The Edge

---

Part III

---

Jim had wanted to allow for it to all sink in, but it was looking less and less like he had the time, and honestly, he did not want to lose his nerve. Convincing Spock to let him help was going to be even more difficult than getting him to talk in the first place -- which technically, Jim had never succeeded at (he was not permitting himself to dwell on that fact).

The elder Spock's last words to him had been an apology, for the less than favorable news surely, but it came across more as a condolence of the sort one received for a dead friend. Perhaps he thought Jim would leave the situation, that Spock would die.

Jim had not thought to ask the ambassador how he had survived his own pon farr once his original theory had been refuted, but he could imagine. And if worse came to worse... he would allow Spock to do that, as was obviously planned. It was not as though it would mean anything, after all.

But that still remained Plan B. B for Break Both Their Hearts A Little.

Spock's door was, unsurprisingly, locked. Sometimes, it was good to be the captain.

Spock was knelt before his firepot when Jim entered. The line of his shoulders grew rigid at the sound of the door; he could not have been that far under. As McCoy had suggested, no doubt he was having trouble relaxing.

Jim reset the lock to his own code. "We need to talk," he then said.

Spock did not turn. "... I expected Doctor McCoy would inform you of the severity of the situation."

Jim looked down to his boots. "Yeah, he did. Said you wouldn't tell him what was wrong either."

"Indeed not."

"So I called the ambassador."

He watched as Spock's breathing stilled and he slowly faced Jim. "You spoke with my counterpart?"

"You didn't give me much choice, did you?" Jim snapped. Spock blinked impassively. "He told me everything."

"Yes, I imagine he would."

"Hey," Jim took a step forward and brandished a finger at him, "don't do the condescending thing -- he helped me when you wouldn't. Don't blame him for trusting me just because you can't."

Too far, he knew the instant he had stopped talking. Years with Frank had beaten into his head how to get defensive, and then months of trying to scare raiders away from his food. Only the service had tempered it, and stress tended to bring it out, especially around Spock, where he could afford it.

But who knew what would push Spock over the edge at this point. Danger flared in the wake of guilt.

"It is not a question of trust, Jim," was all Spock said to that though. "Quite the contrary. And you misinterpret my regard for my counterpart. We are one and the same, and yet, we are not. I have experienced that he has difficulty finding the line between the two. And this... was not his to tell." Jim saw his throat bob. "You are mine. He must learn that what was best for him might well not be for me... for us. And that I am capable of deciding what is on my own."

Spock for he had his turn with you. Something told Jim there was more to that than the childish possessiveness that was coming across.

"How was keeping this from me best?" Jim moved closer and Spock's eyes assessed the movement warily. "I can help."

"Then I can only discern that the ambassador did not, in fact, 'tell you everything'."

"He told me it would be a bad idea. That you might... see me as a threat."

"As a challenge, yes." When Jim made another step forward, Spock went about extinguishing the firepot. "There is far more than a small chance of that."

"I want to help."

"You cannot."

Spock held his eyes and Jim swallowed his words at first, not wanting to say them. "... Then we'll find someone who can."

Both of Spock's eyebrows soared, and Jim wondered if he had said something drastically wrong. But Spock was leaving him no other option. "Jim," he said. "Are you under the impression that I am returning to the colony to seek a female mate?"

"Well, it's me or that, right? And you're turning me down. And the older you said that back when he-"

"He clearly explained far less than I first believed." Spock stood from his kneeling position, black robes swaying. "The woman selected for me was taken along with my mother and my planet, Jim." He shook his head. "There is no one waiting for me there."

"So then why are we rushing there?"

Spock's dark eyes wandered over Jim's face. "To remove me from here."

Jim stared, dumbfounded. Spock was refusing him, and a female mate. Going off to die, like Jim would allow it, and of course he would never-

"That's why you wouldn't tell me," he muttered, and Spock did not reply, moving into the sleeping area of his cabin to set the pot away.

