The BLTS Archive- His Darkest Hour
by Jesmihr (theargentian@aol.com)

---

This story was written in response to a "Before the Dawn"
challenge for SBS #9, and previously appeared in that issue

Archive:  Please ask me first

Warnings:  This story contains explicit sex between two
males.  If this offends you or if you are under 18 years of
age, please do not read.

Disclaimer:  The characters and the Star Trek series are the
property of Paramount-Viacom. This is an amateur work of fan
fiction written solely for pleasure, and not for profit.

Feedback:  Gratefully received!

---

James Kirk had prevented Spock from achieving full
meditation seventeen times during the past 2.3 months.  Two
of the seventeen times, Jim had to call his first officer
when Spock was off duty because of emergencies on the ship. 
Those two times were not of concern to Spock and he
therefore gave them no further thought after the emergencies
had passed.  Such events were a part of life on the
Enterprise.  Naturally, Spock would be by his captain's side
during a crisis; this was an inviolable fact of existence,
accepted and depended upon by both of them.

It was the remaining fifteen times that worried him.

The first of those times, it was the memory of Kirk's hand
gripping Spock's arm that pulled the Vulcan out of
meditation.  The touch had been nothing – nothing to Kirk,
nothing that had not happened a hundred times before when
they worked out together, as they had in fact been doing
that evening when the touch in question occurred.  It was a
trivial incident.  Yet the memory of it had been enough to
disrupt Spock's concentration, enough to prevent him from
being able to achieve peace – or meditation, or sleep - the
rest of that night. It was, he had been forced to admit to
himself in the privacy of his quarters, most disturbing.

The second time, it was the memory of Kirk's smile, the one
he had flashed at Spock when Spock had come on the bridge at
the start of his shift that morning.  The smile, like the
touch, was nothing that had not occurred countless times
before.  Kirk was, after all, a man who smiled frequently. 
He smiled at people, at circumstances – Spock had even seen
him smiling to himself on numerous occasions. For a man of
Kirk's nature, the smile he had bestowed upon Spock that
morning was an inconsequential matter.  It was also of no
consequence that the smile gave a most pleasing aspect to
the captain's face, that it projected all of the youthful
joy of life that was such an integral part of Kirk's self.
It was certainly of no importance that it caused a strange
tightening in Spock's throat as he regarded it.  Therefore,
it was most illogical and actually rather shameful that
Spock was not able to meditate or sleep the night after that
smile happened.

The third time, it was the memory of Kirk's eyes that
interrupted Spock's meditative state.  Spock could almost
forgive himself for this third incident: hazel was a most
fascinating color.  One never knew if it would turn amber,
brown or green, depending on the surrounding light and the
owner's mood.  When Kirk had looked at Spock that night over
their chess game, his mood had been unreadable, but his
irises held flecks of gold, fragments of fire.  It was most
aesthetically pleasing.

It was also most disadvantageous for meditation or for
sleep. The fourth time. . .

Spock sighed and stirred restlessly, resigned that tonight
was fated to be the sixteenth night that he would fail to
reach a deep meditative state because of Jim.

. . . The fourth time, and all other times since then, it
had not been a memory that had disturbed Spock's calm and
stolen his serenity.  It had been something far worse, much
more dangerous, much more disgraceful.  Spock closed his
eyes for a moment and fought an all-too-human impulse to
avoid the truth of the matter.  I am a logical being, he
reminded himself.  Logic is based on fact, not on
self-deception.  And the fact is – he opened his eyes and
sternly commanded himself to regard the truth – the fact is
that the fifteen nights, now sixteen, have been the result
of my own inappropriate desires.  My own thoughts.  My own.
. .  fantasies.

Spock rose from his kneeling position and,
uncharacteristically, began to pace.  His room in Reynor's
stronghold was lavishly appointed and quite large; he had
much more space than in his own quarters on the Enterprise. 
He took advantage of this as he moved about, considering his
problem from every angle, once again achieving nothing from
his scrutiny except a faint tinge of panic. Problems were
meant to be worked out, to be solved, and Spock generally
was incredibly good at it.  He could take scientific data,
break it apart piece by piece, and quickly reform it into a
brand new and often brilliant concept.  But this problem was
different.  He did not know how to examine it or to dissect
it.  He certainly did not know how to begin to solve it.

Enough, he told himself sternly.  Approach it as you do all
other problems.  Examine the facts.  He crossed the room and
stared into the fire that blazed in the massive hearth
opposite his bed, steeling himself to confront what he could
barely bring himself to think about.

Fact 1:  For 2.3 months, you have entertained fantasies
about your captain and your friend, fantasies that he would
doubtless find inappropriate at best and repugnant at worst.
Fact 2:  You are unable to employ traditional methods to
control these thoughts. Fact 3:  In approximately 4.6 more
days, your effectiveness as first officer of the Enterprise
will become severely compromised because these thoughts are
interfering with your ability to rest. Spock brought his
hands up to rest on the warm chimney above the mantel,
disgusted to observe that they were shaking.  He knotted
them into hard fists and pushed them into the unyielding
stone.

There was a fourth fact.

It was as true as the others and therefore should be listed;
that is how facts must be treated when used to solve a
problem.  Once again, he shut his eyes, as if by not seeing
the fire and the room around him he would also be able to
overlook this remaining, agonizing item.  You are a coward,
he told himself.  The truth is the truth; it is illogical to
believe that it will cease to exist simply because it is not
stated.   He took a deep breath and forced his eyes to open.

Fact 4: When Reynor smiles at Jim, Facts 1-3 become much
less bearable.

There.  He had allowed himself to think it.  He leaned his
head against the chimney's rough stone and allowed this
final, most bitter truth to fill his mind.  Reynor, the
absolute ruler of the largest province on this planet, was
the reason he and James Kirk were now on Seginus III.  The
Federation wanted right of way through the Seginus system in
order to have a safe, direct route to the Merope colonies
that lay on the very edge of the sector.  Reynor was the man
who could make it happen, and Reynor was willing to talk to
a Federation representative.  But Reynor insisted on talking
to one particular Federation representative only: James
Kirk.

When Spock had heard of the assignment, he'd asked Kirk to
leave him on the ship.  "Captain, the Seginians are well
known telepaths. Although my own psi abilities are not as
pronounced, I still fear that the constant barrage of
thoughts from other beings will seriously impair my ability
to assist you in this endeavor.  It is therefore logical to
leave me on the Enterprise and to bring another of the
officers with you – perhaps Mr. Scott or Doctor McCoy."  He
did not add that, given the events of the past 2.3 months,
the last place he wanted to be was among a race of mind
readers.

Kirk had laughed.  "Spock, I'm not sure that Scotty is ready
to join the diplomatic corps yet.  And I'm damn well certain
that Bones isn't. I need you there, Spock.  I need your
level head. . .  and your moral support."  Jim's expression
had turned suddenly serious as he'd added, "I have a strange
feeling about this whole thing.  I'm clueless as to why this
Reynor is so insistent that I handle the negotiations.  I've
never claimed to be a diplomat, and as far as I can tell,
I've never even met this guy.  I can't figure out how he
knows about me, much less why he's decided I'm the one for
the job."  He had paused for a moment, and then added
slowly, "It seems that I'm always assigning you the most
difficult tasks.  If you truly don't feel you can do this,
I'll understand.  But I would like to have you there with me
if at all possible."

What could Spock have done?  Of course he'd pushed his
personal concerns aside and agreed to accompany his captain. 
As to the rest, he had said, "I must confess I also am
curious, Captain.  Perhaps your questions would be best
directed to Reynor himself."

Of course, that is exactly what Jim did.  A true diplomat
would have skirted the issue, perhaps not have brought it up
at all, for fear of muddying waters in negotiations.  But
Jim was not like that. If he wanted to know something, he
asked.  If he did not get an adequate answer the first time,
he simply kept asking until he did.  He made no exception in
dealing with Reynor.

Last night, Reynor had hosted them at a sumptuous banquet. 
Spock had been surprised, based on the quantity and variety
of food and drink, that the only people in attendance were
Jim and himself and Reynor. For one who wielded absolute
power over his subjects, Reynor was very solicitous,
virtually acting as a servant as well as a host.  He
graciously urged them to try the delicacies he had ordered
prepared for them and made sure that their goblets were
always full.

