The BLTS Archive -  Making Peace with The Enemy Within
by Anzia L.

---

It's a lengthy K/S x-rated (NC-17, whatever) story based on the
original series episode "The Enemy Within" in which Spock must face
the two versions of his Captain, and thus "good" and "evil" versions
of his longterm lover.

---
"We have here an unusual opportunity to appraise the human mind, or to
examine, in Earth terms, the roles of good and evil in a man.  His
negative side -- which you call hostility, lust, violence -- and his
positive side -- which Earth people express as compassion, love,
tenderness. [ . . . ] And what is it that makes one man an exceptional
leader?  We see here indications that it is his negative side which
makes him strong.  That his 'evil' side, if you will, properly
controlled and disciplined, is vital to his strength."

[TOS, "The Enemy Within"]
---

Spock mentally reviewed his speech, using his finely trained memory to
examine his words cautiously and carefully, one by one.  Yes, this was
his proclamation:  his considered, rational analysis.  And his
conclusions, he thought, were unavoidably logical.  If he were given
the opportunity to go back in time and reenact the scene, would he
change his words?  Doctor McCoy, as always, had been upset by his
lack of emotion.  There was little to examine in this.  But Jim --
at least the half of Jim in command -- had seemed disturbed as well.
He had wanted, it seemed to Spock, to have this "evil" part of
himself declared not only outsider and alien, but enemy.  Enemy.
Had Spock encouraged this inaccurate perspective?  Was labelling
that intense being on the sleeping platform "evil" inaccurate,
inappropriate?  Yes, in fact, it was.  Now that he was away from both
Kirks, Spock could see that by constructing the halves or versions of
his Captain and Bondmate in terms of positive and negative, he had
helped to keep one man in power while the other lay, imprisoned and
alone, growing increasingly unstable and violent as the hours passed.
He had fueled hatred and fear in Jim when it was his duty as first
officer, as friend, and as lover to assuage such reactions.

And what of his treatment of Rand?  Was it logical to have denied her
accusation of rape by silence and dismissal, simply because it was Jim
who was accused?  Even now that he knew there were two Kirks, he did
not want to admit that any part of this man could attempt rape.
Could it be that it was not only denial but also jealousy that now
kept him from contacting and offering an apology to the victimized
Yeoman?

Alien.  Outsider.  Enemy.  How sadly inaccurate the words, and how
familiar.  From the womb Spock had been called "Alien," from childhood
"Outsider," in adulthood "Enemy."  How illogical, then, to judge one
man "evil," a man who must need reassurance even more than the
familiar-  seeming and beloved version who now lay -- his chest rising
and falling too quickly, his brow in sweat -- in troubled sleep on
Spock's bed.  Let him rest a short while, if he can, thought Spock,
and moved quietly from the chair where he sat to the door of his
chambers.  He did not look back as the door shushed closed behind
him.

---

"Listen, Spock, that man -- that 'thing' in there -- is dangerous.
It's wild, savage, irrational."

"Yet, Doctor, 'it', as you must well know, is also the Captain."

"The Captain?  Well, he may be part of James Kirk, but not a part you
can communicate with.  Think, Spock:  you yourself called him 'evil,'
and you've seen how violent he can be --"

"Thank you for your concern, Doctor, but I do not require
recommendations at this time.  As first officer, I am here to see the
being we are holding as prisoner.  Now.  And alone."

McCoy shook his head, sighed, and led the way to the secured area.  As
the security officer shut off the force field around the small room,
the eyes of the restrained prisoner snapped open, sharp and alert.
Spock stepped in.  "Please take Ensign Sanghor with you," he added,
"and leave the forcefield down.  I will contact you, should I need
assistance."

"Damn Vulcan stubbornness," McCoy muttered, predictably, as he turned
back to Sickbay.  "C'mon, Sanghor, you can help me transfer some
biological samples to data disk until Mr. Spock comes to his senses."

The Ensign followed, shrugging, eager to stay out of the infamous
tension between the intense alien science officer and the high-strung
Doctor.

---

Despite the many things Spock wanted to say, to ask, he waited,
patiently, for the prisoner to speak first; the prisoner, who, at
present, refused to meet his gaze.  The silence was long, but Vulcan
discipline won out.

