-Chapter Five: Break and Fall-

Of maybe the three or four constants in James Tiberius Kirk's entire life, pain was the most recurrent. Backbones of constancy that ran through his life were few and far between; primarily his life was one massive whirlwind of change and he was forever scrabbling to keep up. However, there was always one thing to be counted upon.

Pain.

From those first few breaths in an emergency shuttle to the ones he struggled for now...each and every one was somehow marked with pain. Companion through his wayward life, reliable and predictable to an almost worrying extent. Pain was always there, always present. Be it physical or the kind that's generated deep inside the chest cavities where a soul could fit, there was always some degree of pain in Jim Kirk's existence.

So when he woke up and his body was thrumming with it, he was hardly surprised. What did surprise him was that he wasn't alone.

Spock's eyes were closed, his left hand resting over Jim's in an undeniably comforting way. Jim tried to clear his throat to speak, but it was thick with something. Dried blood, maybe. The Vulcan slowly opened his eyes and Jim was taken aback by the softness and concern he saw there.

And then the creeping horror that had been building ever since he'd regained consciousness exploded over him and he couldn't breathe.

"Lily!" he croaked, struggling to sit upright and failing immensely. Every bone in his body felt as though it had been personally violated by a hammer. "Wh-where's my daughter?"

Spock didn't flinch, but that warm flesh on Jim's hand withdrew and he seemed to be preparing himself.

"She was already gone," he quietly reminded Jim.

The horror threatened to strangle him completely. "No," he sobbed, tears stinging his nose. "No, you promised...you fucking swore to me she'd be safe!"

"I am aware of my promise to you, James Kirk," he said evenly. "I have contacted the High Vulcan Council, they will see to her safety once she is retrieved."

"They?" Jim growled. "Who are 'they'? I don't give a shit about 'them'! I don't trust them, I trusted you!"

Something flickered over the Vulcan's perfect face and Jim struggled to contain all that threatened to physically burst out of his chest. "You will see, James, all will be well."

"Don't you dare fucking try and placate me, you lying son of a bitch! You swore to me she'd be safe! You think I give a shit about what happens to me? I'm the walking dead either way, but you...you said she'd be safe!"

Now the Vulcan looked vaguely annoyed. "Do not speak so carelessly of your own safety, James," he said, low and quiet.

That was it. That was the last straw.

More furious than he'd been in years, Jim forced himself to sit upright, ignoring the shooting agony tearing through his body, radiating in his freshly regenerated chest. "Right, that is it! I have had enough of your bullshit! Who the fuck do you think you are to do this to me? Talk to me like I'm some poor little runaway boy who just needs a little help, a little feeding up and some self confidence...I mean, seriously! What the fuck are you on? I'm not a kid, OK? I'm a man and I've done more with my sorry ass life than you ever have, believe me! So don't sit there all high and fucking mighty, tryin' to sell me the 'Don't Stop Believing' speech! I might have fucked up my life, but at least I can acknowledge that it's my life. And that has got nothing to do with you! Who the fuck are you to come out of nowhere and tell me that I have to stay strong? Huh?"

"And what about your daughter, James?" Spock retaliated quickly. "Is she better off without her father?"

His mouth was running ten miles ahead of his brain at this point. "Maybe she is better off without me!"

The Vulcan looked supremely unimpressed. "You do not believe that."

"Oh yeah? You don't know the first thing about me!" Jim shouted as loud as he could manage.

"I know what happened to you when you were sixteen."

The bottom dropped out of the world.

Jim's blood turned to ice water in his veins. "What? What did you say?"

"I know, James." There was no revulsion in those dark eyes, no accusation...but there were truth, sympathy and just enough sadness for Jim to know he wasn't lying.

"You bastard," Jim breathed. "You read my mind while I was unconscious?"

"Yes."

"That's a fucking violation, are you aware of that?" Jim scathed, barely able to draw breath to speak at this point.