Jim did not let much time go by before he asked the question
that had been troubling him.  "Forgive me for being blunt,
Reynor, but frankly it's the only way I know how to be," he
said.  "I am wondering how you know of me, and how you came
to invite me here to discuss the right of way issue with
you." He sat back in his chair, apparently relaxed and
confident, but Spock could tell from the determined gleam in
his friend's eyes that Jim was very intent on Reynor's
response.

Reynor paused for only half a second, then threw back his
head and laughed.  With a twinge of something that bordered
on sadness, Spock remembered how the alien ruler had looked
when he did that:  black, unruly hair shining in the
candlelight, dark lashed obsidian eyes dancing with
amusement, and that flashing, white toothed smile that
illuminated his extraordinarily handsome face. It was a
smile that reminded Spock quite clearly of another, and
Spock had felt a highly illogical pang when he saw that Jim
was smiling back.

"Captain Kirk, you are a man after my own heart," Reynor
said, his smile still crinkling the corners of his eyes.  "I
sensed you would be.  That's exactly why I asked for you -
I've got no desire to waste time on the mealy mouthed words
of diplomats. I want to deal with someone who says what he
thinks.  That's the way I am myself – it's what I
understand."  He leaned forward and fixed the brilliant grin
again on Jim.  "And it's what I like."

Jim also leaned forward, meeting Reynor's gaze with one of
his own, the trace of a smile playing on his lips.  Although
the Seginians were technologically advanced, Reynor's taste
apparently ran to barbaric splendor: the banquet room was
swathed in vast folds of rich shimmering fabric lit solely
with candles.  The fire of these candles flickered in Jim's
changeable, mesmerizing eyes; Spock's breath caught at the
sight.  "But how did you know to ask for me?" Jim persisted.
"I would remember if I'd met you before – and I'm quite
certain I never did."

Reynor's dangerous smile flashed once more.  "I'll take that
as a compliment, Captain Kirk.  You are correct – we've
never met.  But you must know that the galaxy is
surprisingly small, and you are a well known man."  He
looked down at his plate and pushed at a small morsel of
food, suddenly thoughtful.  "You were in command of the
Enterprise during the uprising on Avior-Chara."

It was a statement, not a question, but Kirk nodded. 
"That's right."

Reynor looked up.  "Perhaps you are unaware that we were
following the developments of that incident very closely
here.  The Avior-Chara government – the one that was nearly
overthrown during that uprising – is one of our closest
allies.  It is vital to the economic and military interests
of Seginus III that a stable government remains in power
there.  Had the rebels succeeded in taking over, it would
have meant that we would have had a bitter and powerful
enemy in our own backyard.  It also would have seriously
curtailed our trade routes and forced us to pour resources
into a military buildup of our own."  His fathomless eyes
never left Jim's.  "It was your quick action that prevented
that, that saved the government. . .  and the peace of mind
of the citizens of Seginus III."

Jim frowned slightly.  "I followed orders, that's all.  The
Federation had no intention of allowing one of its member
planets to dissolve into political chaos.  The rebels had
some valid grievances, and the established government had
every incentive to end the dispute peacefully. Once both
parties came to the table, it was an easy thing to work
out."

Reynor's laugh rang out again.  "Getting them to the table
was the hard part, was it not?"  He rested his hand
fleetingly on Kirk's shoulder. "And it was you who pulled
off that feat, no other! Of course, having the firepower of
a Federation starship behind you must have helped
considerably." He sat back in his chair, crossed his arms,
and tilted his head.  "You asked me an honest question,
Captain Kirk. I will repay you with an honest answer.  I
came to know about you through the news reports about the
Avior-Chara situation.  Because I admired the way you
handled that crisis, I determined to learn more about you. 
I therefore began to research your life and your career. I
became increasingly intrigued – no, I admit it – I was
fascinated. I wanted to meet you.  I quickly realized that I
had the means to bring that about by making it clear to
Starfleet that I was willing to talk only to you during the
right of way negotiations."

Kirk opened his mouth, but Reynor quickly added. "Oh, have
no fear, Captain.  I fully intend to negotiate those rights
in good faith – it's in my interest as well as the
Federation's to do just that.  But you see, I am very much
accustomed to getting what I want.  And if I can fulfill a
personal desire while also meeting my political duties, then
I will certainly seize that chance.  I suspect that you
would do the same."

Kirk scrutinized Reynor with a look that Spock was not able
to decipher.  "I suppose that I would," he replied slowly.

Reynor laughed again.  "Yes.  I sensed that we were kindred
spirits from the start."

For the first time, Reynor turned his gaze from Kirk to
Spock.  Spock had an instant to assess the Seginian's dark
gaze and was not reassured by what he saw.  There was
intelligence there, surely, and a certain aggressive energy
that was far from unattractive.  But the gaze also exuded a
confidence so intense that it bordered on hardness. Jim
Kirk's confidence always was tempered with just enough
self-doubt to lend compassion and balance to his decisions. 
But Spock sensed that this man would not hesitate to do
anything necessary in order to get what he desired.  He also
sensed, almost in the same instant, that Reynor was
attempting to reach his mind telepathically; he could feel
alien tendrils of thought making their way into his own
consciousness, sifting, questing, invading.  Spock slammed
his mental shields down against the uninvited intrusion.  A
look of surprise flashed across Reynor's face, quickly
followed by a glint of amusement.  He raised his eyebrow at
Spock in a mocking impersonation, and then calmly turned
back to Kirk as if none of it had happened.

But behind his shields, Spock was far from calm, for he had
learned something about Reynor during their short moment of
contact.

Reynor desired Jim Kirk.

The fire had nearly gone out; the room was becoming
uncomfortably chilly.  Spock drew his meditation robe more
closely around his otherwise nude body and knelt down to
place two more logs on the embers.  He watched them
impassively until they began to flare.  Then he turned and
sat on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped in his lap,
and reviewed the events of the hours that had followed that
banquet.  Spock knew he would always look back on the time
with a sharp memory of the helplessness he had felt while on
Seginus III. His shields had been up since Reynor's initial
attempt to contact him; he dared not lower them.  Dared not
– not only because he felt such uninvited contact was wrong
on principle, but because. . .

. . . because for the past 2.3 months, your mind has been
filled with shameful madness, and you cannot stand the
thought of anyone knowing. If Reynor – or worse, if Jim –
were to find out. . .   Spock swallowed and bowed his head. 
To have Jim turn from him in disgust would be far worse than
the most painful death Spock could imagine.  With his
shields in place, he was protected.  None could pierce them
and steal his most private of thoughts from him.  But
neither could he reach out.  He could not feel the
comforting, familiar presence of Jim Kirk in the back of his
mind when his shields were in place, and (Fact 5, he thought
to himself ironically) he missed it.  Its absence caused a
hole inside of him, one that could not be filled with any
other.


"Spock, what's wrong?" Jim had asked him that morning during
a rare private moment in the garden. "You look tired –
strained."  Those fascinating amber eyes, the ones that
missed nothing, fastened themselves on Spock's, and Spock
had to lower his gaze.  That uncharacteristic gesture
worried Jim even more, so he persisted.  "Are you ill?" 
True concern, the concern of a good friend, tinged Jim's
voice.

"I am ill, Jim.  I am sick with wanting you, sick with
shame, sick with some emotion I can't even name – the one I
feel whenever Reynor smiles at you – and you smile back." 
Those were the words that threatened to rise impulsively to
Spock's lips. But of course he did not speak them.  Instead,
he replied with apparent serenity, "No, Jim. Do not be
concerned.  I am fine," and thus proved once and for all
that Vulcans can indeed lie.

Still, Jim was not going to let it go.  "Spock," he said
with greater urgency, putting his hand on Spock's arm,
squeezing gently.  Spock stiffened and pulled back.  He
could not allow that touch: it had the power to crumble his
shields into dust. Already he felt them weakening, felt his
deepest self cry out for more of that touch, that hand. . . 
Spock clasped his own hands behind him and took a step
backward.

