Fic: The Sum of its Parts - COMPLETE!
Gee, I get the impression (certainly not from comments left on random posts of mine) that people might want to see this part up... *grins*

Enjoy! And there are many author's notes at the end.

(Actually, I'm putting most of them right here so as not to calm everyone down with notes at the end. >.> I want you to walk away with the right emotional reaction... *grins*)

Many thanks to alestar and ashlan and darksideofstorm, for various things. Al for beta-reading and providing a sane mind to my crazy one, and for crazy research (who knew star dates were so confusing?) and idea-bouncing. Ash and Dark for listening to my raving and squealing, and encouraging rather than laughing at me. ;)

Finally, if you enjoyed this and you want to friend me, feel free! Because people follow my LJ for fics, I often don't friend back unless you comment all the time on many posts and I finally clue in and ALSO stop being lazy. So don't feel hurt if I don't friend you back, basically. If you want to follow a tag, I suggest following the 'fic' tag, as many many things get tagged Star Trek. >.<

I will be posting an ensemble series soon, so if you came over here from a slash comm, watch this space! It won't get cross posted there. If there is slash in it, it won't be for a while. >.>

The Sum of its Parts
by JB McDragon
Rating: R/NC-17
Genre: Action/adventure.
Characters: Spock and Kirk (eventual Spock/Kirk)
Spoilers: Uh. There was a new movie.
Word count: 42,000

Summary:
Broken: Adj. Def. 1. destroyed; made into pieces from a whole.

The Casari homeworld is a place that has yet to become unified. The people are ready to join the Federation, but one rebel faction will do anything to stop it. Anything, including capturing a starship captain and his first officer. With Kirk's memory damaged and Spock's mental shields shattered, escape is unlikely. It won't stop them from trying.


Notes: Many thanks to my beta-reader and font of information (aka, my pusher and dealer), alestar. The fic is NOW COMPLETE AND ALL POSTED! YAY!!


Chapter Eleven

Another four days saw Spock's leg greatly healed, his shoulder slowly mending, and Jim's memories no closer to returning than they had been before. Spock frowned down at McCoy's fingers, watching as the doctor handled the scanner with ease, running it over Spock's leg.

"All right," McCoy said at last, stepping away and holding his hands under the sterilization field to one side. "Another week, I think, and you ought to be fine to walk around on your own. I don't like the scarring on your feet, though."

Spock considered his bare feet, resting on the floor of the medbay. "The scars do not impede any sort of function," he pointed out. "They are simply aesthetic, and as Vulcans have no need for aesthetics--"

"Yeah, it makes total logical sense to build your houses hanging from the underside of a cliff. No aesthetic appreciation there."

"The direct light on Vulcan--"

McCoy waved at him, mouth twisting down in annoyance. "It doesn't matter. Look, Spock, Vulcans are telepaths, right? You do that mind meld thing people hear about."

Spock straightened. "We are, and we do." It wasn't something they liked talking about, but it was no secret, either.

"After Jim met Elder Spock, he told me that Spock did a mind meld. Put images and memories in his head."

It wasn't quite a question, but Spock nodded slowly anyway. "I was given to understand something similar, yes."

McCoy scowled at his boots as he leaned back against the corner between the head of the cot and the wall, legs crossed at the ankles. "If you can get into his head, put images into his brain, can you read his mind, too?"

Feeling as if he were walking into a trap, Spock nodded again. "That is possible."

McCoy looked up at him intensely. "Could you pull his memories back into his consciousness?"

There was the trap. Spock turned the idea over in his head, trying to look at it from every angle, measuring up the pros and cons. "A mind meld to get past his mental blocks would have to be quite deep," he said at last. "To successfully do it with a human requires a high level of skill."

"Can you do it?"

His shoulders tried to knot. He purposely relaxed them. "There is a fourteen point eight percent chance that I would be unsuccessful, and a five point two percent chance that there will be lingering trauma and undesirable aftereffects."

