In the After Time

[mirroredcommand]

After Jim and his Spock had left, Pike retreated into himself somewhat. He settled back into the chair he had left, his eyes closing and hand cupping his chin. Much had happened and been learned in a very short amount of time, some that had changed his very knowledge of not only this universe and their situation, but the people involved.

Kirk. That was a surprise in all of itself. Instead of the annoyed brat with a huge ego and a surprising sense of ruthless, charm, and intelligence to back it up, he was meeting someone he almost could respect. There was a keen sense of intelligence behind those golden eyes, tactile and strong, though obviously naive in certain cases. Even that naivety seemed protected by the knowledge of being aware of it. A most strange situation, but it came together in someone that in their universe, he would have considered a truly enemy.

Instead, he found himself surprised in the sense of having enjoyed himself within the limiting concerns of circumstance. There was a play between himself and Kirk that was as intricate as the game of chess that had been played out. Pike's eyes opened to focus on the board before him, pieces assembled off to either side. White, and black, with no shades of gray. He had found himself without another move, unable to win. Yet Kirk had been in the same circumstance. Both trapped, unable to make another move to win.

How very much like life.

Then, there was Spock. So similar to his own, yet vastly different. Shades of gray, indeed. He was curious to what had occurred during that mind meld that had drawn such reactions from his own bond mate, curious about the differences that were far more difficult to see. The relationship between the two men was unlike their own, forged in a vastly different way, but with the same purpose behind it.

He looked to his own Spock, who looked both thoughtful and tense to his knowing eyes and inner-sense brimming over from the bond between them. There had been a sense of dodging, avoidance, that he wanted to know the truth of.

"Spock."

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[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Pike's quiet sound was lost in his bond mate's scream, but his pleasure added to the burst that pulsed out across the bonds. He held hard to the bonds, pressed in as close to his mate as he could be.

Until his head lowered, pressing his forehead to Spock's shoulder, panting.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Spock collapsed, letting Christopher's weight press him further into the bonds, flatter against the ground.

He spared a brief sympathetic thought for his counterparts who would have been subjected to this but he had little energy for that when he felt so thoroughly mated to Christopher as he had not since pon farr had left Christopher broken.

The Vulcan words were in his mind, a vague impression stirred by the other memories of Vulcan that had settled into place on their own. They drifted out before he even realized they were forming.

I cherish thee.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Those words. They broke the sense of relaxation that came with the proud need of domination fed along with the mixture of sedation from orgasm. They were words unlike any he had heard spoken by his bond mate in the past.

To cherish something meant a weakness, something that could be struck out and destroyed. The formal phrasing, which took a moment to realize the thought came in High Vulcan, was nearly as strange as what the words actually meant. An emotion, a feeling, something that was supposed to be repressed yet... had he not always told Spock to allow them? Hypocritical of himself.

It was enough that Pike broke the meld, with a sure sense as if a Vulcan were doing it and not a human that should have no ability to do so at all. This was a human changed, altered by the man he was mated to forever. Perhaps no longer fully human. But then, neither was Spock.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Christopher's shock was evident and Spock came back to himself, still sprawled across his mate, with a profound sense of unease. He had no intended to speak the formal Vulcan words, the only ones allowed to express the significance of the bond between mates. But he could not call the words back - Christopher had heard them and they must be dealt with.

He moved to the side, controlled a wince that never made it to his face at the pain. He was bleeding.

Spock retreated. It was necessary, of course, so that he might tend to his own injury as well as possible. But it was a retreat - he was unable to meet Christopher's eyes. There was no sense of rejection through the bond but his mate's confusion was overwhelming.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Pike remained seated on the bed, staring down at his wrist. It was smudged with blood, the cut as clean as if it had been done by a knife. They had been outside of their bodies, but their bodies had still reacted.

What had that meld with Jim's Spock done to his own to change him? Things had surely been changed, as so many things would not have been kicked up in the last few hours alone as they had been without that other Spock's interference.

