0Title: Forget Me Not (9/10)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: When Jim spends time with his First Officer and CMO, he seems sad. Neither Spock nor McCoy can figure out why.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Or read at AO3
I offer my apologies for the lateness of these final parts. I wrote the epilogue first and, satisfied with that, tried to put together the vision of what led to it… only to end up rewriting this particular chapter no less than three times. Should I give you a warning? I don’t know. Suffice to say, I followed this through with the way I originally felt it would end. I hope that is acceptable to you. If it makes you cry a little, well, I’m sorry for that too.
Leonard tightens his arms automatically when Jim slumps against him. His fingers skate down the man’s left arm to rest along the underside of a limp wrist; it’s second nature to slowly count the pulsing beat beneath the skin. The steadiness of it, despite the quick pace, assures Leonard at least some part of Jim is functioning properly.
Beyond Spock, an almost childlike voice speaks. Leonard has only a second to process the threat from the unidentified person and the flash of alarm, anger, and protectiveness from Spock searing across the bond before he is taking one small step in sync with the Vulcan, who shifts his position a second time to better block the path of the intruder. Which is good, the doctor decides, because in his vulnerable state, Jim needs to be shielded. Leonard just hates that he can’t stand next to Spock to face this foe as well without putting the man in his arms aside. Leonard is fairly certain Kirk wouldn’t stay put long once Leonard lets go of him.
As if hearing such thoughts, Jim stirs with the echo of “Begin… again?” Jim shudders slightly but, thereafter, straightens to his full height, sounding more like himself when his voice drops from a low murmur to the kind of flat tone that warns of temper. “No. No, don’t you dare.”
Uh-oh. New plan, thinks Leonard in that instant, and begins dragging Jim backwards. “Spock!” he calls to the Vulcan’s back. “Let’s go!”
“Negative” comes the immediate reply, stated coldly but not, Leonard knows, directed at anyone except the intruder in Kirk’s quarters.
“Spock!” Leonard snaps again, then snarls through gritted teeth, “Oh hell!” as it becomes increasingly difficult to hold onto Jim, who has finally cottoned on to the fact Leonard is making a tactical retreat and forcing him to tag along.
There’s only one thing to be done. Leonard pries Kirk’s fingers off the doorjamb of the bathroom and gives the man a great big wrench backwards with all the strength he can muster while, at the same time, slipping out from behind his captain and across the threshold of the bathroom door before Jim can react. Leonard’s fingers find the control panel on instinct and manually engage the locking mechanism of the door without hesitation. “Override all cabin entrances,” he tells the ship’s computer with a hint of authority, sending the room into a medical lockdown only he can lift.
Leonard figures it will buy them a few minutes before Jim finds some way around the override. The man’s going to be steaming mad, too, by that point. Leonard tells as much to Spock as he takes a fighting stance beside the Vulcan. Spock stares unblinkingly at him, eyes sharp for all that his expression is placid. No flicker of surprise crosses the Vulcan’s features or thoughts. Leonard lifts an eyebrow as if to say well, what?
There is a subtle feeling shared between them that Leonard has come to associate with the Vulcan equivalent of a sigh.
“It would have been wiser for you to stay with the Captain, Doctor.”
“And let you get all credit for saving our hides?” Leonard retorts, but he smiles. The smile dies when he remembers why it was important to get Jim out of the room as quickly as possible.
The creature isn’t much to look at: small in build, no taller than chest-height on Leonard, bearing smooth, nearly translucent skin and round eyes almost too large for its face. If it had wing-like appendages instead of skinny arms, it would look a lot like the K’lthery.
“So you’re the one who’s been ruining our lives,” he tells it, anger lending bite to his voice.
The creature studies his face with interest. “I have done nothing other than what was agreed upon with your Captain.”
Leonard nearly sputters. “Is that how you excuse your cruelty to others? Calling it an agreement, you—y-you—!”
“Leonard.”
“Don’t tell me to get a hold of myself, Spock! This little weasel’s got less moral compunction than an Orion slave trader!”
