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It was a pleasant evening, and they sat on the veranda watching the sky turn from vermillion to inky blue. Spock could feel the contentment from his bondmate, a slow hum in the back of his head, like the bassline of a favourite melody. He longed to touch Jim’s hand, to entwine their fingers, but Peter was still there.
Peter was a grown man now, talking with enthusiasm about his youngest’s latest new hobby (bee-keeping), when he caught sight of Jim’s confused expression, and his words faltered.
Jim did not look worried or hostile (Spock had learnt the myriad of Jim’s expressions over the years, could read him so effortlessly). It was more bemusement, a sort of polite confusion.
He does not know him, thought Spock.
A shadow of sadness passed over Peter’s face, but he cleared his throat. ‘You alright, Uncle Jim?’
Jim blinked slowly. ‘I’m sorry?’ he asked.
Spock leaned to whisper in his ear. ‘This is Peter. Sam’s son.’
‘Oh yes!’ Jim exclaimed, a beatific smile. ‘Sam and Aurelan, yes. You know, we should have them over for dinner soon.’
Peter’s expression darkened, his eyes widening, mouth open to interject, but Spock was quicker. ‘Maybe soon k’diwa,’ he said softly, and poured more ice tea, holding out a glass to Jim who took it gratefully. He then began to talk to Peter about bees.
Later on, when Jim had gone upstairs to prepare for bed, Peter found Spock in the kitchen. He began pacing, a worried animal in too small a cage.
‘Why didn’t you tell him the truth?’ he demanded, eyes wet with unshed tears, voice shaking with anger. ‘They’re dead, he can’t honestly think that they’re…’
‘What would it have achieved?’ Spock asked calmly. ‘It would only have caused him distress.’
‘But he has to know- ‘
‘Why does he?’ Spock countered, his tone as cold as hoarfrost. ‘If he asks again, I will tell him as gently as possible. He is my husband, not my child. But I will not cause him embarrassment and distress by correcting him in front of anyone. You are family Peter, and he thinks the world of you. But not even in front of you.’
Peter swallowed, slumped down in a chair and put his head in his hands. He sighed deeply. ‘I owe this man my life. Him, McCoy, you.’ He laughed. ‘For a long time, I hated him. I wanted to be with my parents, I didn’t understand why I was saved… but then I realised how lucky I was that you found me.’
He looked up, his eyes wet, bit his lip to stop it trembling. ‘And the thing is, I have always idolised him. How could I not? The brave, formidable starship captain. The hero who saved my life.’
He ran a hand through his hair, tugged it. ‘But this. It’s like he’s fading, piece by piece. Whatever made him, that vitality, that spark, that...that…whatever, it’s disappearing, and there seems to be less of him every time I visit.’ He looked at the floor. ‘How do you stand it?’ he whispered.
Spock knew the answer. But he would not share it. The only one he would share it with was upstairs, most likely asleep, and he should never need to ask. He might forget everything, but Spock would never let him forget that.
‘Goodnight Peter,’ Spock said curtly, leaving the man to his own grief. It was kinder that way.
*
Some time ago
‘We forget things. It’s normal when you get to our age, Jim. The mind is a beautiful thing, but it’s not a bottomless well, it’s more a messy room.’ McCoy sipped at his bourbon, walking across the room to gaze at the pictures on the mantle. He waved a hand, warming to his theme. ‘Cluttered. Disorganised. Finite.’
Jim shook his head. ‘It’s not old age. Something’s wrong.’ He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. ‘It’s not little things I’m forgetting.’
McCoy sighed. ‘We all forget things – where are my keys, who plays such in such in that holovid thingie…’
Jim stared at McCoy, his face ashen. ‘Bones, I forgot David’s name,’ he whispered. ‘Couldn’t remember it for the whole day. It was on the tip of my tongue, I could see the shape of the word in my mind, but...’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘I said, “I’ll remember it, I’m just having a moment, I’ll remember it soon”’. His voice wavered. ‘But I didn’t remember. By evening I still couldn’t remember.’ He swallowed. ‘What kind of monster forgets his child’s name?’
McCoy sat by his friend’s side, taking his closed hands in his own. ‘You’re not a monster Jim,’ he said softly. ‘Come in tomorrow, we’ll do a few tests, see what’s happening.’
‘Thank you Bones. I – thank you.’
McCoy smiled. ‘No need. But seriously –‘ he reached to the table to hold up his drink. ‘This is as flavourful as ditch water.’
