*I'm more afraid of myself...than I am of any Vian or omnipresent being.
Not good for my reputation, is it? And what does that make Spock?
"Kirk's Shadow" the Klingons call him. I used to wonder if it hurt him
to be called that. And I never asked. He probably would deny it bothered
him...*

Spock...

Jim got to his feet, drink left behind. He still wasn't thinking too
deeply about what he had to do. If he did his nerve truly would falter.
Overthinking killed a soldier. Starfleet had taught that lesson over and
over again.

Holding his breath, he went to the comm on his desk.

~end of Marcy part~

But before opening the link to Spock that he had intended he called up
his own logs, and started reading.

He read for hours on end, seeing what he hadn't really admitted to
himself, seeing what Bones had been talking about. The words on the
screen told him everything he'd tried to hide for so long.

He loved Spock. Every single word showed him this truth, as plainly as
someone had spoken it aloud, and truth be told he had known for a long
time.

"I love Spock," he said aloud.

His heartbeat sped up, and his palms began to sweat, but with the
stubbornness that had saved his life so many times in the line of duty
he kept saying it, over and over again.

"I love Spock. I love Spock. I want Spock. I want him ... in my bed. I
love him like I've not loved anyone else before."

The words were forced out of him, pushed and he choked on them, and he
still kept repeating them, again and again, until they left his lips
without the anxiety, until the sweat on his palms began to dry, until
his heart wasn't beating so wildly in his chest anymore.

"I love Spock."

This time it was whispered, and this time he meant it, this time it
didn't... yes, it still frightened him, but this time he wouldn't let
that stop him from saying them aloud to his first officer.

He clicked on the comm and the signals went through.

"Captain Kirk."

"Spock."

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I need to talk to you, but not like this, not on the comm. Would
you.... mind if I came to Vulcan?"

"I do not see a reason for us to meet, Captain Kirk," Spock said, his
voice distant and the dark gaze cold and shuttered.

"I made a mistake."

There was hesitation now, but only for a fleeting moment. "I fail to see
what your mistakes might have to do with us meeting."

"Damnit Spock!"

*Calm down, calm down. Don't ruin this* Kirk said to himself and closed
his eyes for a brief moment.

"I hadn't meant to say it this way, Spock but.... "

He swallowed and lifted his gaze to look at Spock.

"But, I love you."

There was no hesitation this time and it was worth saying it like this,
saying it over the comm, without Spock near, just to see the light begin
to shine on Spock's face.

"I really do love you, Spock," Kirk repeated. "And I'm willing to do
what it takes to prove it to you. I'm sorry it took me so long."

"I do believe we need to speak with one another, Jim," Spock. "PLease
come to Vulcan."

Jim nodded but the link was already cut.

His heart beating in his chest, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty, Kirk
started to pack.

~end kira-nerys part~



Kirk stepped off of the shuttle at the Shikahr Spaceport and looked
around for a cab.  He must have looked like a lost puppy because an
aircar bearing the universally familiar checkerboard, designed to make
tourists feel right at home, sped ahead of the traffic and pulled up
alongside him.

The driver didn't speak or turn as Kirk tossed his duffel on the far
side of the seat and slid inside. He hadn't announced his destination
before the cab surged skyward in dizzying fashion. Kirk grabbed ahold of
the back of the seat in front of him to steady himself for what must
have been a three-g ride to distance altitude.

He opened his mouth to give the driver his destination but his vision
failed at that moment and he slumped forward in the seat.

Kirk awoke to darkness or a blindfold, he couldn't immediately discern
which. His hands and feet had been bound securely by someone who had
known what they were doing. Vibration from the aircar engine pressing
against him had made his shoulder go numb.  He could sense minor course
changes in their flight that reminded him acutely of the Enterprise.  In
fact, all of his senses had come alive as they hadn't since the mission
had ended. He strained his hearing for any clue as to his situation and
bided his time until a chance to escape appeared.


----Node?----


Kirk's blindfold was removed to reveal near-darkness.  Stars shown
beyond the black figure who moved with non-Human agility away from him.

He sat up on the rocky sand and supressed a groan as his head spun with
the movement. The bindings securing him were still as tight as ever, so
Kirk relaxed as much as possible and watched the figures moving away
toward the gently glowing outline of an aircar.

"Excuse me," Kirk said.

They embarked silently and the car lifted off.

"Well, God-damn," he muttered and shifted to test his bonds.