"These straps," the reclining figure said, quietly, "remove them."

"Do you agree not to attempt escape?"

He nodded.  As Spock unfastened the ties which had dug into the white,
muscled arms of -- of Jim, he reminded himself, of Jim -- he was moved
to rub them, to ease the pain he accepted as, at least partially, his
fault.

The prisoner laughed.  "Keep your pity," he scoffed.  "Give me my
ship."

"That is impossible," Spock replied.  "While I acknowledge that you
are   Captain Kirk -- as much as is the man who currently acts as
Captain of this vessel -- you are violent, unstable, and incapable
of rational thought."

"Incapable?"  He shook his head and rubbed the scratch marks on his
cheek gingerly, the ones he received during his attack on Rand.
"You're wrong about that.  As wrong as you would be to think that
he, that imposter who is also called Kirk, is incapable of
irrationality.  For example, how would you  label a man who turns
down marriage to the beautiful daughter of a Starfleet Ambassador
just to earn the dubious 'honor' of being the first to achieve a
clandestine male-male Bond with a Vulcan?"

Spock wanted to protest, to defend his Bondmate against this callous
and homophobic misrepresentation.  But he was talking to his
Bondmate.  As if sensing his thoughts, the prisoner smiled.  Of
course, why couldn't this Jim read his thoughts as easily as the
other?  Spock sent his thoughts out:  << Why have you chosen to act
so irrationally thus far, if you do have a choice?  Surely it would
be to your benefit to act sensibly, to help to solve a dilemma that
is, in fact, your own. >>

"Sensibly," he repeated back, aloud, with scorn in his voice.  "It
blocks decisiveness, keeps us from obtaining our desires.  Rational
thought goes against every instinct in our bodies -- does it not,
Spock?"  (The broad, lascivious grin that completed the statement was
one Spock had rarely seen on Jim's face in the past.  Still, it was
not entirely unfamiliar to the Vulcan, who felt an unwelcome tension
growing within him.)  "Were you 'acting sensibly' when you
challenged T'Pau's ruling that same-sex Bonding was forbidden in
Vulcan culture, after you almost killed me in battle over that whore
T'Pring?  Was it rational thought that helped you convince me --
bodily -- that it was you I needed, more than any other being in the
universe?  Is it rational thought that makes you call out my name
when I wrap myself around your body, penetrate your yielding flesh,
and ride you until we both climax with cries that would make the
gods jealous?"  He paused, smiling, eyeing Spock up and down.  "Is
it rational thought that makes you want me, even now?"

Yes, thought Spock, I do want him, even now.  The thought, however
illogical, was conveyed without a word, by the strength of Spock's
passion and the visible erection in his pants.

<< It's my body you want, isn't it?  My body, not my mind -->> Jim
projected, rising from the platform <<-- rational or otherwise. >>  He
grabbed Spock by the back of his head and locked their mouths together
in a rough embrace.  Their lips, crushed together, intensified the
pulsing between Spock's legs.  Then Jim released him, and quickly
turned onto his hands and knees.  As he arched his back, he sent his
unmistakable thoughts:  <<Take it, Spock..>>

Spock wanted it.  Wanted him:  without ceremony, without romance,
without the gentle groans or telepathic sighs that had come to mark
the best of his sexual encounters with his Bondmate.  But not this
time.  He pulled down the thin black pants and grabbed Jim's bare
buttocks, caressed his thighs and back.  Jim moaned beneath Spock's
strong hands, now pulling out and massaging his own engorged member,
intense and impatient.  Spock released his own erection from the
bonds of his uniform, shaking slightly from the chill of the openness
and cool air, longing to be held within the warmth and tightness of
his lover's waiting loins.  He licked his palms and moistened his
shaft, then   entered -- carefully, with more patience than he knew he
could muster --   and his body began to surrender to a driving rhythm
that came from deep within him, a pulse that was his own heart and
mind and soul.  As the tension became intolerable, the pace
unsustainable, he lost track of sight and sound, of time and space,
of every sense but touch.  He was Touch itself, centered on a hard
and powerful organ that drove him on, in and out, relentlessly:
past Jim's cries -- muffled in the bend of the arm that supported
him as he pulled with his free hand at his own aching hard-on; past
feelings of guilt and confusion over the separation between the two
men -- both of whom he loved with a pain that, too, was lost in his
unceasing grind; past all sense, all thought.  His climax was a
release of unspeakable depth.  He shed layer after layer of tension,
of pain, of longing and need.  And he cried out within, << Oh, Jim .
. . Jim . . . Jim . . . >>