"I have left... referrals for both of my positions in the data discs on my desk," Spock explained, arranging things that had no need of being arranged and keeping his back to Jim. "You will find them all quite qualified and those selected for the executive officer position suited to complement your own abilities."

"Spock, that's... no." Jim stepped up behind him. "No, no. Can't they find someone for you? There have to be plenty of people who lost their mates too."

"That you would allow that-"

"Of course I would allow it! The alternative's pretty fucking bleak, isn't it?" Jim snatched his shoulder and spun him to face him. "Can they find someone?" he demanded.

"... They can."

"Then what the hell is the problem?"

"Whoever they found would not be you."

Circles again. Jim blinked through them. "Spock," he said. "That's sweet and all, but kind of irrelevant. You won't let it be me, so we'll let it be someone else. You'll go, you'll take care of it, you'll come back."

"To you." It was half a question.

"Yes," Jim insisted. "Of course."

"Jim." Spock reached up to pry Jim's hands from his shoulders and Jim allowed it, though he clung to Spock's fingers. "Pon farr... it is largely telepathic."

"You need a telepath?"

"No. A compatible mind and willing body, nothing more. What I mean to say is... it is, at its core, a marriage. To survive requires the lifebond."

"Oh." Jim's grip on his fingers loosened somewhat in defeat. "You... couldn't come back."

"To the service, yes." Spock twined their fingers and Jim wondered if it was voluntary. "But not to you."

Jim's eyes fell to their hands. "Oh," he said again.

He heard Spock swallow. "Unacceptable."

Jim hesitated, and then let his forehead fall to Spock's chest. He felt like someone had let all the air out of him.

"Jim," Spock said, nose in his hair. "Please back away. The meditation was not sufficient to resist such proximity." He released Jim's hands.

"You can't just go die," Jim mumbled into his robe. "You won't let me help, well, I won't let you do that."

He could feel Spock breathing. "If the choice is my life or your own..." he said, "I must say, the decision is quite simple." Jim shut his eyes. "Even more so than I anticipated it would be." Spock shifted. "Jim, please," he said. "Back away."

Jim sniffed and lifted his head, obeying. "Is this why we never bonded?" he asked.

Spock was merely watching him, but Jim could see the subtle signs of his relief at Jim's distance. "We... never spoke of it," he reminded Jim. "I was unaware you would even desire it." Jim opened his mouth to correct him. "But had it come up. No, I would not have allowed it. As it is, melding with you has become increasingly draining, particularly during sexual congress-"

"What? You didn't tell me. I mean you..." Jim gestured futilely, "uh, lately, but. Why?"

"To prevent a bond from forming. Surely you have noticed the ever augmenting enmeshment, how much longer it has taken to withdraw than it did in the beginning, when even then it was-" Spock stopped himself. "Had I allowed it, the desire to seek you out when my Time came... would have been incontrovertible."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jim turned and paced, angry, so angry. Spock was leaving him no say-so in this, and after getting them into this mess in the first place. "You knew about this -- why did you even..." Jim could not bring himself to suggest that they should never have started their relationship, such as it was. It would have been logical, but not right, surely even Spock could feel that, surely he had, to fail at resisting it.

"I apologize, ashayam." Jim flinched at the endearment and stopped to listen. "I had never encountered anything such as you and hunger made me selfish. I did believe there was more time, that perhaps I would find another way or my fears would prove unfounded, but... I wanted you in such capacity as I could have you."

Jim prepared himself for another surge of anger, but it never came. Spock sounded as miserable as he felt; he could not begrudge him the time they had had, could not bring himself to regret it, so long as Spock survived it.

It was more than their counterparts had been gifted. It would have to be enough.

Jim set his jaw so it would not tremble. The ambassador's apology was no longer strange to him.

He turned to find Spock watching him carefully. "Then you'll have to forgive me the same decision."