Out of Time

by MoonStrawKi

Summary:

The Enterprise-B's maiden voyage is a disaster, and Admiral Kirk is caught in the unfortunate crossfire. But instead of waking up at the pearly gates, Jim wakes up in front of his childhood home 47 years in the past- and not everything is the same as it was.

When Spock finds himself stranded on Delta Vega, forced to watch as Nero destroys his home planet, the presence of a young James T. Kirk raises questions about his broken bond with Kirk's older counterpart and why it suddenly feels like there's someone on the other side again.

The story of how the connection between two people managed to transcend space and time, and the trials and tribulations they have to face to finally meet once again.

Chapter 1: Parted From Me And Never Parted

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

His name is James T. Kirk. He has 39 years of recorded service as a member of Starfleet, and spearheaded the first 5 year mission of the U.S.S. Enterprise. He has recently stepped down from his position as Admiral and settled into a job at Starfleet Academy as a professor. He and Ambassador Spock share a condo on Bay Street in San Francisco, just down the street from the Golden Gate Bridge. He has just been pronounced dead due to significant hull damage sustained by the U.S.S. Enterprise B when its maiden voyage turned abruptly into a confrontation with an unidentified spatial anomaly. The whereabouts of his body are unknown.

 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

 

Jim awoke to a gripping cold shooting up and down his body, seemingly splayed out on his back in the snow. He slowly opened his eyes, expecting to see the inside of the Enterprise-B’s hull again, where he’d descended to modify the main deflector. Instead, he was greeted by a dark night sky. Stars winked above him patronizingly, just begging to be explored, and as he turned his head, he saw he was near a house. His childhood house. The roof was laden with a fresh layer of snow, and as he began to prop himself up on one arm, the motion-sensor porch light flicked on. 

 

Ending up back on Earth was odd enough, but his childhood home hadn’t looked like this since he was a boy. A family had moved in after his mother passed away and painted the walls bright yellow, for some damned reason. He always thought it was garish, but never dared to tell anyone other than Spock, who would chide him gently with some soliloquy about how everything changes eventually while he’d lovingly roll his eyes. But here, the walls were still the deep navy blue of the sky with white trim that dissolved into the snow-capped hills that stretched out behind it. 

 

The light by the window flicked on. Shit. He tried to make himself presentable, although he didn’t know for who. Half of his maroon uniform was singed and the other half was covered in dust and ash; he tried to wipe it off with his numb-cold hands, but it felt infused into the fabric. He quickly unclipped and pocketed his Starfleet insignia. A voice cut through the midnight silence.

 

“Is someone there?” A woman’s voice asked. Jim felt a lump form in his throat. How many years had it been since he’d heard that voice? His mother’s voice was young and dripping with worry, always in some sort of smooth sing-song. Hearing her voice again like that, not exhausted and frail like it had been at the end of her life, nearly made his eyes well up. Keep it together. If this was some sort of time travel situation, he needed to at least try to be as discreet as possible. And even if it wasn’t and this was some sort of dream or afterlife, it was better to be safe rather than sorry.

 

“Hi, uh, sorry for the disturbance ma’am,” Jim said hurriedly as he tried and failed to get to his feet, hands groping for balance and slipping around pitifully in the snow, every year of his age weighing him down at once. “I’ll just be on my way once I… get my legs to cooperate with my brain.”

 

“It’s freezing out here,” his mother fretted, walking to his side in her evening slippers to help heave him up, wrapping his arm around hers. “How did you even end up here?”

 

“That’s a good question, because I can’t seem to remember myself,” Jim said, finally regaining his footing and feeling the cold and achiness shoot through his legs like daggers, suddenly aware of how long he must’ve been passed out in the snow for his whole body to be so numb. “But really, I’m ok now. Thanks for the help mo.. ma’am. I don’t want to inconvenience you further.”

 

“It’s no inconvenience,” she insisted, tightening her grip as Jim tried to squirm his arm away, likely mistaking it for him losing his footing again. She looked around. “Odd…I don’t see a hovercar nearby. However you got here, I don’t want you walking back to town all night in the cold when you’re already nearly frostbitten. Come inside and warm up for a minute.” As Jim opened his mouth to protest again, she interrupted, “I insist.”

 

His steps towards the door were shaky and unsure- whether that was the explosion, the time travel, the cold, or some horrendous concoction of all three, he couldn’t be certain- and he depended heavily on the support offered by his mother. The inside of his- no, her- home was just as he remembered it. The dining room was bathed in light from an antique lamp, and stacks of old paper books piled in the opposite corner. His mother pulled a chair out from the dining table and moved a stack of PADDs out of the way before going to prepare a mug of hot chocolate, just as Jim remembered her doing when he’d come home much too late in the winter as a boy. In the lamplight he could now see that her blonde hair was lying loosely around her shoulders and her purple slippers matched the lavender of her nightgown. It was all so surreal and so comforting and wrong. Jim felt like a stranger in these walls, an interloper in a time not his own. It was taking everything in him to not melt into his mothers arms like a child, warm and safe and free from the burdens of adulthood, but without knowing for sure if this was the past or a dream, he just couldn’t justify chancing it. His heart was caught in a vise. He scanned the room to see if he could spot a calendar or a PADD with the news open to spy the date on it to no avail before his focus was pulled back to his mother, who was setting down a hot mug in front of him. As he wrapped his hands around it, he felt his skin warm and begin coming back to life. 

 

“So you don’t remember how you ended up here,” his mother started, more of a statement than a question. “Do you remember anything from before that?”

 

Yeah, being nearly blown to shreds in a ship that was completely unprepared to leave spacedock, he thought, but bit his lip to keep from quipping it. Besides, there was a gap between now and then too that he just couldn’t place. A cool breeze, the smell of freshly chopped wood…

 

“Not particularly,” he said. It was only partially a lie, at least. “It’s all a bit of a blur.”

 

“Where are you from? Did you come from town, or are you visiting, or..” She trailed off.

 

“Oh, er…San Francisco.” The words felt wrong in Jim’s mouth. “I, uh, just have family in Iowa is all. I’m here visiting.” He remembered he was supposed to have amnesia, and quickly added, “I think.”

 

“Ah, San Francisco! I used to live there too, back when I was in the Academy.” A wistful smile graced her face. “It’s certainly a sight to behold, that city. At least, compared to Riverside, that is. I met my husband there in our Stellar Cartography class.” She chuckled softly, then spoke just above a whisper. “He used to draw out fake constellations and name them after me during our study periods.”

 

“George Kirk?” Jim ventured, unable to stop the question from tumbling out. He hadn’t heard many stories of his parents while they were in school, young and in love. His father, who always seemed sturdy and brave to Jim as a boy, was hard to imagine as a hopeful romantic in the burgeoning stages of love.

 

“Yes! You knew him then?”

 

“Oh, ah..we were.. old childhood friends,” he lied.

 

As his mother tried to figure out how next to push the conversation along, her eyes seemed to glaze over. A cold feeling settled in the pit of Jim’s stomach; it was that same look of profound loneliness that she had on the nights that she, Jim, and his brother Sam would be sitting in their quarters on some faraway starbase, the beautifully cold and unfeeling stars mocking them through the windows of their quarters, knowing their father would be working for the rest of the night. Jim felt a shiver crawl up his spine as though he’d never left the snow.

 

“I, uh.. I’m sorry for intruding,” he said tentatively, beginning to stand up. “Maybe I’d better be going, you seem to have something on your mind and I-”

 

“No, no, it’s alright,” she interrupted. “It’s just that...” She took a sip from her own mug, which Jim hadn’t noticed her make, to collect her thoughts. “It’s just that you remind me of him. George, I mean.” She smiled wanly, eyes fixed downwards as she absently stirred her cocoa. “Gosh, I mean, the way you speak.. It’s like you two could be brothers.” 

 

“Where is he now?” Jim couldn’t help but ask. Probably out on another assignment, he thought.

 

Her eyes snapped up to look at him, as if she’d been pulled out of a trance. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make this all about me. You’re the one who’s got some sort of amnesia, we should focus on trying to jog your memory.”

 

“Oh no, it’s quite alright, I.. understand.” Jim took a sip. “Honestly, I’m not sure there’s much to jog at all. Best not to worry about it.”

 

The soft noise of feet pressing into the creaking floorboards came from upstairs. Jim finished standing up– with a great deal of effort as his knees protested the strain– and made his way to the door, desperate to remove himself before whoever was up there- be it his younger self or his brother- could see him. Or start an uncomfortable and impossibly awkward exchange.

 

“Well, I guess I ought to be going,” He fumbled. “Thank you for the cocoa.”

 

Just as his hand grabbed the doorknob, he heard a voice behind him. “Hello?”

 

He turned around with the most approachable smile he could muster at the moment plastered on his face. Standing at the top of the stairwell landing was.. to his dismay.. himself. Only this version of himself seemed to be about 13 and wearing sweatpants and an old-style Starfleet Academy crewneck, which Jim recognized as having belonged to his- their father. His golden brown hair was mussed from his pillow, and his eyes- bright blue, which was odd, since Jim’s own eyes were hazel- were fixed on the older man at the door.

 

“He’s a friend of your father’s,” his mother said before Jim could open his mouth. She didn’t say it like it was some sort of coverup for his unorthodox appearance, but rather a statement that may incline him to stop by again. Jim knew that he wanted to keep that from happening at any cost, lest the meeting be any more awkward, or god forbid be detrimental to the course of time.

 

“Yes,” Jim confirmed, turning fully away from the door for a moment longer. “I, uh.. Knew your father in grade school,” he smiled. “I just wanted to drop by and say hello.” 

 

“You knew my father?” The younger Jim echoed. 