---

In Spock's sleeping quarters, the other Kirk awoke, alone, startled by
the physical absence of his Bondmate, coupled, curiously, with Spock's
empassioned sending.  He was calling out in pain -- or was it
pleasure?  Before he could be sure, the voice stopped, followed by a
sense of peacefulness, a calm and quiet so perfect that it eased
Jim's mind, assuring him that the telepathic cries were only a
dream.  He rose, slowly (for even this simple act, requiring, as it
did, the making of a decision about his next course of action, had
come to be an effort).  He went to the small mirror across the room
and looked at himself, trying to harden his features, to reach
decisiveness.  Unsuccessful and near panic, he wandered out of the
cabin, heading for Sickbay.

---

The intensity of Jim's desperation reached Spock.  Looking down at
the exhausted form who lay beside him as he now sat -- a face full of
satisfaction but devoid of affection, Spock knew the anxiety and fear
did not come from this version of Jim.  "Dress, now," Spock said,
adjusting his clothing.  "He must not see you like this."

"Yes, I feel his approach, too.  But you don't really think this is
something you can keep from him, do you?" came the reply from the now-
sneering form which lay, eyes closed, making no attempt to move.

It was then that Spock knew he had been used -- as a lover, but also
(and more painfully) as an ally.  This power-hungry being would tell
the other Jim, the one who was still in control of the Enterprise,
of their sexual encounter.  Spock could already envision the look of
pain on Jim's face and his feelings of betrayal; this could induce
little more guilt than Spock already felt, despite his knowledge that
both men were, equally, his Bondmate.

More significantly than the matter of lost trust, however, he dreaded
Jim's reaction to knowing that Spock had spoken in support of treating
his "evil" half as an individual worthy of respect and fair treatment.
Each man felt he was the "true" Kirk, and the one with whom he had
just unwisely shared his thoughts and body would surely use Spock's
words to convince whomever he could that he was as entitled to an
individual existence, as entitled to run the Enterprise as was his
twin.  He would, Spock guessed, demand a hearing, which would
inevitably result in both men losing the position of Captain.
Neither alone had the combination of decisiveness and compassion
that made a truly worthy commander or, perhaps, Bondmate.

"You would be foolish to think that our encounter will gain you
access to control of the Enterprise," Spock said, with more emotion
than he had intended.

The man beside him laughed as he pulled up his pants, smoothing his
crotch blatantly as he did so.  "How can they keep me from command,
Spock?  I am the one best suited to be Captain.  I am decisive,
powerful, and able to control others."  The obvious references Spock's
seduction brought a smile to the face of the speaker alone.

Spock's response was brief and painful:  "Neither of you are fit to
command.  I shall report this to Starfleet immediately."  As Spock
stood and turned to go, he was knocked out from behind by what he
would only later guess was a sharp, two-fisted blow to the back of
his head.

---

Spock awoke in Sickbay, with McCoy and Chapel at his bedside.

"'I'll contact you if I need assistance,' eh Spock?" McCoy snapped, as
soon as he saw Spock's eyes open.  "I ought to have my head examined.
You not only got yourself injured, but Sanghor as well.  If I hadn't
been in data storage, I'd be on the platform next to you."

Spock looked beside him, at the unconscious form of the young Indian
Security officer.

"Don't worry," McCoy barked, he'll be all right.  He's got a broken
rib and a few bumps and bruises.  He'll be back on the job in a few
days.  But that's no excuse --"

"What is the status of the prisoner?" Spock demanded.

"How the hell should I know!  The only witnesses to his escape are
lying in Sickbay in front of me.  The Captain -- the real Captain --
came by and, after I gave him an adrenalin booster, he had me tell
Security to keep an eye out for Captain Kirk.  I made up some story
about a delusional state due to a virus he picked up when he beamed
back alone from Alpha 177, to keep them from knowing about the
split."

