Limbs and body parts were twisted and tucked, so the two lovers were contained in a tight package on the bunk. Kirk’s chin rested on the top of Spock’s head; Spock’s nose was nestled in the hollow of Kirk’s throat.
Life was very, very good again.
“My new favorite color is still green.”
“And my best favorite color is the exact blue of your eyes.”
“Did I cause this affliction or whatever it is you suffered?”
“NO! Absolutely not!” Spock pulled away, so he could bring his face up level with Kirk’s. “I will not ever hear you speak that way again!”
“They told me it had something to do with our bonding.”
Spock collapsed to rest his head on Kirk’s chest. The slow, steady thumping of the human heart was comforting to him. “No.”
“Spock, the Healer said your ‘prescient center’ was failing, and that it had been overwhelmed by the combination of the consortium bond with the T’hy’la bond.”
Laughter exploded from Kirk. Spock rolled away just a fraction of a centimeter, and propped himself up on one elbow, facing Jim. Kirk mirrored this position, with a huge smile still plastered across his face.
Spock raised one eyebrow, and Kirk traced it with a finger. “I love that expression on your face, Spock, but you must explain your choice of word!”
“Vulcan has no expletives, and I simply needed one to vent my frustration with the blatant prevarications which were told to you.”
“Jim…Vulcans can and do, as the Earth phrase goes, ‘lie like rugs.’”
Kirk smiled in the famous half-smirk. “Yeah, oh, yeah, they do.”
“In simplest terms, I suffered a breakdown.”
Kirk pulled Spock into a tight embrace. “Oh, God, Spock….Oh, God.”
Spock gently repositioned Kirk so they were facing each other again. “Jim, you know I’d been walking on the sharpened edge of quattranium wire for years. Trying to please my father, trying to be a good Vulcan, trying to surreptitiously love my mother, trying to make my place in the Universe by joining Starfleet.” Kirk felt himself filled with empathy. “The destruction of Old Vulcan and the death of my mother of course, contributed.” Kirk gently stroked his husband’s face with his free hand, and cupped that dear, dear cheek. “Then the total, absolute bliss of our bond was more than I could contain in myself.” He pulled the hand to his mouth and kissed it.
“I can’t live with the thought I hurt you.”
“No, Jim, no. Without our bond, I would never have recovered. You must know that!”
Spock rolled to his back, and kept Kirk’s hand on his face. “My conflict, my emotional turmoil, added to aggregate suffering of the destroyed Vulcan people created a fulmination within me that simply… broke.”
Kirk kissed the warm, green flesh before placing his head on Spock’s shoulder.
“Many survivors have suffered these breakdowns. The priests at Gol devised a somewhat simplistic, almost primitive treatment for them. The recent, more short-term memories are ripped or gouged from their minds, and then the individuals undergo a Kohlinahr-type regimen to rebuild the mental disciplines. Memories gradually resurface, and the victim can hopefully mend.”
Kirk buried his face against Spock’s side and moaned, “Oh, Gods of the Universe…”
“Few recover. Those who do not, die.”
With a cry, Kirk enfolded Spock with arms and legs and pulled him so close they both had difficulty breathing.
“Jim. Your love, the consortium bond, together with the strength of our T’hy’la, saved me. Without that tether, that lifeline, I would not have lived.”
The age-old dance of lovers’ bodies was slow and glorious. They celebrated each other, they cherished each other, and they loved. It was a sweet, sweet communion, an affirmation both physical and mental, and it was theirs alone. Forever. And beyond.