‘Which begs the question,’ intoned a rich deep voice, that was still able to send shivers down Jim’s spine, ‘why would you know the flavour of ditch water?’ Spock entered the room, sitting by Jim’s other side, touching two fingers to Jim’s for a fleeting second.
McCoy groaned theatrically, rolling his eyes. ‘I’m one of the most well-regarded xenobiologists in the fleet. I know you’re kissing, it’s not subtle!’
Jim smiled, that trademark smirk. ‘We know Bones.’
‘Bleurgh!’ McCoy stuck out his tongue. ‘Marriage is disgusting.’
*
‘He’ll want to withdraw Spock, become a recluse, but don’t let him. Social stimulation is important, keeps the brain active, keeps them in the here and now.’ McCoy took a padd from his bag to give to Spock. ‘These are the adjustments I’ve got done to the apartment, there so Jim can have a look. Mainly the oven and hob have been adjusted so that if nothing’s on or in them within twenty minutes they will switch off. Same time limit with the bath taps, unless the computer is specifically asked for them to be on longer. There are time locks on prescription bottles, and the computer will tell him when and what medication is due. Bottles are different colours, should be easier to work out which ones.’
McCoy leaned back and folded his arms. ‘Now, I’ve talked to Jim and he agrees, that girl Mabel is coming from nine ‘til five every day. She’s good, one of Christine’s old students. She’ll make sure he’s washed, dressed and fed, but she’s only Monday to Friday, meaning you’ll have the weekends to yourselves.’
Spock shook his head. ‘I can look after him-‘
McCoy jabbed a finger in Spock’s direction, a thunderous look on his face. ‘No way mister, you ain’t giving up teaching, and there is no way Jim’ll let you. This is a workaround. It’s not perfect but it’s the best for you and Jim. He can’t be left alone for hours at a time, and you can’t sacrifice everything for him. You’ll hate it, and he’ll hate himself for it.’
McCoy’s voice became softer. ‘Carers need to be cared for, too. It’s only logical Spock.’
Spock looked down at the padd, reading the files. ‘Nurse Mabel Rapha, forty-two, served with Starfleet for twenty years,’ he read aloud. ‘I have met her before.’
McCoy nodded. ‘Jim said he got lost at HQ last month, couldn’t remember where his office was. Got panicked, thought someone would find him in a state. She did, calmed him down. Of course she recognised him, and walked him back to his office.’
‘She called me, told me of the incident, and so I went to collect him.’ Spock sighed. ‘It was distressing, but she was calm. Highly professional.’
McCoy made a noise of agreement. ‘She’s a good fit. She’s been on the Starfleet roster for many of the retired higher-ups for donkey’s years. She’s had charges try to be violent, try to molest her – she’s dealt with cases far worse than Jim’s. Nothing will spook her, and she’s pleasant and cheerful to boot.’ His forehead creased slightly. ‘Can’t cook anything more than beans on toast, but you guys got a replicator.’
McCoy packed up his things, and gave a wave. ‘I’ll be seeing him for a check-up in a few days, and if you can come along so I can talk both of you through the results, that’d be best. Look after yourself Spock.’
Spock said goodbye, but then a thought came to him. ‘Leonard, before you go, I have a query.’
McCoy raised an eyebrow. ‘Just the one? Go ahead Spock.’
Spock, fluent in multiple languages and dialects, could not find the right words. ‘I… Everyone, though they mean well, has inadvertently questioned my ability to cope with this. They keep expressing sympathy, but some have emphatically said this is beyond my capabilities. Yet, you do not.’
‘Uh-huh. You want to know why?’
Spock nodded. ‘I value your honesty.’
McCoy smiled sadly. ‘It’s taken us a long time to be friends, Spock, but you and Jim are the closest I have. And while there have been times I haven’t agreed with you, I understand you.’
McCoy pointed to his forehead. ‘You’ve been a noisy guest in my head Spock. You saw everything, but I saw you too. And so much made sense.’ He huffed. ‘That Rayna debacle, the way you took Jim’s thoughts of her away without even asking? I thought it was because you thought you knew best, but I know now it’s because his suffering made you suffer, and you didn’t know how to deal with it.’
Blue eyes pierced into Spock’s soul. ‘And I know why you left. It wasn’t a desire for spiritual enlightenment, it was fear. All your life- it was like living in black and white, all sounds muted through glass, then suddenly there’s Jim, and it’s like your world is technicolour, music full blast.’ His voice raised. ‘And you know you love him, and would do anything to make him happy, and it scares the shit outta you, so you run, you run like the hounds of hell are chasing you, because to you they are.’