McCoy nodded firmly. "Okay. Let's do it." He pushed up away from the wall, arms swinging down as he headed toward the door.

"I believe that would be unwise."

McCoy spun without breaking stride, planting both feet and crossing his arms over his chest to glare at Spock. "Why not? It'll probably work, there's a very low chance of harm, and if things stay as they are it's a certainty we're not going to get Jim back." His dark eyes narrowed into hard little slits. "Or did you like playing captain?"

Spock ignored the question to address the real problems. "While I do have the skills needed, there are different forms and levels to a mind meld. I believe a mind meld at the level required will create a certain amount of mental intimacy. Among Vulcans, these levels of intimacy are reserved for bonded pairs. Not the treatment of illness. I believe it would be wiser to wait until we return to Star Fleet, and have more experienced doctors look at his scans." It was completely logical.

McCoy smirked. It wasn't a reaction Spock was expecting. Humans were unpredictable. "Are you telling me you're a prude?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You don't want to have mind-sex with Jim. That's what you just said, right?" The smirk grew.

Spock tipped his head slightly. "It is culturally inappropriate--"

"It's more appropriate to leave him an amnesiac, even though he's one of the best captains in the Fleet?"

"That is a subjective assessment--"

McCoy ran right over his words as if he hadn't spoken. "There's been no improvement, not even any change in any of the scans I've done. It's better to swing off course for the rest of our missions and head all the way back to base just so they can take a look at the same scans and say the same thing I've been saying -- the human mind is too convoluted, we can't bring memories back? You can't tell me that your emotional discomfort with doing a mind meld is a logical reason to head home."

"I-- no." Spock frowned.

"Which is more important: Cultural strictures that matter only to you, or our captain's continued well-being? He's not going to care if you were mentally intimate. Do you feel uncomfortable about it? If there's no reason other than tradition to avoid it, that doesn't seem very logical."

Spock's lips tightened. "I do believe you're enjoying this, Doctor."

Bones grinned humorlessly. "Damn right. Is there any scientific reason not to do it?"

It was moments like these when Spock wished that Vulcan had remained quiet about its peoples' abilities. "There may be lingering aftereffects. A disconcerting sensation of being in two places at once, possible memory transference, all fairly minor. It should fade with time." And, very likely, no permanent link would form. The biological tendency toward bonding would come only from him, and without the rituals that normally followed an initial mind meld, it would be likely to fade. His parents notwithstanding, it was much harder to create a Vulcan bond with a non-Vulcan being.

"So to sum up, nothing bad is likely to happen if we do it, and if we don't do it our captain remains an amnesiac. Is that about it?"

Spock felt oddly like a child being taken to task. "I believe so," he agreed.

"So it's more logical to try."

Grudgingly, Spock inclined his head.

"What do you need?"

He stood up, sliding his feet back into his shoes. "A quiet room. That should be sufficient."

**

Pretty much everything Jim had been doing over the last several days involved his own room or his own files or his own anything-that-might-trigger-a-memory. None of it had involved Spock's room. Even the 3D chess set was in the rec room.

He walked toward Spock's door, accompanied by a silent Yeoman Rand, with a flutter of anticipation, hoping something might come back to him. Had he been here before? Had they spent nights in Spock's bed? Nothing had come back about that, but the more he teased at the shadows of Spock's memories, the more he knew they'd slept together. The clearer the memories and images got, the more certain he became of them. The more they influenced his dreams, the more he saw himself in them, through Spock's eyes. It also meant he'd been having some really good dreams.

He hadn't quite managed to ask Spock about it, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was a reason Spock hadn't said anything. But in a moment he'd have his memories back -- hopefully -- and he'd know if he should jump Spock then and there (maybe that was why Spock wanted to do this in his rooms) or if he should be apologizing for something. He did kind of have the impression that most of his relationships ended because he'd done something stupid. He also had the impression that he hadn't generally cared -- but he cared, now. He'd been watching Spock, he had most of their memories from when they'd been on the ground, he'd read his personal log entries, he'd noticed how every waking minute (and every other line) had been about Spock, he'd enjoyed pestering Spock on the bridge. He was ready to go back to whatever they'd been doing.