Alone, Spock reminded himself, the ringing in his head increasing.
Yes, Sulu and three others were down there on the planet, unable to
return until Scotty could be sure they wouldn't be divided in two
like Kirk.  How could he have been so self-absorbed?  The split in
Kirk seemed to have forced a split within himself, a split between
logic and emotion.  He must reintegrate himself, make logic serve
him again, if he was to help the others.

Kirk suddenly rushed into the room, turning immediately to the injured
Spock.  "Will he be all right?" he asked McCoy.

"Healthy as can be expected when he's fool enough to spend half an
hour alone in a room with that lunatic."

"Why, Spock?" Kirk said (too desperately, Spock thought, for the
Captain of a Starfleet vessel; the booster must have worn off).
"What did you hope to gain?  It was mad, simply mad.  Now that he's
escaped again, he's sure to try to take over the ship.  And Scotty
still hasn't fixed the transporter yet.  What should we do?"

Spock closed his eyes, briefly, pained by the look of panic and
confusion in Jim's eyes.  He addressed him as stiffly and formally as
he could, hoping to encourage his Captain to act more like one, and
hoping to deter him from awareness of Spock's betrayal.  "I believe
the best course of action would be to continue to guard the Bridge
and Engineering, where he will most likely attempt to gain control
over the vessel.  If you would like to return to the transporter
room, I shall go to the Bridge."

Spock's self-assurance seemed to inspire Kirk.  He took a deep breath.
"Yes," he said.  "I'll see how Scotty's doing and meet you on the
Bridge."

"Wait a minute, Jim," interrupted McCoy.  "He's not going anywhere
until I finish these tests."  He pointed impatiently at his
LED-ridden clipboard.

"Of course . . . you're right, Bones.  Spock, how could I have . . . "

"I assure you, Doctor," Spock returned, "that I am fit enough to
return to my duties.  If I should suffer any debilitating effects
--"

"-- you'll be sure to let me know.  Yes, yes, I'm sure you will."
McCoy sighed heavily as Spock rose nimbly to his feet.  As the two
men hurried out of the room, discussing further plans, McCoy turned
to his nurse:  "Why does no one aboard this ship listen to their
Doctor?"

Nurse Chapel, tired of being the target of these self-pitying
rhetorical questions and more determined than ever to begin work
towards an MD at the first opportunity, smiled as tolerantly as she
could muster and returned to the Computer console where she logged
Spock out of Sickbay.

---

As he took the Captain's chair (only temporarily, he told the crew),
Spock replayed in his mind the brief message he had transmitted from
his quarters, informing Starfleet of his decision to take over
command because of the Captain's "illness."  He glanced at the crew
assembled around him.  If the Kirks could not be reintegrated,
which seemed apparent based upon Scotty's assessment of the
transporter malfunction which created the rift, he would take over
as Captain, permanently.  How loathe he was to command, even to
serve on the Enterprise, without his Bondmate.  Would the crew even
follow him?  He had known bigotry in the past in the eyes and words
of many who seemed more to tolerate him as Kirk's alien science
officer than to acknowledge him as their superior.

With Uhura, at least, he had achieved a mutual respect:  they had
shared music and talked of the value of art together.  He had taught
her to play the Vulcan lyre and she had helped him to consider the
beauty in a Vulcan moonrise.  Appreciating the aesthetic value of
nature was difficult for Spock, demanding, as it did, the
suppression of logical response in favor of emotional reaction.
Music was so much easier for him, comprised as it was of
mathematically analyzable patterns of notes.  Yet, somehow, when
Uhura sang to his accompaniment, he could stop his mind.  Though she
did not know it, the Lieutenant's gifted voice and wisdom about
matters of art and beauty had allowed him not only to appreciate
music and nature in new ways, but had helped him to love Jim   Kirk
even more fully than he ever thought possible.  But that love would
not help his Captain now.

"Lt. Sheldon to Bridge.  Lt. Sheldon to Bridge," a woman's low voice
buzzed over the speaker, waking him from his thoughts.

"Spock here."

