgusted her. Though he could hardly fault her any reaction she had, no matter how severe. "Somewhat condescending," she had certainly earned.

"What happens now?"

Jim felt a hand settle over the back of his bent head. He had not realized Spock had stepped closer. "We wait."

"Again," Jim retorted. He raised his head and Spock's hand followed it. "For what?" He shook his head. "Bones said you can't break the bond with her."

Spock's eyebrows drew together slightly. "I cannot," he admitted, though it did not sound like an admission. He waited a moment and when Jim said nothing, he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed beside him. "...Were you under the impression that I could?"

Jim was still trying to deal with the first statement, let alone the ten kinds of fool the second made him feel. How to answer that? Of course he had thought Spock could. How could they be together if he couldn't? And he had said they could, hadn't he?

"I don't know what I thought," he muttered. He stood to pace, to put distance between himself and Spock, who felt like he was possibly inwardly berating himself.

"Jim, the... the lifebond is most sacred to my people. T'Pid and I are telsu; I cannot change that through anything but death."

Jim was angry suddenly and thought he actually might be close to frustrated tears here, like a fucking woman and no, that was not happening. "Then what do you want from me?" he demanded, allowing his voice to raise an octave.

Spock sat very still. "... You," he said.

Jim, ready to yell, felt his shoulders droop. Spock had a way of calming him even when he very much had no desire to be calm and he sighed, annoyed. "Okay," he said at length. "You get me." He looked up. "Do I get you?"

"You get everything I have to give."

"Which, turns out, doesn't include what she has."

Spock did not reply. Jim shook his head and paced to the other side of the room.

"I am sorry," he heard Spock say eventually, while Jim's eyes were focused out the viewport, an odd mirror image of their positions several weeks ago. "If I had thought you unaware, I..."

He heard Spock stand, but did not turn.

"There is more," Spock told him. "To this process. But I believe I should leave you to contemplate if you would choose to take this avenue now you possess new information. I am asking much of you; more than you initially believed."

"A lot more," Jim couldn't stop himself from adding.

It was another few moments before Spock spoke again. It was so backwards, watching the Vulcan walk on eggshells around him. "You once told me you would take me any way you could have me," he said at Jim's back. Jim shut his eyes. "... I do hope there is still truth in that."

Jim stood, gazing at the stars, every muscle tense. He thought perhaps Spock would touch him before he left, but then there was the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing, of Spock leaving, and Jim did not stop him.
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The Edge