“Obviously,” his partner states aloud, addressing Leonard in private afterward. However, we cannot afford to let anger rule our actions when we are at a disadvantage.
Spock focuses on the creature watching them in curious silence. “You will provide us with the details of this… arrangement.”
“You know of them.”
“How could I when you have altered the pattern of my memories?”
Leonard has rarely heard Spock sound so disdainful. He mentally applauds when, in response, the creature’s curious expression sours ever-so-slightly.
That’s his hobgoblin! he thinks approvingly. Needle ’em with Vulcan snark! Leonard has plenty of experience with how that can irritate a man endlessly.
I do not ‘snark’. Also, if my person is to be termed yours, in the spirit of fairness I should be allowed to refer to you as ‘my human’.
It takes Leonard a split second to reply, because no matter how often he practices or how closely connected he feels to Spock, speaking ‘through with his head’ will never come naturally to him. Who’s being fair? Besides, I’d think such a declaration would be a little too barbaric for a Vulcan’s taste.
Amusement colors their connection. Then you would guess incorrectly, k’diwa.
Eyes sparkling, Leonard teases, Are you sayin’ you and your people aren’t as progressive as y’all like to think you are, Spock?
Negative. I imply only that to possess your affection—and thereby to acknowledge the fact—is not a proposal without merit.
Leonard cannot help the grin spreading across his face. “Why, Spock, I didn’t think your logic could work that way!”
“My logic is sound.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, darlin’.” Leonard makes a playful grab for Spock’s hand but aborts the motion at the subtle discouragement from Spock, which reminds him like a shock of cold water they aren’t alone.
“You are very interesting specimens,” observes the creature.
Specimens? He means glorified lab rats! That infuriates Leonard all over again. But before he can give the bastard a piece of his mind, Spock addresses the creature on behalf of both of them.
“We are not specimens. We are free beings—beings which you have enslaved for your amusement.”
“Yes.”
The lack of denial is a slap to the face. Leonard visibly recoils. “So it really is a game to you? And Jim… what about Jim’s anguish?”
“Necessary,” the small creature quips.
It is Spock who leaps forward first, surprising Leonard and no doubt surprising the creature more so when that iron-fisted Vulcan control snaps in half at the casual, callous remark. Leonard is not strong enough to hold back his truly furious partner, not by any means, but luckily Spock has the presence of mind not to fight him when he plants himself directly in the Vulcan’s path and doesn’t cower under Spock’s burning gaze.
With one hand on the Vulcan’s wrist, a calming tactic that may or may not be working (Leonard has no idea how to inspire calm in Spock but skin-to-skin contact can’t hurt), he says, “Spock, don’t.”
Spock’s cold, angry eyes fixate upon the creature but he doesn’t push Leonard aside.
Thank god for that. They can’t afford to end up back at square one; an attack will likely earn them that kind of punishment in a heartbeat. He turns around to glare at the enemy, fighting past his own anger for some seconds to say something that won’t sound outright belligerent. He comes up with “Necessary how?”
“Why is the Captain’s pain necessary?” The creature looks thoughtful. “I believe I have answered this. For sustainment.”
“To sustain your amusement—” Leonard pauses, thinks. “Or to sustain something else?”
“Hm.” The creatures tilts its head. “It may be such.”
He could do without the cryptic responses. Really, he could. Leonard reminds himself that grinding his back teeth only hurts himself. “Jim didn’t agree to become your daily entertainment. You’ve got no right to keep hurting us this way.” You had no right to hurt us to begin with, he wants to rage.
Spock is a shadow looming over his shoulder who gives off a vibration of menace which should be contrary to a Vulcan’s peaceable nature. Leonard considers briefly stepping aside and just letting Spock have at the little bastard. But his common sense quickly reasserts itself, leaving Leonard uncertain if his rage is completely his own.
You’re leaking, he thinks at Spock, only to wonder a second later if he is the one affecting Spock, not the other way around.
A gust of breath tickles the side of Leonard’s neck. Then, without warning, all sensation of Spock in his mind is gone. Leonard has a moment of abject fear over the broken connection. The void in his mind has him nearly swaying on his feet with a small noise of distress.