 

Shit. Jim cursed at himself, realization dawning on him as his younger self’s eyes bored intense holes into his own.. Now they’ll expect me to stop by again even more than they did before. “Yes, but uh.. he probably wouldn’t have mentioned me. Different ends of the friend group and all, you know how it is,” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m just in town from across the country. I’d best be getting back to my.. er.. hotel , so I’m able to get up early tomorrow and catch my flight.”

 

“Are you sure you’re well enough to leave?” His mother fretted again, seemingly unphased by– or unaware of– his on-the-spot lies. “You were out in the cold for quite some time.”

 

“The hot cocoa worked wonders, so I think I’ll be good to go.” He smiled cordially again at both of them before taking his leave. “Say hi to your father for me.”

 

What he had anticipated as a final statement of goodwill suddenly turned their curiosity to confusion as his mother’s face was wrought with sudden grief. “You didn’t hear what happened?”

 

Jim felt his heart drop. “What?” The younger Jim pivoted and disappeared back upstairs.

 

His mother swallowed hard. “George passed away saving the crew of the U.S.S. Kelvin from a lightning storm.” She said softly. “If it weren’t for him, me and James wouldn’t have survived. He was born in the escape shuttle.”

 

Jim felt like he’d been hit by a ton of bricks. He took a step to keep himself from falling over as hundreds of questions flooded his mind and his stomach turned sour. It wasn’t just the grief over finding out his father– who inspired him to join Starfleet in the first place– was gone. Just how different was everything here? First the blue eyes, and now this? And moreover, had his sudden appearance here had anything to do with it? If he hadn’t appeared, would time have flowed uninterrupted, and would George Kirk still be…

 

 It was too much– it was all just too much, and he needed to leave now before he started spilling his guts about everything he just lied about to cover his ass. 

 

“I’m.. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he managed to croak out. “God, I had no idea.” He found a stack of books with one hand to ground himself with as the other hand gripped the fabric of his uniform. 

 

If he’d really been one of George Kirk’s friends, if he hadn’t been lying, he would have rushed to his mother’s side, comforted her, done whatever needed to help keep their family safe and happy. But instead of doing that, he said, “It’s late. I.. I should head out. I hope.. I hope you both have a good night. And I’m sorry.”

 

He detached his hand from his uniform, fumbled with the doorknob, and let himself out without another word. His mother didn’t say anything as he went.  

 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

 

His name is Tibereus. He lives in a condo on Bay Street, just a short drive away from the Golden Gate bridge, its magnificent frame still standing proudly after over three centuries of operation. He lives a quiet retired life tending to his small garden and cat. He always sets a place at the table for someone who never comes.

 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

 

Jim had been living quietly in San Francisco ever since his sudden appearance in this time 12 years ago. It had taken everything in him to stay retired; god knows only a sudden time-travel mishap could actually keep him out of any kind of Starfleet service for long enough to even consider calling it “retirement”. At first he wrestled with the idea of being honest about his situation, even if he didn’t mention his real name. Starfleet must have clauses for victims of involuntary time travel, right? But hell, the timeline was already pretty mucked up. Jim figured having as much knowledge about the future as he had, regardless of the headaches he could prevent, may detrimentally shift things even further. And after all, he still wasn’t totally unconvinced his father hadn’t died in this timeline because of his sudden incursion, or some sort of ripple effect it might’ve had backwards through time. If he got transported, who’s to say what other antics had happened at the same time? Maybe someone came through before him, or maybe he’d get sent backwards again and.. and… 

 

His train of thought abruptly shut down as his cat, Taluhk, rubbed up against his leg, purring softly. Jim reached down to scratch behind his ears, earning an elated trill in return. He always had a dog growing up and was pretty noncommittal about the idea of having a cat, but Spock had taken quite the liking to the little felines during his time at the Academy. They got a cat not long after they got their condo together, and it turned out that Jim really liked their company after all.

 

Spock. 

 

Nothing made him ache more in this timeline than how much he missed Spock. When they’d first recognized their feelings for one another and agreed to become bondmates, both of them knew it wasn’t forever. Vulcans have such incredibly long lifespans, especially compared to humans. The day would come eventually that Jim would be on his deathbed and Spock would be forced to carry on without. But god, why did the universe have to cut things off so prematurely? What had he done to the stars that they decided to banish him to another time, another world, away from Spock? What had he done to earn a death without Spock being there?

 

Perhaps, he supposed, I was meant to die alone after all. 

 

Jim often found himself staring up at his bedroom ceiling at night, unable to sleep because of the emptiness in his mind where Spock used to be. Was he safe? Was he lonely? Was he mad at Jim in some weird way for leaving his side so early? Of course he’s not mad. It wouldn’t be like Spock to be angry over something like that. Jim tried to repeat that to himself when that irrational anxiety started streaming into his mind, filling the holes Spock left like rainwater pooling in potholes.

 

The secondary pain was always that of seeing his friends’ younger counterparts soar out into space, and knowing that he’ll never be able to follow them, let alone speak to them as the friends they once were. He didn’t know much, but he’d perused public Starfleet records and seen all of them attending the Academy. Part of it was to make sure they were all alive and well in this timeline, and the other part, however selfishly, was to just see their faces again. And perhaps, deep down, he just wanted to reminisce on the youthfulness he felt drifting away from him more and more each day. He just hoped that they would all support each other just as they had when he was in their place. 

 

At least his anxieties didn’t tend to haunt him in the daytime. He had pleasant relationships with his neighbors, good friends at the local bars, and plenty of hobbies to keep him busy. Life, although not ideal, was as good as it was going to get. He was just thankful to be alive after that explosion, in whatever form that alive-ness took.

 

Just as Jim was getting ready to set aside his woodcarving project and turn on the news, the screen flickered to life across the room of its own accord, the “Breaking News” fanfare filling the room and subtly startling him out of his relatively relaxed mood. As much as Jim appreciated the concept of emergency broadcasts automatically airing without needing to turn the screen on, it was one hell of a wakeup call to get while trying to unwind, and it always managed to scare the shit out of him.

 

All of that animosity seeped out of him, though, when he saw what filled the screen next. The camera was centered on Vulcan as debris began to peel away from its surface, crumbling into dust and drifting into the vacuum of space. The planet was being eaten from the inside out, contorting and swirling into its unshapely center and disappearing at a rapid pace.

 

Jim felt his heart hit his stomach and was overcome with a wave of nausea, falling back onto the table and gripping it with his free hand while the other raked through his hair. No. No, this can’t be happening. He’d spent so much time on Vulcan before he appeared in this time. How many people that he knew were now dead, swallowed by the maw of destruction now consuming the planet whole? What was happening to this timeline’s Spock, this timeline’s Sarek?

 

The world was beginning to spin and Jim’s head was starting to throb. His arms felt too weak to pull a dining table chair out to sit down, so he settled for the floor, crisscrossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees as he began pressing his fingers into his temples.

 

For the second time since the explosion on the Enterprise-B, Jim rooted through his mind to prod at the severed bond between him and Spock. The first time, not long after he’d arrived, it felt like rubbing salt in an open wound- raw, damaged, and throbbing. He’d found himself bedridden with crippling migraines for a month straight, digging his fingers into his sheets and gritting his teeth to keep from sobbing. 

 

Now, the bond was akin to a scab across his mind. The doorway between his mind and Spock’s wasn’t healed to a scar, but instead was thickened over to keep the pain out, rough and gritty to the mental touch. Jim felt his mind gently walk towards it and press a palm to the roughened exterior, but wince and pull away as his headache spiked like daggers. 

 

The headache was coming from the bond; he was sure of it. But why now? 

 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

The cold winds of Delta Vega battered against Spock’s aging frame as his gaze locked upon the dying planet before him. All of that time, all of that history…. Gone in one felt swoop. He hoped his younger counterpart… well, he wasn’t sure what to hope. Maybe that this time’s Spock was with his Kirk, who would be there to support and comfort him. Or maybe that the younger Spock was able to salvage or save part of Vulcan in his own way– a way that had been cruelly robbed from himself.

 

He retreated back to the cave he’d found in the side of the mountain, his thick coat covering his folded hands, two fingers extended to idly spin his wedding ring. He walked deep into the cave’s maw, pillars of crystalline ice towering over him. The time and wherewithal required for meditation had been fleeting as of late, but with nowhere to go and everything to mourn, Spock found that there was nothing to do but meditate, and found himself drawn to it. He eased himself onto the stony floor of the cave, set his jaw, and shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the cold biting at his sensitive fingertips to ebb away in the torchlight.

 

Ever since the tragedy aboard the Enterprise-B, Spock had made it a habit to visit his and Jim’s broken bond often. Something about the visiting itself brought him immense solace, even if there was no one on the other end. The gaping wound in his mind where Jim had once been still felt warm to the touch, but more like nearly cooled embers than a thriving flame. Now more than ever, Spock wished there was still a voice on the other end to comfort him while feelings of loss and anguish roared in mind, unchecked and uncontrollable. 

 

He treaded along the borders of his mind, attempting to calm the currents. As his mind brushed against the wound, though, it felt warmer than the last visit. He doubled back, pressing himself against it. Warmth flooded him once again. The currents began to pick up again, nearly sweeping him away from it. He held on tightly.

 

How could this be?

 

Spock’s eyes suddenly snapped open, focus grabbed by something else. Outside of his cave,  one of the native fauna was plowing through the snow at a rapid speed, causing hills of powder to cascade down the neighboring mountainside. This was not unusual; in the time he’d spent here since being marooned by Nero, he’d observed the various large creatures on Delta Vega, as well as their volatile moods. This one was certainly chasing down some form of prey with reckless abandon. What was unusual, Spock noticed as he strained his ears to listen, was the sound accompanying the chase. There were the typical roars of the beast, the shuffling of feet and the crunch of snow, but there was also…

 

Someone is being chased. A humanoid, to be specific. Spock could hear their panicked shouts over the snowfall. He stood up achily and dislodged his torch from the ground, but as he began to move towards the mouth of the cave, the creature and its prey came crashing into the cavern, just out of Spock’s view, shaking the walls with the impact. He peered around the corner.