He had just enough time to see the puzzled hurt in Jim's
eyes before Reynor came up to them, teeth flashing, eyes
dancing, impeccably dressed and obviously well rested. 
"Captain Kirk!  Mr. Spock! I've a great day planned.  We'll
start off with a tour of the estate – I'm having a skimmer
brought around right now.  Then I thought we'd come back to
the library and talk a little business, and later I have
some friends I'd like you to meet – just a small reception,
to show my appreciation for your willingness to meet with
me."

And so the hours on Seginus III wore one, a ceaseless whirl
of activity and conversation.  Jim plunged into it all with
his usual adaptability and enthusiasm.  He complimented
Reynor on the beauty of the estate, showing a great interest
in the alien wildlife that roamed free upon the sweeping
blue green hills.  Spock recalled Jim's delighted smile
when, as they flew along in the skimmer, a huge flock of
brightly plumed birds appeared at their side, matching the
speed and direction of their flight with military precision. 
Jim had pressed his nose against the window of the skimmer
and followed their wake with his eyes long after the birds
veered off; at that moment, Spock, who claimed to have no
imagination, clearly could picture Jim as he must have been
when he was a young boy.  He practically jiggled in his seat
with excitement.  "Look at them, Spock – have you ever seen
anything like them?"  Jim grinned at his friend, his eyes
turning a sea-like color in response to the deep blue of the
Seginus III sky.

"There is an aviary species on Kalniyar that is similar,"
Spock had replied. "Although I believe the plumage of these
birds is somewhat more colorful."  Too late, Spock realized
that Jim's question had been rhetorical, a simple invitation
for Spock to delight in the beauty of the scene. But Jim
just laughed affectionately and raised his hand as if he
intended to place it on Spock's arm again.  This time,
however, Spock did not have to pull back: the same hurt
expression of earlier in the morning clouded Jim's face
almost immediately, and he turned away and looked out the
window again, his hand falling passively into his lap.

---

The promised "business talk" in the library was a farce. 
Reynor dismissed the issue of right of way with a wave of
his hand.  "Do not worry – I have every intention of
granting right of way to the Federation.  Let us not waste
our time on what is virtually already settled.  I'm much
more interested in you, in your life on the Enterprise. Tell
me about your ship, Jim.  May I call you Jim?"

Spock knew that Reynor must have been using his telepathic
abilities to subtly uncover those things held most dear to
his captain, and the Enterprise was a sure bet.  Kirk looked
exceedingly pleased at the opportunity to praise the virtues
of his beloved lady, and happily began to describe the
starship, its crew, and some of the adventures they had
shared.

Kirk was an excellent storyteller:  ordinarily Spock would
have enjoyed listening to his captain's vibrant voice
recounting their journeys, their triumphs and their trials. 
Jim spoke easily for more than two hours, his narrative
punctuated by Reynor's appreciative laugh and enthusiastic
questions.  Not once did the eyes of the Seginian leave the
face of the starship captain.  Spock noted that nearly
fanatical focus with growing unease.  He had the unshakable
feeling that Reynor's telepathic ability and his obvious
infatuation with Jim were a dangerous mix.  He wished that
he could discern what Jim's response was, but there was no
chance to ask him.  He studied his friend intensely but was
unable to sense what the captain was thinking.  If only he
could lower his shields and reach out mentally to Kirk, but
that was of course unthinkable.  Spock had no choice but to
sit quietly, watch, and worry.

---

The "small reception" that evening turned out to be a
massive state affair with over three hundred guests.  Spock
was in distress throughout the entire time: the jumbled
thoughts of so many telepaths pressed at his shields and
threatened to crush them in an overwhelming tidal wave. 
Kirk seemed to sense this and stayed at his Vulcan friend's
side, smoothing the way with cordial small talk and
occasionally shooting Spock an apologetic look that seemed
to say, "We've gone through worse.  Just hold on."  It was
strangely comforting to know that Jim understood him even
though his shields were up, but Spock still had to muster
every shred of control not to flee from the room.

At one terrible point, Jim became distracted by one of the
guests, who pressed him to talk about the Avior-Chara
affair.  Before Spock saw it coming, Reynor appeared at his
side and skewered him with his dark, intense gaze.  Once
again, Spock sensed the harshness behind those eyes and had
to clamp down firmly on a surge of fear for his captain. For
a long moment, the two regarded each other warily without
exchanging words; Spock felt Reynor attempt to break through
to him telepathically again, and again successfully thwarted
him.

"You have a very disciplined mind, Mr. Spock," Reynor said,
too softly for Kirk to hear.

"I am a Vulcan."

"But also human – am I correct?"

"That is true.  My mother is human.  But I was raised as a
Vulcan and am therefore well versed in mind control
techniques."

"And they are standing you in good stead." Reynor's gaze
drifted from Spock to where Jim stood, just ten feet away. 
"That is a shame. There is doubtless much we could learn
from each other."

"It is unethical for a telepath to enter another's mind
without that one's consent."  Spock's words were harsher
than he had intended, but his control was starting to slip,
weakened by the whirling mob of telepaths and by Reynor's
latest advance.

Reynor smiled, an entirely different smile than the one he
used on Kirk.  "I happen to believe that one should use
one's abilities to the fullest, Mr. Spock."  He removed his
gaze reluctantly from Kirk and turned to the Vulcan.  "Why
are you so opposed to my contact?  Jim has no such
compunctions."

A primal remnant of Vulcan's ancient past began to burn deep
within Spock.  Rage.  Pure rage. Primitive rage.  He fought
to keep his voice even. "The captain is a human, Reynor.  He
is not telepathic, and therefore does not have the ability
to deny you.  I say again, it is unethical for you to force
contact on such a person."

Reynor smiled again.  "Perhaps I have not forced."

"The captain would not willingly give his consent."

"How do you know that?  Are you the guardian of his mind? 
Jim and I are much alike, Spock.  We share many interests,
many traits.  Perhaps he has craved to join with a mind so
similar to his, one that can appreciate all that he is." 
There was a slight emphasis on the word "all."

Jim was making his way back to them; Spock knew he did not
have enough time to continue to debate the issue.  He glared
down at Reynor and said, very quietly, "You shall do no harm
to Captain Kirk." Both men understood that it was a threat
and not a plea.

When Jim returned to Spock's side, he took one look at
Spock's drawn face and said, "Spock – you look terrible. 
You're exhausted.  I want you to go upstairs and rest."

"Captain, I –"

"You are not fine," Jim had said sharply. Instantly, his
voice softened as he looked up at his first officer, his
eyes pleading. "Spock, please rest.  I know this has been
hard for you. I. . .  I shouldn't have asked you for any of
this – it was selfish of me. Please go.  I'll stay here and
fulfill our obligations."

---

A log crashed down into the embers, sending sparks shooting
up the chimney and onto the hearth, pulling Spock back to
the present.  He glanced out the window at the velvet
blackness of the deep alien nightscape.

His internal clock told him that it was midnight on Seginus
III.

Spock recalled Seginus III's rate of rotation and realized
that it would be 4.2 hours until dawn.  He sighed, knowing
that those remaining hours would be wakeful and long.  He
rose from the bed, making his way to the wide stone balcony
that overlooked the perfectly manicured estate garden. 
Moving to the balustrade, he looked up into the sky once
more, regarding the glittering stars with something
approaching yearning.  It was illogical to wish to be where
one was not.  Nevertheless, Spock wished that he were back
on the Enterprise, hurtling through infinite space with Jim,
far from Seginus III and from Reynor.  *But your madness
will return to the Enterprise with you, he reminded himself.
You will therefore have to make immediate plans to transfer
or resign.  To continue this way is not possible.*

Depressed by the thought, Spock looked down into the garden.
. .

. . . and froze.

Reynor and Jim were there, sitting across from each other on
two stone benches, so close that their knees nearly touched. 
Reynor was leaning forward and talking to Jim; Spock could
see his gestures, the flash of his teeth.  He heard Jim
laugh.  Then, Reynor reached out and very slowly,
deliberately and gently, touched Jim's face.

The torrent of pain that coursed through Spock caught him
completely by surprise, and for the third time that night,
he closed his eyes in avoidance.  Numbly, he turned and
re-entered his room, fell to the floor and put his head in
his hands.

In the garden below, Jim pushed Reynor's hand away and stood
up.