Which didn't explain, even to himself, why he hadn't brought it up. Something had stopped his tongue. Occasionally, even something other than Rand.

He paused outside Spock's door. It slid open with a quiet whisper of hydrolics, and he stepped inside. Yeoman Rand remained in the corridor, tapping on the keyboard of her PADD, patient as a rock.

Spock's room was warm. The walls and lighting were a deep red, casting shadows in the corners. Every available space was taken up with decorations or shelves -- in turn filled with more decorations. Disks, equipment, holophotos, a large, broad-leafed plant in one corner, draperies with depictions separating the small rooms, a piece of artistic metalwork seemingly melting up from the desk. Jim felt oddly like they all trapped the heat, making it warmer and smaller. He tugged at the neck of his tunic, trying to get some air.

Spock sat in the middle of the bed, visible from the sitting room past the screen. His eyes were closed, his legs crossed, hands resting calmly on his knees. He wasn't in his tunic, and Jim looked at him hungrily. The same black undershirt that everyone else wore looked crisp and neat on him, despite the sweltering heat. It made his skin paler, almost creamy colored, and his hair darker. His eyebrows slashed across a narrow, perfectly made face with high cheekbones and a slightly large nose. Somehow, that made him even more attractive, shattering utter perfection to make him appear more human.

And of course, he had human eyes. They were closed, charcoal lashes dusting across his skin, matching the darkness of his shirt. His shirt stretched across deceptively broad shoulders corded with lean muscle, slimming into a narrow waist and long legs. His feet were bare, his hands at rest, the fingers curling in slightly toward his palm.

By the time Jim looked back up, Spock was returning his gaze. "I apologize for the heat," Spock said, and his words were strangely quiet. Not like they were on the bridge. Jim felt a shiver run down his spine. Had he heard that voice before? The voice, certainly, but the tone? Yes, Spock had breathed. He knew he had heard it before.

"I take it Vulcan's hot?" Jim faltered a smile, hovering in the doorway between rooms, hesitant about entering Spock's sleeping chamber uninvited.

Spock inclined his head. "I lowered the temperature to more comfortable human specifications, but Dr. McCoy suggested I keep it at a Vulcan-comfortable level as well, to avoid straining myself physically, as I am still recovering and a mind meld takes some concentration."

"You ever just say, 'I didn't want to get cold'?" Jim grinned.

One black eyebrow rose slightly. "I believe I just did."

Jim chuckled. "Sure. Should I...?" He gestured to the room, sidling in when Spock nodded once. The bedroom was as heavily decorated as the sitting area. "You really like your stuff, don't you?"

"As I took a permanent berth here and my apartment on Earth was rented out, and I could not ship my things back to Vulcan, I had to find room for those items I intended to keep."

Jim paused, fingering a drapery with some sort of rock outcropping portrayed on it. "Did you just tell me that this is all you have left of home?"

"There was no time to gather anything when Vulcan was destroyed."

Jim let go of the cloth and took a careful step away, as if his proximity might somehow ruin it. "I'm sorry." He looked around with the new knowledge that this was all in the universe Spock had. It seemed like very little, suddenly.

"There is no reason for an apology, nor an expression of sympathy. The Vulcan colony is doing well, and more such items will be made."

Jim opened his mouth to argue, to point out that they wouldn't be the items Spock had grown up with, that had memories attached to them, but stopped when he glanced at the man on the bed. Spock was watching him implacably. Jim gave a wry smile. "I always forget about you and your logic."

"Indeed. I believe your forgetting is why we are here."

Jim laughed, turning. Spock watched with that same mask he always had, but Jim was beginning to be able to read it. With a smile, he headed toward Spock. "What should I do?"