Yet those words. They were true, and though without the same words to be used, they were true in reverse. It was always disturbing to realize something so unknown about one's self.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Spock was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire for the bathroom door to open onto his own room, his own spartan quarters on their own ship in their own universe. There, he knew the rules and boundaries. Knew what was expected of him and what could reasonably be allowed. Here, it was all vagueness and unsureness. He and Christopher had been comfortable together for years and he had never felt the need to proclaim that Christopher was his chosen mate in the old ways. A day here? A day here and Spock was making declarations in almost-forgotten High Vulcan.

He cleaned himself. There was nothing in the bathroom to speed his healing and he did not trust the mild painkillers available from the replicator. He would simply ignore the discomfort of a dry fucking. It would not be the first time, though it had been a very long time.

To remain hidden away was illogical. He kept his gaze averted however, as he exited the bathroom to offer a hot damp washcloth to his lover. He had tended to such tasks himself before, to their equal pleasure, but he needed more space than that - if Christopher was going to berate him, Spock could not take that while performing such an intimate service.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

For several seconds there was no movement at all from the captain, until his head tilted just slightly as if noticing the offered item just then. Without word, he reached out and took it, cleaning himself with slow motions, the air about him one of deep thought.

What was he to expect? Further, ongoing changes in his bond mate? Was it this universe that was changing them both? To where he had enjoyed the company of Kirk, who displayed traits of obvious weakness yet did not encourage the desire to destroy him? To where Spock had questioned the strength of their bond? To where Spock had, in turn, had felt the need or instinct to say what had never needed to be said before?

To where he, himself, was thinking such thoughts?

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Do you wish privacy?

He could return to the bathroom. Their close quarters here limited their options but....

I apologize for giving offense.

It is a return to the stiff formality that has always been his refuge when he realizes that he truly is powerless in a given situation. It is the same pride that straightened his back and prevented him from shouting at the assembled officers that he was not a mindless beast who would rip their minds from them - he was a graduate of the Academy in search of position and advancement as any other graduate was.

He had ceded his control to Christopher more thoroughly than ever before, in the meld, in the most defenseless place he possessed. But it was only now that he was completely in Christopher's power. He shivered a little, a chill to the room he had not noticed before.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

In a way that was outside of his normal manners, Pike said nothing at all. His thumb, covered by the glove covered by the washcloth, wiped blood from his wrist. There was nothing he could say to those words. Spock had given an offense, a strong one, as punishing as a stab to the heart. It was not one that Pike was used to at all.

Spock had doubted him. Not his words, not an idea, not a notion. Had doubted him, and what lay between them. What had become something sure in a universe where things often were far from sure.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

His silence was uncharacteristic. Christopher had never hidden his feelings from Spock before.

You did not believe I would come for you.

That was its own knife, lodged in his side.

You did not believe I would come for you and that...

He cannot complete it, even as a thought but the sense was clear.

Spock had been afraid. Moved to more fear than he had known he could feel, in places he had not known existed inside of himself. Afraid that Christopher would replace him because Christopher did not trust Spock to find him.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Despite the silence, that seemed to prompt an immediate response. No.

Pike lifted his head so those dark eyes met Spock's. I had trusted in your logic that you would not come, because it would mean leaving our ship in the hands of one of the others in the crew.

His fingers curled into fists.

You are doubting me, doubting my strength. You've never done so before.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

He moved, painfully, to sit on the floor at Christopher's feet and looked up at his mate.

Christopher, do you not know?

It hardly seems possible to Spock that this would have remained hidden for so many years.

Christopher, there is no logic to t'hy'la. My logic and reason could no more keep me from you than I could reverse the tides without utterly destroying them.

It is why the concept is so closely guarded - it renders Spock vulnerable. Not to outside attack - he is just as he has ever been. But, with this acknowledged and named, he is bare and open to Christopher in ways he had not been when they had named nothing, spoken of nothing even to themselves.