 

The creature was looming over the figure– a young human man, it appeared to be– with its multiple jaws unhinged and teeth brandished. The man yelped and dug his fingers into the ground frantically, trying to drag himself away, when the creature’s tongue extended to wrap around the man’s ankle. 

 

Spock extended his torch and moved as fast as he could muster to scare it away with the flame. The creature flinched and growled as it retracted its tongue, rearing backwards and eventually skittering away, its misshapen tail and tendril-like legs wreaking havoc on the already battered cavern walls as a few bits of icy debris fell from the roof around Spock and the man behind him. Spock let out an exasperated sigh, stood for a moment, then turned to face his unlikely visitor.

 

He could have traced the lines of the face staring back at him in his sleep, and he felt his heart skip and stop for a moment when he laid eyes on the young man before him. His determined gaze softened with recognition in an instant.

 

“ James T. Kirk. ” Spock said with a controlled bewilderment.

 

“Excuse me?” The young Kirk said, chest still heaving from the chase. 

 

“How did you find me?”

 

Kirk scrambled to his feet, face contorted in confusion. “Woah, woah.. How do you know my name?”

 

“I have been and forever shall be… your friend.”

 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

 

As they trudged through the snowy expanse of Delta Vega together en route to the closest federation outpost, Spock gently prodded the bond again. 

 

No warmer than before, he observed. Initially, he hypothesized that the warmth from within the bond could have been coming from the younger Kirk– the similarities in the mental signatures between the Spock of this timeline and himself could hypothetically cause interference should their younger counterparts be bonded as well, and– despite how incredulous it sounded– it was the closest thing Spock had to an explanation. Even if that explanation didn’t line up whatsoever with what was factually known about bonding rituals. After all, his James T. Kirk had been gone for a very, very long time. But as he and the young Kirk spoke, that idea was beginning to seem very improbable. 

 

“So, you and your Spock don’t have the most amicable of relationships, as you described?” Spock queried.

 

Kirk was seemingly snapped out of a daze when the question came, his brow furrowed in concentration as they pushed through the blizzard. “Oh, uh, no. We’ve never gotten along. I, uh… honestly think he might have used the whole mutiny thing as an excuse to strand me here just to get rid of me for good, hah.” He said breathily, becoming more winded with each step. “I’m assuming you and your Kirk were different then?”

 

“Very. Jim and I… were the closest of companions,” Spock said, diverting his eyes away from the piercing blue ones glancing up at him. Something told him that this feeling of your loved one becoming a stranger to you was akin to what Jim had felt after Spock’s fal’tor’pan. He lamented not talking to him about it more, especially now that the shoe was on the other foot.

 

“‘Were’?”

 

Spock pursed his lips. “My Kirk has been gone for some time; I'm afraid I’ve been alive longer without him than I ever was with him. But I have certainly never felt more alive than I did when we were together.”

 

“So I take it you two were more than just pals, then,” Kirk half-heartedly chuckled. 

 

“We were bondmates.”

 

“Bondmates?!” he gawked. “Shit, I mean, uh, yeah. I ‘spose I should’ve put that together. It’s just that I’d never expect my Spock to even consider bonding with me.. let alone talk to me again after today.”

 

“I admit that I assumed your bond with your Spock was similar to the one I had with my Kirk. It would have explained some odd phenomena I’ve experienced from the past few hours. But no matter.”

 

Kirk was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then, “ Yes matter, actually. I’m curious. And, I mean, it’s not like we don’t have time.” He gestured to the vast, seemingly endless white expanse in front of them.

 

“Jim… if I share too much information with you about my timeline, it could have detrimental effects on your own. Your relationship with your Spock could become frayed or take a different direction. Because of how much I value my own time with Jim Kirk… I don’t want to risk depriving you of the chance to experience that connection, too.”

 

It was Kirk’s turn to purse his lips skeptically. “I mean, you’ve kinda divulged a lot already. Seems like some sort of clever Vulcan-y excuse to not get into details. I mean, if you don’t want to share that’s fine , but-”

 

“No,” Spock sighed. “You are correct; I have already told you a great deal. Our timelines already differ so greatly from one another that my experiences may not even be in your timeline’s future. Nero’s intrusion has diverged the sequence of events in ways we may not even be aware of yet.”

 

Kirk thought for a moment. “During our mind meld, I did feel some sort of… warmth. Leaking through. Like some third person sitting to the side, listening. Was that…?”

 

“As part of traditional Vulcan bonding rituals, a bonded pair will form a mind link with one another. It acts as a permanent telepathic gateway to each others’ minds. What you were feeling was the severed link to the mind of my Jim Kirk.” Spock pressed two fingers to his temple, furrowing his brow in an attempt to conceal a burgeoning headache. “When a bond is broken, it leaves a scar in one’s mind which, while never fully gone, eventually stops hurting. I’ve chosen to keep my side of our bond slightly alive– to whatever degree I can manage without enduring constant pain. The echo of Jim’s consciousness still resides there. I suppose it’s my way of keeping him with me in the only way I know how.”

 

“Ok, yeah, but..” the young Kirk scratched the back of his head with a gloved hand. “Are echoes warm like that? I mean, it felt like when you can tell someone’s staring at you. Like when you feel like you’re being watched. Does it feel like that even if the other person is gone?”

 

Spock slowed to a stop, and Kirk followed suit. “No, it does not,” he said gravely. “That is what’s confounding me. If you had a mind link with your Spock, perhaps I could explain it as coming from some unintentional transference from your mind to mine. But as it stands, that would not be possible. That leaves only one other improbable explanation.”

 

“That… your Jim ended up here somehow? In your past?”

 

Spock shut his eyes for a moment, then resumed walking. “The probability of that is so small that it doesn’t bear thinking about under our current circumstances. But if it were true, it would be a wonderfully unexpected miracle.”

 

They walked in silence for the rest of the trip, both lost deep in thought. Spock’s headache grew stronger seemingly by the minute. Before long, the federation outpost was crowning the horizon like a beacon, and it was growing ever closer.

 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Chapter 2: Never and Always Touching and Touched

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

“Are you sure I can’t even attend as a guest?” Jim ran a hand down his face, elbow resting on the desk opposite the attendance manager for the Ambassadorial Celebration for the completed establishment of New Vulcan. Her eyebrows were knit together in sympathy, but her jaw was set and her amber eyes bore holes into Jim’s own.

 

“The event’s guest list is restricted to registered Starfleet personnel and offworld Ambassadors only. I’m sorry, but my hands are tied,” she frowned.

 

“There’s gotta be something I can do. I’ll do anything.”

 

“My orders are strict, sir. I am sorry, but-”

 

“No, no, it’s okay. I understand. I know it’s just your orders,” he sighed, waving her off. “I’m sorry. To you I probably seem like some crazy old man. I’d best be going.”

 

As Jim left the business building and strode briskly down the snow-laden street, hands firmly stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, he thought of Spock again– for what was probably the hundredth time that day. Starfleet may be trying to hide the identity of the mysterious new Vulcan Ambassador who was helping to establish New Vulcan to avoid the timeline-hijinks-panic that could ensue, but Jim knew better. It all made sense; the headache, the released photos of the Narada, which looked otherworldly compared to the technology available right now, and most importantly, the Jellyfish– the ship this “mysterious visitor” arrived in– which was clearly the technological descendant of Spock’s ambassadorial ship in 2293, which Jim had input in designing along with Scotty and Vulcan’s fleet design personnel. Of course, it had been commissioned for an entirely different purpose, but it was clear Spock had requested it retain some choice features of his old Starfleet-commissioned ship. Or, potentially, ships . It suddenly occurred to Jim how much time must’ve passed for the ship to have gone through so many redesigns and recommissions. God, how long has it been for him since he saw me?

 

Starfleet had taken their sweet, sweet time releasing footage of what happened to the Narada to the general public. It was a wise decision, all in all– amid the chaos, the last thing Starfleet would want to manage was the unrest and panic of Terrans in the face of futuristic technology and time-bending black holes– but Jim, who used to be in all of those press conference meetings, who used to be the one doing the classified operations, felt his whole being ache for service at the mere thought of what he didn’t know. He found himself gritting his teeth in frustration at that fact whenever he was reminded. And after all was said and done, Spock had been too wrapped up in his New Vulcan business for Jim to even have an opportunity to track him down; god knows he probably hadn’t been Earthside since Jim’s younger counterpart was given captaincy.

 

Damn the party organizers. Damn Starfleet.

 

It didn’t matter what the organizers said. Jim was getting to that party, come hell or high water. He’d already blatantly disregarded Starfleet regulations to get Spock back once– what’s one more time?

 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

 

Jim spent the rest of the night and into the morning downloading, replicating, and marking up a map of the internal schematics for the U.S.S. Zenith, a cargo ship that would be en-route to New Vulcan the next day. As the sun arched lazily over the sky at noon, Jim was scoping out the ground storage facility where the hand-prepared entrees were being imported in preparation for transport. Starfleet personnel were standing at the front entrance, but due to the relative lack of value to potential radicals or robbers, no one was guarding the back doors. With his copy of the schematics folded in his pocket, he snuck up to the door and fiddled with the control panel. 

 

If Jim had been just any other guy on the street, this is where he’d hit a dead end. Every Federation-sanctioned building in San Francisco has doors that are only accessible by entering your Starfleet serial number. Lucky for Jim, he happened to know his own by heart; ah, the benefits of being an accidental time anomaly. As quickly as he could manage without drawing anyone’s attention, he tapped it into the keypad– SC937-0176CEC– and it chirped happily.

 

“Welcome, Captain James T. Kirk.” The voice said mechanically. Jim winced at the noise, shushing it frantically– as if that would do anything . The doors slid apart smoothly, and he sidestepped in as quickly as he could.

