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."

Comments

[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.