Captain Christopher Richard Pike

The desert was his mind, a stone fortress with a garden at its center, protected by the walls he had built. "Walk the perimeter of that place. Find where the natural boundaries are, where it would be defensible. Are there natural places where it could be defended, such as an ally, a doorway, a lone path, or is it solid and defenses must be built all the way around?"

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Jim struggled to maintain the balance between his subconscious and the imposition that was instinctive, knowing and seeing it now.

"There are... mountains. I suppose they could be scaled, but... there is a pass."

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"Walls, mountains, and other similar mostly impassible objects are your minds natural defenses. The pass, and the roof above, are what you will have to learn to defend to being with." Pike thought back to several young men and women seated before him, deciding what to say next, "Sit down in that space, anywhere you want. In front of you, imagine a box. A box that's hollow, made of something you could not break by dropping it, stabbing it, burning it, or pouring acid on it. It doesn't have to be a solid box, but it has to keep everything out."

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[[OOC - ADAMANTIUM. Whoops, wrong universe.]]

Jim sat, the grass rustling around him. The obvious materials failed to coalesce before him; he seemed instinctively to realize that they were not operating in the physical world and he did not have to adhere to its laws. His conscious mind wished him to, but he fought it. Because nearly any material known to man could be got around. Energy, however, or something that could change its state, could be manipulated. But it still had to be something his mind understood.

With that, something like a force-field coalesced before him, vaguely rectangular but somehow unfixed. In this, and in the gentle swirl of color on it surface, it took something from Jim's experience of various gaseous/energy beings, like the Companion of Zefram Cochrane. One could reach into it, but it would admit no outside influence.

"A force-field," he murmured.

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That was not an unusual choice for defenses, and his outer most shields were made of the same thing. "Now, you must take the corners of the box and pull them apart so the box grows in size. Make it large enough that you can stand inside the box."

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The exercise was just that for him--difficult and straining, but in a good, strengthening way. He did as instructed, trying not to think of his surprise over being able to do this at all, considering his previous failure at anything like meditation. Perhaps he was learning more than he thought, but to think too much on it would knock him out again.

The box grew under his hands as he rose them above his head, the colors swirling on the surface like oil on water.

"Should I?" he murmured, his voice distant.

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"Attempt to step inside." This was often a difficult matter for most that sometimes took days, or even weeks to master. Once this was mastered, Jim would be able to move onto more difficult things, but this was a requirement.

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His straddling of those divides, between the conscious and unconscious, the mind and the body, was becoming more tenuous. Jim was starting to think too much, to grasp too strongly where gentleness was needed, and his attempt to pass through the field was met with resistance. When he tried to push against it with brute strength, it repulsed him utterly and he was thrown out of that space in his mind and his meditative state.

His eyes flew open, sweat beading on his brow. "Damn," he said sharply.

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"No need," Pike had a small smirk playing over his lips, "You did better than many of my students have in the past." Jim had gotten quite far in one evening.

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Jim was suddenly fatigued, as he often became after work like this. He seldom noticed the effort in the moment, but after he usually felt like a nap.

"I've had a lot of exercise lately," he said. "And I've been pretty determined where my Spock is concerned. Thank you."

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"Good, you'll need that determination." Pike stood up, "You should rest, but in the morning before you get out of bed, I want you to do that same exercise again. You'll need to repeat it as often as you are capable until you can step inside the box you created."

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Jim nodded. "I can do that," he said. Strangely, he had no doubt that with some effort, he could train himself to do this unguided. It went against his habits, but that hardly dissuaded him. "And then--provided you're here--I can call on you again?"

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"You may," Pike confirmed, "I trust you will work at this exercise until you have achieved it." The expression on his face, and the tone of his voice, was highly reminding of strict teachers from the past. "If you'll excuse me, I think it wise not to leave Spock for too long."

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Jim raised his eyebrows at Pike's tone. Pike was not his commander--he was his mentor in this, yes, but Pike spoke to him like a unruly cadet. Luckily, it amused Jim more than anything else, in this moment.

"Of course," he said, rising and noting for the first time the stiffness that indicated they'd been sitting still for some time. "Give my best to him."

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Perhaps the tone came from the unruliness he sensed in Jim, instinctively returning to the attitude he took towards the cadets in the Academy. "I will. Rest well." He paused, then turned crisply on his heel and left the room without another look back.

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Jim stared after him, his own farewell cut off, and shrugged. He'd made progress, sure, but it wasn't enough. Unruly or not, Jim had always been utterly serious about his training.

He'd work at it as often as he could. And present Pike with his success far earlier than the man suspected.

But for now, he'd promised to tell Spock he was all right.

Spock? Pike's left. We've had our first lesson.

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Indeed, Jim?

Spock sounded half-distracted, caught in the middle of a thought. But he sharpened as he processed what Jim had said.

What did you learn from him?

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I... found my place. He sounded vaguely disbelieving and vaguely proud. Where my bonds are. And he's set me to creating a box I can put my self in. You okay, Spock? This a bad time?

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Now is quite acceptable. I was merely considering something.

Spock considered the opportunity to speak with his mate more important than his ponderings about the suitability of Nero as a mate for Ael.

Your place. Your inner place, then. Will you tell me of it?

His pride in Jim was much less vague.

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Jim squirmed like a puppy in the glow of Spock's approval in this, Spock's realm of expertise. Not that he'd admit the similarity.

It's a meadow--it's a lot like a place I found on shore leave, once. Long yellow grass, wildflowers, ringed by grey-blue mountains. The sunlight suffuses everything without being overpowering. And you--you and Bones--are shafts of light. A laugh ripped in his mind. Sounds like a terrible greeting card, doesn't it?

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Even across the distance that separated them, Spock was warmed by the thought of it. Of course his Jim was sunlight.

It sounds most lovely, t'hy'la. Perhaps I might share it with you soon.

Forward. But if one could not be forward with one's bondmate....

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Jim's eagerness enveloped Spock.

I look forward to showing you. I thought--I mean if you'd have asked, I'd have thought it'd be the ship. Or the house in Iowa. But I want you to see.

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I anticipate it greatly, Jim.

His responsive eagerness was plain, though it would never show on his face.

And was Pike well? His Spock?

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Jim wondered if he could fuck Spock in the middle of that field. Then he wondered if that was a weird thing to think, not that he cared.

I don't think either of them is especially well. But I'll do what I can.

[[OOC - This is the same evening as the conversation where Pike asked Jim to convince mSpock--unfortunately, Jim has no further info. :(]]

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