He replayed in his mind the image of the driver of the cab. Just an
ordinary looking Vulcan male, maybe a little younger than Sarek.
Absolutely nothing had cued him that he was in danger.

"Must be losing my wits," he said as he felt around for a rock sharp
enough to work on the cords binding his hands.

After crab-crawling around in the sand for fifteen minutes finding only
round worn stones, he stopped for a break. Again, he tried to think of a
rational reason for his predicament and failed. Heck, he couldn't even
think of an irrational reason.

He turned over onto his side to find a spot where stones were not
pressing into his thighs and his foot bumped something that sounded
unnatural.  Kirk scrambled over and by contorting himself around, seized
upon a sizeable knife. He shook his head in confusion but wasted no time
jamming the handle between two boulders and cutting the bonds on his
wrists.  His ankle bonds followed.  Kirk thought a moment, then pocketed
the cords and stuck the knife in his waistband and walked carefully over
to where the aircar had parked.

It was much too dark for him here.  Starlight alone lit the broad sky
around him, except off to the right where an orange glow was appearing.
Kirk sat on a boulder and waited for T'Kuht to rise and spill enough
light over the landscape to enable him to get around.

By the dull orange light he surveyed the landscape. If that distant peak
was Mt. Seleya, which it looked like it was, then he was over three
hundred clicks from Shikahr. He sat back down and thought for a while.
Considerate action in unknown situations was half of the reason he had
survived the five-year mission to uncharted space.  The other half was
the phenomenal skills of his crew, one of whom he dearly wished were
here with him right now.

If he remained here on this high point until morning he could
potentially see the nearest settlement without traveling an excessive
distance, but it meant staying where hostiles knew his location. Also
given the heat of the Vulcan day, he would not have much travel time
before needing to seek shelter until dusk.

He circled the top of the rise he was on and saw to the north-west a
flickering of lights arranged as though composing a town.  He headed off
in that direction, picking his way carfully in the misleading light.

He hadn't gone a click when a strange sense of dread slowed him to a
stop. It was as though every moment of command and animal instinct he
had ever experienced were piled together into one sense of wrongness. He
turned on the spot and saw nothing around him. The sense continued to
sharpen and morph into desperation. Kirk spun again, trying illogically
to get a fix on the strange sensation. He took a step to the east and
oddly felt as though perhaps that was the correct direction.

He stumbled that way for a few minutes, each step re-inforcing the
notion that this was the way to go. Command training forced him to stop
and re-evaluate. What if this were some kind of trick?  But why? They
had their chance to kill him, why leave him out here? Forcing himself to
do so against the driving instinct, Kirk sat down and stared off into
the dimness.

This was some kind of telepathy, he considered. <em>Spock,</em> he
thought with a bone vibrating chill.  As soon as the thought had flashed
through his mind, Kirk was certain. The strangeness of the sensation was
caused by Spock attempting to block his emotions, he was certain. He had
felt that shielding effect every time they had melded.

He started out in a run, tripping and barely maintaining his feet as he
headlonged down the slope. At the bottom, the rockiness petered out and
hard packed sand and slate slabs made the going easier.  Kirk slowed
down only when his lungs felt close to exploding.

He lost track of how long he had run. T'Kuht's progress across the night
sky made him estimate over two hours.  Exercise had fortuneately been
his main vice this last year other than expensive coffee. He slowed to a
walk and tried to catch his breath in the rarified air. He began passing
small leafless shrubs.  Something bothered him about this, but he
couldn't spare much thought beyond the siren of Spock's mind to dredge
up the memory that toyed with him.

Another half click brought the memory slamming back to him as he heard
just one grating scrape on stone before he was knocked to the ground.
His hand had reactively gone for the knife on the back of his waistband
but he'd been too slow. Long fangs had sunk into his upper arm and
jerked him off of the ground before he could pull the knife clear and
around in front of himself. By that time he had been unsummarily dropped
hard on the stone again.  With pain blasting his senses Kirk held the
knife out defensively and made it to a crouch.  The shadow of the
lematre moved away making hacking noises and keening lowly at the foul
iron taste in its mouth.

Stupid. Lematres like the scrub because that is where the prey is.

Kirk forced himself to move on.  He pulled off his shirt as he walked
and tore off a sleeve to use as a bandage.  Using his teeth as a spare
hand, he finally managed to get it tied tightly around his left arm,
easing the throbbing marginally.

Morning came in a haze of pain.  Despite the cool night air, Kirk was
parched and day was just beginning. His sense of Spock had ebbed and
surged but he had never lost sense of the best direction. By
mid-morning, he began looking for roots to squeeze for moisture only to
discover that he knew precious little about Vulcan desert survival. This
was a civilized planet, why would anyone get stuck in the desert?