Spock gestured toward the bed. "Make yourself comfortable."

Jim sat on the edge of the mattress and removed his shoes, then pulled off his tunic -- he'd nearly sweated through it already -- and pondered pulling off his undershirt before he did that, too. Spock had seen him naked, and it was hot. Besides, all the better for sex later, right?

Provided his assumptions were correct. He had to be right, though. It made so much sense. He liked Spock, and prodded on by what he remembered, it seemed only natural. He'd found easily a dozen more things that were attractive in the other man, even if he was certain he didn't usually like men. Spock was... different.

He crossed his legs, mirroring Spock's position, and gave a charming, relaxed grin. "Now what?"

Spock shifted forward until their knees touched. "I am going to place my fingers on pressure points along your skull. You should simply relax."

The first twinge of uncertainty made itself felt as Jim watched Spock's hands. Long, graceful fingers with short-trimmed nails settled gently against one side of his face, dry skin moving a little bit as if finding the perfect spot. His flesh tingled, but he couldn't tell if that was because of whatever Spock was doing, or if it was just because of Spock. "Am I going to feel anything?"

A look passed so quickly over Spock's face that Jim wasn't able to identify it. It wasn't reassuring, though. "There might be some discomfort. If it goes beyond discomfort, please inform me."

"So we haven't done this before." It was more statement than question.

"No. Now, if you will let me concentrate..." Dark eyes both focused and unfocused, as if boring through his skull while not seeing him at all. The fingers against his face pressed slightly.

The world gave one slow revolution. He heard someone speaking -- a whole babble of voices there and gone again. There was a flash of images. Blood pounded behind his eyes. "Ow."

Spock withdrew instantly, his hand pulling back just a few inches, still suspended between them. The world settled down again, leaving Jim with the lingering throb of a headache.

"Are you hurt?"

He blinked, closing his eyes tight and opening them again. "No. I don't think so. It just surprised me."

"I'll be more careful." Spock's mouth was a slash, his lips tight. He looked pale, with greenish colored circles under his eyes. Jim resisted the urge to reach out, knowing Spock wouldn't take comfort in touch.

With a deep breath, Spock settled his hand on Jim's face again. It seemed softer, this time. The moments slowed. He could feel another presence. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted, and his brain itched. He heard more voices, fainter this time, and saw flashes of color. Heat curled in his stomach. His toes tingled.

There was someone in the room, behind him, within him. He got goosebumps.

Time slowed farther. It crept on its belly, stretching the world out indefinitely. He saw things he should know, but they slipped through his mind and out again, fading back into nothingness.

Spock withdrew. Jim realized he'd been staring at Spock the whole time, but somehow hadn't seen him. There was a crease between his dark brows, a faint downward turn at the corners of his mouth. Jim still didn't remember anything. A glance at the clock showed nearly twenty minutes had passed. "No good news?" Jim asked glumly. No one else had fully recovered their memories, a little voice in the back of his head whispered. No one else had Spock, he threw back at it.

"I'm afraid not. Your memories are buried too far for me to simply reach in and pull them back out. There is one other thing--"

"Do it."

Spock hesitated as if he might argue, then nodded once. This time, he placed his fingers in a new configuration. "My mind to your mind," he murmured softly. "My thoughts to your thoughts."

Jim fell. It was like dropping into a fast moving river, and just when he thought he'd caught his balance it swept him into the ocean. He was drowning in someone else, and there wasn't enough of him to remain a whole person.

And then the ocean began to turn up mud. As if a dam had broken, more came pouring in. Jim gulped for air and found his feet, felt his memories--

-- "Oh, fuck," Jim managed to gasp in the moment before he lowered his head and licked a stripe down Spock's neck--

--smash in around him--

-- "Hang on," Kirk muttered, grabbing for the first wrist buckle. He got it loose before a projectile slammed into the floor beside him--

--felt them nearly overwhelm him with their massive force.