A hand settles momentarily at the small of Leonard’s back to steady him before withdrawing. Then Spock slips around McCoy to face the creature, his hands locked in their customary position. He looks to be in control of himself again, if unforgiving and austere. But without the connection, Leonard cannot know for certain what is pretense with Spock and what is not. Not knowing makes him nervous.
The creature, watching Spock, says, “You wish to speak to me.”
“There are many things I might say to you,” Spock agrees, his reply inflectionless. “All of them would be true.”
“But none as important as what lies at the forefront of your mind,” concludes the creature. “Speak.”
Leonard’s stomach sinks suddenly. “Spock?”
Spock doesn’t look at him. “The cycle of events cannot continue. You will, therefore, release James Kirk.”
The ship’s klaxons wouldn’t be as loud as the alarms ringing in Leonard’s head.
The creature’s eyes widen but there is nothing innocent about the look. “Do you wish to make a new agreement?”
“To amend that which is already agreed upon,” Spock clarifies, everything about him completely and suspiciously impassive.
Leonard doesn’t have to think, not at all when Spock’s about to do something very dumb, and just jumps straight into the conversation like his captain would leap into a fire. “That’s right, we want a trade! Me in the place of Jim!”
Spock unlocks his hands and in a swift, long-practiced move goes for Leonard’s neck—who saw it coming from a mile away and ducks and backs up. For an instant, Spock looks flummoxed that Leonard anticipated the nerve pinch. Then his features return to blandness, and he puts his hands behind his back again, telling the creature, “You will ignore the human.”
Leonard scowls at the betrayal. “My sacrifice is just as valid as the one you were planned to make, you green-blooded hobgoblin!”
“Quiet, Doctor.”
Leonard ignores him, turning his fierce gaze to the creature. “You’re not gonna want a Vulcan anyway. They’re too controlled by their logic to have breakdowns, am I right? That’s why you picked Jim in the first place. Well, I’m just as human as he is! If you make the trade—”
Hands lock onto Leonard’s arms and roughly turn him away from the enemy. After a token resistance, Leonard settles for glaring back at the Vulcan glaring down at him.
“Leonard, you will be silent.”
“Oh, yeah?” Leonard counters. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you opened your mouth.”
“I can silence you.”
Leonard snorts at the threat. “You could try, hobgoblin… but I think we both know it won’t do you any good. He’s not going to take us up on the offer anyway.”
Spock’s dark eyes scrutinize him. “Why?”
Leonard hesitates because he doesn’t exactly know why he said that; it’s just a feeling. He shakes his head mutely at Spock, and Spock releases him.
Something new is in the Vulcan’s gaze when he turns to consider their enemy. “We have done this before.”
Leonard involuntarily sucks in a small breath. It seems inevitable, now that he thinks about, that they would have tried this too. And Jim? Does Jim know what is going to happen? Is that why he hasn’t broken into his quarters by now? Because he knows coming in here is futile?
Leonard’s heart hurts just thinking about it, but no matter what, he thinks resolutely, he can’t give up the fight. The doctor steps forward, saying, “If all we’re gonna do is repeat ourselves until we grow old and die, how can you not be bored of us already?”
“This is true. If we were to focus on you and the Vulcan alone, your adherence to the same patterns would have no sustainment for us,” their captor agrees. “It is the other one who provides the variation.” The creature cranes his neck around to look at the closed door of the cabin. “I wonder, what will he do this time?”
Something occurs to Leonard, lodging his heart in his throat. “What if… what if—” He can’t say it. He looks at Spock. What if there is no more Jim?
Though the connection is closed between them, they have always had a way of understanding each other’s thoughts when it matters. Spock knows what he is thinking, Leonard can see, because the same thought is reflected in Spock’s eyes.
Is there no way to end this madness except by eliminating the one player of the game who matters?
A small sigh, not unlike contentment, comes from the small being looking at the door. “You must fetch him,” it says to Leonard and Spock.
Spock is already at the computer console sitting on Jim’s desk. “Computer, locate whereabouts of Captain Kirk.”
