Title: I Shall Do Neither…
Summary: What goes on in Spock's mind when he realizes that he has killed Jim?
Disclaimer: Kirk, Spock, Star Trek and everything related belong to Paramount and Viacom. No infringements on their copyrights are intended. This is for pure entertainment and I make no money from this. This story contains a lot of dialogue and altered scenes from the Star Trek episode "Amok Time". The copyrights of these scenes belong to Paramount, of course.
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BETA: Thanks to Farfalla and Lyrastar for helping me beat this little one into shape.
I Shall Do Neither…
The pleasure ripples through my body like a tidal wave and the fog slowly begins to lift from my mind. My body found release in his arms, and I feel joy, but there is something wrong. The plak tow has lifted, the pon farr has been sated, but at what price?
Seeing him lying there with my hand still gripping the ahn-woon tells me the truth. It is my hands that have caused this. That truth above all else shatters the haze of the plak-tow, and I realize what I have done....
Jim is dead.
He died at my hands, because of my need and the feverish strength of my desire. The truth of it slices through me with physical pain, akin to a knife thrust into my gut. Might this be the last time that my eyes caress his features, relaxed and peaceful before me? His body is limp as I lift him, and he is heavy, as though the lack of soul in his body makes it harder to carry. I wish I could shake him alive, as I have so many times when we have been on a mission. He would sit up and look at me, alert within the space of a second. There is an illogical need in me to laugh at the vanity of my own thoughts. This is the last time I will see him and feel him close to me. I want to pull him near, hold his body to me and never let go. I wish to give him my own life force.
I do not believe that I ever truly looked at him before. I never allowed myself to do it, knowing where that would lead. It would open the door to that place deep inside that I have tried so hard to keep closed and locked. Now...my defenses are down, for I killed him. The events at the kal-if-fee made the secret door of my mind open wide, as if someone had kicked through it, and I wish to cry. The haven that I found in his body those precious moments when it was pressed close to mine gives me no other choice than to accept the truth that he is t'hy'la. But he is now gone.
T’hy’la – the completion of my soul and mind.
It is not like me to react this way, but these are not normal circumstances. McCoy pushes at me, and I am forced to withdraw. As I look around, the place of the kal-if-fee seems more barren than ever before. I move away and look to where Jim is lying; McCoy bends down beside him, checking vitals, finally voicing the words that I do not wish to hear. But they hold a truth I already know.
"It's over. He's dead."
My insides turn to stone, and I, too, might as well have been dead. McCoy looks at me with such coldness in his eyes. We have argued many times, and he has looked upon me with anger before, but this is different. I shield myself against the pain I feel at his regard. He tells me that I am in command now and asks me if I have any orders.
"Yes," I say. "I will follow you in a few minutes." The orders I gave him are to beam aboard the ship and tell Chekov to plot a course for the nearest starbase, where I must surrender myself to the authorities. I cannot decipher the expression on McCoy's face. I turn from him and moments later I hear the hum of the transporter as he beams to the ship with Jim's body.
I have a few things I must do before I leave.
I speak with T'Pring, she who would have been my mate. Earlier, when the fever of the plak-tow was still raging through my body, she was all that I wanted. I craved her with a fierceness I did not know I was capable of. All I can see now is the absence of feeling in her eyes, and the stiffness of her body as she looks upon me. I can barely contain a shudder. She disgusts me, as I imagine I have disgusted her for some time.
I wish to understand why she chose to do what she did. Why did she make me fight my captain? I know this is the only chance I will ever have to ask for the truth behind her actions, but it is painful. I would rather leave immediately, but I have never before succumbed to such weakness and I will not begin now.
Her explanation is sickeningly logical. Flawless. I did not think I would ever feel such a thing, but I am glad she is not to be my wife. Logic is no longer enough, but what I truly want, and need, will never come to pass.
"Stonn," I say, and the man T'Pring has chosen steps forward and looks into my eyes. "She is yours." I pause. "After a time--you may find that having is not as pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true."
Stonn looks calmly at me and I feel no satisfaction, no anger, nothing. I am, for the first time in my life, truly emotionless. I find it is not such a good thing after all.
I flick the communicator open and turn away from them. "Spock here, stand by to beam up."
I leave T'Pring standing beside her new consort. T'Pau is waiting, her dark eyes following my every move. She does not even blink as I stand before her. I do not feel anger or hatred towards her either, although logic tells me that she was instrumental in these events. That does not alter the fact that Jim's death is my own fault. I should never have asked him to come. But wishing to change what has passed is meaningless.
"Live long, T'Pau, and prosper," I say, my voice much steadier than I had anticipated. I am calm still.
"Live long, and prosper, Spock," she says, as she lifts her hand in response to my Vulcan greeting.
That is when the truth of it finally hits me. "I shall do neither. I have killed my captain--and my friend."
I am glad I can get into position to beam aboard the Enterprise and turn my back on her before she can see the truth in my eyes. I have murdered the one that I love.
* * *
The walk from the transporter room to the turbo-lift that will take me to sickbay seems longer than usual. And yet, my thoughts are simply on what lies ahead, what I must do. I go to speak with McCoy at once, wishing to put it behind me. I stand before the doctor and Nurse Chapel. I am not surprised to hear the calmness in my own voice. I have never been so in control before. Somewhere deep in my logical mind, I know this should worry me, but it does not. I launch into the prepared speech I had constructed in the minutes it took me to reach sickbay.
"Doctor, I shall be resigning my commission immediately of course... "
"Spock... " McCoy says.
"... so I would appreciate your making the final arrangements."
"Spock, I... "
I feel a moment's irritation at his incessant attempts to interrupt.
"Doctor, please--let me finish. There can be no excuse for the crime of which I am guilty. I intend to offer no defense. Furthermore, I shall order Mr. Scott to take immediate command of this vessel."
A slight movement behind my back and the familiar scent is all that alerts me to the fact that someone else is there.
"Don't you think you'd better check with me first?" James T. Kirk says.
He moves around to stand before me with a smile on his lips. The smile melts my insides, and the control I have clung so desperately to since I believed him to be dead evaporates.
"Captain!" I shout, and then cannot stop myself. "Jim!" I grab his shoulders in a grip I know is too tight. I will leave bruises, but he does not even flinch. I could not have stopped myself if I tried, and I do not. I simply let the happiness at seeing him alive wash over me. I wish to cry, I wish to laugh, and I cannot contain the wide smile that spreads across my lips. But then I see him--McCoy and his smile. He looks inordinately pleased with himself. It is enough to bring me out of my euphoria. As difficult as it is, I remove my hands from Jim's shoulders, straighten and pull my shirt down to collect myself. I have felt his life-force beneath my fingers. That is enough. It has to be. However, I am still puzzled and confused, but most of all I am ridiculously happy.
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