-- Kirk glanced at him. He was familiar, even if Kirk couldn't remember meeting or interacting with him. "We're friends, aren't we?"--

--Delicate whiskers feathering over the back of his throat just before it forced its way down--

--Hands caught his arms, and he yelled before he realized they weren't gripping. They were gentle. Careful. Long, graceful fingers looped loosely around the large bones of his wrist.--

And more, older, coming up with clouts of weeds and dirt, washed away in the mad swirl and rush of everything.

3D chess until the wee hours of the morning, working out what Spock's duties were and what his own were, grinning as Spock offered references, baiting him into attacking, meeting Elder Spock, fury over an exam, drinking with Bones at the Academy, being shot down by Uhura, arguing with Pike -- on and on they went, adding to the whirlpool of Self, even as that whirlpool was absorbed and saturated by Other.

And then he started to see that Other. Watching his mother fall to her death, quiet but intensely angry conversations with his father, applying for Star Fleet in semi-secrecy, trying to be always a better Vulcan, to make up for his human half. And yet as each of those memories rose they were swallowed away, vanishing into the whole so Jim couldn't pluck them out again.

His world washed over and around him, through him and under him. It was too much to absorb, it became part of him as he became part of the Other, and when he thought that he couldn't keep hold of what was him and he'd lose himself so soon after finding himself, the Other receded.

He was sitting on Spock's bed, in Spock's quarters. Only a few minutes had passed. He hadn't been aware of pain before, but suddenly his head was pounding. He winced and lifted a hand to his temple, massaging carefully. "God, Spock, that's quite the whammy."

Spock didn't answer.

Jim looked up, frowning at the blank look on Spock's face. His lips were parted ever so slightly, his breath coming in quick gasps. "Spock!" Jim reached out, and just as his fingertips touched Spock's shoulder, Spock jerked back to awareness.

"I--I apologize for any discomfort it caused." Spock licked his lips, flexed his hands once, and settled them back on his knees. "What do you remember?"

Jim frowned. Spock was green. His hands trembled slightly. "Are you all right?"

"I am merely fatigued. What do you remember?"

Jim thought back. His whole world opened up for him, images swimming to the forefront of his mind. He grinned hugely. "Everything. Spock!" He grabbed Spock's shoulders, beyond excited. "You did it! I remember--" He remembered that they were good friends.

And nothing more.

The sudden stab of pain took him by surprise. His smile faltered.

Spock reached out, alarm flickering briefly across his human eyes. "Should I summon Dr. McCoy?"

"No. No, it's fine." From somewhere deep within, Jim conjured up another smile. "Just filtering through some stuff that wasn't so happy." He picked apart his memories, so many that had been forgotten even of recent events, trying to ignore the hole in his gut. He couldn't miss something he hadn't had. He was straight. Spock was straight. That sex had been an accident.

As weird as that sounded.

Just because he'd grown attached to the idea lately... they were friends. That was fine.

Still, his thoughts centered around Spock, re-analyzing the last several days. Things clicked together in his head, and he looked at Spock searchingly. "You weren't happy when you found out Elder Spock had mind-melded with me. Just now, you said the same thing he did -- that 'your mind to my mind' thing. But you didn't say it before. What's going on?"

Spock nodded slightly. "A true mind-meld is done between bond mates. It is of great significance. I tried something else, first."

Jim frowned. "So now we're... bonded? You didn't have to do that."

A brush of amusement passed over Spock's face and was gone. "Dr. McCoy convinced me otherwise. Please do not be troubled about it on my behalf. Do you feel different?"

He pondered his own head, trying to see any changes. There was an echo, as if he were looking at himself while he was himself. "I can sense you."

"Indeed. As we are not true bond-mates, we will not continue with the ritual to solidify the bond. It should fade within a few days, and disintegrate within a few months."

Somehow, that was disappointing, too. "Can you read my thoughts?"

"No more than I could before."

