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Jim hadn’t felt quite right for the past week or so. It wasn’t something exactly quantifiable, which was perhaps what was so bothersome about it - he wasn’t sick, wasn’t tired, or anxious, or any of the other millions of feelings that could cause such disjointedness. He’d tried approaching Bones over it, explaining his symptoms with as much alacrity as he could.
“I just feel… different,” he’d said, rather lamely. Bones had eyed him with a familiar scowl.
“I swear it Jim, if you’re trying to mess with me-”
“No, I wouldn’t. I know how busy you are.” That earned him a self-satisfied nod, “I won’t bother you now if you’re stressed.”
“It’s alright,” Bones waved his words away, “It’s a slow day today, if anything. I’m just still pissed at Spock over that whole pon farr business.”
“You don’t think it could have something to do with that, do you? It started around then.”
“Well, I don’t think the hypo I gave you would’ve had any long term effects. I could run some tests, though.” He looked dubious, but Jim nodded.
“I’d appreciate that, Bones.”
The tests turned up nothing. Jim gingerly moved the arm where he’d been jabbed with a needle several times over, a twisted expression on his face. At least this seemed to give Bones a certain degree of delight.
“Let me remind you that this was your idea, Captain,” he said, inspecting a small vial of blood. Jim winced.
“Thank you. I am sorely reminded.”
“Just making sure you know who to blame,” Bones sighed. “Nope, this is also all clear. You’re fit as a fiddle.”
“Wonderful.”
“Don’t look so glum. Look, is this mystery feeling impending your ability to command in any way? Is it painful?”
“No,” Jim said. “It’s not bad. It just… is.”
“If it’s only been there since the business on Vulcan… maybe it’s just the emotional aftermath of your best friend trying to kill you. I’m sure that would fuck anyone up, mentally.”
“Is that the same terminology you use on all of your patients?”
“It’s the same terminology I’m going to use on you, if you don’t stop being a smartass.”
“Alright, alright. Thanks, Bones,” Jim said with a soft smile. “Maybe you’re right. That was one hell of a paradigm shift, I guess.”
“Anytime. Let me know if it gets worse.”
“Will do.”
-
Soon after, it got worse.
First there were the thoughts. They’d invade his mind, seeming utterly natural at first, then, upon closer inspection, suddenly quite alien. At odds with his own opinions. They were never about anything significant, but small, useless things. He’d sat down next to Spock for their usual evening chess match one night, bringing with him a cup of tea, but had abruptly found himself thinking about how terrible chamomile smelled. He’d stared at the cup of tea, frowning. He loved chamomile. It was his favourite flavour. Lifting the cup to his lips for a sip, he found that yes, he still enjoyed it, and the thought was gone now.
Or, sitting on the bridge, staring at the ever moving expanse of stars on the view screen while he waited for an order from Starfleet. The thought had somehow drifted into his mind; those lab techs are behaving like utter idiots . He’d blinked, sitting up straight, looking around self consciously as though the rest of the bridge crew might’ve somehow heard his mind. What lab techs? There were no lab techs here.
So it went, thoughts about people who weren’t present there at the time, thoughts that were contrary to his own tastes. They’d come and go, leaving him baffled, and perhaps a little disorientated.
-
The sight of a Klingon ship in front of them made him nervous. For all intents and purposes, he was perfectly fine. Fit as a fiddle, like Bones had said. But the stray thoughts itched at him - what if he had one at the wrong time, mistook it, acted upon it? He could accidentally kill over four hundred people. Starship captains didn’t - couldn’t - have any room for error. His eyes were locked on the Klingon ship, heart racing.
The Enterprise and the enemy ship danced around each other for a good hour or so. It was clear that the Klingons fully intended on destroying the Enterprise, and the starship’s shields were beginning to wear. They weren’t going to hold out for much longer, and the Klingon ship was too fast for their phasers to hit. Jim ran through his options, his mind feeling frayed and harried. Play dead - risky, and it was a tactic he was well known for by now. Had it been an unidentified ship, he might’ve attempted it, but a Klingon ship would be well aware of the tactics most commonly used by Starfleet’s captains. The Corbomite Maneuver - same issue there. Flee - this ship was faster than the Enterprise, and clearly hellbent on their destruction. It would chase them. Then, one of those thoughts he’d learned to recognise as alien - if we could fire our phasers through a slit, the resulting diffraction pattern would be much harder to dodge than a single beam of light. His first instinct was to immediately dismiss the thought, as he’d grown accustomed to over the past week or so. But then he thought about it. Yes, that could work.
“Mr Spock,” he snapped, tone urgent. “If we fired our phasers through a slit, would it create a diffraction pattern?”
Spock hesitated in a most uncharacteristic manner. A flicker of what may have been surprise passed across his face.
“I doubt it, Captain. In theory, yes, but how would we make a slit like that in time?”
“Engineering,” Jim pressed a button on the arm of his chair.
“Scotty here, Captain,” came the familiar Scottish lilt.
“Remember that sheet of steel we were using to test the laser cutter? The one with a rectangle cut in it?”
“Aye, Captain, but why-”
“Can you put it in front where the phasers fire from, so that the phasers will fire through the slit?”
There was a crackle of hesitation, perhaps as Scotty turned to confer with one of the engineers. Then came the enthusiastic reply.
“Easily.”
“Then do it, at top speed, please. Inform me when it’s done.”
“Aye, sir.”
Jim looked up at Spock with no small amount of satisfaction. “I’ll be the first to admit it’s rare, but sometimes I’m aware of things you aren’t, Mr Spock.”
“I wasn’t notified of a new laser cutter that would need testing,” Spock said.
“It wasn’t new. It was an old one that Scotty was fixing up. I offered to help him.” There was a crackle over the intercom.