"Very much so and I apologise for the infringement of your privacy but it was inadvertent on my part," Spock explained, quietly. "I did not directly seek any such knowledge of you. I did not even consider such an aspect, I was simply...I found myself wishing to touch you. To hold your hand."

"You're lying," Jim spat, knowing he was not. "So you let my daughter get taken by Komack and now you're manipulating me? Is that it?"

"I would never do such a thing on basic principal alone. I only came to know of it, James...because it was already in my mind."

It sounded like some massive confession, but it made no sense and Jim was in far too much pain to try and figure it out alone.

"What the fuck does that mean?" he demanded. "Huh?"

The Vulcan's eyes darkened almost imperceptibly. "I know now, why you are so familiar to me, James. I know where it is I have seen you before. The incident when you were sixteen, that night..."

Back teeth grinding so hard he was probably scraping away enamel, Jim said, "Jesus, don't dance around the word! Rape, OK? You can say it. The night I was raped."

Several rather interesting things happened in swift procession after Jim said that. The metal railing on the side of the hospital bed in gave a pained groan as Spock's hand clenched and bent it out of shape. Spock let out a breath as though he had been holding one for a long time, his nostrils flared and something primal and frightening flashed in his eyes.

Jim stared at the mangled railing, determinedly not looking at the beautiful, furious alien.

"As you said," Spock growled. "That night...something happened to me also. I believe I dreamt of what happened to you. I believe I saw the entire assault as though through your eyes."

Something was snaking around Jim's heart, something tight and terrifying.

"Bullshit," he exhaled, hoarse and almost silent. "Y-you're lying."

"I have never spoken of it to anyone, never allowed myself to fully acknowledge what it was I saw...until now," Spock was saying. "It began with a dream, but escalated the next day which is when I believe you were suffering the actual...ordeal. I lost consciousness and was subject to uncontrollable paroxysms. I felt the pain you suffered, James. Every moment of it. I did not know, of course, what was happening. For a long time afterwards, I even questioned my own sanity. But now I know why I was witness to the worst ordeal of your life."

Blinking back tears, Jim managed to ask, "And why is that?"

The Vulcan leaned in close, fingers pressing oh so lightly against Jim's cheek. "Because I dreamed of you too, James Tiberius Kirk. I dreamed of you just as you just as you dreamed of me."

A strangled sob escaped his throat as he turned away. "Don't do this to me," Jim begged, voice cracking without his permission. "Please."

"I do not wish to bring you any further sadness," Spock assured gently. "You have suffered too much already."

"Then why are you telling me this?" he demanded, tears freely rolling down his cheeks, hot and wet. "Why?"

For the first time, Spock smiled. Actually smiled. It was probably the most beautiful thing Jim had seen, with the one exception of his baby. A small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, tainted with an odd kind of sadness. "Because this may be my last chance."

"What? What do you mean?" Jim asked, trying to sit forward again, but the Vulcan was reaching around the back of his beck.

"Sleep now, James. You should sleep."

He didn't feel the small pinch, he couldn't stop the wave of unconsciousness rising up. The world faded and sleep graciously took him.


Suppressing a yawn, Komack leaned further back in his chair and glanced in the direction of Kirk's daughter, playing quietly in the corner of the room behind a small table. Maybe this was a waste of time; maybe the Vulcan had already whisked Kirk away to his stupid home planet and used some mild meld...thing to get the truth from his genius brain. That thought sent a nasty shiver down Komack's spine though, so instead he tried to be positive. Weren't Vulcans meant to be the last chivalrous species or some such shit? Surely the green motherfucker would feel obligated on some level to get Kirk's precious daughter back.

But maybe Kirk was dead; Kraal, one of the Klingon brothers, had reported that he'd injured Kirk pretty badly. If Kirk was dead then everything was fine and dandy, but if not...

He jumped when his COMM device went off and irritably jabbed at the button on his desk to answer it with a moody, "Yes?"

"I want the child."