---

*"Jim has no such compunctions."*

*"Perhaps I have not forced." *

*"A mind that can appreciate all that he is." *

Alone in his room, Spock heard these sentences over and over
again in his head, uttered in Reynor's mocking voice,
cutting him like sharp daggers. Indeed, there had not been
force in Reynor's touch. Jim was laughing, happy – he had
not turned away. Bitterly, Spock contemplated what a perfect
companion a telepath like Reynor would be.  He had gained
entrance to Jim's mind and discovered all the things that
Jim loved.  He now knew what to do to become one of those
things himself. Moreover, he could show and tell Jim that he
wanted him.  He could smile at him, laugh with him.  He
could love - openly.  He could do everything for Jim that
Spock could not.

Alone in his room, behind his protective Vulcan shields,
Spock allowed himself a few illogical moments to grieve the
loss of something that never was and never would be.  *How
can I feel this terrible void when I have not bonded with
him, have not spoken to him about anything other than duty
and friendship?  How can I feel that he has been torn from
my side when he never was mine – would never wish to be
mine?* Spock pressed his long fingers against his forehead
as he struggled for control over the anguish of the loss,
but then slowly sat up as a new thought occurred to him, one
that was compelling in its perfect simplicity.

*What Jim needs and what you need cannot be reconciled.  
Therefore, Jim's needs are the ones that must be met.*

Fact 6, Spock thought to himself.  The final truth in the
list.  Or was it not just one more piece of data, but the
solution to the initial problem? Spock's orderly, meticulous
mind considered this, analyzed it, and finally accepted it. 
It was, after all, ridiculously simple: Jim's needs always
had come first and always would.  Jim had chosen the one who
would meet those needs, and bring him happiness. Therefore,
there was no purpose to any of this – the grief, the worry,
the shame. . .  or the shields.

Alone in the faint light of the dying fire, Spock shrugged
off his own desires like a cloak that had grown too heavy,
and with a sigh of what could have been either resignation
or relief, let his shields down.

*"NO!"*

The mental scream instantly pierced Spock's mind – a cry of
desperate outrage and defiance, the howl of a cornered beast
- or of a human fighting for something dearer than life.  It
was Jim, calling for help, in trouble and alone.  Spock
gasped and sprung to his feet, thinking of nothing but the
overwhelming need to reach Jim, to help him, to stand
between him and whatever this threat was. Spock raced
through the long stone hallway and down the stairs toward
the garden, mindless of his unclad feet and his open robe
flying behind him. The galaxy had become very small: reduced
to one human being with golden hair and hazel eyes.

Spock hurtled out of the doorway and into the garden.  In
the anemic light of Seginus III's solitary moon, now a
halfhearted crescent in the sky, his keen Vulcan eyes made
out two forms: Jim, lying motionless on the ground, and
Reynor, who crouched over him and tried vainly to shake him
awake.  Spock's face was stony with fury as he approached
them, his movements as silent and dangerous as a panther. He
dropped to the ground beside his unconscious captain and
roughly pushed aside Reynor, frantically feeling for a pulse
and frowning as he saw how deathly pale Jim was.

There was a pulse, so faint and so uneven that Spock had to
fight down a momentary surge of panic. If Jim was dying. . .  
He looked up at Reynor. "What have you done to him?"  So
calm, so relentless was the voice – like a fallen warrior's
lifeblood flowing across the hot sand of a Vulcan desert.

Reynor heard it, and felt fear for the first time in his
life.  "I. . .  I wanted him," he said, as if that explained
all.  "But each time I tried to reach him, there was an
obstacle in his mind."  He looked down at Kirk's still form. 
"I tried to remove it.  I didn't know that he would fight me
so hard.  I didn't realize that it would. . .  damage him."

If anything, Spock's voice was even quieter.  "You forced
him.  He is not the kind of man to give in to force."  With
infinite gentleness, Spock gathered Jim up into his arms,
picked him up effortlessly, and cradled him protectively
against his chest.

"What are you doing?"

"I am taking him to my bed."  Spock's fiery black eyes raked
over Reynor contemptuously.  "If you come near him, I shall
kill you." With that, Spock turned and left with his burden,
leaving Reynor hunched in the garden in the blackness.

---

Spock brought Jim into his room and laid him carefully on
the bed, checking briefly to make sure there was still a
pulse before he left him to get his tricorder.  He wished
fervently that McCoy were there, but the Enterprise would
not return for at least ten hours, as it had gone on to the
Merope colonies with medical supplies once Jim and Spock had
beamed down to Selignus III.  Ten hours would be too late.
Quickly, Spock took the tricorder and scanned Jim's body
with it.  It did not tell him as much as a medical tricorder
would have, but its verdict was still all too clear: Jim's
respiration and heartbeat were becoming weaker.  His life
force was ebbing.

Spock set the tricorder down and lay on the bed beside his
captain. "Jim."  He pulled Jim toward him and settled the
human's head upon his chest, reaching up with his long
fingers toward the meld points on Jim's face.  "My mind to
your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts. . . " Spock
whispered the ancient words into Jim's ear, reaching out
with his own consciousness toward the familiar, warm
brightness of Jim's. He would bring his friend back from
wherever he had fled, would infuse him with life again
through the sheer force of his own spirit.  He would do
whatever it took.  "Jim."  He sent his mind along the thin
thread of their bond, calling out, seeking, entreating,
reaching. "Jim, return to me.  Let me bring you back."

In reply, there was a frantic flurry of crazed, blind
motion, struggle, panic.  *"No!"*  Jim lashed out at him
with strength born of terror.  *"You will not take this from
me!  It is mine.  My will, my memories, my thoughts!"*  The
force of Jim's outraged resistance struck hard at Spock's
mind, blazing a fiery, agonizing path and shoving the
Vulcan's consciousness back along the thread, away from what
it sought.  With a feeling of sick horror, Spock sensed that
Jim had retreated even further.  The bond between them
stretched, weakened, and snapped apart, leaving Spock
gasping in torment, alone.

Slowly, he became aware once again of the physical world
around him, of Jim's breath lightly stirring the hairs at
his throat, of the faint crackle of the dying fire, of the
beating of his own heart. Spock stared up at the ceiling,
for once completely at a loss for what to do.  The only way
he could think of to bring Jim back was to meld with him,
but Jim would not allow it, and Jim's will was too strong to
be overcome without causing even more damage than had
already been done. Instinctively, Spock tightened his
embrace around the unconscious human as if he could keep him
alive by holding him captive in the world of the present. 
The passing moments became more precious than any Spock had
known before.  Everything fell away except for Jim's slight
breath at Spock's throat and Jim's fragile pulse under
Spock's hand.  Spock's mind whirred on in the dark,
suggesting and rejecting a hundred courses of action.

How much time had passed?  Spock turned his head and looked
out the window.  It still was night. His clock told him that
it would be 2.2 hours before the sun rose, before the dawn
came to Seginus III.  Spock knew with utter certainty that
Jim would be gone by then.

---

*"It's always darkest just before the dawn." *

His mother's voice came to him unbidden, a memory from long
ago.  She had quoted the old Terran aphorism to him once
when he was a young child. He'd been sitting at the kitchen
table working fruitlessly on a mathematical problem.  The
solution had evaded him for several hours and he was growing
frustrated, though he did not of course show it. But his
mother knew anyway.  She had smiled down at him.  "It's
always darkest just before the dawn, Spock.  Keep working on
it – the answer will come to you when you least expect it."

Spock had been genuinely puzzled.  "But Mother, that is not
logical. The darkest hour of the night would be when the
area in question has rotated farthest away from the sun. 
Just before the dawn, however, the area would. . . "

Amanda had shaken her head.  "You're missing the point,
Spock," she had gently reproved him.  "The saying isn't
really about darkness. It's about hope."

*Hope and Darkness.*  Spock knew now that the saying was
about both. Because at this hour, with Jim Kirk's breath so
light that Spock could no longer be sure of it against his
skin, the world had never been darker.  If Jim died, there
would be no more light for Spock, no matter how many more
dawns might come.