Working, the computer tells them. Captain Kirk located. Shuttle Bay Three.
Leonard feels woozy when he goes to Spock’s side, not quite stumbling over his own feet. Catching a hold of Spock’s arm, he leans into the tall Vulcan’s frame. “He’s going to leave us,” he whispers.
Spock does not lift his bowed head, saying simply, “Yes.”
Leonard takes Spock’s hand, needing the contact. Let him go, he thinks fiercely. Let Jim get as far away from this ship and them as possible.
That is, of course, not an opinion the creature shares. “If the Captain leaves your vessel,” Leonard and Spock are warned, “you all must begin again.”
Which is worse? Leonard wonders, closing his eyes. Taking away a moment’s hope from Jim, or condemning him—all three of them—to repeating this experience again?
When he opens his eyes again, the cabin is empty with the exception of him and Spock. He turns his troubled gaze to the Vulcan. Spock lifts a hand to touch his cheekbone and the bond springs to life between them.
What do we do? Leonard asks.
I do not know.
“But either way,” the doctor whispers, unhappy, “we have to find Jim first.”
At first he can’t control his anger. It consumes him, makes him beat a fist against the door and demand entrance; it makes him consider how he can short-circuit the electrical panel because McCoy—stupid, self-righteous, caring Leonard McCoy (not to mention the too-loyal, overprotective Vulcan alongside him)—has the audacity to lock him out of his own quarters in order to cordon him off from danger.
As if Jim needs that protection. How many years as captain of this starship has he stood in the line of fire? It is his responsibility to oversee the safety of his crew; therefore it is his right to protect them as he sees fit including, if necessary, the forfeit of his own life. That belief has always been a subject of contention between him and his subordinates. The captain, according to his First Officer and CMO, must be protected at all costs. If Jim agreed with that, he would have never pursued a captaincy in the first place. He isn’t afraid of being at the front line of battle, and he isn’t afraid of what that might cost him.
But that’s not a cost he is willing to share.
That thought has the effect of pulling him from his fury. He has a moment to think clearly, and that moment is all he needs. Forcing his way into the confrontation may give him the chance to order Spock and Leonard into tactical retreat (not that they would obey such an order, a dismayed Jim figures), but it won’t do much in the way of changing the outcome.
The outcome probably can’t be changed by this point. Not for him, at least. But he can keep unwanted attention off of the two people who are vulnerable to it. All he needs, Jim decides as he backs out of the bathroom and into his First Officer’s quarters, is a diversion.
In the next instant James T. Kirk is swinging out of Spock’s cabin and pelting down a nearly empty corridor. Come and get me, you bastards! the thought rages inside him.
And come they will, because what upsets them more than the thought of their little pet escaping its cage? He will find a way off this ship if it kills him!
Vulcans are sneaky beings by nature but perhaps not so much when they’re upset. This is why Leonard lets Spock make the beeline for the shuttle hangar and the errant Jim Kirk therein, and instead of following closely behind, he makes a quick side trip to catch a hold of the nearest wide-eyed security ensign on guard duty inside the bay.
“Dr. McCoy!” gasps the poor young man once Leonard has a firm grip on his uniform collar.
Leonard gives the ensign the stink eye. “Hand over your phaser.”
The ensign obeys with prudent expediency. Leonard lets him go and tucks the phaser into the waistband of his pants at his back. He turns away, only to turn back to the young man and growl, “Why are you just standing there gawking? Somebody’s about to steal a shuttlecraft!”
The ensign looks pained. “…He’s the captain, sir.”
“Which,” Leonard says pointedly, “does not mean he can authorize a take-off whenever he feels like it!”
The ensign blinks. “Really?”
Do these kids actually get taught anything of use about command protocol at the Academy before they’re sent shipside? “Really,” Leonard drawls. “Next time you ask to see Kirk’s permission slip before you let him get on one of those contraptions.”
The ensign is smart enough not to disagree with that, at least. Leonard hurries away to find Spock and Jim, barely registering the sudden cry of “Wait! There’s going to be a next time?” behind him.