Komack sat bolt upright, eyes flying to the screen. There he was, that troublemaking son of a bitch. He looked much worse than the last time Komack had laid eyes on him; he was walking very fast, holding the device in front of him as he made his way to where he was headed.

"Oh really?" Komack snapped, glaring at the Vulcan for all he was worth. "And why am I going to oblige you?"

"Return her to me, unharmed in any way, and I will allow you to continue existing."

Though it sent a cold thread of fear throughout his nervous system, Komack managed to laugh nastily at that. "Not much of a negotiator, huh? Y'know what? No deal. I think I'll keep her here with me. Had some clients looking for something fresh and young lately. Think I'll train pretty little Lily up to work for her Uncle Richard. How's that sound, you piece of shit?"

It was almost thrilling to see those already dark eyes, blacken to in such a way – furious obsidian. "This is your last chance. Release her," the Vulcan went on, voice tighter than before.

Furious, Komack replied, "Go. Fuck. Yourself!"

He watched as Spock made a sharp left, past a drug store that looked very familiar.

"Then," he said calmly. "I am coming up." And he threw the device to the ground where it smashed.

Komack stared blankly at the dead screen for all of three seconds before scrabbling to the window. He stared down from his office at the street below, scanning for any signs of...oh shit.

There he was. Crossing the street with something bordering on homicidal intent.

He couldn't sound the alarm fast enough.

The first guard was a blur; Spock's limbs seemed to be moving of their own volition. The human man went down with a nasty crunch as the Vulcan strode past his limp, unconscious form and into the building. Seconds later, before he had even made it to the staircase, a shrill, high pitched alarm rang throughout, bouncing off the walls and jarring Spock's senses for a moment.

It did nothing to frighten or deter him, though. If anything, a fresh spike of adrenaline shot through his system. Three more men came from his left, aiming weapons with intent.

"FREEZE!" they yelled. Spock paused for a moment, eyeing the weapons, before dropping so suddenly that the slow moving humans barely had time to acknowledge the movement. He rolled once and sprang to his feet directly in front of the men; by the time they'd managed to express shock, Spock's fists slammed into their faces. He snatched the weapons, cracking two in half, and stowing away the other. There was blood on his knuckles; thick, odorous human blood, red and sticky. He ignored that too, savagely pleased at the violence he was inflicting, his only thought of retrieving Lily Kirk pulsating through him with an urgency he knew was not entirely his own.

He closed his eyes, controlling his breathing and his blood flow. He heard footsteps; boots, heavy footfalls and at least twenty or so pairs. Of course, Komack wasn't going to have four or five guards; he'd have an arsenal. It was irrelevant, though. Spock could feel the energy pounding through his blood; furiously thrilled at having a chance, after thousands of years of civilisation, to be able to indulge in that side of Vulcan nature...it was burning him alive with the need to break, conquer...prove himself.

Prove he was somehow worthy, even though he had badly failed James and that thought alone was sufficient to have him mercilessly ploughing through the oncoming tide of bodies. He cleverly twisted them and used them as shields, so the humans were simply shooting each other in swift procession until they scattered and fell beneath the blows and impact of the Vulcan's impeccably trained tactics. Some dead, some not. It did not matter. All that mattered was Komack and the safe retrieval of James's child.

The second floor presented something of a more complex problem and Spock sensed it immediately.

It seemed empty, at first glance. Spock strained for sounds that might indicate the presence of others and he felt, rather than heard, two large beings moving around with deliberate silence. Klingons; the same ones that had injured James.

Spock moved through the empty desks, only mildly obscured by glass walls and dividers. The alarm continued to ring shrilly in his ears and Spock turned, aimed the weapon at the wall and obliterated the cause of the sound.

One perfect moment of silence before the pain exploded out of nowhere.

The first was wrought like steel and impacted hard over his face. Spock stumbled slightly backwards, but regained footing and swung around landing a series of blows to the face of the large, looming Klingon. As he moved into an attempt to apply a pinch to the thick, muscular neck, there was yet another explosion of pain, this time radiating through his back. The second brother, behind him. He felt himself being lifted and then thrown.