And yet. . .  Here was Jim in Spock's arms, and he was
alive, at least for the moment.  And Spock could not help
it.  He hoped.  There was no logical reason for it, but that
was to be expected.  After all, Jim had the greatest
capacity for hope that Spock had ever encountered, and Jim
had told him time and time again that hope was not based on
logic.  Jim had never explained what hope was based on, but
now Spock understood that too.

Hope was based on love.

Spock brought his fingers back to Jim's face, seeking the
meld points one more time.  He knew now what he had to do. 
He closed his eyes and initiated the meld again, but this
time he did not call out to Kirk, did not summon him or try
to pursue him.  He simply waited at the very edge of Kirk's
consciousness and dropped every last shred of Vulcan
pretense and control. . .  and sent his love. Love without
demand, love without shame, love without boundaries, love
without selfishness. Pure love.  Joyous love.  It filled
Spock, overflowed, and cascaded like bright water into the
vessel of Kirk's mind, washing over the wounds from Reynor's
assault and cooling the lingering terror.  Spock remained
just long enough for this to happen and then slowly and
silently eased out of the meld.

"If you come back to me, or if you leave me, T'hy'la, my
love will always be with you."  Spock pressed his lips
against Kirk's hair and murmured this, surprised to find
that, for the first time in 2.3 months, he felt some degree
of peace.  He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be
enveloped in the warmth of Jim's presence.

For once, his clock failed him.  He had no idea how much
time had passed in that dreamlike state before suddenly he
felt the first shaft of Seginus III's sun on his face, and
knew the dawn had come.  At the same time, incredibly, he
felt Jim stirring in his arms.  His eyes flew open, and he
looked down. . .

. . . to find Jim looking back at him, his eyes large and
incredibly dark, a strangely wistful look on his face.  "A
dream," Jim said.

Spock could not take his eyes from the beloved face that was
resting so trustingly against his shoulder.  A wave of
protectiveness and love washed over him, stealing his voice
away.  Wordlessly, he shook his head.

This brought him a sweet smile from Jim. "But it must be a
dream. It's exactly like all the others."  And with that,
Jim Kirk brought his hand up to the back of Spock's neck,
pulled his first officer down to him, and with great
gentleness, kissed him on the mouth.

There was time for a breath, a heartbeat, a blink of an eye. 
And then, "Spock!"  It's not a dream! You're really here,
and I. . . " But the last part of Jim's sentence remained
unspoken, because his cool, impassive first officer suddenly
descended upon him and began to kiss him with all of the
desperate hunger of the starving.

Spock felt that his body and mind must certainly ignite all
at once; the feel of Jim's lips beneath his, so long
desired, so long denied, threatened to completely undo any
control he ever pretended to have. And neither the Vulcan
nor the human in him cared.  He was conscious only of the
growing fire within him and the cool human lips beneath his,
now responding with equal passion, teasing him, challenging
him, probing at his mouth and sucking his tongue.  The
sensation was impossibly sweet and unreasonably pleasurable
- and it was not nearly enough.

With a small moan, Spock rolled over on his back and
effortlessly pulled Jim on top of him.  His hands slid of
their own accord under Jim's shirt, seeking the soft skin
and the hard muscles beneath, exploring and stroking. 
Beneath his touch, he felt Jim's body contract with
pleasure.  His shoulders were gripped tightly and a warm,
gasping breath caressed the side of his neck, fanning his
desire into white-hot heat.  Every sensation seemed
magnified and focused at the same time – all he could think
of was obtaining more of this wondrous, golden, mesmerizing
human.  Touch, taste, scent, sight and sound all merged into
a dizzying eddy of want, and Spock was in the middle of it,
whirling headlong into the vortex, glad to let the
relentless current take him.

From far way, Jim's voice called to him, husky with desire
but tight with apprehension.    "Spock! Spock!  Wait!  This
is. . .  it's incredible, but it's going too fast.  Spock!"

He felt Jim start to pull away, dimly heard the anxiety in
Jim's voice.  Every instinct told him not to stop, but Jim's
voice was telling him otherwise.  Jim's voice must be
obeyed. Reluctantly, Spock gathered the tattered remnants of
his control around him, took his hands from that enticing,
perfect body, and placed them firmly at his side.

Spock felt a wave of fear as he lay there passively gazing
up at Jim, who rolled away and sat up next to him on the
bed, still breathing heavily.  Spock had been certain in the
moment Jim first kissed him that Jim's desire matched his
own, but now he was unsure.  Perhaps Jim was only responding
to the aftereffects of the meld, and had not fully realized
what he was doing.  Perhaps once he realized, he did not
want it after all.  Spock swallowed, and willed his voice to
be calm. "Jim, forgive me.  I thought you wanted. . . "

"I do," Jim said vehemently.  "I don't think you'll ever
know how much and how often I've dreamed of this.  But I
need – " He stopped for a moment, apparently considering his
words.  "I need to know where this is going to take us,
Spock."

Spock got up on his elbows and then sat up, studying Kirk
intently, trying without success to discern exactly what Jim
was asking.  "I am not sure I understand," he finally
admitted.

Jim took a deep breath.  "Spock, I don't think you know how
important you are to me.  All of you, most of all the
beautiful person you are inside.  You are –" he looked at
Spock's bare torso longingly "- superb.  But, Spock, I
already have too much of you to risk giving it up to get
more."  He shook his head.  "No, that's not really it – I'm
not making any sense."  He smiled ruefully.  "Somehow, my
head doesn't seem to be too clear right now.  Let me try
again.  I want your body, Spock – but I need your friendship
more.  If this moment is going to take that friendship away,
then I don't think I can go through with it."  His eyes
lingered on the Vulcan again.  "Much as I want to," he added
weakly.

"Jim, what are you asking me?"

"I'm asking you how much you are willing to give – and how
much you are willing to take."

Spock considered for what seemed like a long time. Finally
he said, "If I had lost you last night, it would have been
my fault.  I protected myself, shielded myself, because I
feared that you would turn from me forever if you knew what
was in my heart.  In short, I nearly lost you because I was
afraid of losing you.  I shall not make that error again." 
His soft brown eyes sought Jim's.  "I will give you. . . 
everything.  As to what I will take. . . " He paused.  This
part was harder; he was unaccustomed to reflecting on his
own wishes.  "I will take what you desire to give.  If you
wish to give me this moment only, then I will take it.  If
you wish to give me forever. . . "

Jim shook his head, dissatisfied with Spock's answer. 
"Someday, Spock, I swear I'm going to teach you to value
your own needs as much as you do mine."  He leaned forward;
his tantalizing lips were mere inches from Spock's.  "Spock,
give me an honest answer.  What do you want?"

Spock's voice was as warm as the Vulcan desert. "I want this
moment," he replied, and added as Jim's eyes widened in
surprise, "I want forever.  I want everything in between."

Jim's smile was a brilliant mixture of relief and love. 
"Then that is exactly what I will give."

He leaned forward to kiss Spock again, but Spock held him
back.  "Jim, as long as you are sitting up, it would be most
helpful if you would take off your shirt.  I was
endeavoring, unsuccessfully, to discern how I might remove
it when you were prone. The position you are in right now is
much more conducive to such an action."

Jim laughed, albeit shakily.  "Always efficient, aren't you,
Spock? All right."  In one swift motion, he hauled the
offending shirt over his head and let it slide to the floor
beside the bed. Entranced by the beautiful sight of Jim's
bare, muscular chest, Spock reached out.

"Oh, no you don't," challenged Jim.  You're sitting up right
now, too. Off with it."  He slipped his hands under the
collar of Spock's open robe and pushed it off the Vulcan. 
His eyes swept over Spock's slim, nude body and his rigid,
long cock. "God, you're perfect, Spock – magnificent in
every way.  Exactly the way I dreamed of you."  He leaned
forward and kissed Spock on the neck.