McCoy blew out a breath. ‘When I realised that, I felt sorry for you. Everything you were raised to believe, all your logical worldview blown to smithereens. Terrifying.’
McCoy smiled. ‘But you came back. And you stayed. And you have fought against Klingons, assassins, the cruel hands of fate herself – hell, you’ve even fought against yourself – to get Jim, and there’s no way you’re gonna give him up now. You’re a stubborn man Spock, and I don’t know if that’s the human or Vulcan side of you, but that’s what you are.’
He winked. ‘Food for thought, ain’t it? G’night Spock, I’ll see myself out.’
*
‘Proteins, Spock. After all the strange and wonderful things we’ve seen – psychics, mermen, gods –even courteous Klingons – it is small, infinitesimally small proteins that are causing me so much grief.’ He threw the tie, aiming for the bed but it flopped to the floor near his feet. ‘For the love of… amyloid and tau, Spock. I can’t remember how to tie my tie, something I learnt before I could spell my middle name.’
‘Tiberius is not a usual name, to do justice to your younger self,’ Spock said solemnly, but his lips had quirked into a small smile.
‘It’s a lot easier to spell than your full name.’ Jim bit his lip. ‘Certainly easier to say. You know, it took me weeks to get that right, practising in front of the mirror, listening to recordings.’ He fumbled with the buttons of his dress shirt. ‘I was terrified I’d say it wrong, and all your family would yell out ‘illogical’ and throw me out the registry office.’
Spock raised an eyebrow. ‘That is a highly unlikely scenario. Vulcans would never yell.’
Jim laughed, placing a quick peck on Spock’s cheek. As light and chaste as the kiss was, it still caused a slight green flush, which Jim noticed. He smiled mischievously, slowly moving his head to blow cool air over the tip of Spock’s ear and down to the crook of his neck, following it with his lips.
‘Jim,’ reproached Spock, his voice slightly more strained than usual. ‘We will be late.’
Jim carried on lightly kissing Spock’s neck, enjoying the shudder that went through his bondmate and the hitch in his breath. ‘It’s taken me nearly twenty minutes to not tie a tie. We are already late.’ He placed a hand on Spock’s back, drawing him closer, the other trailing over his chest. He whispered in his ear. ‘You’re gorgeous in anything, but a captain’s uniform…’
There was a chime to signal someone at the door, and both men looked ruefully at each other.
‘We could pretend we’re not in,’ Jim suggested.
‘Not one of your finer plans Jim.’
‘No Mister Spock, it certainly is not.’
*
‘Sometimes I think it would be better if you left, Spock.’
Spock raised an eyebrow, turning his face to Jim’s side of the bed. His response was a pointed silence.
‘It’s… I tried to forget you once, Spock, when you left. Tried not to love you. For years.’ Jim looked down, staring intently at the quilt as if he could find the meaning to the universe’s great questions in its pattern. ‘I didn’t like the man I became.’
Jim looked up, stared into Spock’s eyes. ‘What if I forget you Spock?’ he whispered. ‘What if I become him again?’
Spock took Jim into his arms, turning him so he sat across his lap, letting him sob into his neck. He held him for the minutes it took for Jim to cry out his anguish, slowly stroking his hair.
‘Ashayam, we are t’hy’la,’ began Spock, his voice authoritative but soft. ‘This is more than a sentiment. It means that my katra and yours, our living essence, are threaded together. It was why I remembered your name even before my own. Why, though it took me time and caused you pain before I admitted it, that I loved you before I could remember why.’
Spock gently lifted Jim’s face to meet his gaze, and wiped the tears from Jim’s cheeks with his thumb. He kissed him on the forehead, cradled him closer to his body.
‘It means that whatever deteriorates from the body, whatever the mind forgets, the soul remembers. It means that as I live and breathe, a part of you will live and breathe with me. I am your witness; I will remember all that you were, all that you are, and all you will be.’
He moved his head down to give a light chaste kiss to Jim’s lips, kept his face close while he continued. ‘Some days you will know me; some days you will not. Yet, even if I have to spend every day making you love me, I will. Because you are my home, you are my soul, and I will fight for you.’
Jim sought out Spock’s lips, and the kiss deepened from seeking comfort to hot and passionate. Spock felt his heartbeat quicken and his blood rush. In a tangle of limbs, hands and lips, they ended up side by side devoid of clothing.
They made love with all the ferocity and intensity of their youth. With a need to please the other. With passion. With tenderness. With holy reverence.
Afterwards they lay curled up under the covers, lulled asleep by the other’s breathing and their warmth.