He went through the glass, jagged edges tearing at his flesh with spite. Spock landed on a desk and before he could take another breath there was a fist coming at his face already. He blocked it, deflected it with all he had and swung his right foot up hard into the Klingon's face. The enormous being ignored it and smiled grimly, blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. Spock rolled off the desk, landing on all fours, but not quite quick enough. The shorted brother crashed through the glass, feet first and landed right behind Spock once more, massive hands clawing at his throat. The air was gone, sucked right out of him and Spock could do nothing for a moment as he felt himself being lifted into the air by the throat while the Klingon brothers laughed throatily, eyeing him with a hunger that his ancient blood recognised.

They were preparing to kill him; snap his neck and be done with it. Spock's vision swam dangerously; a purple haze, then dark grey and any moment...black. But no. He had to fight, had to get the little human child back from Komack's clutches.

With every ounce of strength he had, he swung his arm forward and then back, crooking it so the sharp point of his elbow collided spectacularly with the Klingon's ribcage. He let out a tremendous roar and Spock dropped to the ground, who wasted no time in sweeping his feet from beneath him. Once the Klingon was flat on the ground, Spock went for the throat. He grabbed, twisted and squeezed until it made a sickening crunching sound and the Klingon's fiery eyes turned oddly calm and blank.

It was the brother's howl that sent Spock running to reposition himself somewhere more advantageous. The furious Klingon was ripping his way through the narrow columns and dividers, throwing desks aside in his path for retribution for his brother. Here, Spock had the advantage; he was graceful, nimble and impressively quick whereas this angry Klingon had all the grace of a heavily pregnant Gorn. He stumbled, lost his footing and bellowed his frustration.

Spock could see the phaser close by; it was all he would require to end the wild animal chasing behind him. He was very close when yet again, something collided with him from behind. The Klingon had thrown a table at him; it broke around his body and fell hard, face smashing into the cold, smooth floor in such a way that his teeth ached and screamed in protest. There were hands on the scruff of his neck now, yanking him upwards once again. He let the tension drop out of his body, acted as though he had given all he could and was worn through now. Let his eyes close as the heavy, irregular breaths of the Klingon washed over his face.

He waited on seconds until he felt the Klingon's stance shift, preparing to deliver that killing blow and then all the energy and strength snapped into place, whipcord fast and Spock's hand came up like lightening...tore at his throat and pulled.

Pink blood splattered across his face wetly; in his eyes, mouth, everywhere. He was dropped immediately and struggled to catch himself before impacting once again. The Klingon twitched uselessly and poured blood from the neck. Spock wiped his face with his sleeve and walked away in silence towards the door at the very end of the massive office space.

Komack's office.

The door slid open silently and Komack tightened his grip on the child, holding her to his chest, phaser pressed into her back. The Vulcan looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a meat grinder, but he was still standing; still as intimidating as ever and those black eyes were fixed no him.

"Admiral," he said quietly, coming into the room as though he had a scheduled appointment and hand not cut a bloody path through Komack's best men to get to where he was standing. Those eyes moved to Kirk's child for a moment before returning to Komack. "Hand her to me."

Komack sneered. "And what? You'll walk away and never say a word to the authorities? I think not!"

"Hand her to me and I will not harm you to point of death," Spock suggested, still in that controlled voice. He was moving very slowly, an almost invisible circle around Komack and the child. Like a shark or a panther. "Hand her to me and you can live to regale your cell mates with this intriguing tale."

"How about I kill you, then her? How does that sound?" Komack snarled, turning the phaser from the girl towards Spock, furious at the alien's arrogance.

But it was a mistake. The Vulcan moved, obscenely fast towards him. Komack panicked, fired a shot but wasn't fast enough to drop him. The Vulcan was suddenly behind Komack and he felt a strange pinch in the back of his neck. It was almost like a tiny electric shock.

"I got you," Komack gasped, as the Vulcan moved away, green blood pouring from his right shoulder.