Spock gasped.  How did this human have the power to strip
him so completely of everything but desire? If a kiss could
do this to him, what would happen to him if. . . ?  His
hands seemed to have a will of their own; they could not
stay away from this alluring human, the smooth flesh, the
rippling muscles of chest and abdomen, and. . .   and of
Jim's hips, his beautiful hard cock, his ass.  Dimly, Spock
realized that Jim was completely naked beneath his hands. 
What had happened to Jim's pants?  He had no memory of
removing them - had Jim done it?  No matter.  All that
mattered was the feel of Jim's skin and Jim's kisses, the
sound of Jim's gasps of pleasure as Spock touched him and
fondled him and pulled him to him ever more fiercely.  *So
responsive,* thought Spock. *Responsive to me – to my touch,
to everything I am.*  He had never felt such total
acceptance, or such profound joy, or such piercing want. 
Jim was a fountain of cool water; he needed to immerse
himself in it, to soak it into his own skin, to quench a
lifetime's worth of desperate thirst.

"Spock."  Jim was whispering to him at the same time he
teased Spock's erection with skilled fingers, bringing the
Vulcan such ecstasy that he thought he might incandesce.
"Let me pleasure you. Let me do this for you."

Spock's whimper was his only assent as Jim's lips started to
burn a scorching path from his neck to his chest to his
navel.  Jim paused there for a moment and swirled his tongue
around the indentation, causing Spock's sinewy muscles to
contract with delight.  "Jim. Please," Spock hissed, not
even able to think what it was he begged for, but certain
that he would die if he did not receive it.

But Jim knew.  His cool, moist mouth slid down to encase
Spock's entire length in one swift, sure motion.  Spock
arched his back and dug his fingers into the sheet beneath
him; he had never felt anything like this beautiful,
talented mouth plunging down on him and pulling up on him in
a timeless, maddening rhythm that both tantalized and
fulfilled.  He felt the sensitive tip of his penis against
the soft back of Jim's throat, then the maddening scrape of
Jim's teeth along his length, Jim's lips tight around the
head of his cock, and then the back of Jim's throat again. 
It went on and on, never ending, never enough, while beneath
Jim's mouth Spock thrashed and gasped and entreated, until
at last with a final harsh cry he spilled his seed into the
source of his torment and his salvation, and felt Jim's
throat constrict to claim every drop.

Jim pulled himself up so he could take Spock's lips in a
lingering, deep kiss, leaving Spock to savor the merged
taste of both of them on his tongue.  In a haze, Spock
became aware of Jim's rigid staff pushing insistently
against his thigh; he reached down and wrapped his long
fingers around it; immediately Jim's clasp joined his and
the human started to rock and push frantically, his face
flushed with passion.  At that moment, Spock knew that no
matter how long he lived or where he traveled, he would
never see anything more beautiful than that face, so
transformed at his touch.  "Yes – just like that – Spock –
so hot – so good – oh!"  And warm fluid spilled over Spock's
fingers, and Jim's, and across Spock's belly.  With a final
long sigh, Jim draped his arm over Spock's shoulder and
kissed him again, a long, sated kiss. "I love you," he
whispered, his lips brushing Spock's collarbone.  "I've
loved you since birth. You're the marrow of my bones."

Spock made no answer – there were no words good enough or
deep enough for what he felt.  He pulled Jim closer to him
and lay there with him a long time, wrapping himself in the
closeness and the warmth of the human, the steady background
hum of Jim's thoughts and the even rhythm of his breath and
heart.

---

As the sun of Selignus III slowly rose in the sky, Spock
became aware that although Jim was lying perfectly still in
his arms, his mind was far from quiet.  Rivulets of chaotic
thought coursed through Jim's consciousness and spilled from
the boundaries of his self into Spock's.  Disturbed by Jim's
tension, Spock tried to tune into the cause, and quickly
understood that there could only be one source. Reynor. 
Fighting back a surge of fury at the damage the Selignian
had caused his t'hy'la, Spock said softly, "Jim.  Can you
tell me what happened?"

Jim closed his eyes and shuddered beneath Spock's hand, not
with desire this time but with remembered dread.  Too soon,
thought Spock, and hastened to add, "Forgive me.  If it
distresses you. . . "

Kirk's eyes flew open.  "No," he whispered.  "It – it does
distress me, Spock.  But I want to tell you."  He looked
into Spock's eyes and said, "There will be no more secrets
between us, never."  He looked into the cold hearth as if
gathering his thoughts.  "We were in the garden," he began.

"Yes."  Spock remembered too clearly.

"He insisted that we talk there, after the last of the
guests had left the reception.  He said he had something
important he wanted to discuss with me. I didn't want to go
with him, but I thought he might want to talk about the
right of way agreement.  So I went."  He grimaced.  "He
didn't want to talk about the agreement."

Spock did not answer; he just tightened his hold around
Kirk.

"He told me he wanted me to stay with him, that he. . . 
desired me." Absent mindedly, Kirk stroked Spock's hair. 
Spock closed his eyes, relishing the touch but also fighting
a much darker emotion that was beginning to grow within his
belly.

"I basically told him to forget it – that I had my life, and
it was on my ship.  He told me he could make me change my
mind.  I laughed at him – told him there wasn't a chance. 
Spock, when I turned him down, there was something in his
eyes that was. . .  I can't even describe it." Kirk trembled
again.

Spock ran his hands along Jim's back soothingly. "Hard,"
Spock said. "Ruthless."

"Yes.  I should have known you saw it too.  Anyway, he
leaned over to me and touched my face.  And when he did. . .
" Jim swallowed hard, obviously distraught. "I felt him just
rip through my mind, like someone would tear a flimsy piece
of cloth.  I couldn't stop him, couldn't even tell him no –
he just did it, just like that."  He looked at Spock, and
the Vulcan could see a shimmer of tears in Jim's eyes. "I
fought him, as hard as I could.  I finally broke away from
him, but not before he knew. . . " Kirk stopped.

"Before he knew what was in your mind."

"More dangerous - what was in my heart.  He saw that it was
you, that it had always been you.  He thought that was what
prevented me from desiring him."

"He said he saw an obstacle in your mind," said Spock.

Kirk laughed, but there was precious little humor in it. 
"Yes.  He saw a tall, beautiful, Vulcan obstacle.  One that
wasn't going away any time soon.  I felt his rage and his
jealousy."  He licked his lips.  "Spock, you know that I
don't scare easily."

"Yes," said Spock dryly.

"But I was terrified.  I just knew he was going to do
something horrendous.  That's when he said it."

Spock slid his hands up to Jim's shoulders and pushed him
away just enough so that he could capture Kirk's eyes. 
"What did he say?"  His voice sounded stern, even to him.

Kirk touched Spock's face gently.  "He laughed and said I
was a fool for wanting you.  He told me that he'd already
touched your mind, and you didn't love me and never would. 
You were a Vulcan, you were incapable of love, and. . . "

Spock's hands tightened almost imperceptibly on Kirk's
shoulders. "And?"

"And you were best forgotten, and he would do me the favor
of making me forget."

Spock willed himself to keep his voice neutral. "Did you
believe?"

"That you didn't love me?  No.  And yes.  I never dared to
hope you'd return the kind of love I felt for you.  But I've
never doubted that you do love me, Spock.  You've shown me
so many times, saved my life, risked your own to do it. . . 
and there's a connection between us, like I've never known
with anyone else.  I don't fully understand it, but I know
that it's rare and it's precious. . .  to both of us."  Jim
leaned forward and looked into Spock's eyes.  "I didn't
believe him, Spock. It's important to me that you know
that."

---

Spock couldn't reply.  Jim had kept faith in him. Why had he
not been intelligent enough to know that this man would not
turn away from him, ever?  He felt a rush of guilt and also
of horror when he considered what he had almost lost by
shielding himself away.

Jim continued, "It didn't scare me that he claimed you
didn't love me – I knew differently, deep inside.  But it
terrified me that he said he would make me forget you."  Jim
covered his eyes with his hands for a moment, as if to erase
the sight of Reynor.  "I can't really explain it, Spock. 
It's been agony for so long, this want I've had for you. You
come on the bridge and suddenly I'm only aware of you – how
near you are to me, how the light hits your hair, your
beautiful eyes, your presence.  Or if you're not on the
bridge, it's worse – my mind wanders to where you are, what
you're doing, whether you're thinking of me.  It's been
hell, and hiding it has been worse than hell."  He drew a
shuddering breath; again, Spock thought he detected a film
of tears in the beautiful golden eyes.  "And I have to
admit, Spock, there have been times I've wished I could
forget the way I feel about you.  It would have been so much
easier, so much less painful.  But when Reynor threatened to
take you out of me – " he gripped Spock hard with sudden
passion " – I realized I'd lose the best part of me.  I told
him that what I thought and felt was mine alone, and I'd
never allow him to take any of it."

