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Jim blinked awake, but sickbay’s lights had been dimmed. The soft beeping of the biobed and the distant hum of the ship’s engines were the only sounds.
Even in the dim light, Jim could see Spock’s dark outline, his head bowed where he sat beside Jim’s bed. Jim closed his eyes, and for a moment he savored it. Spock’s hand was firmly in his own, as it always was in sickbay.
It was easy to imagine that Jim had just awoken in his quarters, warm and safe and uninjured, and Spock, ever the early-riser, was simply sitting beside the bed, waiting for Jim to wake up and start their day.
Jim opened his eyes. “Spock,” he whispered.
Spock’s head snapped up. “Jim.”
Jim squeezed Spock’s hand. Spock’s breath stuttered, and he stared down at Jim with liquid eyes. Spock gently squeezed back.
“Jim. I-”
“Don’t,” Jim commanded.
Spock hesitated. Then he shook his head. “Jim,” he breathed, pleading.
“Please Spock. Don’t. I couldn’t bear it,” Jim begged.
For a moment, Jim couldn’t breath. He stared up at Spock, at his gaze which seemed to pierce through everything and leave Jim naked and open, and he couldn’t help but wish that Spock would just say it. Damn regulation, damn responsibility. Damn it all.
Spock slowly slid his hand away. It fell limply by his side. “Of course, Captain,” he agreed, but it was choked. “I am gratified that you are conscious again.”
“Yes, Mr. Spock. Me too.”
#
“Isn’t it just beautiful?” Uhura whispered, gazing out of the window.
The others had settled on the floor, their backs propped against the slightly curved wall so that they could peek out the windows at just the right angle. Even Spock had lowered himself to sit cross-legged next to Jim.
“You never do get tired of it,” Chekov agreed, with a dreamy sigh.
Jim had to agree, watching as the stars slid by through the thick, gooey blackness that lovingly enveloped the Enterprise.
“Speak for yourselves,” McCoy mumbled. “It still gives me the creeps.”
“Doctor McCoy, you’re just a grumpy old man,” Uhura admonished.
“Yeah, Bones,” Jim added, “You have to admit, there isn’t anything more beautiful. It’s...enchanting.”
“Well aren’t you a romantic,” McCoy teased.
“I find I do not agree with your sentiment, Captain,” Spock announced. Everyone’s heads whipped to stare at him incredulously.
“I know you’re Vulcan and all, Mr. Spock, but even you can’t pretend not to love the sight,” Scotty rebuked.
Spock stared out the window. “I do not mean to say that I do not hold a strong affection for the beauty of this universe,” he explained. “I mean that I believe my reasoning is quite different to the Captain’s. Space is not enchanting, but adventure. Exploration. A home within the unknown.”
“How poetic,” Sulu remarked, eyebrows raised.
“But don’t you see the grace, too?” Jim asked. “Space is mystery. It’s...it’s almost beguiling.”
At the window, Uhura laughed.
“What?” Jim asked defensively.
“Oh, nothing,” Uhura said. “It’s just that if I ever met someone that made me talk about them the way you two talk about space, I don’t think I’d ever let them go.”
In that instant, like an electric shock, Jim made his decision. He felt a buzzing under his skin, so powerful he was surprised he wasn’t shaking. He glanced up to see Spock was already gazing down at him. In his eyes, Jim saw everything.
The same ethereal beauty of space shone through the blackness of Spock’s eyes. But unlike space, Spock’s eyes gazed back, full of love, just as enchanted in return.
Without speaking, both men inched their hands towards each other, meeting in the middle, in the shadow that was settled between them. No one seemed to notice.
No one stood up to shout, no one reported them to Starfleet. In fact, if Jim and Spock had managed to tear their eyes away from each other, they may have noticed all of their friends pointedly looking the other way, talking a little louder about absolutely nothing at all.
#
It went on like that for months. If anyone seemed to notice the lingering glances, the pointed touches, the quiet whispers, they didn’t say anything.
No one noticed that one day Jim couldn’t stop smiling, feeling as though beams of happiness would burst from him and smother everything in golden light. They didn’t notice when he slipped, calling down to the Mess, or the labs, or Rec Room 3, knowing exactly where Spock was without asking the computer.
No one noticed when Spock, in a rare moment, forgot that he had not in fact been speaking aloud, but suddenly picked up a conversation right in the middle of it with Jim on the bridge.
No one seemed to notice until Asio joined the Enterprise.
#
“Have you had a chance to meet our new recruit, Jim?” Bones asked as they walked out of the senior officers meeting.
See you on the bridge, Jim said mentally to Spock, grinning. The novelty of their link still hadn’t faded. Not after two months. Jim didn’t think it ever would.
Of course, ashayam, Spock replied. Jim basked in the warm glow of his love, sending tendrils of his own in return.
“Jim?” Bones prompted.
“Oh, sorry, lost in thought,” Jim said quickly. “Yes, Cadet Asio? She’ll be a great addition to the crew.”