"Yes," Spock sighed. "You did. But I also got you."

Komack realised the gun had fallen from his fingers and then he realised he couldn't move. Every main muscle in his body was frozen; he was able to twitch his fingers and toes, blink his eyes and use his mouth but he couldn't move from the position he had been when Spock had pinched the back of his neck.

Lily Kirk slipped out of his arms and dropped neatly to her feet. Komack watched, numb with shock, as the Vulcan knelt down in front of her with a kind smile.

"Lily," he said softly, as though he wasn't injured at all. "I am a friend of your Father." He held up a small silver locket which Komack vaguely recognised as the locked Kirk wore all the time. The little girl took it with a smile.

"Are we going to see my Daddy?" she asked.

"Yes, we are," he told her. "Can you wait outside for me for one minute?"

Lily Kirk glanced backwards at Komack. "Goodbye Mister," she said and left the room.

The moment the doors swished shut, Komack snarled at the Vulcan, "What the fuck have you done to me?"

Spock stared placidly at Komack before replying, "I placed a certain amount of pressure on a nerve in your neck."

"Th-that's it?" Komack gasped, because pain was slowly generating in every part of his stiff, immovable body.

"In a very forbidden place," Spock told him, pressing his hand to the wound in his shoulder which was still sizzling. "It is called the kiss of the Vulcan."

Another bolt of agony tore at Komack's spine and he managed to spit, "Kiss my ass!"

The Vulcan's eyes were dark and primal as he stepped forward, close enough to Komack could see three kinds of blood all over him; pink, red and green.

"All the blood in your whole body alters it's flow and travels to your head. It stops there, never comes back down. In the last painful moments of your wretched existence, you will bleed from your mouth ears, nose and finally your eyes. You will die in slow agony and it is still too good a death for someone such a you."

Komack could taste blood now, he was feeling sick and dizzy, paralysed with fear.

"Fuck you!" he managed, blood dribbling down his chin, starting to run from his nose now.

"I could have killed you quickly, Admiral Komack," Spock said, looking him dead in the eyes. "But you are not worthy of a good death. The pain you have inflicted upon the countless innocents who have placed their trust in you, only to be violated and broken, is being revisited upon you and it is still not sufficient."

"James Kirk was never innocent!" Komack screamed, blood flying from his lips. "He was a fucking whore before he ever came to me!"

He waited for the blow, praying for it but the Vulcan simply allowed a shadow of a smile to pass through his eyes.

"You are an insult to your species," he said. "Enjoy these last minutes."

He turned and left Komack alone, the agony creeping hotter and hotter through his veins and his head started to feel engorged and swollen, full of liquid.

When his eyes started to weep, he wished he had angered the Vulcan enough to make him rip his head off. Blood was gushing from everywhere, just like Spock had said. He was dying, as the alien had said, in agony. He felt sick with it, like his insides were cooking and bubbling up into his throat. He was going to die and for what?

All for one worthless whore, all for one boy he had decided to refuse entry to. James T. Kirk. Something passed through him in those last, terrible moments; it could almost have been regret but it was short lived and soon enough the world was spinning around, bidding a gruesome farewell. His vision blurred, body convulsed one last time and he fell, dead before he hit the floor, without a mark on him; the first human in one hundred years to die by way of the kiss of the Vulcan.


S'chn T'gai Spock observed the sleeping human with an intensity that he knew would be considered quite unbecoming of a Vulcan; he could even feel some of the medics stare at him as they came to check on James, somewhat baffled by the amount of sleep the young man was indulging in as they left. He knew he should already be leaving for his home planet, that there was much to be done there and endless reports to be filled out. He should not be sitting beside the young man, watching him rest. He knew this, but it didn't really seem to make any impact upon his sense of motivation.

A few feet away, the little girl slept as well; peacefully curled on a small cot one of the nurses had kindly wheeled in for her. Her blonde curls framing her face, so similar to her father's. Spock could see no aspect of the child that did not relate to or reflect James Kirk; there was no visible trace of another in the child's obvious heritage for which, Spock knew, James must be endlessly grateful.