“What—” cracks a whip-like voice from the threshold of the shuttle, “—are you doing, Captain?”
Jim doesn’t flinch and doesn’t bother to look up away from his task at hand, though his fingers do momentarily stutter at the controls. “Exit the shuttle, Commander.”
“I will not,” replies his First Officer, stepping fully into the cabin of the craft.
Jim breathes a sigh of impatience through his nose. He twists at the waist to level his most implacable stare at the Vulcan. “Spock, I said leave. That’s an order, mister!”
Why should it be any surprise that Spock takes the co-pilot’s seat instead of listening? As he buckles himself into the seat, Spock speaks with a flat tone that belies his calm features. “If you attempt to remove yourself from the Enterprise, you risk the ire of our captors and the exacerbation of this situation.”
“You know that, do you, Spock?”
“I have been duly informed of the consequences.”
Jim swallows hard, his hands stilling without thought. “So I’m to stay locked in my misery indefinitely?”
But Spock doesn’t answer that question and instead reaches across the console to remove one of Jim’s hands from the auto-pilot panel. “Jim, I… understand why you feel you must do this. I do not fault you for it.”
Jim looks at him. “What is it you think I’m doing, Spock?”
Spock doesn’t blink. “Saving yourself.”
The words would hurt except they’re true. Hadn’t he planned this very action only half an hour ago? Jim drops his gaze to the console, struck by the need to apologize. But apologizing won’t help anyone now. He pulls away from Spock’s light grip and flips a series of switches. The shuttle thrums beneath him as it wakes up.
“I want you to leave.”
“Will this help you?” Spock asks in return. “If Leonard and I—and even yourself, if my theory is correct—forget what has transpired in these last few weeks, will it help you?” His voice is inexplicably gentle. “Is it not the forgetting which hurts you most, Jim?”
“Your argument is logical as always,” Jim says, a trace of bitterness in his admission, “but you’re still wrong. I need you off this shuttle, Spock.” He dares to glance at his comrade, his partner—his long-ago lover. He says the one phrase that has never failed him in the past. “Trust me.“
Even now, it does not fail him. Spock does not fail him, giving Jim a moment’s consideration before slowly unbuckling the straps of the co-pilot’s seat and standing.
Jim could weep. In fact, he would have said something he never intended to say again—something foolishly sentimental—before Spock left him entirely but at that moment something falls in through the open shuttle hatch.
Or rather, someone.
“Damn it!” comes the familiar curse. “Who designed this blasted thing? There’s a hole between the door and the steps as wide as a man’s arm! I coulda concussed myself just getting in here!”
Jim is irritated and resigned all at once. “Take Bones with you,” he tells Spock in his firmest voice, doing his best to fight the urge to look in Leonard’s direction. Give McCoy one second of eye contact, and there will be no budging the doctor from the shuttle even if Jim begged. Spock will listen to reason from his captain or a simple “trust me.” Bones?
Leonard listens to no one but his own stubborn conscience. Jim loves him for it, for all that it makes the man a serious pain in the ass sometimes.
“Well, at least somebody has the decency to help me off the floor. Thanks, Spock,” McCoy is saying, to which the Vulcan responds with a polite “You are welcome.”
Bones is fishing for a response from him. Don’t say anything, Jim reminds himself severely.
“‘Course, I can see you’re too busy running away to care about my poor old bones, Jim.”
Jim hunkers over the control console, wondering if it’s too childish to clap his hands over his ears.
“Has he gone mute, Spock?”
“Not that I am aware, Doctor.”
A hand drops to the back of Jim’s seat. It’s all Jim can do not to stiffen and keep his gaze fixed straight ahead.
“So, Jim-boy,” drawls a silky, Southern voice near his ear, “are you done gritting your teeth and ignoring me in hopes I’ll go away?”
“Spock was just leaving. So are you, Dr. McCoy.”
A deep chuckle sends a tingle along Jim’s spine. “Jim, Jim, Jim… you ought to know by now, I don’t like your plan.”