“She’s a Strigiforme,” McCoy said conversationally.
“Yes, first one to join the crew. We’ll have to make sure she adjusts alright. I know the crew will welcome her with open arms.”
“I’ve no doubt about that either, Jim,” McCoy said. “But Strigiformes can be quite finicky about the rules. Even little ones. I hear they don’t even cheat playing poker.”
“Wait, do you cheat playing poker?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
Jim laughed. They both walked through the Sick Bay doors and Jim leaned against the wall. “Was there a point to this conversation?” He asked with an easy smile. “Because I’m due on the bridge.”
McCoy looked around Sick Bay cautiously, but the entire room was quiet. Only Nurse Chapel sung quietly to herself as she worked in the next room.
“Jim,” Bones said, his voice dropping quieter than a whisper, “all I’m saying is you and Spock need to be more careful now.”
Jim felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head. Over the bond, he could feel Spock’s response to his sudden change in mood. On the bridge, he grew stiff.
Bones knows, Jim told him.
“Don’t give me that look, Jim,” McCoy chastised. “You can’t think you were being that discreet.”
“I…” Jim didn’t know what to say. “Who else knows?”
“Jim,” McCoy sighed, pitying, “the whole ship knows. Has known. Even before you two, maybe.”
Jim attempted to shut his mouth, which was gaping open. “What gave it away?”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “Jim. You’ve got to stop kissing in front of everybody. We all know what that hand thing means, you know.”
Jim stared at McCoy, blinking. Then, like honey, he felt amusement trickle through his body over the link. Jim couldn’t help it. He began to laugh.
Up on the bridge, if anyone had bothered to look, they would have seen Spock’s lips twitch.
“Jim, be serious!” McCoy snapped.
“I’m sorry Bones,” Jim said. “I just...It means a lot, you know. That you all turned the blind eye.”
McCoy folded his arms across his chest. “Well, we’re not giving up the best command team in the ‘fleet just because they’re awful saps.”
“Noted, doctor,” Jim said, still smiling. “We’ll tone it down. It’s a promise.”
#
They were much more careful. None of the officers ever said anything, but suddenly Spock and Jim never found themselves alone. When they ate in the mess hall, Chekov and Sulu would join them at their table. When they walked through the corridors, Scotty would walk with them. When they played chess in the recreation rooms, Uhura would come to watch.
Jim loved them all for it. They never mentioned their sudden, coordinated change in behavior, but Jim knew that it was their way of saying we have your back.
Over the months, it became easier to curb the glances and the touches. In the few hours that they allowed themselves privacy in their quarters, Spock carefully trained Jim in the art of telepathy.
Whenever Jim felt as if he just couldn’t take it anymore, and that he would explode from the wanting, he sunk deeper and deeper into the bond. And the bond always let him go deeper. It seemed Spock’s love for him was inexhaustible.
Jim tried not to hold it against Asio. She was a fantastic crewmember. A quick-witted engineer. A good person. He made sure to smile at her when he saw her. He asked her about her life, her hobbies, her family. He didn’t learn everything about her, and they certainly weren’t as close as friends, but Asio wasn’t a stranger. Jim certainly didn’t hate her. Sometimes, her straight-laced following the rules had a charmingly familiarity.
#
Red lights were blaring. The engineering room was getting hotter. Sweat dripped down Jim’s forehead and into his eyes. Above, Jim could hear the photon torpedos blasting.
“We’ve only got minutes, sir,” Scotty yelled over the noise. “Maybe less!”
Jim didn’t need the reminder. The warp core was hissing and creaking at it shook in the center of engineering. Jim tore open a control panel and began ripping out wires.
“Shut it down!” He shouted. “We’ll worry about repairs later. Do whatever you have to do to shut it down!”
Beside him, Asio began to desperately pull wires apart, not even wincing when the sparks burned her soft skin.
“But Jim, if we do that we’ll have to rely on the generators. Life support will be compromised,” Scotty said.
“I know,” Jim gritted out.
“Captain, the life support system was damaged on the bridge. If we shut it down-”
“I know,” Jim repeated, a desperate edge in his tone.
“Jim, anyone on the bridge will only have minutes! The automatic lock will engage. They’ll die!”
“Dammit, Scotty, I know!” Jim screamed, he grasped a handful of wires and tugged. They erupted from the control panel in a shower of orange sparks that burned his skin.
“Jim, Spock is on the bridge!” Scotty begged, wrecked as he watched Jim and Asio tear apart the power supply.
Jim whirled to face him. “I know Spock is on the bridge!” Jim cried. “I know Spock is up there, and I know that he’s terrified, and I know that he’s probably going to die. I know that he’s alone. But if we don’t do this, this will blow, and everyone will die!”
“Jim,” Scotty whispered.
Jim reached back into the panel and yanked the last wire out. The warp core hissed one final time before it shuddered and turned black. They’d done it.