"What did he do?"  Spock's voice held a calm deeper than
death.

Kirk shut his eyes.  From what seemed like a great distance
away, Spock noted that his lashes were wet.  "He just went
ahead and tried it anyway.  He didn't touch me that time –
it was all from his mind. I think by then he was so enraged
that he didn't care if he hurt me or killed me – he only
cared about erasing you.  It was like a forest fire in my
head, racing through, sucking away the air and demolishing
everything around it that was alive.  I knew that at the end
of it, I would be worse than dead.  At the very least, I
felt he had the power to take you away, and I knew when that
happened the most essential part of me would be gone too,
burned away."

Sickened by the desecration that Jim was describing, Spock
realized that for once, his Vulcan half and his human half
were in accord. True, his human half wanted to see Reynor
beaten until he was bloody and screamed for mercy, and then
beaten again until he at last fell silent forever.  His
Vulcan half was more efficient.  It argued for death through
the snapping of the neck, and proposed that the sound of
cracking bone would be infinitely more satisfying.  But both
sides were united in black, endless, consuming hatred. 
"What did you do, T'hy'la?" Spock asked, through clenched
teeth.  His voice shook.

"I went crazy," Jim admitted.  "I fought him.  Not
physically – in fact I'm not sure if I moved at all.  But I
remember lashing out at him, screaming, clawing, forcing my
own will back at him, trying with everything I had to drive
him out."

"I heard you," Spock told him.

Jim looked away.  "It wasn't enough.  He was too strong, and
he was too skilled.  I knew he was going to win.  I could
feel his triumph, spreading through my head like some kind
of cancer."  His eyes returned to Spock's.  "There was only
one thing I could do.  I decided that if I were going to be
obliterated, then by God it was going to be at my own
command, not his."

In spite of himself, Spock's eyebrow rose.  How like Jim to
find a way to gain the upper hand, even when he was
outgunned.  He thought of the self- destruct sequence on the
Enterprise, and a time when Kirk had been willing to use it
to regain control. "You took yourself away," he said with
certainty.

"Yes.  I decided to choose death.  I took myself so far away
that no one could reach me any more.  He tried to follow,
but he didn't want to die, so he had to turn back.  And – "
there was a grim satisfaction in Kirk's tone – "although I
was too far gone to come back along the path, I knew that
when I died, all of me would die – not just remnants that
Reynor had chosen to leave behind."

Spock clasped Jim to him fiercely.  "But you were not too
far gone to come back," he said, more to reassure himself
than to reassure Jim. "You did come back."

Jim placed the palm of his hand on Spock's chest and
caressed the curly hair gently.  "Not on my own," he said. 
"I couldn't.  Someone came and got me.  Someone held out a
light to me that was so beautiful and so bright that I had
to reach for it."  He looked at Spock and smiled, but the
smile was haunted.  "The same one who always seems to pull
me away from the brink of hell at the last possible moment."

"The brink of hell."

Spock repeated it automatically, reading in Jim's eyes and
in his words all he needed to of the trauma that Reynor had
caused Kirk.  He tried desperately to think of a way to ease
Jim's pain, to take the past hours away, but before he could
order his thoughts, Jim clasped him hard to his chest and
whispered urgently into his ear, "Spock." To his surprise,
Spock felt his body instantly stir and respond; he was
becoming aroused again.  How did Jim have the power to do
this to him, just by calling his name?  Spock resolved to
meditate upon it later; right now Jim's seductive lips were
too close to his.  He leaned forward and pressed his own
mouth upon them, immediately feeling Jim's eager, almost
frantic response, his need for comfort and for touch.

"Spock, you said you'd give me everything," Jim reminded
him, punctuating his words with maddeningly tantalizing
flicks of his tongue against Spock's neck and ear.

"Everything.  Anything," promised Spock hoarsely, twisting
his head to capture Jim's mouth again.  He would never be
able to get enough of those kisses. They were too enticing –
they filled a part of him that had been empty far too long. 
Nevertheless he reluctantly abandoned Jim's mouth for the
moment and started to work his way down Kirk's neck to his
chest, to his hard rosy nipples.  Beneath his tongue, Jim
squirmed and moaned.  Spock scraped his teeth against the
left nipple and listened with satisfaction as Jim gasped and
then tangled his hands spasmodically in Spock's silky hair. 
He reached, and felt Jim grow hard beneath his hand.

"Then, I need you inside of me.  I want you to fuck me so
hard and so deep that I forget you were nearly ripped away
from me."

Spock felt his own rock hard cock pulse at the thought, but
his stomach clenched with anxiety as well. He pulled his
lips away from Jim's chest and looked up.  "Jim," he began.

"No!  You won't hurt me."  Jim said fiercely, and then said,
much more softly, "You'll heal me."  His eyes were dark, the
pupils dilated with desire and need.  He pulled Spock to him
in an embrace that nearly hurt and then started to brush his
hands along the hard, sinewy muscles of Spock's abdomen,
finally bending over to run his tongue around Spock's navel. 
Spock felt the blood start to pound in his ears; an
involuntary moan escaped from his throat.  "Don't make me
beg you, Spock.  I need this.  I need you – all of you.  As
much as you can give."  His breath fell hot on Spock's skin,
sending ripples of pleasure throughout the Vulcan's body. 
"As much as I can take."

With a strangled sound, Spock abandoned any pretense of
resistance and sat up, gathering Jim to him, pulling him in
one swift motion into his lap. As Jim's legs encircled his
hips, he reached down and grasped Jim's erect cock and began
to stroke it slowly, almost reverently. Transported by the
magic of the skilled hands, Jim groaned with delight and
kissed his lover, his tongue questing and probing so deeply
in Spock's mouth that Spock was certain he would vaporize
from the pleasure of it.

Jim pulled away just long enough to brush his lips across
the tip of Spock's ear.  "I want you," he murmured.  "I've
always wanted you. Don't make me wait any longer."

"Yes," Spock whispered, not able to think clearly enough to
be entirely sure what he was agreeing to, but still certain
that he could not live without it another minute.  Claiming
Jim's lips in another long kiss, he slid his hands down
Kirk's back until they rested upon Jim's ass.  With one hand
he spread Jim's cheeks; with the other he tormented his
writhing lover with a thorough and expert exploration that
finally ended at Jim's tight opening.  He pushed against it
but stopped when he felt resistance.

Jim's buried his face in Spock's neck.  "Please!" he gasped,
in between desperate nips and kisses. "Please!"  The naked
want in Jim's voice inflamed Spock even more – everything
fell away except the burning need to take complete
possession of the beautiful man in his arms, the center of
his universe, his certain destiny.  Spock reached down and
quickly slid his fingers across the head of his own cock and
then Jim's.  Both were now slippery with pre-cum; Spock's
fingers were slick when he pulled them away.  Carefully,
ever so slowly, he pressed one finger against Jim's tight
opening, felt it contract instinctively and then give way
beneath his gentle assault.  Slowly, he slid one long finger
in as far as it would go and moved it around inside of the
canal; Jim shuddered and clasped the Vulcan to him tightly. 
"Yes, Spock. More."  His words were muffled but no less
urgent. Spock carefully inserted a second finger and worked
it along with the first to relax the muscles.  He could feel
Jim becoming ready to take him; the thought alone was nearly
enough to make him come.

As if sensing this, Jim pulled back from Spock and bent over
to take the Vulcan's inflamed cock in his mouth.  Spock
gasped at the sensation of the human's tongue swirling
around his sex-swollen penis. He had to use every iota of
his control to keep from taking Jim's head in his hands and
plunging madly into the human's mouth until he found
release.  But Jim's tongue remained on him only long enough
to thoroughly lubricate Spock's hot cock with saliva, and
then he fell back on the bed, pulling Spock with him.  "Now,
Spock."  Kirk looked directly into Spock's eyes; in their
mercurial depths Spock read complete trust. Somehow, that
trust was even more arousing than the feel of Jim's perfect,
firm body beneath him; every nerve burned for this man, so
beautiful, so powerful, and now so eager to be completely
taken.