 

Lined against the wall, there were empty storage containers of various sizes. Jim could hear the bustle of workers across the room, but a barrier of prepared parcels blocked their view of each other, keeping Jim hidden away. Every so often, the loud sound of a parcel being lifted onto a transporter pad echoed around the room, muffling everything else.

 

A rush of adrenaline filled his veins. This was the kind of adventure he needed to keep himself feeling young. He felt like a cadet again, running and discovering and jumping for joy upon getting his promotion to lieutenant, then to captain. His back, however, did not feel like a cadet’s as he hauled one of the impossibly heavy vacant containers over to the back end of the stack, trying to match up the noise of it dragging on the floor with the sounds on the other side of the stack, and crawled inside. He was curled uncomfortably with his knees to his chest, and had to reach his arm over the side to press the button which closed the lid. He quickly pulled his arm back in and ducked his head down as the cover slid over him. The small in-built air holes for transporting wildlife and alien flora let small pinholes of light through, decorating the sides with a dotted pattern which began to make Jim feel dizzy after staring at it for too long.

 

It must have been an hour– or more, Jim couldn’t be sure– of clattering and bustling before the workers conquered the stack and finally came over to move him to the transporter pad. The grav-locks disabled and Jim felt himself begin to lift off the ground when a voice broke through, stopping the worker from moving the box any further. Shit. Not out of the woods yet.

 

“Kleinman,” a stern, deep voice said. “We’re at 165 of 180 parcels transported. 15 parcels are on the transporter pad right now– so why is there a 16th here?”

 

“I, uh, must’ve miscounted, sir.” A shy voice, which must have been Kleinman’s, replied nervously. “Maybe it was just a late shipment? The Andorian ship was delayed by a day because of a solar storm a couple of systems away. Maybe the late arrival affected when this parcel was prepared?”

 

A few taps came from the older man’s PADD, then a tsk. “Very well. Mistakes happen, and your guess is probably right– it would be an understandable miscalculation. Proceed.”

 

Phew, Jim thought, having to restrain himself from sighing aloud. I’m on my way, Spock.

 

As soon as the cargo ship left spacedock, Jim used the manual override on the inner surface of the lid to open the parcel and crawl out. He figured it’d probably be empty– what with the fact the ship’s public records had it down as being operated by a skeleton crew. Unfortunately for him, his escape from the parcel and immediate blinding from the bright cargo bay lights was also met by a nervous looking ensign whose eyes were wide open at the sight of him. Recognition hit him like a brick. Chekov. 

 

Jim chuckled nervously. “Hi there. Uh, sorry for the surprise.” When the ensign started nervously groping his utility belt for his communicator without breaking eye contact, Jim hopped up as quickly as he could without his joints betraying him and jogged over, quietly whispering “No no no no no..” He gently pulled the freed communicator from Chekov’s hands, which were slick with sweat. Chekov’s voice refused to betray his nervousness as he snapped into “duty” mode and pulled out his phaser.

 

“Sir, I must report you to the captain as a stowaway. I am-”

 

“No, it’s ok, I understand. But, ah… would you maybe be willing to keep this our secret until we land on New Vulcan? Arresting me there will probably be easier.” He looked around, then showed him his hands. “No weapons, no secrets. You can search me to your heart’s content. I’m just an old man with a… a penchant for adventure . I won’t hurt anyone onboard this ship or at the celebration. I swear on my life.”

 

Chekov searched his eyes for a moment, trying to read deception in them, but found nothing. In his time at the Academy, Jim knew, he’d been instructed to never take a glance or a gesture as proof of innocence or lack of malicious intent, but his resolve was waning. 

 

“Tell me… why you snuck aboard,” he finally said, firm and more confident than he was before as he straightened his posture and dropped his phaser to his hip, the barrel still trained on Jim. “Only then will I think about covering for you against my explicit orders as the security escort of this ship.”

 

Jim thought for a moment about how specific he should be. Eventually, he settled on, “I need to talk to Spock.”

 

“Why couldn’t you have sent the Commander a communication? He receives many aboard the Enterprise.”

 

“Because he’s not aboard the Enterprise. But I know he’ll be at this party. And I need to see him urgently.”

 

“He will be aboard the Enterprise again after the celebrations, will he not?” His assurance was starting to falter in the midst of confusion. Jim recognized the way his brows furrowed together in an instant.

 

“No, he won’t be. Well, I mean, he will be. But not the him I want to talk to.”

 

“Wait…so you… know about the Ambassador?”

 

“Yes!” Jim’s face lit up.

 

“But that’s classified! ” He gawked, looking at Jim’s civilian clothes.

 

“Deductive reasoning saw me through,” he smirked.  “Now please. If you know and I know that there’s going to be two Spocks at that party, then you know that I really do have a good reason to speak with him. And you know that I probably won’t get another chance– not for some time. And I mean, sure, I could be some kind of terrorist or assassin but… I hope I don’t give off that impression. Do I?” He paused, but Chekov just cocked his head to one side. “Nevermind. But the captain won’t believe you– and rightfully so. I sure wouldn’t have when I- if I were in his shoes. But I hope you can judge my character to be pure. My life is in your hands,” old friend.

 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

“The Nexus,” the El-Aurian diplomat said pointedly to Spock, who was standing at the other end of their shared cocktail table. They were a tall, elegant figure wearing an oblong hat over cascading silver curls that framed their angular face. The celebratory party for the establishment of New Vulcan bustled around them. “It’s a… realm, per se. Anything you could ever dream of becomes reality there. The only way to enter it is through a ribbon of temporal energy hurtling through space.”

 

“Quite interesting,” Spock said. “So that is how the El-Aurians came to find the Federation– after your rescue 5 months ago?”

 

“Not exactly.” The El-Aurian diverted their eyes to their drink, swirling the wine with a gentle twist of their hand. “El-Auria has actually been aware of the worlds within the Alpha and Beta quadrants for a long time– since before humanity discovered FTL travel. The El-Aurian planetary government saw the destruction of Vulcan on our sensors and went to covertly investigate. The movement of our ships towards federation space caught the attention of a ruthless mechanical race called the Borg, and they began strategically targeting us– first our ships, then our cities. All to ‘assimilate’ us into their ‘collective’,” they grimaced. “What a foul notion, the idea of destroying everything organic and replacing it with cold metal wherever they go.”

 

Yet another divergence in this timeline caused by Nero’s actions, Spock thought, grimacing. How many El-Aurians will never exist now as a result of his incursion? How many will suffer now due to the Borg invading Federation space earlier than they would have otherwise?

 

Spock took a thoughtful sip from his glass. “I’m familiar with the Borg. Although, I did not… anticipate their move towards Federation territory occurring so soon.”

 

“Neither did we. We can only hope they stay away long enough for the Federation to make the necessary preparations to combat them.”

 

“Indeed,” Spock nodded solemnly. “So it was in your fleeing from the Borg that you encountered the Nexus?”

 

“The Nexus passes through our galaxy every 39 years or so, and was due to pass through in 2254, to use the Earth standard, but something must have delayed it; if we’d stayed on our course, we wouldn’t have encountered it at all. But the Borg had been lingering near the Beta Quadrant in an attempt to observe the destruction of Vulcan, and ended up boxing us in. We fled in the opposite direction, and met the ribbon on a collision course. 10 refugee ships got caught in the ribbon, but only 5 were recovered by the Federation, and by that time they’d already been within it for 2 Earth years. The rest…” They sighed. “...are probably gone for good.”

 

“I am deeply sorry for the loss of your planet and people.”

 

“The same to you, Ambassador.”

 

“Nevertheless, I am thankful for your attendance today,” Spock bowed his head, “and thankful for your safe rescue.”

 

The El-Aurian bowed their head in return. “I as well. From one race of refugees to another, we are here to assist New Vulcan in any way we can. Just say the word.” They took their leave.

 

Spock exhaled and pressed two fingers to his right temple. Ever since it started 2 years previously while stranded on Delta Vega, his headache had been an ever-present companion. While he was able to distract himself from it while working to establish New Vulcan, which took up most of his time, moments of reprieve often had it rearing its ugly head. 

 

The Nexus… if it had occurred in 2254 in his original timeline, it would have passed through again in 2293– the year Jim died aboard the Enterprise-B. Would that be a functional explanation for why their bond still felt alive in some distant way? 

 

Hope is a dangerous thing to foster in situations with very little evidence and very small likelihood of success. But despite how many times Spock had told himself that, the completion of the New Vulcan project left him with too much time to ponder the possibility that maybe Jim had survived. That maybe he was waiting out there, somewhere… waiting for Spock to find him, just like how he’d found Spock on Genesis. 

 

Suddenly, it appeared that Jim had been the one to find him once again when he felt a presence appear at his side. “How’s the party going, Ambassador?” The younger Kirk grinned. Spock suspected he may have snuck a drink or two of the Romulan Ale under the bar based on his giddy demeanor.

 

“It is going quite well, Jim. And I should thank you for all of your help with the preparations– it would not have been possible without you.”

 

“Ah pshh, just a little nudging here and there and the party staff practically organized it themselves,” he said nonchalantly, glancing over his shoulder. “It seems like you’re having fun over there , too.”

 

Spock glanced behind him to see his younger counterpart chatting with an emphatically drunk Mr. Scott, as well as the Betazoid and Caitian engineers from their respective envoy ships. His expression was muted and betrayed nothing other than vague interest in whatever it was Scotty was raving about, but underneath, Spock could tell he was enjoying himself greatly. 

 

“Your relationship with one another has improved in the time since you ascended to captaincy?” Spock queried.

 

“Well, I mean, dying sure does make the heart grow fonder,” Kirk laughed half-heartedly, “but yeah. We get along pretty well nowadays. I can’t help but think that meeting you may have made that a reality. I know Spock doesn’t know about you and your Kirk being bonded – and I, uh.. don’t think he’d want to know that. At least not yet. Heh. But we both know how much you and your Kirk meant to one another, and I think seeing you… made us want to try and achieve that ourselves.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Jim Kirk. Nothing I could say or do would bring you together outside of your own merits and commitment to being friends. That is how it was for me and my Jim, and that is how it will be for you both as well.”

