Semantics

His dreams were dark, and swirled with places he'd never seen before, people he'd never met. The sky bled blue to red and back again. Hidden doorways were lit. Dust was tossed into the air. Heavily bolted cellar doors rattled, the caged demons they bound restless and angry.

Jim woke and fell back into sleep at least five times before he was aware enough to fight for consciousness. He opened his eyes, feeling like a bottle that had been thoroughly shaken. Spock was half draped over him, sleeping like a dead man. Kirk listened for a long tense moment before he heard the intake of breath, felt the thump of a heartbeat.

Kirk extended a hand to the table, checked the chronometer. He sighed, tired by the effort it took. He'd promised Bones he would call. The doctor said he would come down and take them both to sickbay if he didn't call. Experimentally, he tightened his neck muscles, lifted his head a little. Looked over at the intercom. It suddenly seemed very far away.

Slowly, he eased himself out from under Spock's body, finding himself sticky with sweat from the heat Spock was radiating. Managed to drag himself to a sitting position. He felt a ripple of uneasiness, the moment before he lifted his hand, separated from the touch of Spock's skin.

Kirk made a sound like a kicked dog as the migraine blossomed whole and fully formed behind his eyes. For a moment, the pain actually blinded him with an explosion that he could see in bright streaks across his field of vision. Pins and needles spiked at the back of his head and shot down the right side of his face, poured down that side of his body. Someone was grabbing at him but he was fumbling, tangled in blankets.

Hands caught, held tightly. The light faded out, wobbled alarmingly. Spock's face melted into place above him. The sound of his voice skipped in and out of his hearing like a bad subspace transmission.

"Jim...-ot...must not...-im, Jim..." He was petting at Jim's face, every touch chasing the pins and needles further away, forming the world out of more solid substances than pain and flashing light.

Jim opened his mouth with careful dignity.

"I'm going...to throw up," he said firmly. Spock hesitated above him.

"I'm going to throw up *right now*," Kirk said even more firmly, an edge of desperation creeping in. Spock's eyes got wide and he scrambled back, helped Jim turn over in time to lose it over the edge of the bed, as opposed to on it.

After a long, wet, stomach clenching few moments, Kirk wiped his mouth with his hand and sagged against the bed. He felt Spock's hand rest against the back of his neck, felt his fingers start to massage away the tension there.

"It's dangerous for us to be separated." Kirk said softly, ironically, knowing Spock would hear even if his voice was muffled. Spock's hands paused on his shoulders. For a moment the fingers tightened painfully, and Kirk winced, turning over. Spock released him immediately, their only contact for the moment the brush of their thighs.

"I am a danger to you." Spock said quietly. That brought Kirk's eyes up fast.

"As I recall," He said seriously, "You tried to warn me." A smile flickered to life. "Just before I jumped you."

"But I did NOT." Spock said with a flash of temper that reminded Kirk vividly of just how much stress the Vulcan was currently under. "I have told you nothing." Spock added, quieter. Jim's first instinct was to simmer a bit at that; Spock had done some things in the past few weeks worth simmering over. But Spock's flare of anger was fresh, so instead Jim took a deep breath and put a patient smile on his face.

"All right," he said, deciding to take Spock's statement as an offer, "lets start with why you didn't mention anything about the...mental aspects of this situation until it was almost too late."

Spock looked up in surprise.

"I believe I did, Captain." He said.

(One touches the other, feels their thoughts...)

"You hardly went out of your way," Kirk said in disbelief. He was supposed to put it together with just that? Spock looked away from him.

"I had hoped you would not need the specifics." He said, very softly. "Not all...joinings culminate in telepathic communion. If the two parties involved are only interested in physically satisfying the mating urge there is little danger. There are...some...a few....who perform it as a...service." Spock stared resolutely at the pattern on the blanket, his lips pressed tightly together. He hadn't looked this embarrassed when he'd explained his own biology, and that had been the most uncomfortable Kirk had ever seen him. Jim had a sudden, frustrating hunch that he wouldn't be getting even this much information if he hadn't slept with Spock first.