*By me,* thought Spock, and closed his eyes against a giddy
swell of adoration and gratitude.  Ever so gently, he pushed
the head of his straining penis against Jim's tight opening,
hesitating when he heard Jim's sharp intake of breath.  But
the human who writhed beneath him would not be thwarted.  He
squirmed impatiently and pushed down as hard as he could. 
"Everything, Spock," he demanded. "Everything."

"Everything," promised Spock again, and slowly, with
profound care, pushed in the rest of the way.

A sharp cry from Jim – or was it from his own mouth? The
unbelievable sensation of Jim's anus nipping convulsively at
the base of Spock's cock, the blissful grip of Jim's tight
passageway – Spock felt that he was about to disintegrate
from the joy of it all. *Oh, T'hy'la, beautiful new
universe. How did I ever exist outside of you?*  He had time
for just that thought, and then his body and Jim's took
over.  As the human beneath him arched his back and dug his
hands into the bed, Spock pulled his long thick cock away,
almost out of Jim.  The near abandonment elicited a whimper
of protest that quickly turned to a groan of pleasure as
Spock thrust back into the moist tunnel.

Another strangled moan – from which of them? – and Spock
felt himself begin to shatter into a thousand separate
fragments of pleasure, bright and sharp and ablaze. 
*T'hy'la.  You are mine.*  The thought raced through Spock's
head like flame.  *Yours. Before birth, past death,* coursed
Jim's reply. And then there was no more thought, no time, no
space - just the overwhelming, savage need to thrust wildly
into the taut ass of the human, to force him to cry out in
ecstasy, to taste his lips, to stroke his hard sex, to own
him in every way, with every portion of skin and soul and
mind.  As Spock pounded wildly into his human and felt
himself careen ever closer to the edge of the abyss, Jim's
hard sex began to ripple beneath his hand.   Eyes unfocused
with passion, Jim threw his head back and screamed
soundlessly, shooting warm cum all over Spock's belly and
chest.  The sight of Jim undone was too much:  with a harsh
cry, Spock drove hard into Jim one last time as he unleashed
his molten seed deep within the confines of his human.

---

Half an hour later, Spock carefully untangled himself from
the exhausted Jim and slipped quietly out of bed.  Though
his many sleepless nights were taking their toll, he was
resolved to wait until he returned to the Enterprise to
allow himself to rest.  At the moment, he had two important
duties to perform for his captain.  The first was to go to
Jim's room and get his clothing.  The Enterprise would
return soon to beam them up, and Spock was unwilling to
allow Jim to leave the safety of this room in the meantime. 
Not after he had nearly lost him forever, not when the image
of Jim's lifeless body in the garden was still so fresh in
Spock's mind.  There were times ahead, Spock knew, when he
would have to endure having Jim out of his sight and in
danger.  Those times would doubtless be made more difficult
by what he and Jim had just shared. But this morning was not
one of those times.  This morning he would make sure that
his captain, his t'hy'la, was safe.

Which led him to his second duty. . .

Spock surveyed the naked human sprawled so peacefully, so
trustingly, on the bed.  Jim's lips were slightly parted;
his breath came deeply and evenly in sleep.  One muscular
arm was still outstretched from where it had draped over
Spock after their lovemaking; the other was curled under
Jim's head, beneath his tousled fair hair, now made even
brighter by a shaft from Seginus III's midmorning sun.  As
Spock drank in the sight, he acknowledged to himself that
everything was changed, and nothing.  Before Jim had taken
his lips in that first kiss, Spock would have laid down his
life without question or regret for this beautiful golden
human.  But now, with the taste of Jim still fresh in his
mouth, with the memory of Jim's caresses still burning in
his mind, Spock knew that what he felt for this one man went
far beyond logic, duty – or perhaps even love, as love was
usually defined.  It was instead something akin to gravity,
an inexorable, unalterable law of the universe, that had
brought him to his t'hy'la and that would bind them together
forever, whether fate brought either or both of them long
life or swift death.

. . . It was this bond that called Spock to his second duty.

Reluctantly tearing his eyes from his sleeping captain,
Spock went to make himself ready to meet with Reynor.

---

It took Spock not quite an hour to return.  To his surprise,
Jim had already risen and taken a shower. He was standing on
the balcony clad only in a towel when Spock came in; at the
sound of the Vulcan's footsteps, Jim turned to fasten a
brilliant smile on his lover.  Spock surveyed him anxiously,
looking for any signs of damage from the turbulent night,
but saw nothing but joy and love on Jim's face.  The sight
took Spock's breath away; suddenly, he found that he could
not speak.

"Spock."  Jim came over to Spock, who remained rooted in one
place. "Thanks for bringing my clothes.  What's that you've
got?"

For the first time, Spock remembered the portfolio he was
carrying. "The right of way agreement," he replied, handing
the packet to Jim. "Granted to the Federation with no
conditions and no limit of term." He was careful to keep his
voice steady - for some reason, it seemed to want to shake.

Two piercing hazel eyes fixed themselves upon him. "You saw
Reynor."

"Yes."

"Spock."  Jim's voice was quiet but firm.  "No secrets,
remember? What did you do?  I can't imagine he just turned
this over to you, just like that."

Jim's gaze was relentless; there was no way Spock could
escape its scrutiny.  He resisted the urge to squirm.  "No,"
he answered reluctantly.

"Then what. . . ?"

"I allowed him to touch my mind," Spock confessed. "He had
been attempting to do just that throughout our stay here.  I
lowered my shields and let him see. . . "

"Everything?"

"Enough," said Spock.  "Enough so that he was afraid I would
not control.  Enough so that he was afraid that I would do
to him what he did to you." With disgust, Spock realized
that his voice was indeed shaking.  Rage was not conducive
to vocal control; all the more reason to purge it if
possible.  He had much meditation ahead of him.

Jim's eyes softened; he reached up and laid his hands gently
on Spock's shoulders.  "Spock."

"He hurt you, T'hy'la.  He forced you - he nearly tore you
from me. I- I wanted to tear him apart in return.  Perhaps I
should have. Perhaps I did not do enough to protect you, or
to revenge.  But I found when I had him there before me,
that I could not.  I allowed him to pay with his fear alone. 
I had intended otherwise.  But I could not."

To Spock's surprise, Jim smiled.  "Spock, you've done
nothing wrong. Don't you understand?  I love you because
you're compassionate, not in spite of it.  I would never ask
you to go against your nature.  And it's over.  Reynor hurt
me, yes.  But you brought me back, and you healed me. 
Reynor is the loser in this, Spock, and you and I. . . "
Jim's smile became even more brilliant; Spock could not bear
to look away. "You and I have all of forever before us now,
Spock.  There is nothing to regret - or to revenge."

Spock stood mutely, gazing down at the human, allowing
himself to bask in the waves of acceptance that rushed
toward him from his t'hy'la. . .  and to study those
beautiful, engrossing lips, so firm and yet so soft, so
perfectly shaped, so. . .

"Mr. Spock."

The old familiar command tone had crept back into Kirk's
voice.  Spock responded automatically. "Captain."

"I'm warning you.  If you kiss me, I will drop this towel
and I will have you back in that bed faster than a Horta on
cordrazine.  And the Enterprise is returning soon."

"Point four hours," said Spock.

"And if we are making love instead of getting ready to beam
up. . . "

 ". . . There is a 98.5 percent chance that Mr. Scott will
be thoroughly scandalized," finished Spock.

"Really?  I would have thought the odds were higher.  But
perhaps I was thinking of Dr. McCoy."

Spock's eyebrow shot up.  "Acknowledged," he said, stepping
back hastily.

Kirk laughed, a joyful hoot that rang out loud in the
Seginus III morning.  "I thought you'd see it my way, Mr.
Spock."  His smile faded and he shot a look of pure love at
the Vulcan.  Spock felt his knees start to weaken.  "But
when we are back home, Spock, we are both going to sleep for
a full shift, no matter what may come.  And after that. . .
"

"After that?" Spock prompted.

"After that, you and I are going to start living our new
forever – together."  And in spite of his warning, James
Kirk reached up and lightly touched his lips to the mouth of
his beloved.

---

The End