 

The image of the Jim that Spock said goodbye to all those years ago pressed against the boundaries of his mind at the thought of him, and so did the pain from the bond. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a pair of fingers to his right temple. The younger Jim placed a hand on Spock’s arm. 

 

“Hey Spock, are you feeling okay?”

 

He must be out there. The Nexus, the time it would have passed by Earth.. It must be possible.

 

“Spock? Can you hear me?”

 

I just have to test my theory by simulating the Nexus’ path through the Sol system in our previous timeline..

 

“Is it your headache again?”

 

My quarters.. I need..

 

“I need to go to my quarters,” Spock finally responded, a little too smoothly than would be anticipated by the looks of him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to pay any mind to the celebration until he satisfied his own need to confirm the impossible.

 

“Is something wrong? Do you need me to call sick bay?” Kirk’s eyes were wide with worry. It only made Spock’s headache worse. 

 

He straightened his posture and gently stepped away in the direction of the turbo lift. “That will not be necessary, but I thank you for the concern.” He folded his hands under the rippling fabric of his ambassadorial robes and began striding as quickly as he could without drawing attention away from the party. “Please tell the guests who ask that I will be back shortly and had to attend to a small bit of ambassadorial duty.”

 

And just like that, he was gone.

 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

“Attention all Zenith crew. Due to solar storms in the Mizar system, we will have to divert our path to the celebration by instead passing through the Altair system. We will be delayed 2 hours. Thank you for your understanding; continue the exemplary work.”

 

Kirk and Chekov were sitting on the floor of the cargo bay in awkward silence when the tinny voice of the captain blared over the speakers.

 

Jim huffed. “Just our luck. Probably the same solar storm that delayed the Andorian import ship.”

 

Chekov was staring at Jim with a mix of nervousness and curiosity– but nervousness was clearly winning. He’d relented and agreed to cover for him, but at what cost? Will he be penalized? Kicked off of the Enterprise when he leaves spacedock next? Or worse.. would he be sent back to the Academy? Or booted from Starfleet entirely?

 

“I’m sure any penalty you’d get from all this will be waved away by Spock,” Jim said, reading his expression. “I’ll make sure of it.”

 

“How do you know the Ambassador? Why are you so intent on seeing him?” Chekov furrowed his brow.

 

Jim looked away a little awkwardly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “Well I suppose, since you’re putting yourself on the line for me and all. But I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

 

“You underestimate me sir! I’ve got more experience with the unbelievable than you’d expect!” He feigned offense. Jim couldn’t help but smirk.

 

“Okay, so I’m assuming Starfleet has let it slip that Ambassador Spock is from the future?” Jim raised an eyebrow, and Chekov nodded. “Well, the same future that he and Nero came from– I’m from there too. I don’t even know how I got sent back in time, really. Just 15 years ago, poof, I’m laying in the snow in front of my childhood home in Iowa after being caught in a hull breach.”

 

“So you knew Commander Spock in the future?”

 

“ Well, technically speaking, by the date, I’d be getting to know him right around now. But that’s another time. Another life,” Jim leaned his head back against one of the parcels behind him. “I never thought I’d see him again, and god did that hurt. But when I connected the dots, y’know, with his ship, and the Narada, and the black hole… well, that’s the happiest I think I’ve been in ages.” A sigh escaped him. “I just want to be with him again. That’s all.”

 

Chekov was quiet. He’d fallen out of duty-mode a while ago, and found himself listening like he was hearing a story in elementary school. His fingertips dug into his knees through his uniform. 

 

“You… remind me of my grandfather,” he finally said with a soft chuckle. “It hurts.. To.. lose someone like that. Like when I lost my captain. For a moment, time seemed to.. well.. stop.”

 

His eyes reexamined the man in front of him. Suddenly Jim seemed very tired, very desperate, and very, very lonely. Chekov was filled with new resolve. “I want to help you get to the Ambassador. Just tell me what you need.”

 

Suddenly, Jim’s hands were resting firmly on Chekov’s shoulders, his eyes fierce and focused. It felt… familiar somehow, in a way Chekov couldn’t place. It was the commanding presence of a captain, and the reassuring grasp of a mentor. The mark of a friend.

 

Jim looked deep into Chekov’s eyes, and couldn’t fake ignorance any longer.

 

“Thank you, Chekov. Thank you.”

 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

Spock furiously tapped away at the keyboard of his computer, brow furrowed in concentration. He’d been at it for nearly an hour, and his back was beginning to ache from being hunched over the keys.

 

The simulated map was laid out before him on the screen, with every relevant detail accounted for. All he had to do was press “play,” and the simulation of the Nexus’ path and any dates and details he added would begin. Part of him hesitated, scared that the flicker of hope he felt catching in his side would be extinguished. The other, more curiosity-driven part of him reached over and gingerly pressed the “start” button, eager for answers at whatever cost.

 

Click. 

 

Taking into account the date that the El-Aurian ships encountered the Nexus in 2258, and assuming the differential was exactly two years with the original pass-by date being in 2254, the Nexus would indeed have passed through the Sol System on the date of the Enterprise-B’s maiden voyage, whereupon James T. Kirk was deemed a fatality of the ship’s encounter with an unidentified force… which was, per what Spock could recall from memory, some sort of energy envelope that had incapacitated two refugee ships… filled with El-Aurians. Ah. 

 

Despite their differences, these two diverging timelines have always had their similarities in small, seemingly insignificant ways. The El-Aurian’s entrapment in the Nexus appeared to be no different. Perhaps, Spock realized, their earlier encounter with the Nexus may have ended up saving more El-Aurians from the Borg than in the original course of events.

 

Starfleet was very secretive about what actually occurred that day, even to the likes of Spock, who, despite his previous Starfleet service, was not a current officer, and was often not briefed on Starfleet’s internal fairs when they didn’t pertain to Vulcan-Terran relations. Even after the documented encounter with the El-Aurian named “Soran,” who was dispatched by Captain Picard and the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise D, it had not occurred to him that the altercation could have involved the Nexus. At the time, he was too engrossed in the Reunification of Romulus and Vulcan to pay any mind to the event. But indeed, that would have occurred in 2371, the second time since Kirk’s death in 2293 that the Nexus would have passed through the galaxy.  And seeing as what the Enterprise-B had encountered was almost undoubtedly the Nexus, there was a high probability that Jim was caught inside of it– but that wouldn’t explain how he ended up in the past. 

 

The simulation continued, and the Nexus once again swept the galaxy in 2410. Notably, this time, the singularity of Romulus’ star was directly in its path. Since the Nexus is so incredibly large and powerful, it would not have been devoured entirely by the black hole, but, by nature of its matter-consumption, the Nexus would have had to give up a part of itself to pass through. Because of the volatile nature of the time travel induced by the black hole– as seen by Spock’s own arrival being so long after Nero’s– it wouldn’t be unreasonable to attribute the Nexus’ delay in 2254 to the loss of matter it experienced in the alternate timeline. And if the matter that it lost did, in fact, contain Jim…

 

Spock tabbed away from the simulation program and pulled up the Federation’s population records. “James T. Kirk” turned up no results other than the Kirk upstairs. If Jim were to go under his middle name, Tiberius, in an attempt to avoid crossing his past self, there’d be far too many results. Tiberius was an old family name, and many elderly men, and now a new generation of young men, bore the name of their forefathers.

 

If Jim hadn’t taken claim of his identity, he couldn’t have re-enlisted in Starfleet, which means any use of his serial number to access Starfleet property or information, which he would doubtlessly be curious to peruse, would come up as the James T. Kirk of this timeline. Any discrepancy, no matter how small or insignificant, between the use of his serial number and the known location of the young James T. Kirk would tip off his presence in this timeline like a beacon to Spock.

 

Spock searched up the records of access code utilization under “James T. Kirk.”

 

2260.1.14.0530 - James T. Kirk - New Vulcan Embassy Transporter Chamber, NV

2260.1.15.1230 - James T. Kirk - New Vulcan Celebration Chamber, NV

2260.1.15.0235 - James T. Kirk - Starfleet Cargo Ground Facility, SF, EA

2260.1.15.0440 - James T. Kirk - U.S.S. Zenith Door Clearance

 

SF. San Francisco. There was only one way that there could be an access code record for a facility in San Francisco on that day when Kirk had landed on New Vulcan the night previously. 

 

“Ambassador Spock to Captain Kirk.”

 

“Kirk here. Everything alright, Spock?”

 

“Please tell the party guests that I’ve fallen ill and thank them for their attendance on my word. I must be leaving New Vulcan as soon as I can. I am en-route to the shuttle bay now.”

 

There was a small pause and a distant clatter before Kirk responded. “Actually, sir, maybe you’d better stay put. We’ve got a… situation here.”

 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

One Hour Previously

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

“We are now docking at the New Vulcan Prime colony. All assigned personnel are to report to Cargo Bay Two and await unloading instructions.”

 

Chekov was looking at Jim with befuddlement when the announcement came. “How did you know my name?”

 

“The same way I know the Ambassador,” Jim said flippantly as he stood up. Chekov followed suit. “We’d better get moving before they arrive,” He cracked an exhausted smile at Chekov and nodded. “You know this ship better than me. What’s the plan?”

 

Chekov looked around for a moment before locking his eyes on one corner of the room. “There,” he pointed. “There’s an emergency hatch on that wall.. But I don’t have the command clearance to open it.”

 

“Not to worry,” Jim quipped, stretching out his back and cracking his knuckles. He did it in a way that seemed like it was to show his strength, but Chekov thought he may have just done it to stretch after two hours of floor-sitting. “My counterpart’s serial number is the same as mine was, and he certainly has clearance.”