“Captain? It’s done,” said Scotty.
“Excellent,” Jim said. “Chekov, stand by to fire phasers.”
-
The Klingon ship was just swooping in for another hit, hopefully the final one. It remained off to the left, far out of reach of the Enterprise’s phasers, or so it thought. The diffraction effect on the phaser stretched out far to the sides, creating a pattern of constructive and destructive interference. The Klingon ship just happened to be in one of the bright spots. It had traded power for speed, which had seemed a fair exchange at the time. Less so now. The phaser wave hit its engines with full force, leaving them sputtering and unusable, a pitted mess of melting steel.
A wave of relief passed through the bridge crew. Jim stared at the listing, dead ship, a grin on his face. “We’d better get out of here before their rescuers arrive. Warp two, Sulu.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
-
It seemed that this was to be a recurring pattern. Concerning day to day events, the intruding thoughts were often contradictory, a bit of a nuisance, although they were never anything truly aggravating. In serious tactical situations, they often offered genuine help, ideas Jim wouldn’t have even thought of on his own. Sometimes they were incorrect, or impossible, but the reasoning behind them always seemed sound, and Jim found himself often grateful for the input.
He had yet to mention this to Bones - no sense in seeming like he was going mad. He would mention it, eventually. Probably. Just give it enough time so that he could reasonably prove that he was still functioning perfectly well. But second- second came the dreams.
It wasn’t odd at first glance. Jim would occasionally dream of things he’d never seen before, places, people, but this wasn’t in itself uncommon. Sometimes the subconscious could cobble things together that weren’t clearly based in real life. After the first dreams that struck him as a little discordant, they never got worse or increased in occurrence, either. Sometimes they’d be nightmares, sometimes they’d be pleasant, but with no less regularity than his usual dreams. He didn’t give it much thought. That was, until he realised that most of the unknown places he’d dreamed of had looked awfully similar to what little he’d seen of Vulcan.
On one of his few free nights, he sat in front of his computer, a frown on his lips, and searched up images of ShiKhar. The Vulcan capital. It matched some of the dreams he’d had perfectly. Then, growing increasingly perturbed, and wondering whether this was a rational leap to make or he was just going truly mad, he looked up Ambassador Sarek’s house. Also a perfect match. He’d woken up with the image of that front door clear in his mind just last night. With a small quirk of his lips, he leaned back in his chair, and typed, symptoms of a Vulcan mind bond .
-
A few days after this little revelation, Spock appeared at his door. He cleared his throat, frowning.
“Captain? May I enter?”
“Of course,” Jim said with a smile. “Chess?” He gestured at the board on his table.
“Perhaps later. There is something I wish to discuss with you first.”
“Alright. Shoot.”
Now, given the opportunity, Spock seemed unsure of how to start. He looked a little lost. “Captain,” he tried eventually. “I am… still exceedingly thankful for your actions a month ago.”
Jim waved him off. “No need. I wasn’t about to let you die.”
“And for that I am grateful. But recently it has come to my attention that… you may have suffered a negative side effect as a result of your heroic actions, which is highly regrettable. I do not know if you are aware of this effect, but I would like to relieve you of it-”
Jim interrupted, nodding, “You mean the mind bond?”
It wasn’t often that Spock was stunned into silence. The sight was quite something to behold. If only Bones were here to witness it.
“Yes,” Spock said eventually, sounding a little strangled. “The mind bond.”
“I have access to the internet you know, Spock,” Jim said, aiming to be comforting. “But you don’t have to worry, I haven’t told anyone. Not even McCoy.”
“That was not my concern, Captain, although I am grateful to hear it.”
“What was your concern, then? Don’t tell me it has a devastating effect on humans, or something.”
“No, nothing of that nature. But-” he hesitated again here, “Well, if you’ve read about it… then surely you know of… the… connotations…” Each word seemed a struggle to get out. Spock looked like he wished they would suddenly be swallowed into a black hole. Perhaps Jim should have felt guilty at enjoying his friend’s discomfort, but it was hard to do so when he knew how unjustified it was.
“What connotations?” He said instead, as innocently as he could. Spock stared at him.
I regret every decision I’ve ever made in my life thus far , Jim heard in his head. He couldn’t stop his laugh. The stray thoughts had become much more entertaining, and indeed, almost comforting, ever since he’d figured out that they were from Spock.
“My apologies,” he said finally, grinning, “But I would sincerely hope that you don’t regret boarding the Enterprise, at least.”
“Captain,” Spock said. “This is no trivial matter. The fact that I inadvertently initiated a bond with you without your consent is a violation of privacy, and if you will let me, I will sever it immediately.”
“Do you want to?”
The question seemed to throw him for a loop. Spock raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”
“I’m just saying, it seems awfully convenient. You have a lot of good ideas that seem useless on their own, but work damn well when combined with my knowledge, and I don’t doubt that the reverse is also true. We make an excellent team. It would only be… ah… logical, to keep it, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” Spock said. “Logical. But I’m afraid the mating bond is one of the few aspects of Vulcan nature that cannot and should not be defined by logic. It carries significant emotional weight, you see. It signifies two individuals who are bound to each other, through life and death, through space and time. It is… quite important, in our society.”
“Well, if you’re uncomfortable with that, then I guess you may do what seems best.”
Spock seemed to hesitate. “That is not what I said.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Spock?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“I would not object to being bonded to you. Beyond… beyond just the logical reasons.”
“Then I shall not sever the bond. I am glad I have not inadvertently caused you harm, Captain.”
“No,” Jim said with a soft smile. “Not at all.” He gestured back at the chess set. “A game, then?”
“Perhaps another time. I have work to attend to.”
Jim’s smile only grew. His gaze was soft.
“Alright. Another time.”
“Thank you… Jim.”
“Of course. My pleasure.”