“Like it or not,” Jim retorts, unclenching his jaw and sparing a glance for the man who has decided to lean a hip against the pilot console, “you will obey a direct order, Bones.”
“Mm.”
It’s a warning, one Jim shouldn’t have forgotten despite that he hasn’t been privy to it a long time. No one is more devious than Bones trying to protect a patient—except for Bones trying to protect a friend.
Jim sits back in his seat, slightly disbelieving, as his CMO calmly extricates a phaser from behind his back and flicks it on with a thumb. Kirk’s disbelief tilts into shock when Leonard trains the phaser on his chest.
“Don’t worry,” the doctor says. “It’s not on a kill setting.”
Jim clasps his hands on the arms of his seat and levers himself up. Uncertainty makes him halt midway through the motion when McCoy raises the phaser in warning. “Bones?”
“Just a minute, Jim. Spock?”
Leonard’s blue eyes aren’t amused, aren’t even angry. For once, Jim can’t fathom what the man is thinking. The mental connection between them hasn’t worked properly in months, so he can only feel a muted jolt of surprise and a quick if elusive assessment of the situation from Spock which gives him no clues; the sensations are akin to seeing a reflection of the sun in a muddy puddle of water. The full brilliance that is the triad bond is lost to Jim, something which he misses fiercely.
He can only ask, “What are you doing?” as Spock replies, “Yes, Leonard?”
“What was it that little weasel said about us? That we’re predictable fuddy-duddies?”
“That is… essentially correct.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll explain ‘fuddy-duddy’ to you later, darlin’.” Leonard’s gaze flicks over to where Spock is standing, but it’s not enough of a moment of inattention that Jim can jump him and snatch the phaser away.
Not that he had been planning to do that. In all honesty, Jim is confused. More than that, he thinks he is rapidly losing control of this situation. What is Bones talking about, and why is it necessary they talk with a phaser in his face?
“So, we’re predictable and Jim isn’t. I was actually kind of insulted about that.”
“I see,” replies the grim-yet-somehow-amused Spock. “I believe this irrational behavior would qualify as a negation of the perceived insult.”
Leonard’s grin lights up his face, and Jim’s bad feeling eases slightly at the sight of it.
“Why thank you, Spock! I was hopin’ you’d see it that way. Aren’t you gonna ask me why else I’m pointing a phaser at Jim, besides the obvious?”
“Why else, Doctor?” the Vulcan deadpans.
Leonard sniffs. “I question your sincerity, hobgoblin.”
Something familiar and wonderful fills Jim’s chest. Of course they’d banter while Leonard is doing something completely insane like threatening his captain. It’s just so them. Jim is pained by the fact he hasn’t felt this kind of amusement in over a year.
Leonard is talking, heedless of the sudden wet sheen to Kirk’s eyes. “The whole thing about ‘variation’ got me thinking. Barring Jim’s natural proclivity for trouble and his even worse penchant for getting ridiculous ideas when bored—”
“Bones, now I’m the one who is feeling insulted.”
“Shut up, Jim,” McCoy tells him in a good-natured tone. “As I was saying, it’s the variation that has value for them—but not ours, not yet.” Leonard’s voice softens slightly. “So what do we do to stop it?”
Spock approaches in the periphery of Jim’s vision. “I believe I understand you, Doctor.”
Jim looks between Spock and McCoy, not certain now why the Vulcan is suddenly fixated on him too. It brings the bad feeling roaring back to turn his stomach. “What is it?”
“It would be better, perhaps,” Spock says in a tone soft enough to rival Leonard’s, “if you did not use the phaser, even on the lowest setting.”
“I know,” Leonard replies, seeming sad all of a sudden. “Could you?”
Spock does not answer, instead reaching out with intent that Jim recognizes too late. He cries out, “Spock!” but can say no more thereafter, his vision and his conscious state blanketing to darkness from the nerve pinch as easily as he had flipped the engage-switches on the pilot console.
Leonard lowers the phaser as Spock catches the limp body of their captain. Cradling Jim in his arms, Spock murmurs, “A moment, if you will.” Then he is striding away to the exit of the shuttle. Leonard collapses into the nearest seat, all his bravado and his bluffing gone in seconds.