 

They both jogged over to the control panel, and Chekov popped the cover off.

 

“Emergency Exit access requested. Please enter serial number.”

 

“Good thing they didn’t ask for a retinal scan,” Kirk joked. “I don’t think blue and green are quite the same.”

 

“Your eyes are different colors?” Chekov asked over the quiet bleeps of the keypad.

 

“I’m as baffled as you are, trust me.”

 

As Jim pressed the last few digits, the computer chirped happily, just as it did at the ground facility.

 

“Welcome, Captain James T. Kirk.”

 

The hatch fell open unceremoniously and a gust of hot wind hit their faces. Chekov was agape, but Jim was unphased.

 

“Captain Kirk ?” He said in disbelief. Jim wondered for a moment if all of these revelations were giving him a headache like his own as he shrugged and ducked to jump out of the ship. Chekov was close behind, and moved to follow him. “ You are the captain from the future? So that’s how you know Commander Spock? How you know me? But I.. I didn’t.. If you’d told me, captain, I-”

 

“Chekov, please,” Jim interrupted. “It’s okay. If I’d told you outright it would’ve sounded like a bald-faced lie.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, I really don’t know how you’ve even been believing me for this long.”

 

“Simple deductive reasoning, captain. A judge of character, you might say.”

 

Jim smirked at that and turned around, noticing Chekov was still following. He quirked his eyebrow. “Don’t you have duties aboard, ensign?” 

 

“ You don’t have the schematics of the building, but I do!” Chekov grinned snidely as his feet hit the sandy ground, sending out a puff of dust. He pulled a small padd from his pocket and opened a blueprint of the facility. “All crew members aboard the Zenith were issued the classified schematic of the embassy building so we’d know where to go as we delivered the parcels.”

 

Jim leaned over his shoulder as he guided his finger across the screen and placed it on a box on the underground level. “That’s Ambassador Spock’s quarters. The only way there is in the turbolift, which is accessible only from the main lobby, where the party is well underway. We will have to keep a low profile as we move through the crowd.”

 

Kirk extended an open-palmed hand ahead of him, a smirk still plastered on his face. “Well then… lead the way.”

 

They pushed the emergency hatch closed and ran, as fast as Jim could manage, to the embassy building a short journey away. The planet that New Vulcan had been established on was remarkably similar to its namesake, laden with miles of red sand and a perpetual sunset-orange sky. But instead of one large sun, New Vulcan had two small ones on opposite ends of the horizon, meaning nights were fleeting and heat was abundant. But the Vulcans will certainly enjoy that, Jim thought to himself. They always have liked things warm.

 

The entrance to the embassy complex was two impossibly tall double doors, each of which was guarded by a Starfleet official to prevent any unwelcome guests. They eyed Jim suspiciously as he and Chekov approached, and he suddenly felt very out of place in his leather coat, green flannel and jeans while everyone else was wearing Starfleet uniforms and Ambassadorial formalwear. 

 

“State your authorization,” One of the officers barked. Chekov stiffened his posture in response.

 

“Ensign Pavel Chekov of the U.S.S. Enterprise, acting as the official security escort of the U.S.S. Zenith, here to do a preliminary sweep of the premises before delivering requested parcels, sir.”

 

The officers looked them both up and down skeptically. “And who's your… associate?”

 

Chekov and Jim shared a nervous glance. “He’s…ehm..”

 

“I’m the undercover representative for the Coalition of Galactic Peace. Just here to make sure everyone’s.. ah… getting along, so to speak.” Jim flashed a persuasive smile. “I wouldn’t be on the guest list, of course. That would defeat the point of being undercover. ”

 

The guards still looked skeptical and briefly whispered something to each other, but after a moment of deliberation, reluctantly began pulling the doors apart. “Welcome to the New Vulcan Establishment Celebration.”

 

Throwing a cautionary glance back towards the ship, where people were beginning to pour out with large parcels on antigrav platforms, Chekov and Jim skittered inside and rushed around the corner to an adjacent, quieter room to regroup. They ducked down slightly and got nose-to-nose so they could whisper and still hear each other over the noise of the party in the other room.

 

“The rest of the Zenith will be here any second. We must be quick,” Chekov whispered, stealing glances behind himself. Jim nodded shortly, his eyes focused and brimming with a mix of anticipation and hardened resolve. “Just act like you’re in the right place, captain .”

 

With a final nod, Chekov and Jim dove into the crowd. They wove between cocktail tables and guests of various species. Chekov was young and agile– Jim, not so much. While, in his youth, he was a force to be reckoned with, a coordinated fighter and a deft navigator, those skills seemed to have escaped him. He nearly crashed into multiple partygoers as he walked, moving perhaps a bit too fast than could be ignored, before his foot caught the edge of a tablecloth and had him colliding into the shoulder of an Andorian, who regarded him with confusion. He flashed an awkward, forced smile and pushed onward, trying not to lose sight of Chekov, who was now a ways in front of him.

 

Bumping the Andorian seemed to set him off balance, as now he was almost crashing into everyone as if he suddenly had two left feet. After brushing shoulders with a Caitian, an Orion, and several different Vulcans, he was completely distracted as he walked face-first into someone and fell backwards unceremoniously onto the ground. The people nearby backed up, and he was surrounded on all sides by walls made of stiff legs and staring eyes. Chekov was nowhere to be seen.

 

When he’d finished rubbing his nose in pain, he laid eyes on who he’d walked into.

 

Shit. 

 

A young Spock wearing striking black robes looked down at him questioningly, his arms crossed behind his back. His expression was terrifyingly controlled and his voice smooth as he said, “You should not be here. I do not believe you were on the guest list.”

 

“I… uh…” Jim’s usual quick thinking completely failed him when Spock was the one he was lying to, no matter the timeline or version of him. He tried to dispense his “undercover representative” lie again, but ended up sputtering and stuttering like an idiot. “I was, um.. Well you see, I uh.. I was just..”

 

The room around him was dead quiet now, and all he could focus on was young Spock’s eyes, which were becoming more and more piercing– somehow. One of his signature eyebrows raised at his babbling.

 

He slowly pulled one foot under him and gained purchase on the floor, and he propelled himself upward, sprinting, pushing, and clawing his way through the crowd. He felt Starfleet security begin chasing him and quickly catch up, hot on his tail, and his aging knees felt like buckling underneath him, but he held his eyes steadfast on the door to the turbolift and let everything else leave his mind.

 

Partygoers stretched out their arms to stop him, but he swiftly ducked under each or slammed against it hard enough with his shoulder to make them recoil. A guard grabbed the collar of his leather coat, and he let the tug pull his arms free, leaving them holding a Jim-less jacket while he continued tumbling through the crowd.

 

His foot caught the leg of a table and he went flying, skidding to a stop on the floor. The guards went to tackle him, but he quickly rolled to the side, leaving a man pile where he once was. People lifted their feet like he was an oil spill, and he crawled like an alley cat between legs and hooves and claws until the guards had lost track of him, giving him time to get back on his feet and make the last dash to the turbolift. The commotion of the crowd grew, shouts and gasps and confused murmuring spreading like wildfire between guests. 

 

The crowd finally cleared as he approached the sterile white hallway, but just as he was about to reach the doors, the toe of his shoe caught on a tile and he fell hard onto his side, bruising his shoulder and sliding like a hockey puck. Right before his head would’ve hit the door, by some miracle, it slid open and let him in. He finally hit a hard stop as his back slammed into the back wall, and as quickly as he could after realizing what had happened, he crawled back forward, reached up a hand to the control panel, and jammed his finger into the “close door” button. The sound of the panicking crowd dimmed and died, and the guards just barely missed the door before it clicked shut for good.

 

Jim sighed in relief and let his head drop limply to the floor with the rest of him for a moment. His ears were ringing and his head was pounding so hard that sound seemed miles away, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut and dig his thumbs into them momentarily. When he opened them again, he noticed a pair of shoes nearby which he’d failed to take note of before. His eyes lifted to see who had brought the turbolift to his rescue.

 

He found himself looking at a mirror image.

 

“Actually, sir, maybe you’d better stay put. We’ve got a… situation here.”

 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Chapter 3: I Have Been, And Always Shall Be, Yours

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

“It’s you! ” The young Kirk exclaimed as he snapped his communicator shut and quickly stowed it away. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. “ God, I can’t believe it took me until now to realize who you were. Of course. ”

 

Jim propped himself up weakly on one arm. “You’re…” Words promptly failed him, and he gave up with a sigh. Kirk turned back to his older self, sprawled on the turbolift floor, and knelt down to help him sit up.

 

“Seems like you got yourself into some trouble out there,” Kirk stated. Jim replied with a half-hearted grunt.

“Seems like you’ve grown a lot since I last saw you 12 years ago.” The kid was damn near the spitting image of Jim when he was young– well, that would be natural, considering they were the same person. The world-weary kid he’d met on the stairs when he’d first woken up in this time had evolved into a headstrong, broad-shouldered young man who echoed Jim’s own hubris from the first five year mission. 

 

Kirk sat down next to him and leaned his head back against the turbolift wall. “It all makes sense now. Why you didn’t know about dad being gone, why you reminded mom of him, why Spock’s had this headache thing going on since-”

 

“Spock’s got a ‘headache-thing’?” Jim interjected.

 

“Yeah, ever since we found each other on Delta Vega after Vulcan was destroyed. I always thought there was a chance you were still alive, but shit, I never made the connection!” The younger Kirk’s bright blue eyes pierced through Jim’s hazel ones as excitement turned to panicked realization. “That must be what Spock went to go investigate. We have to go to his quarters before he leaves for shuttle bay!”

 

Suddenly Kirk was on his feet, but Jim was still reeling from the chase. Kirk offered a hand, and Jim shakily got to his feet. “Why’s he going to shuttle bay? Isn’t there a party going on?”