Did you know? I felt you collapse. It felt as though my heart would explode out of my side and, at the same time, it felt as though it had ceased to beat, that my blood pounded with only the power of our bond and my heart was a useless, dead thing.

But that was a small cut compared to finding him, hungry and yearning, in your mind, your own longing responding to him as though he were me.

Had I been later, had James T. Kirk's Spock not set himself between you, he would have stolen our bond away from me.

It had been such a near thing, such a terrible thing to contemplate that Spock had not allowed himself to gnaw on the memory for fear he would lose control of himself.

I do not doubt you.

It is a small painful admission.

I doubt myself.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Surprise flooded their bond. Pike stared down to his bond mate with eyes that were wide with white at the edges.

He tried, and yet again failed, to remember time between the collapse and feeling his mind joined to Spock's again. I can't remember it at all. I remember feeling the last of the shields on my mind fall, that was complete with a feeling of anger at himself for not being able to hold it off longer, and then darkness. I don't know what my mind did.

Pike took a slow, deep breath, then released it. You should never doubt yourself, Spock.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

He moves cautiously closer.

I found you in their Sickbay - a counterpart on each side of you. When I joined the meld, you were so close to death. I felt madness breathing on me. I made you come to me - you told me to come without bloodshed and I would have destroyed him for the way his mind was mating itself to yours.

He closes his eyes and shudders, rests his face against Christopher's leg.

I was almost too late.

What is his other choice but to doubt himself? He arrived at the last possible moment, would have been incapable of holding his mate, protecting him, if any more time had elapsed.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

But you were not. You came and saved us both. Pike murmured into Spock's mind, reaching out to stroke his hair. Most would never have made it at all.

A slow smirk touched his lips. I would have rather died then been bonded to another.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Most would not have survived so long on your ship.

A slight tinge of humor. But it is true. The turn-over for the position of first officer was incredibly high on most other ships. But not the Enterprise.

Serious again.

Christopher, you are my mate. More than that, you are my t'hy'la. Though we have not spoken of it in the past, it is no less true.

He had confirmed it in his counterpart's mind - seen the bonds there, so like his own - but had known anyway.

He would not have given you a choice. I would have killed him for it but you would have been lost to me.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

I would've been lost either way. I would prefer death to not hearing you, feeling you, in my mind again. It was a powerful admitting on its own. Little more needed to be said, but it was felt through the bond.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

This universe was testing them, even here in this small room. Spock concentrated on his breathing, on calming his racing heart.

I will always be with you.

He pressed a kiss to Christopher's knee, a tender gesture that was over as quickly as it had been offered.

Are you tired?

They had, it seemed, done nothing but sleep and fuck. But his fear and melds had drained him. He would not object to a light restorative sleep while he kept guard over his mate.

And the touch of their skin would, he could almost allow himself to hope, ease the knifewound of their fight.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

No, but you should rest. I can feel your exhaustion. Pike needed time to think, but did not want to raise his shields to be alone in his mind for a while.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

One of his counterpart's memory's floats free: a child, Spock, awake in his bed in the middle of the night with a woman sitting by his side, stroking his forehead. Sleep, Spock. You need rest if you are to grow strong and logical like your father. There is humor, human humor in the memory's voice. His mother, then.

Spock shakes his head to dislodge the memory.

He rises, graceful despite his injury, and moves to strip off his clothes. He folds them, removes the shealths for his knives, disarms himself with his back to Christopher - trust, complete trust.

The curve of Christopher's back invites his touch when Spock slips into the bed from the other side. It is not entirely settled between them, he knows, but he reaches out anyway, runs his hand from nape to the small of his back.

Wake me for any reason.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

...Always. Pike shifted, staring across the room. He felt incredibly restless; he wanted to go down to the gym and work out his aggressions.

There is a certain pleasure in his mate against his back, though. So he only stretched out lightly like a stroked cat beneath Spock's hand.

Rest. I have a feeling you'll need it.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

It is, for Spock, always as Christopher commands. He settles himself and drifts.