At least he wasn't about to be thoroughly embarrassed by having to admit to -- what was this, anyway? A misdirected crush. Not that he had a crush on Spock. It was just because of the amnesia. It was all a misunderstanding.

It still felt like he was carrying around a Spock-shadow.

"This isn't going to screw up your Vulcan biology or something, is it?"

"It will not. Though I would appreciate it if you kept it between us."

"And Bones," Jim added, just for safety's sake.

"Indeed."

Jim glanced at Spock, and smiled through the pang of regret at what he couldn't have. Funny that he'd even wanted it, really. He'd never been attracted to men before. "I should go let him check me out, before he works himself into a frenzy. If that happens, there'll be hypos."

One eyebrow twitched upward. "That would be undesirable."

Jim grinned, giving Spock a pat on the shoulder as he stood up and collected his tunic and undershirt. "Exactly. See? Vulcans do have a sense of humor." He headed toward the door, carefully not looking back at Spock dressed so casually, sitting on the bed. He did, however, pause just before leaving the apartment. "I bet you even race, occasionally."

"Vulcans don't--"

Jim walked through the door smiling, pulling his undershirt back on.

Rand looked up at him expectantly.

He tapped the side of his temple with one finger. "It's all there. Let's go find Bones so he can relax, and you can fill me in on our next mission."

**

Even Spock could feel the tension on the bridge as he and Captain Kirk entered, the captain first and Spock second, as it should be. He strode quickly to his place at the science station, standing with his hands clasped at the small of his back while Jim faced the conn.

For a moment, he had the disconcerting sensation that he was staring at the forward screens, glancing at the navigator and helmsman, sidelong at all the bridge crew watching him anxiously.

But of course, he wasn't. Spock pulled his thoughts back, searching for the tenuous link shading from his mind to Jim's. Already it had faded, but he could still feel emotions humming down it. Though he knew he shouldn't, he tasted them anyway. It was nothing like being touched, like having them forced on him. Instead, it was a quiet offering, there if he wanted. He was certain Jim didn't know he was making the offer, but it was there regardless.

"Lt. Sulu, do you have our new coordinates?" Jim asked, still standing.

"Yes, sir."

"In that case, thrusters on full, all ahead." Kirk swung down into his chair, and there was a ripple of smiles, a release of tension. Someone cheered.

Jim turned in his seat, clear blue eyes catching Spock's in a shared moment of camaraderie. For an instant, something bloomed down the bond line. Something warm and wistful, full of longing and desire, with an edge of arousal.

Spock held Jim's gaze, trying to parse out what the emotion meant. Then it was gone, and Jim was turning to ask Uhura a question.

Fascinating.

--End!






WAIT DON'T KILL ME. alestar suggests I tell you all the following:
Coming next: Parts of a Whole, aka LET'S PON FARR NOW

And here's a teaser. >.>

"Any idea what this is about?" Jim asked quietly, sliding into one of the padded chairs placed around the officer's table in the war room.

Across from him, the only other person in the room shrugged. "Some Vulcan thing. Shouldn't Spock be here?"

Kirk glanced at the blank screen as if it would tell him, then shrugged back at Bones. "We'll ask." With the press of one button, the screen flared to life. Elder Spock looked at them, his face heavily lined, nose and ears grown to truly epic proportions. "Spock," Kirk said with a cheerful grin. "How's New Vulcan?"

The corners of Spock's mouth tipped up, as if he were thinking about smiling. It was eerie, how emotive he was. "It is hot, Jim, even for Vulcan standards. But I understand the winters will be cool, so perhaps we will learn new survival techniques."

"That would be logical," Kirk deadpanned. Across the table, Bones turned away and took a quick gulp of water.

Spock's eyes sparkled. "Indeed. I hope all is well with you and your crew."

Okay? So we're agreed: no death for the JB, because there will be a sequel? Okay then. >.>

Feedback makes me happy. You all rock. *grins*


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