 

“He just suddenly up and left after talking with me, and wouldn’t explain why. But I saw him talking to that El-Aurian diplomat.” Kirk said as he pressed “Level G-2” on the control pad. The turbolift jerked, then began descending. “He must have learned something that made him realize that you could be in the past, too. No wonder he seemed out of it.”

 

“So now he’s, what, planning on leaving New Vulcan for Earth to search for me at the drop of a hat?”

 

“I told him to stay put, but you and I both know he’s probably on his way anyhow.”

 

“If he thinks the ruckus is in the main celebration room, he’s probably taking an alternative route to the shuttle bay,” Jim surmised. “But we should check his quarters first, to be sure.”

 

Jim saw the younger Kirk grinning. “Oh that’s weird,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s weird to hear yourself saying your own thoughts out loud, but it’s not you.” 

 

Jim smirked back. “Tell me about it. Just wait until you run into the younger version of your best friend, and he’s all business mode as he tells you, for all intents and purposes, to get out. ”

 

Kirk gawked. “Oh god, you ran into my Spock?”

 

“Quite literally, in fact. I fell backwards onto my ass and then booked it away from him,” Jim laughed. “I suppose that’s not the most awkward thing I’ve ever done in front of Spock over the years, though.”

 

Their conversation was cut short as the turbolift dinged and the doors slid open to reveal a sterile white hallway that seemed to sprawl on endlessly before them. Jim felt his eye twitch and suddenly remembered that Chekov probably had no idea where he went. Chekov was also the one with the map. Jim could only hope that his younger self knew his way around as they wordlessly stepped into the corridor and began walking.

 

Even though the hall was awash with cold white light, everything felt dimmer than it should be. Jim’s head was pounding, he winced every step from a twinge in his back from when he hit the ground, and the younger him a few strides ahead reminded him of everything he used to be but wasn’t anymore. Exhaustion was chained to his eyelids like weights, and it was taking everything in him to not sit down and take a nap– or maybe he just needed a hypospray. When the young Kirk noticed Jim falling behind, he slowed his speed just a tad, but his panic didn’t keep it that way for long. Jim was charmed that his younger self was so devoted to bringing him and Spock back together, but Jim had waited so long that at times the journey felt endless, like he’d never really see Spock again after all.

 

While the corridor seemed dark before, now it really felt dark as the lights dimmed and the “red-alert” sirens sounded off. Both Kirks stopped dead.

 

“This event is considered a high-security gathering. Since you snuck in, the security team is getting ready to track you down,” the younger Kirk said, partly to Jim and partly to the hallway. 

 

“I don’t even know how my excuse sounded believable in the first place,” Jim sighed as they both began walking at a clip. As they turned a corner they came to a hallway of doors. Kirk stopped in front of one in the middle, and Jim, who had almost kept walking, had to double back a few paces. “Spock’s quarters?”

 

Kirk pursed his lips and nodded as he pressed the comm. A faint whistle came from the other side of the doors. 

 

No response. 

 

Kirk pressed it again, this time a bit more panicked.

 

Still no response.

 

He tapped a few buttons on the control panel, and the door slid open. They took tentative steps inside. The lights were off.

 

“Computer, lights to 50%,” Kirk said. The lights obliged.

 

There was no sign of Spock. His bed was perfectly made and the room was pristine, but a few gaps were left on the mantle where things were missing, and his travel bag was gone.

 

“Shit,” Kirk breathed. “We missed him.”

 

Jim was too engrossed in the room to notice his younger self’s exasperation. He walked carefully over to the mantle as though he may disturb the carpet and gently picked up an old wooden folding photo frame. 

 

In the first section was a photo of Sarek and Amanda in their youth, both in formal robes. They were pressing their index and middle fingers together and gazing at one another, seemingly unaware of the camera. It was the youngest he’d ever seen them, so youthful and in love. Sarek even looked like he was smiling.

 

In the second section was a photo from Spock and Jim’s wedding ceremony, which they held partway through their second five year mission. They’re both wearing traditional Vulcan ceremonial robes, and their matching rings gleamed in the warm Earthen sunlight. Their fingers were pressed together much like Amanda and Sarek’s, but so were their lips, and the rest of the bridge crew was excitedly surrounding them– Uhura was firing off a confetti popper behind them, McCoy and Mr. Scott were smiling fondly off to the side, and Sulu and Chekov were toasting shot glasses opposite of them. 

 

In front of the frame lay Spock’s Starfleet insignia pin. Jim replaced the frame and took the pin, running a finger along its smooth metal side. He felt a pang and reached for his proposal pendant, which always rested around his neck, and held it tight.

 

On the other side of the room, Kirk was making calls. He had his communicator in one hand and was propping himself up against the wall with the other, head hung in focus. “Captain Kirk to Commander Spock.”

 

“Yes, Captain?”

 

“Call off the security team. I… have the intruder in custody. There’s no threat, I’ve got things handled.”

 

“That’s good news, Captain. I trust you’ll be bringing him to the brig shortly?”

 

“Actually, no. We’ll be heading to the shuttle bay instead.”

 

There was a pause of confusion. “I… see. I’ll call off the security team, but have our Chief of Security meet you at the shuttle bay doors and ensure the prisoner doesn’t try to re-enter the facility unaccompanied.”

 

“That’ll be fine, Spock. Thank you. Kirk out.” He pressed a button on the communicator and took a quick breath. “Captain Kirk to Lieutenant O’Hara.”

 

“Lieutenant O’Hara, Captain.”

 

“Lieutenant, is Ambassador Spock with you?”

 

“Aye sir. He was just about to embark to Earth.”

 

“Lieutenant, I know he has authority over both of us, but can you request that he stay in shuttle bay for just a little longer? Tell him it’s from me, if he isn’t listening in already.”

 

There was a pause as O’Hara relayed the request.

 

“He agreed to delay his departure, Captain.”

 

“Great. Tell him I’m en-route. I have a guest with me.”

 

“Aye, sir.” O’Hara closed the line.

 

Kirk walked over to his older self, who seemed completely lost in thought, and rested a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t look up.

 

“Hey, Spock is waiting in shuttle bay for us. You ready to go? I’m sure you’ll get to look around his quarters later,” he smiled. 

 

Jim let out a half-chuckle, half sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I just… can’t believe I’ll finally get to see him again,” Jim finally peeled his eyes away from the insignia to look at his younger self. “It feels so impossible that this could ever even happen in the first place.”

 

Kirk smiled at that. “It’s the least I could do for myself.”

 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

Spock was standing patiently at the side of his shuttle, pressing his fingers together underneath the sleeves of his robe. Lieutenant O’Hara was standing behind the control panel stiffly, jaw set and hair tucked neatly behind her pointed ears. Time slowed to a crawl.

 

“Did Captain Kirk specify his reason for the delay, Lieutenant?” Spock asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.

 

“No, sir. He simply stated that he had a guest with him and was on his way.”

 

Spock tsk’d. “Forgive me for my impatient demeanor, Lieutenant. I’m afraid my mind is wholly occupied with another matter and I’m eager to depart. My logic is uncertain when…  a matter such as this is concerned.”

 

“It is understandable, Ambassador.” She paused for a moment. “Computer, what is the location of Captain Kirk?”

 

“Captain Kirk is in corridor 2-B.” 

 

He’s just a few feet away, Spock thought, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his eyes to ease the pressure behind them. The headache began to ebb slightly.

 

Then the sound of the doors sliding open cut through the silence, which had become so inherent to the room that it breaking shocked Spock back to reality. Captain Kirk stepped inside.

 

“You’re dismissed, O’Hara. I can handle things from here,” Kirk smiled and waved his hand. O’Hara simply nodded, first to Kirk and then to Spock, then took her silent leave.

 

“Jim,” Spock said his name like a fact. “What is your cause for delay?”

 

“Well, I think I know where you’re going, and… you don’t need to. So I thought I’d save you the trip.”

 

Spock quirked his eyebrow. “Forgive me, Jim, but this is something I must do. I don’t wish to elaborate on its vitality further.”

 

Kirk let out a small laugh. “No, no, Spock, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is– well, I s’pose I can just… show you what I mean.”

 

And then, Jim– no, not just Jim, but his Jim– was standing in the doorway like a ghost from Spock’s past, his once brown hair now coarse with silver streaks and face worn with more creases, but still, undoubtedly, him. Him, in his tattered green flannel, worn jeans and dirty work boots. Him, with golden his wedding ring inscribed with both Vulcan and Human vows on the inside, still as clean and iridescent as the day Spock placed it on his ring finger. Unbelievably, undoubtedly, James T. Kirk. His James T. Kirk. Spock approached him carefully, like Jim  might disappear if he reached him too quickly. He had tunnel vision, and everything around him felt so very, very far away, as though the ground may just fall out from under him. Jim was still approaching slowly as if on autopilot, and Spock grew more anxious with every step, praying that he was real, and desperate for his mental touch. And like an olive branch, Jim was standing just a few feet short of him and extending his index and middle fingers expectantly, his wide, watery, human eyes gazing deeply into Spock’s, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He gently extended his own fingers, and pressed his sensitive fingertips to Jim’s.

Upon hearing his younger self’s gentle cue for him to enter, he forced one foot in front of the other and stood in the doorway. And there, standing beside an empty shuttle and draped in flowing Vulcan robes, was Spock. Really, actually, honest-to-god Spock. Jim felt his heart pounding in his chest, and his feet began moving on their own. His mouth was a desert, and his mind a cloudy mess, simultaneously pounding and outside of itself, watching from above. It really had been years for Spock– his jet-black hair was now an ashen gray, and his face was world-weary. His eyes had taken on a glossy, more human-like quality, and peeking out from underneath his billowing sleeves was his golden wedding ring, which caught the light and refracted it like a prism. Jim’s throat was tightened shut, and as the weight of the moment came crashing into him like waves, he found himself swallowing hard to keep from sobbing out of pure relief. He was still moving towards Spock, and Spock towards him, the ache in his head ebbing away as they reached out for each other. Jim stopped just short of him, scared deep inside that he may be a hologram or an old man’s delusion, and extended his index and middle fingers in a silent offering. Spock stared into his eyes, as if searching for something within them, then extended his own two fingers and gently pressed them against Jim’s.