"Lt. Moraga and I just attempted to apprehend the Captain, Sir,
outside of Engineering.  But we couldn't stop him.  I think he's on
his way to   the Bridge."

"Thank you, Lieutenant.  Has Moraga been injured?" (More blood on his
hands?)

"Just shaken up, Sir.  With your permission, I'll take him to
Sickbay."

"Very well.  Spock out."  As Spock pressed the button to disconnect
communication, a raging and bloodied Kirk burst into the room.

"Take us out of orbit, Lieutenant," he shouted, unconcerned that this
would mean stranding the away team on the planet.

Spock stood up, determined to stop this man from taking over the ship.
He took out his phaser.  "Belay that order, Mr. Nguyen."

As the enraged Kirk lunged at Spock, his double appeared, drawing his
own phaser.  "You'll never get my ship," he whispered, ready to fire,
though clearly weakened in the presence of his other self.

The crew were frozen, unsure how to react.  They were trained to
explore the unknown, but what does one do when faced with two of the
same "known"?

"Spock, take this man off the Bridge.  I want him locked up, now.  He
can't take my ship," the weaker Kirk said.

The disheveled double crouched, waiting for a moment to make his
escape.   << What makes you think Spock will help you, weakling? >> he
projected to his twin.  << You can't hope to keep such a powerful
man obedient to you as a commander when you can't even keep him
satisfied in bed. >>

Both Kirk and Spock registered receipt of this insidious sending by a
sudden shift of gaze.  On Spock's face, plain only to the two
Captains, was shame.  On Kirk's, defeat.

"I have already informed Starfleet," Spock began in a slow monotone,
"that, with Doctor McCoy's approval, I have taken command of the
Enterprise."

"Spock, you traitor," said the weaker Kirk, dropping his phaser.  His
twin took the opportunity to dive for it, and Spock fired.  Though he
hit only the aggressor, both men crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Pointing at three wide-eyed Ensigns, Spock ordered their help in
getting the Captains to Sickbay.  They stood, incredulous, looking
from one to another for support in deciding whether or not to obey.

"Let's go, Misters," Uhura snapped, already on her feet and ready to
help Spock with the bodies.

Grateful for her loyalty, Spock wished he could think of some deity or
abstraction to thank.  Instead, he merely went to the bodies and began
to move them.  The Ensigns obeyed the Lieutenant, if not their new
Captain, and were almost out the door when Uhura, touching her
earpiece, called out to Spock:  "Sir, it's Scotty; he says to tell
you the transporter is ready."

Both of the Kirks began to stir at this, the more violent of the two
struggling and shouting, "Please . . . I don't want to.  Don't make
me.  I don't want to go back.  Please . . . I want to live."  To
which the first Kirk whispered, "You will.  Both of us," and looked
up to Spock,   not so much in forgiveness as in hope.

---

On the transporter pad, the weaker Kirk cradled his other half,
clasping him tightly around the shoulders.  The transporter beam was
activated --   despite the protestations of the Doctor, who still felt
unsure the attempt to reintegrate the two was wise until further
tests had been made -- and the two men disappeared.  One Captain
returned; and, having seen for himself (if only momentarily) the
near-frozen state of Sulu and the rest of the stranded away team, he
shouted, "Get those men aboard, fast!"

All were returned, safely.  After a brief examination by Doctor McCoy
and some rest, Kirk was approved for return to command.  Spock sent
another communication to Starfleet, reinstating James Kirk as ship's
Captain.  But he stayed in his quarters and let McCoy inform the
Captain of the message he sent.

From his cabin, Spock heard Jim's voice over the ship's intercom,
stating, briefly, that all was well, and requesting Spock's presence
on the Bridge.  Dutifully but hesitantly, Spock returned to his
post.  "Science and First Officer Spock, returning to duty, Sir," he
said.

Touching his shoulder, Kirk quietly said,  "Thank you, from both of
us."

But the words were hollow; there was little affection in those large,
sad eyes.

"Sir, perhaps we can meet later to discuss --"

"The imposter is back where he belongs.  Let's forget him,"  the
Captain said, and returned, confident but weary, to his chair.

Spock knew it would be a long time before his Captain, his Bondmate,
could forget . . . or forgive.

---

The End