Kirk shook his head and immediately regretted the onset of a headache.
He stood at the base of an escarpment that his direction sense insisted
he should climb.  He walked along it instead, producing howls of protest
from his strange new homing instinct.

He found what he'd hoped for though, a tiny trickle of red-stained water
oozing from a crack in the stone and compressed dirt making up the side
of the escarpment. The metallic taste didn't stop him from pressing his
lips right into the stone to drink his fill and then double that. He
also soaked his clothes and then headed back to a seam he could climb
with relative ease, even one-handed.

He felt strong and young when he made the top of the escarpment, even
though he was close to wheezing. Each of his senses was thrown into
stark relief and it felt good. He had been dead these last months, he
realized, someone had just forgotten to toss him into the casket.

He looked around at the bleak landscape before heading for a tumble of
stones for shelter from the afternoon sun.

Sitting still in the shade, his back against the cool surface of the
stone was the hardest thing he had ever done.  Every fiber of his being
ached to take off at a run in the direction of Spock's muffled mental
call. By the time the sun sank near the horizon, Kirk had tears of
effort streaking his cheeks.  When this was over, he was going to drag
Spock home no matter what the damn Vulcan said. Forget his own stupid
mistakes, this damn planet wasn't going to hold Spock if he killed
himself freeing him with his own soul.

Pausing just to tighten the bandage over his swollen, disturbingly
purplish wounds, Kirk started out again. It was a moment when the sense
had ebbed, so Kirk continued on the course set by his last internal
reading.

The dusky air was chilling him by the time he came upon the figure. He
had been concentrating more on putting one sore foot before the other
than on the landscape at that point. If he hadn't happened to glance up
to set his bearings to Mt. Seleya he might have missed the Vulcan
standing stone still, staring off back the way Kirk had come.

Kirk reached around behind himself but didn't pull out the knife. He
stepped up in front of the figure, who failed to acknowledge him as
though in a trance.  He was wearing one of those silvery getups Kirk
remembered from Spock's failed wedding. Kirk scratched his ear and
looked around them at the barren rise they stood on.

"So," Kirk began, "the odds that you aren't involved in this are too
astronomical to compute, not that I could at this point." He stared off
at the spot the stranger was staring at. His arm had begun throbbing
viciously and the pain was making it frightenly hard to track Spock.

He resisted the urge to wave his hand in front of the Vulcan's eyes.
"Any suggestions?" Kirk asked satirically.

The Vulcan turned his head and met Kirk's gaze, making the human step
back in surprise.

"You must defeat me in combat," the stranger stated.

"Oh, yeah. Not a chance," Kirk laughed. He pulled out the knife and
tossed it aside angerly. Dark eyes darted to watch it clatter among the
rocks then re-met Kirk's.  "And your name would be?" Kirk asked.

An eyebrow went up. "Stenn."

"Ah, so you must be a relative then." Anger flooded into Kirk's limbs
giving them a renewed, though shakey, strength. He stalked past Stenn or
tried to--Stenn had a hold of, thankfully, his good arm in an instant.

"You have no choice," the Vulcan stated evenly.

"The hell I don't," Kirk replied.

"Do not mock our traditions, Human."

"Clue me into them and I'll give respect a little try," Kirk managed. He
felt suddenly dizzy, a combination of the injury, hunger, thrist and
probably some kind of exotic infection.

"You are an outsider to this clan and cannot be accepted without passing
the Tests of Loyalty."

Kirk's heart thudded in his chest with an odd kind of hope and it made
him sway on his feet even more. "Combat eh?" he said with relish. "Chess
then."

"I do not understand," Stenn said.

"I challenge you to a game of chess. It is a form of combat," Kirk
insisted. "Beam in a game and let's get on with it."

Stenn stared at him oddly, the first crack that had shown in his
control. "Very well."

As Kirk set up the 2-D board, Stenn commented, "If you were Vulcan,
mental games would be impossible for you."

"They would?" Kirk commented. Between his ache of concern for Spock and
the dizziness from his wound he could barely carry on a conversation.

"A Vulcan would be in a violent rage at this time."

Kirk paused and looked up at Stenn. "That doesn't sound very logical,"
he deadpanned and went back to straightening the rows of pawns.

