What can I say? Star Trek XI seems to be my new fanfic drug these days. Oh, and the kink meme. Yeah.

Have some SLASH, boys and girls! Nothing really overt or obvious, but it's there, oh yes. Enjoy!

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Nothing Short of Everything

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Sometimes "everything" is your life, and sometimes it's your culture and personal traditions, your family, your previous way of life. And then, sometimes it's just you.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Twice, Spock offered his life.

The first time, though it wasn't necessarily intentional, Spock knew that volunteering himself for beaming onto the Narada was essentially suicide. He also knew that he was also essentially killing himself, giving everything that he was, for Earth, and for James T. Kirk.

And for the life of him (An appropriate phrase for this moment, Spock mused), the Vulcan could not understand why.

The second time, they were on an unnamed planet, with minimal information available from the scanners and sensors. Certainly there had been no mention of anything like natives with what appeared to be a penchant for human sacrifice.

The natives had demanded the most senior member of the away team (or, their "warrior commander") as the sacrifice, and Spock knew that look on his Captain's face (and why Spock had allowed the Captain to come on this particular mission the Vulcan could not remember). It was Jim's I'm The Captain face, and it usually ended with Jim being noble – and ending up in Sickbay.

Unfortunately, there would be no return to Sickbay – and the grumpy McCoy, who appeared to work wonders with a hypospray – after this bout of nobility on Jim's part.

"I am the one you seek," Spock said, stepping forward, conveniently placing a hand on Jim's shoulder, fingers splayed over the Captain's neck, and squeezed 'comfortingly' – only to have the Captain fall unconscious into the arms of an ensign. Spock thought it would better for the Captain that way; Jim did so hate having others do things for him.

†

Once, Spock abandoned his culture and tradition.

Spock smiled at Jim, really, truly smiled at him (a human smile, full of tenderness and joy and love) nearly seven years into their relationship together. Jim could do nothing but stare, out of shock and delirious joy at the unexpected sight. Spock had prized the tenets of Vulcan tradition so highly, and for so long, that to see him expressing himself so openly was… well, unexpected and surprising.

"Spock, you're… smiling," Jim said, vaguely awed.

"Indeed," replied Spock, and though it was very, very faint, there was a trace of satisfaction and enjoyment running through his voice.

"Why?"

"Because it pleases you."

Jim blinked, and stared at Spock again. Something in his chest began to tighten, but not unpleasantly. "But, doesn't that go against all the Vulcan stuff about not feeling emotion and crap?"

"Yes, Jim," Spock answered, the slightest, barest hint of amusement coming through.

"But… you like doing that. It's…" Jim was at a loss for words, though no less pleased with this gift.

"And I would stop, should it please you." The smile was gone from Spock's face now, but not from his eyes, dark orbs that glowed.

"You'd give up your culture for me?" Jim asked in a decidedly strangled voice. All he got in reply was a brightening of two dark stars.

†

He also relinquished his family, in favor of something more dear.

"Your dad doesn't like me," Jim announced.

"My father… does not approve of our relationship, yes," Spock conceded.

"So he'd like me better if I weren't fucking you?" Jim asked, lounging on their bed.

"Jim."

"What?"

"There is no need for excessive vulgarity."

"… you could just say 'watch your language' or 'stop swearing,' y'know."

"Indeed. In any case, it is irrelevant what my father wishes for me, or whether he approves of this liaison of ours. I find myself unwilling to give sway to his opinion in this matter."

"Seriously, Spock, you can just say that he can go fuck himself. And I'll let you know, hearing you say you'd give up your dad's approval and all makes me just go all warm and fuzzy inside."

"I fail to see – "

"Oh, just get over here and kiss me already. If you're going to give up what's left of your family for me, the least you can do is kiss me while doing it!"

"…Indeed."

†

And once, Spock followed Jim, turning his back on all he had known for everything he was unfamiliar with but for one person.

When the sentence came, and when Jim packed his bags, Spock was there waiting for him at the civilian transport, a neatly packed bag sitting at his feet. At first Jim thought there was something off about Spock, until he realized that his First Officer (no, not his anymore, Jim wasn't a Captain – but it wasn't his fault, no, and he didn't mind, really, he could still find work) wasn't in uniform. Instead, the Vulcan stood there in plain black slacks and a soft, button-down blue collared shirt, with practical civilian dress boots made of leather on his feet.

Spock hadn't been stripped of rank, of title, of command – hell, Jim knew for a fact that the Admirals had wanted Spock to take Jim's place (and no, that didn't hurt, didn't sting that he'd lost everything precious to him, including the man in front of him…).

So what was Spock doing at the civvie transports, unless he was doing what Jim thought he was doing? But Spock would never do that.

Would he?

Jim drew even with Spock, and the two of them stared calmly at each other.

"So," was all Jim said.

"Indeed," was Spock's reply, with a slight incline of his head. The word Captain was left unspoken between them both.

"Goin' my way?" Jim asked finally, and was rewarded with a relaxation of the tension in Spock's shoulders.

"Yes," the alien man replied. "I am."

†

And then Jim returned the favor.

Jim stared at the still form lying on the biobed before him. True, Spock was usually still, but it was always a contained stillness, a kind of stillness that somehow managed to convey the powerful life-force inside the man. Now, now he was unnaturally still, unmoving; too still.

McCoy said the damage was all inside, in Spock's mind. And with the power of a Vulcan mind, any damage could be more dangerous than for a human. While there were no injuries, Spock's mind was definitely broken – and Bones couldn't fix that, no matter how many hyposprays he used. The ones who did this to Spock had apparently said how to fix him, but no one on the Enterprise could unravel the riddle that had been sneered at the away team with a malicious laugh.

If you would bring back nothing short of everything, offer what is missing.

Apparently, the extra sentiment along the lines of 'You're all morons and will never figure it out so he's gonna die, nyah-nyah-nyah' had also been laughed at them, but Jim really wasn't concerned with that, other than proving it wrong.

But how?

Jim repeated the 'riddle' in his head again once more, hoping that maybe repetition might somehow spark something. He was a genius, dammit, this shouldn't be so hard!

And then, suddenly, it wasn't.

Spock was a touch telepath, meaning his brain, his mind, was even more important than a human's would be. And if everything was missing (which was what Jim had to bring back), then obviously a meld was necessary.

Lucky for Jim, he had something better: he had the telepathic bond that had formed between the two of them after so much time together (and with Jim insisting that Spock eventually bond with him). Settling himself comfortably into the chair he was sitting in (or at least, as comfortably as possible), Jim reached out to take one of Spock's hands into his own, his eyes fluttering closed as he searched inside his own mind for the mental link that bound them together.

Here goes nothing, Jim mused to himself, laughing softly as he did so. Yeah, nothing short of everything, and then Jim was diving into the blank spot where Spock had been, holding everything that he was – everything that Spock was to him – everything that they were together – holding all that he had close to himself, hoping to fill the void of Spock's new nothingness with everything that Jim was.

And Jim knew that, no matter what, the James Tiberius Kirk that awakened after this would never be the same James Tiberius Kirk as the one who gave up nothing short of everything.

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END