There really is no better way than this. He knows it. Spock knows it. Soon, Jim will know it.
Will he forgive them?
Will it matter?
Leonard lets the phaser drop to the floor at his feet, painstakingly buckles himself in the seat and waits for Spock’s return, hands pressed between his knees to subdue their shaking. After a minute or so, Spock slips into the shuttle again, alone, and closes the hatch that serves as the door. Then he silently takes the pilot’s seat where Jim had been sitting and begins the protocol for a proper take-off.
“I don’t think we would’ve considered this before.”
“No,” the Vulcan agrees, voice solemn, long fingers moving by rout over the controls.
Leonard is helpless to stop the words, maybe because he hopes if he says them, the action absolves him of the guilt. “Even through thick and thin, and all the pretending, we didn’t leave him. Couldn’t leave him,” he says, choking, “and now we’ve reached a point where if we stay…”
Spock’s response is almost too quiet to be heard by human ears. “When the underlying cause is no longer present, the variation ceases to exist.”
Leonard lifts a hand to wipe at his eyes. “I feel wretched, Spock. I didn’t think I could feel any more wretched about all of this, but I do.” It is the transmittal of compassion, love, and Spock’s own feeling of wretchedness across the bond that keeps Leonard from outright sobbing in his chair like a child.
For a moment, the silence between them stretches painfully. Then Spock voices a question, hollow-sounding, almost desolate to Leonard’s ears. “Will he… survive?”
It’s an answer, a hope Spock needs—but Leonard can only give the truth. “If we’re gone? Maybe. That’s the thing about love: it can bring agony as easily as it can bring joy. But Jim’s a fighter. If we can give him this much, it’s the best chance he has.” Grief lodges in his throat. “Let’s get outta here, Spock.”
Without protest, Spock relays the command into the shuttlecraft and beyond, asking the Enterprise to seal off the shuttle bay and depressurize for departure.
A second creature, small and pale with slightly too-large eyes, appears next to the one who has been observing the latest trend in events for some time. They could pass for twins.
“What is happening?”
“They are leaving.”
“Then it is as predicted. Our calculations are correct.”
“Yes.”
The newcomer tilts his head. “To change a pattern of behavior in these specimens has been most challenging. Their mating bond is resilient to many influences. How many trials have you implemented to garner a success?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Ah, an unprecedented number. The others will find this most interesting. When is the last trial?”
“There will be no further trials. It is unnecessary now that the specimens have learned the new behavior and will repeat it.”
“Confirmation is best. It is scientific.”
The first creature turns to his companion. “The one called Captain Kirk is no longer a stable agent. His survival rate is at its lowest.”
The companion nods faintly. “I will inform the others. Do you require aid in their release?”
“Negative,” the first creatures replies, returning to observe the opening panels of the shuttle hangar, revealing the blackness of the galaxy beyond.
“Then you may proceed. New specimens have been acquired. They are… Andorians. These specimens bond in groups of four. We will learn much.”
After this parting information, the twin vanishes and the other creature is left to study the final product of the experiment without interruption.
One of the human crewmembers of the Enterprise is bent over the prone form of the Captain Kirk, whose Vulcan mate had deposited him gently on the floor and left instructions for his care to the young human. Kirk groans, rousing intermittently from his state of unconsciousness.
He will wake fully soon and realize his mates intend to leave him. The knowledge will be his undoing. This one has suffered much to satisfy the conditions of the experiment that led to the behavioral change. No more suffering is required of him.
The creature lifts his hand before the Captain comes fully awake, drawing power from his strange existence in the universe to alter what has been so all things, ship and personnel, might return to the moment before this interference for the sake of learning. Time begins anew.
Related Posts:
- Forget Me Not (10/10) – from April 1, 2013
- Forget Me Not (8/10) – from March 18, 2013
- Forget Me Not (7/?) – from March 12, 2013
- Forget Me Not (6/?) – from March 6, 2013
- Forget Me Not (5/?) – from March 1, 2013