Jim fell against the metal wall, sliding down onto the floor. The ship rattled. The whole room was dark except for the flashing red emergency lights. The ship shook and quaked, still taking blasts from the enemy ship. Jim took a deep breath.
“He could make it,” Scotty said. “If he transfers bridge control in time, he could override the lock. He just has to transfer control to engineering.”
“We have bigger problems,” Jim said, pushing himself to standing. “We have to return fire, all we got. Without the shields we won’t last long.”
Scotty hesitated, but agreed. “Aye, Captain.” He turned to the computer and began typing in commands while he shouted to the engineering team over his shoulder.
Asio laid a gentle hand on Jim’s shoulder.
Jim turned to her, and saw a quiet, ugly determination in her eyes. “I will try to override the lock from here,” she said. “Go, the ship needs you.”
Jim tried to communicate his gratitude in a single look before he turned and strode out of engineering, to see where Sulu had set up the makeshift bridge.
#
The Enterprise swayed dangerously to the side. Spock closed his eyes. At least that was one small victory. If they were no longer taking direct hits, Mr. Scott must have succeeded in blasting the enemy ship’s targeting systems.
But still, Spock knew he had only minutes. He sealed the bond. If he didn’t make it, he did not want Jim’s last memory of him to be the feeling of death. He almost felt Jim’s grief like a punch for the few seconds it took him to seal off their connection.
Now, Spock felt truly alone.
It was hard to see in the dark emergency lighting. Spock could pick up on the soft hiss that the air made as it escaped the room. He glanced around at the smoking wires that hung around the bridge and did his best to stop his hands from shaking. He needed to transfer controls to engineering.
Spock breathed in a small, steadying breath, but it felt thin. The oxygen was reaching critical levels. Spock stood up, ignoring the fact that he swayed once he was standing. He marched to the conn.
Engineering had long ago begun to fire the photon torpedoes without using bridge controls, but they lacked the targeting power that was built into the conn. If Spock could get in just one direct hit, that is all they needed.
His fingers flew over the controls, his mind reeling. Part of him was screaming, screaming for him to stop wasting time on this horrible task and save himself. He could override the emergency lock, and then transfer the controls. It would only take a few minutes.
Spock thought of Jim. He would not risk his captain’s life, or that of his crew, to selfishly give himself a chance. The firefight needed to end. Now.
Spock was making 52% more mistakes than usual as he punched in command after command. He grit his teeth. He did not have time for these mistakes.
As his vision began to dim, he forced himself to work faster, racing his own sluggish body. His vision faded to black, and he scrabbled for the last button, his hand feeling as though it weighed ten thousand pounds, pushing blindly against its own weight.
He hit the button, and collapsed.
#
Spock woke up in Sick Bay. He was on a cot. He had an oxygen tube taped to his nose. He sat up slowly, his vision threatening to blink out again as he did so. Sick Bay was packed. The biobeds were all taken. Some crewmembers were simply sitting on the floor, helping one another with bandages and hyposrays and even a tourniquet.
Spock could not count how many people were injured. His eyes widened. He did not know who was injured. Trying to calm his panic, Spock’s focus flew to the bond. It was still sealed. He tore off the shield and pushed through their link.
There was an instant, overwhelming shock of relief.
Spock. It was Jim.
Ashayam.
Spock. Oh god. Alive. Alive. I love you. I’m sorry.
Ashayam, T’hyl’a, alive. I love you.
Spock’s was emotionally compromised, if the wetness on his cheeks were any indication.
“Commander,” a voice cut in, snapping Spock’s attention away from the relief and love and guilt.
He looked up, fighting the urge to wipe away the evidence of his emotionalism. Asio was standing in front of his cot, holding an ointment and a bandage in one set of her hands. Her other four hands were badly burned, blackened at the fingertips.
“Cadet,” Spock said, staring at her injuries. “Do you need assistance?”
“Please,” Asio hissed. “The medical staff are understandably busy.”
Spock took the supplies from her and silently set to work.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Asio said, quietly.
“I am at a loss as to how I made it off the bridge.”
Asio wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I managed to override the lock, sir.”
Spock looked away from his work to stare at her. “Then I owe you my thanks.”
“No sir,” Asio said, and she still was not looking at him. “I owe you an apology.”
“Certainly not, cadet?”
“Please, sir. I hope you can forgive me. For the past four months, I have been sending reports to Earth about you and the captain.”
Spock froze. “I see,” he said.
“I did not understand,” Asio whispered. “Sir, please understand that I thought I was doing what was right.”
Spock closed his eyes for a moment, his tears still had not dried from his cheeks. Then he resumed wrapping Asio’s hands in gauze.
“What is, is,” he said helplessly.
“No sir,” Asio said again. “I won’t say another word. No charges have been brought. It’s true, there is quite a bit of evidence against you, but there is nothing condemning.”
Spock raised his eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that we disregard regulation, cadet?”
“Yes, sir,” Asio said defiantly, sticking out her chin. “There are more important things to fight for.”
Spock nodded. “You are quite correct.”