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A mind meld was a private, very personal thing to a Vulcan. It was the sharing of all thoughts and sensations, and even the melding of identity. Between Vulcans it was an intimate rite. With Humans who had such disorderly, emotional minds, it would be dangerous. There was only one Human who Spock had ever considered melding with, with whom he knew it would not be dangerous; Captain Kirk—Jim.
Spock did not intend to meld with any others, but in order to save Jim, Spock had no choice but to enter Dr. Gelder’s ravaged mind and learn what danger the captain had walked into.
As their minds touched, Spock felt the outpouring of emotion through a haze of pain, and Dr. Gelder’s mind latched onto his with remarkable force. Even when Spock siphoned off the pain and compartmentalized it, there was still an empty aching he could not overcome with logic. It yearned for Spock’s mind to fill it with thoughts and make it whole again; that was how it had so easily accepted Dr. Adam’s suggestions.
It took all of Spock willpower to keep their minds joined but distinct as he tapped into Dr. Gelder’s own mind below all of the interference.
It came as little surprise that Captain Kirk had suffered the same fate in his investigation into Dr. Adams. Not for such an extended period of time, but some damage was inevitable and apparent despite the captain’s attempts to conceal it. Spock could help him recover as he had done for Dr. Gelder, but logical as it was, it was not something to be done lightly.
“It seemed about as intimate as Vulcans get, strange as it was,” Bones said when Jim stopped by sickbay, ostensibly for a quick checkup after his minor ordeal on Tantalus. “Spock said he’d never done it to a human before, but, well, it’s not my job to speculate about what you get up to.”
Jim raised his hands in a silent protestation of innocence, but Bones just gave him a look.
There was a buzz at the door to Jim’s quarters, unsurprisingly not long after Spock’s shift came to an end. Thanks to the tip from Bones, Jim was also not surprised to see the subtle changes in Spock’s demeanor as he stood at the door; how he held himself a little more stiffly than usual, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.
“Captain- Jim.” Spock inclined his head, his unspoken concern written across his face.
Jim smiled—a silent reassurance—and waved Spock inside.
Spock stepped over the threshold and let the door close behind him. He stood at attention, neither advancing nor retreating. Jim could not but admire Spock’s courage in coming to confront him so directly with what was clearly such a personal matter. Jim had been content to leave things as they were; enjoying their little gestures, each of which was innocuous in its own right. He hadn’t wanted to overstep, but here Spock had come to him of his own volition.
Spock began promptly, as though he were making a report on the bridge, “I was able to facilitate Dr. Gelder’s recovery with the use of an ancient Vulcan technique which enabled me to touch his mind.” Spock hesitated, and he continued, his voice lowered, “I could likewise do the same for you, but it is not something to be done lightly.”
Spock’s expression alone spoke plainly of the significance of what he was offering, and Jim wondered to what extent Spock realized the depths of feeling this gesture conveyed—or at least how it came across to an illogical human such as himself. Not that Jim would be the one to tell him; he was sure Spock would figure it out in his own time.
Instead, Jim answered lightly, “There’s no need to take pity on me just because I was foolish enough to step inside Dr. Adams’s neural neutralizer. However, I put myself in your capable hands, Mr. Spock.”
For a moment, Spock appeared almost taken aback by the declaration, as though he hadn’t quite expected to get this far and didn’t quite know what to do now that he had. However, a problem rarely had him stymied for long, and this was no different.
Spock took a step toward Jim. “I advise that you make yourself comfortable. There is some risk as the procedure requires that I change the pressure in your nerves and blood vessels.”
Like a good patient, Jim obligingly lay down on the bed, and Spock followed him, sitting on the edge not far from where Jim’s head rested on the pillow. Spock angled himself so that he was facing Jim, and Jim felt a pang of sympathy for Spock’s back being twisted at that angle, but Spock of course gave no indication of discomfort.
Spock leaned over Jim and his gaze trailed across Jim’s face, looking for what Jim did not know. Jim half expected their lips to meet, but Spock lingered a few tantalizing inches away, eyeing Jim with a cautious intensity. Jim smiled in silent encouragement.
Tentatively, Spock raised his hands to Jim’s face, his fingers splayed more purposefully than for a caress, but the delicate, warm touch across Jim’s cheek and under his chin sent the same frissons down Jim’s spine. Spock’s eyes were wide, and Jim’s heart picked up the pace in anticipation of whatever was to come.
“You begin to feel a strange euphoria. Your body floats,” Spock recited, his voice low and rough.
Jim already felt some euphoria, but as Spock spoke, it grew like a bubble of laughter in his chest, and Jim felt light as though he was suspended on the edge of sleep. His eyes had closed, though he did not remember closing them.
“Open your mind. We move together. Our minds sharing the same thoughts.”
If that didn’t sound intimate, Jim didn’t know what did. And that was the last independent thought he was aware of as their minds crashed together in a rush of thoughts and feelings.
Emotions burst like fireworks and seeped in around the edges. Memories and thoughts danced across their mind, at once ordered and disordered. They were too deep for words, but an internal conversation passed in a stream of consciousness of sights and sounds and smells and feelings, connected by shared emotions and concepts alike. Old memories were discovered for the first time, and new thoughts formed as though they had always been there.
They burrowed deeper and deeper, from the moment they had left behind in their room, to simple thoughts and easy memories, to the long forgotten past and feelings kept locked away under many layers of practiced thought. Logic and illogic swirled together until there was nothing to distinguish them. Truth and imaginings were one in the same. The gaping emptiness left by the neural neutralizer was filled. They were finally whole. They could remain this way forever, lost in a sea of thoughts and emotions.
But then I would never see you again.
That thought, though it was felt without words, was the only buoy keeping them afloat. If their minds remained together, the independent entities that made them up would be lost. Never again would there be Jim’s smile, the quirk of Spock’s eyebrow, a wry joke, a shared glance, a heartfelt reunion, even a game of chess. They could not remain as one. They had to be two.
Even then, it took all the strength they had to pull out from the depths of their minds and become Spock and Jim again. Spock’s hands slowly drifted away from Jim’s face. They were both breathing heavily, their eyes a little wild, and their cheeks flushed. They stared into each others’ eyes as they remembered that they were separate and what it had been like to be one in the same.
Spock was the first to return to himself completely, though it was nothing like any mind meld he had experienced before. “Jim, are you unharmed?” he asked, his voice soft.
Jim nodded a little stiffly and belatedly.
“You are certain?” Spock confirmed.
Jim smiled, though for a moment the expression felt almost unfamiliar. “You exceeded expectations as always, Mr. Spock.” That, at least, Jim had expected.
“Your mind likewise exceeded my expectations,” Spock said, his subtle smile perhaps more pronounced than usual. “It was much more dynamic than I anticipated, and I believe the neural neutralizer made your mind particularly open to the meld.” He hesitated as though embarrassed. “I was regretfully not able to keep our minds sufficiently separate for a full assessment of the damage and was unable to repair it as I did for Dr. Gelder.”
“Then we’ll just have to try again sometime,” Jim said.
“Certainly,” Spock replied, as if it were perfectly logical.