Kirk had him in eleven moves.  Stenn stood and bowed for Kirk to pass.
Kirk took a few unsteady steps along the rise then called out Spock's
name. He turned back to Stenn who had resumed his stoic pose, only
facing Kirk now. "Where is he?"

An eyebrow went up. "You cannot discern this?"

Kirk's shoulders slumped.  He had lost his sense of where to go. He had
lost Spock.  He gave Stenn a desparate look.

"He has been shielding himself from you," Stenn stated.

"Why?"

"We do not know."

Kirk closed his eyes and fought against the weight of defeat. He looked
around them again. "You didn't ask him."

Stenn shook his head.

"Curiosity must be something he got from his mother," Kirk mumbled and
stalked in the general direction he had been heading before, the
direction Stenn was now facing.

Stenn's factual voice called him back. "You will need the knife."

A click and a half farther on and in near darkness, Kirk saw the first
flickers of torchlight. He couldn't even generate an emotion of
gladness, just gushing relief. He was shaking with the last ounces of
strength when he entered the circle of torches.  Spock slumped
unconscious, bound in the center to a tall rough pillar.  Kirk crouched
to cut his bonds and looked up as footsteps approached. He didn't
recognize this Vulcan either though behind the black mask, he might have
been Stonn. Kirk pointedly ignored the battle-worn lirpa the Vulcan
carried.

Kirk lowered Spock to the sand, knocking aside a bowl of foul looking
liquid that suspiciously matched the stains around Spock's lips. "Where
is Sarek?" Kirk demanded.

"He is non-participatory," a distant voice stated. T'Pau moved slowly
into the center from beyond the torches.

Kirk bit down hard on every last nasty remark he longed to make. His
attempts to rouse Spock had failed but his breathing seemed normal so he
calmed his panic. "Something else I have to do?" Kirk asked with no
little venom in his voice.

"No. You have proven youself," she stated coldly and turned and walked
away into the darkness.

Kirk rolled his eyes and turned back to the guard.  "You have
transport?" Kirk asked.

After a pause the guard spoke in Vulcan and Kirk got the idea that he
didn't know any Standard.  He turned instead to Spock, lifting him into
his lap and tapping him lightly on the cheek.  Finally Spock's eyes
opened but they remained unfocused.  His haunting, drug-induced,
desperation slammed into Kirk.  "Spock!" Kirk cried out and clutched at
him fiercely.  He couldn't break free of Spock's need in fact he could
barely breath.

Hours seemed to pass before he realized he was being spoken to in
Standard. Someone was peeling his hands away from Spock with inhuman
strength. A heavy robe enveloped Kirk's knees as Spock was pulled from
him. "No!" Kirk shouted and then understood Stenn's comment about
violence. Kirk was ready to kill or destroy anything or anyone at that
moment. He tugged with all his remaining strength at the hands holding
his wrists, unconscious now of his injuries. His murderous scream was
cut short by a merciful neck pinch.

Kirk came to in a stone room he thankfully recognized.  A youngish
looking Vulcan male was preparing a hypo.  The door opened and Sarek
entered looking as concerned as Kirk had ever seen him.

"He should be taken to the medical center," the doctor said in Standard.

"That would be very awkward," Sarek stated.

Kirk sat forward slightly. "I'll be all right."

"You have a dangerous systemic infection," the doctor stated. "Which I
have only now managed to abtain the medicine for." He injected Kirk with
the hypo then returned to the task of cleansing the dirt-embedded
abrasions on Kirk's elbow. The lematre bite had already been neatly
bandaged.

"Leave us," Sarek commanded.

The doctor stood and stared at Sarek for a long minute in an
expressionless battle before backing down and quietly straightening his
things and departing. In the wake of his departure, Kirk sat up though
he didn't manage to sit up very straight.

"Spock needs you," Sarek commented as though stating commodities prices.

Kirk leaned forward and stood up and followed Sarek out. Once in the
hall, he led the way to the meditation room. Spock sat on the meditation
stone, his expression made him appear completely adrift.

"Spock?" Kirk rasped.

Startled, Spock turned to look at him in the dim light from the firepot.
"You are unharmed?" he asked, shocked.

"Yes, Spock." Kirk glanced at Sarek. "Yes, I'm fine," he lied smoothly.

Spock swallowed hard. "I did not realize. . ."

Kirk approached him and reached out and then stopped. "Can I touch him?"
he asked Sarek.

"Indeed."

Kirk grasped Spock's arms and crouched before him. "Didn't realize
what?"

"After your call I asked T'Pau for permission. . . I did not realize
they would invoke the dead traditions. They have not used them. . . they
did it because you are an outworlder."