 

Both of their minds were filled with an explosion of mental color, as if a dam had been broken. Their minds were clear, thoughts pouring between them until it seemed like they were one entity. Years and years of time apart, memory and emotion alike, filled the deserted canals of their bond like river water after a long drought, and they were both bathing in the waves. Their fingers tensed and wrapped around each other, and suddenly they were pulling closer, closer, and their lips fell together like the missing pieces of a puzzle. The world was bright and beautiful and alive for the first time in years.

 

When they finally pulled apart, Jim rested his hands against either side of Spock’s face, which was wet with silent tears, and traced the faint creases there. “ Spock.”

 

“Jim,” he wiped a stray tear from Jim’s face with his thumb.

 

“God, Spock, how long has it been for you? How long has it been since you’ve seen me?”

 

“Approximately 96 years, 5 months, 3 days, and 7 hours, ashayam. ” Spock paused for a moment. “But I must say, you don’t look a day over 156.”

 

Jim smirked and exhaled sharply with a light laugh. “Was.. was that a joke?”

 

“Not at all, Jim. It’s simply a fact. Although, I doubt that any amount of time would diminish you in a way that matters to me.” Jim flushed, and Spock stifled a smirk. “Just as I once said to you: I have been, and always shall be, yours. ”

 

They embraced, resting their faces in the crook of each other’s shoulders, and stayed that way for a long time before going back to Spock’s quarters. 

 

They sat cross-legged on the floor across from each other, and Spock gently placed his fingers on Jim’s psi-points to begin mending their bond. His tactile touch filled parts of Jim’s soul that he didn’t realize had become empty, and he let that feeling sweep him away, adrift in its wind. 

 

“My mind to your mind,” Jim whispered.

 

“My thoughts to your thoughts, t’hy’la. ”

 

Jim sensed the presence of Spock’s mind and felt like he could live in that sensation forever and be content– he could tell that Spock felt the same. Spock approached Jim’s end of the bond, the opening roughened and scarred, with the soothing energy of his katra . It warmed beneath his touch, and he used that warmth to sew their mental wounds together with threads of gold and silk, gently pulling them back into the same world after having been separated by planets and realms and time itself. Their bond felt stronger and more present than ever before by the time they parted. There was still work to be done– the bond wouldn’t be strong enough in its current state to be audible across long distances– but for now, while they were near each other, their thoughts flowed freely, their barriers lowered, and their minds were finally at peace. Their years-long headaches ebbed and receded into their minds’ horizon.

 

Spock, Jim projected to him. You have no idea how much I’ve missed being at your side.

 

And I at yours, Spock thought back.

 

I think I could stay like this forever.

 

I have waited many years for the opportunity to do the same. I foolishly believed it would be in death– I am forever grateful that I am still breathing beside you.

 

That’s gotta be one of the most romantic things you’ve ever said to me, you silly Vulcan.

 

I intend to make it a habit now that I’ve been offered the opportunity. I love you, ashayam.

 

…I love you too.

 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Chapter 4: Epilogue

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

“His unexpected appearance here was the result of a spatial anomaly known as the Nexus,” Spock explained to Admiral Cartwright. “As the Nexus passed through the black hole that transported me and Nero to the past, it was forced to lose mass. The mass it lost culminated in the transport of Admiral Kirk to the past. He is indeed a future version of your own Captain James T. Kirk, but he poses no threat to the course of time; the time we both come from has already been permanently and transformatively altered by Nero, and any information we may have of the future is negligible."

 

Cartwright thought for a moment. “We can definitely write the documentation,” he said, and shifted his gaze from Spock to Jim. “Would you want to go by your name, or an alias?”

 

“My name will do fine,” Jim said. “But, perhaps you should give your own Jim Kirk a new Starfleet identification number. Best not to have that information known by anyone on the ‘outside,’” Jim smirked, and Spock turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

 

I’ll tell you later, Jim thought to him. Spock just projected back a feeling of mild amusement.

 

“Noted. But on that topic– do you have any interest at all in having your commission re-instated? Your knowledge of fleet command could still be of great use to Starfleet.”

 

“Trust me, Admiral, I’ve thought about it..” Jim shot a glance at Spock again. “But I think it’s time I properly retire. This whole time-travel thing has given me a good opportunity to just… I don’t know, cut the strings, I guess. I always found myself so obsessed with being a part of Starfleet. A part of me always will be. But it’s time for me to rest.”

 

“Very well,” Admiral Cartwright finished typing the documentation, and handed a PADD to Jim. “Just sign the bottom, and we’ll have the documents saved to your official file.”

 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

 

The sun was warm in Lincoln Park that day, and a cool breeze was ushering in the first whispers of autumn. Jim and Spock were walking down the trail hand-in-hand, sending small thoughts and feelings back and forth wordlessly.

 

Why do you think Captain Kirk told us to come out here today? Jim thought.

 

I haven’t the faintest. Much like yourself, he can be very vague at times, Spock responded with an edge of humor. Jim snickered beside him.

 

Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter, Jim smiled. I’m just glad we get to spend some time together.

 

“Jim, we have spent approximately 336 consecutive hours together since we reunited on New Vulcan,” Spock stated aloud. 

 

“And are you sick of me yet?”

 

“Of course not, ashayam .”

 

“Then why stop? We stopped for 93 years. I don’t think I ever want to stop, actually.”

 

“It was, in all technicality, only 93 years for me. It was 14 years for you.”

 

“Whatever. What matters is that you have 93 years of me to catch up on,” Jim bumped their shoulders together. 

 

As they rounded the corner, it came clear why they’d been brought out here. In the middle of the park, laid out immaculately, was a blanket and a banquet of food, both Vulcan and Terran. Sitting in the middle of the blanket was a paper note, which was weighed down with a perfectly rounded stone. Jim picked it up and held it between himself and Spock.

 

To the happily (reunited) couple.

With love, the Enterprise Crew:

Jim Kirk   Spock     L. McCoy    Uhura

Pavel A. Chekov     Sulu     Mr.Scott

 

Jim turned to Spock with a grin. Spock responded in turn with a faint smirk and an eyebrow raise.

 

“It appears the ‘cat’ is out of the ‘bag.’” Spock remarked.

 

“Appears so,” Jim replied nonchalantly, sitting down and grabbing a gespar from the fruit bowl. “Well, we couldn’t hide it from them for long in the future, either. Care for a bite?”

 

Spock carefully took the fruit from his hand, but took great care to brush two fingers against the tips of Jim’s fingers as he did. Their bond buzzed with warmth.

 

“I believe I shall partake,” Spock sat down beside Jim as if the touch hadn’t happened at all. Sly.

 

Jim slid slightly closer and rested his head on Spock’s shoulder, and Spock let his muscles relax as he bent his head to the side to rest against Jim’s in return.

 

“Spock, I… I’m sorry about your planet,” Jim said quietly. “I’m sorry I haven’t asked you at all how you’re dealing with it. I know you’ve been working on New Vulcan ever since, but..”

 

“It’s alright, Jim. What has happened cannot be undone. I still ache for the loss of my people, but… I have tried to preserve them as best I can. I trust that will help ease the pain that all Vulcans now feel.”

 

“Just because it can’t be undone, and just because all Vulcans are suffering, doesn’t make your suffering less important,” Jim said, squeezing Spock’s hand between them. 

 

“I know, ashayam. I am… trying to ‘get by’. It is not easy, but now that you are at my side, I believe it will get better. Your presence has always had that effect in the past,” Spock gently squeezed Kirk’s hand back.

 

A moment passed before either of them spoke again. “So.. are you planning on returning to New Vulcan when this retreat is over?” Jim asked, trying to sound understanding. Spock could hear the resigned disappointment hidden underneath his words.

 

“No.” Spock monotoned. Jim pulled his head away from Spock’s shoulder to look at him in confusion. Spock continued. “Now that the settlement is fully established, the planetary government can take care of things in my stead. I intend to stay here– or wherever you would be. Like you, it is time I… retired.”

 

A mix of relief and surprise flooded the bond from Jim like the tide coming rolling back to shore, and Jim wrapped an arm around Spock’s back and landed a quick kiss. “I’m happy to hear it.”

 

“Very happy, I sense,” Spock smiled in the way only Jim could recognize.

 

“Yes, yes, you can feel it, I know. Yes, I’m very happy, Spock. Of course I’m happy.”

 

“As am I, my t’hy’la. ”

 

Their fingertips pressed together. Spock gently guided his fingers over the top of Jim’s and rested them at the knuckle.

 

Parted from me and never parted. 

Never and always touching and touched.

 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 

His name is James T. Kirk. He lives a quiet, retired life with former Ambassador Spock and their cat Taluhk in a condo on Bay Street in San Francisco. They live in peaceful solitude and are often seen roaming the parks and recreational facilities in the city, as well as those across the planet and the galaxy. They touched the stars, and managed to survive the journey home.

 

Fin

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Notes:

Thank you for reading!

This is the longest fic I've ever written and I'm very proud of it, so I hope you enjoyed it. <3

I want to mention a degree of both conscious and subconscious inspiration taken from this fic:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1264420/chapters/2609257
Maybe Once, Maybe Twice by Regann

^ An absolutely wonderful fic (which I highly recommend!) that was recommended to me by erkel01 on tumblr in response to the post I made that would eventually culminate in this fic:
https://www.tumblr.com/moonstrawki/790020212561952768/thinking-about-a-timeline-where-instead-of-the?source=share