He exhaled slowly, trying to control the emotions that threatened to rear up inside him whenever he thought about it. The horrific event to which Spock had somehow bore witness to.

Unconsciously, his hand moved to James' and moved his index finger over the outer palm of the younger boys skin; it send thrills of delight and bittersweet recognition shocking through him, demanding attention and acknowledgement. The truth was obvious now, even if it did beggar belief somewhat. This human was the container of the soul that had sought him out through dreams his entire life. This young boy was the reason he had not been able to form the bond with T'Pring. There was a pre-existing bond there, hidden and dormant and wholly mysterious in its origins, but very much alive and real.

With a small sigh, he leaned across and placed a certain amount of pressure on the appropriate nerve, causing James to stir and eventually, wake.

Those brilliant blue eyes were unfocused at first, searching for something solid to land upon. When they found Spock, recognition flooded through them. A mass of emotions followed and Spock felt each one pass through him in turn, connected as he was.

"My daughter," James whispered, voice hoarse with disuse.

Allowing himself only the smallest of smiles, Spock indicated with his eyes to the right, where Lily Kirk lay sleeping. James followed the gaze and his mouth fell open. The feeling that rushed through James was unprecedented; an almost dizzying amount of happiness and relief pulsing through him in such a way that his chest wanted to burst open with it. Tears welled in the younger boys eyes as he squeezed Spock's hand hard enough to hurt.

"You..." he managed. "How did you...?"

"It was no trouble, James," he replied softly. "She is quite lovely."

James nodded, unable to say much of anything else and the pressure on Spock's hand didn't seem to be easing off. It took the young human a few seconds to remember what he knew about Vulcan sensitive points before he let go abruptly, blushing furiously.

"Sorry," he croaked. "Didn't mean to."

"There is nothing to apologise for," Spock told him, wanting to make it clear that James should feel comfortable touching him whenever he wanted, but then that wasn't right, was it? Such levels of intimacy were not natural and it was unfair to expect anything of the poor, abused boy. Spock shook himself. "I should...be leaving. I am leaving. I have many tasks to complete and ensuring your safety in the upcoming procedures is one of them."

James looked up sharply from his sleeping daughter. "You're leaving? Why? What? Why?"

Spock faltered for a moment, halfway between standing and sitting; a most graceless pose. "I should not interrupt your time any further, you and your daughter..."

"Why are you leaving?" James pressed, sitting up with effort. "Who the hell gave you permission to leave?"

A little affronted, Spock replied, "I have responsibilities to attend to, on Vulcan."

There was something calculating in the younger boy's eyes for a moment, and then he said, "So when are we leaving?"

"I am going to take the eight sixteen shuttle to...we? I beg your pardon, James, but I must have misheard you..."

James rolled his eyes. "You so did not, Vulcan super hearing and all that. You heard me good. We're coming too. You promised us protection. Well, I don't feel very protected, sitting in wearing nothing but a handkerchief by glass windows in the middle of a city I'm pretty well known throughout."

"But your daughter..."

"Likes the heat," James said with a shrug. "And learns languages real fast. Plus I'm gonna bet she gets on real good with the guy who saved her life."

There was a moment when Spock and James did nothing but stare at one another before Spock said, "And her father?"

James grinned. "Her father likes the heat too. Learns everything real fast, is sick of this planet and is falling head over heels for a pretty boy Vulcan who can't bluff for shit."

"You would come with me?" Spock asked very quietly, uncertain that he wasn't dreaming.

"We are coming with you. You think I spent all those years dreaming about you, just to let you fly away back into the stars without me?"

"James, there are no stars without you."

The smile that split his face was one of the most stunning things Spock had ever seen. "And that is the absolute worst line I have ever heard, but it is gonna be the one I fall for."

-Fin-


A/N – All done! Hope you enjoyed, sorry about the massive delay. Reviews, anyone?

Bex

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