"Two who are not mentally attuned get through with a minimum of telepathic connection. The situation is...serviceable, if not desirable."

"Kind of a lack of attraction," Jim said, interested. Spock tilted his head.

"More a lack of compatibility, but essentially correct."

Jim started smiling, watched it unnerve the Vulcan in front of him.

"And you thought you could affect that kind of situation with...us?" He said with gentle, teasing emphasis.

Spock's eyes on him grew soft. There was a long pause that was just Spock looking at him, the curl of his fingers, the shape of his mouth...it was the oddest sensation. Having so much deliberate attention focused on every little...detail of him.

"I calculated that the risk was worth the effort," Spock said. Was his voice a little rough? Kirk felt the blood leaving his face, felt his temper start to unravel with a fraying of strings.

"A night with me is NOT worth dying for," Kirk rumbled, eyes narrow. Spock opened his mouth, saw Kirk's face, and changed his mind about whatever it was he was about to say.

"There was a chance I could control. However, I found that I could not touch your thoughts at all without the risk of joining us. Even the lightest contact with you, under the circumstances was too much. The effort it took to resist was...deeply distressing. I did not realize how difficult it would be to pull back from an open mind in harmony with my own." Spock looked up with bleak honesty in his eyes. "I had thought, when you offered, that it was a chance for life. As you said, who else would have me? Had I known, I would never-"

"That's not what I said!" Kirk said, his chest constricting painfully. The flat surprise in Spock's eyes turned Jim's mood black as pitch. He had a biting thought that no matter what he had said, that was what Spock had heard.

"...Nevertheless," Spock continued, the hesitation somehow speaking quite clearly. I don't believe you but I'm going to let it pass...

"Had I known the outcome, I would have sent you away. I could not ask-"

"Why? Why couldn't you just ASK ME," Kirk interrupted. Spock's eyes came up again, seemed to measure the level of Kirk's anger.

"Because I believe you would do anything necessary to keep me alive, regardless of the cost to yourself," Spock said simply, not without affection.

Kirk went still, his rising sense of irritation abruptly derailed.

"You have demonstrated many times that you are willing to go to extraordinary lengths to help a...friend." Spock looked at his hands, picked at the blanket a moment. "A choice made under duress is no choice at all. No." He shook his head. "I could not make that decision yours. You already offered me more than I could have hoped. It was no fault of yours I could not control. I had thought to send you away before long."

"It would have been interesting to see you try," Kirk replied.

Spock looked at him severely. "This is not a humorous situation, Jim," He insisted. "We share...deeply compatible minds. The strength of the connection...We may never be free of one another now. Grow angry, or tire of me and still we may never be parted from one another."

Kirk silently sputtered for a moment at that, his brain actually turning back, going over the words again as if expecting them to be different upon repeating. Tire of him?

"We will need to remain in physical contact until the resonance between our minds has stabilized," Spock continued.

Kirk had to force himself to pay attention.

"Why?" He asked.

Spock hesitated. "In Vulcans, there is actual growth of new cells in the brain, a reorganization of neural pathways to encourage the acceptance of new stimulus. In humans, I must assume there is at least some reorganization. The time required for the adjustment to begin varies with the individuals involved and the strength of their atunement. I would estimate at least a further fifteen hours, perhaps more."

"Wait." Kirk said, holding up a hand. "Just wait." He took a breath. Then he held out his hand. Spock looked confused.

"If we're going to be here for fifteen hours I need to use the bathroom and call Bones." He smiled faintly. "Coming?" Spock glanced over at the door to the head with a perfect reflection of Kirk's thoughts on his face. He was looking at the distance to it as if it was a lot farther away than he remembered it being.

Spock's hand curled around his like it was coming home.