"Shush, Spock it is all right," Kirk commanded to stop the rambling
flow. He turned back to Sarek. "Is it awkward to get him help as well?"

"I will leave you two," Sarek intoned and departed.

Kirk pursed his lips and moved to sit beside Spock, putting an arm
around his spare frame and pulling him close.  Spock let his head rest
on Kirk's shoulder.

"You are injured," Spock observed.

"Just a flesh wound."

"I did not believe you would make it at all. I did not want you to try.
I tried to block you out, but they simply forced me to drink more
Shan-ra."

"Spock, everything is all right. Really. I would do it all again for you
in an heartbeat, though I could use a good night's sleep first."

Spock pulled away slightly and looked at him. "You never cease to amaze
me, Jim." He touched Kirk's arm. "Perhaps I should know better by now
than to underestimate you."

"I would say," Kirk quipped. He started to stand. "Come on. Let's get
you somewhere to rest."

Back in Spock's room, Kirk handed him his half-full water glass. "Have
some of this, help you wash down the. . . Shan-ra, I think you called
it."

Kirk felt himself swaying on his feet, so he sat on the edge of the bed.
Spock set down the empty glass with a clunk and stepped over to him.
"You are seriously injured," he stated, focus coming to his eyes for the
first time.

Kirk shook his head. "No, no. I'm just exhausted." He waved at the
medical kit sitting off to one side. "The doctor was here--I'm fine."

Spock peeled off a corner of Kirk's largest arm bandage. "You have a
blood infection," Spock stated.

"He gave me something for that."

"What?"

"I didn't get the name." Kirk replied and flinched as Spock touched the
massive bruise on his thigh.  "Really," he insisted, "I'm all right."
Spock was flipping through the transparent bound sheets of medicine and
equipment in the kit. Kirk almost chastised him again, then realized the
transformation that had come over his friend, his dark eyes now
determined and controlled.  He lay back and shut up and allowed himself
to be taken care of.

"Your pain has eased?" Spock eventually asked after satisfying himself
as to Kirk's condition.

"Yes."

"I apologize again for what has happened," Spock said with bowed head.

Kirk grabbed his arm. "Spock I not only found you out there, I found
myself. I'm very grateful for that. If the James Kirk who had left Earth
had been the one who arrived, I think you'd have been disappointed in
me." They studied each other in silence for a minute before Kirk broke
the moment by saying, "Do you have something to eat? I am absolutely
famished."

Spock nodded and left the room.  In the pantry he encountered Amanda.
"James is in need of sustenance," Spock said.

Amanda looked him over. He looked hellish in his dirt-smudged robe and
disarrayed hair. She held her anger in check and opened the cooler and
take out two portions of rice and beans.

Spock watched her set the timer on the warmer for thirty seconds. He
didn't know what to say to her.  This was the part of Vulcan culture
that she strongly disapproved of and he knew she was struggling to keep
her criticisms in check. He wished he knew if she blamed him for going
to T'Pau, for trying to do things correctly.

The meals finished heating and she put them on a tray for him with
spoons and napkins. As she handed it to him he attempted to explain, "I
thought he deserved recognition," Spock stated quietly.

She looked at him and sighed. "He does Spock. He does. Now go on--he
hasn't eaten in two days and neither have you."

Amanda went for a walk to calm herself and to attempt to dull the memory
of the sight of her son ruffled and distraught. She returned through the
garden and felt calm enough from the exertion to face Sarek. She found
him in the library reading from a padd.

The words she had planned to say escaped her as his borderline uncertain
gaze met hers. "I did not approve," Sarek said, breaking the silence.

"But you didn't stop it," she retorted, pleased with the cold calm in
her own voice.

Sarek stood, his thick robe falling straight around him. "I was not
informed where the Test was to take place until it was over. It did not
seem wise to call planetary security under the circumstances."

"I should check on them," she said and started to turn.

"I would not do so right now."

She turned back with a questioning look and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh," she said and took a deep breath and dropped into one of the other
chairs. She shot him an uncertain look and he replied, "They are
attempting to be quiet, but are not quite succeeding."

Amanda covered her mouth to stifle the laugh of amusement and relief
that tried to burst out. She sat back and curled her legs under her and
crossed her arms. "I hope. . . I hope this ends his unhappiness." She
glanced at Sarek. "Don't you dare try to tell me that is not worthy goal
for Spock."

He gave her an innocent expression. "I would not attempt something as
unwise as that."

--End--