They waited an hour.

Then two.

Then three.

"Will you stop pacing?" McCoy asked, irritated.

Unfortunately, after their encounter with Asmodeus, the communicator he had given to Kirk had mysteriously disappeared. Obviously, there would be no calls for help in this dungeon. Without any way to know Spock's location or what his condition was, Kirk had taken to pacing to try and calm his growing dread. He looked down to where McCoy had taken a sitting position against the wall.

"Yes, yes, of course," Kirk muttered. He went over to the far wall and sat down against it.

Thirty seconds passed. Then McCoy heaved an internal groan as Kirk stood up and resumed his pacing. "I'm just so worried, Bones," he said exasperatingly. "We have no idea what they're doing to him, nothing good I assume, and... and it's all my fault," he sighed as he finally sank to the floor again.

"Jim, it's not your fault, you couldn't have done anything," McCoy reassured him. "Besides, you couldn't let them have the ship, could you?" he asked after several moments of silence.

"I suppose not," Kirk replied. "But I'm still worried," he added.

"Jim, I know how you feel about Spock—" Kirk looked up sharply at that, "—and I know he can handle pretty much anything. You don't need to be so worried," McCoy continued.

"Well, I suppose so," Kirk answered gruffly, a little red in the face that McCoy knew his secret. Kirk drew breath to further voice his concern when suddenly, the cell door rattled.

Both men looked up to see several of the guards standing outside the door—where there had been none just a moment ago. Kirk frowned, wondering how these creatures were able to appear and disappear so easily. But a second later, all thought was wiped from his mind.

There at the front of the line of guards, Kirk finally noticed Spock.

As they opened the door to deposit Spock back in the cell, Kirk suddenly got a clear view of him and gasped.

Most of Spock's face was covered in green blood, evidence of several head wounds. His uniform was torn in many places, revealing dark blotches of color on his ribs. As the guards dropped him unceremoniously on the hard floor, Kirk also noticed that he was twisted awkwardly, obviously trying to alleviate the pain.

Kirk rushed forward to Spock, dropping down on his knees next to him. He was so distracted that he didn't even notice the guards' retreat, like a shadow oozing away along the floor.

"Know this, Captain," Asmodeus' voice slithered from the depths of the tunnel. "I'm not finished with you yet."

Kirk strained his eyes in the direction of the voice, but all he saw was the rough stone walls of the dungeon. His words worried Kirk, but right now, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

"Spock," Kirk said softly, voice broken. Before he could do anything else, however, McCoy interrupted him.

"Jim, move aside." He pulled out his medical kit and scanned Spock. Earlier, McCoy realized that all of their belongings except his medical supplies had been confiscated. He now wondered if that was deliberate, to allow them to discover and treat all of Spock's injuries. They obviously aren't done with us yet, McCoy thought grimly.

"He's got a concussion from those head wounds there, and his broken ribs have gotten worse—a result of severe bruising," he announced. "The thing I can't explain," McCoy frowned, "is why he's in such an agitated state. Normally, Vulcans can ignore pain pretty easily."

Kirk moved forward and placed a hand on Spock's arm. "Spock," he said softly, trying to rouse him. "Spock, can you hear me?"

"Jim, I need to stop the bleeding from

the wounds on his head," McCoy said apologetically, pulling out several strips of bandages from his kit. Kirk nodded and reluctantly moved away to let the Doctor work.

Once his head was bandaged, McCoy let Kirk attempt to wake him. "Spock," he tried again. When Spock didn't respond, Kirk raised his hand and gently rested the backs of his fingers against Spock's cheek. After a moment, he heard a soft moan, then the Vulcan moved beneath him.

"Spock," Kirk said again, more urgently this time.

"Captain," Spock murmured softly, the action obviously causing him pain.

"What happened? What did they do to you?" Kirk asked, his voice full of concern.

"At first they used physical means of injury, but when they realized it was ineffective, they moved to telepathic methods instead," Spock explained, his voice soft and strained.

"Usually I am able to ignore such pain, but their technique was specifically designed to penetrate deep into the consciousness, affecting the mind rather than the body."

The pain that Spock felt seemed like a knife driven deep into his skull. It sent waves of agony coursing through his whole body, and nothing he did could reduce it. It was undeniable, lodged deep in his consciousness, preventing him from thinking about anything else. What Spock had just experienced, he hoped would never happen again.

"Spock," Kirk choked, his voice faltering. "This is all my fault." His face was etched with lines of pain, as if Spock's agony was his own. He reached down and laced his fingers with the Vulcan's, pulling his hand to his chest to try and comfort him.

McCoy saw the action and moved to the far end of the cell in an attempt to give them some degree of privacy. A knowing smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth.

"Captain, you could not have known the creature's motives when we beamed down; therefore, there is no logical reason for your—"

"Spock," Jim interrupted. "I just.... I need to tell you....." Kirk began, but found that he could not get the words out. He was stopped by a hand on his arm. Spock slowly reached up and paused with his fingers just inches from Kirk's face. Spock's eyes were hesitant, questioning. Kirk nodded, so the Vulcan placed his fingers on the skin around Kirk's eyes in a mind meld.

Instantly, a flood of emotions passed between them. First and foremost, Kirk felt Spock's pain–an ache that seemed to come from his very soul. Spock in turn felt Kirk's regret and anguish at seeing his first officer in so much discomfort.

Then, as their minds moved closer together, Kirk felt a new emotion. It was strong and unwavering, but warm as well. He realized that is was Spock's loyalty, his devotion to him, and after a moment, he saw it. Love.

Spock was also encountering Kirk's deepest emotions. He discovered a sudden warm sensation. He turned toward it and was confronted with a bright, shining light. He felt how much Kirk cared for him—how much he needed him—and came to the same conclusion the Captain had. Love.

As both of them had the realization, they suddenly pulled back in surprise. Kirk stared at Spock, his face stretched in a brilliant smile. Never in a thousand years did he think Spock would feel the same way.

The Vulcan's face was questioning, both eyebrows raised in astonishment. He had no idea what to do, how to proceed. The chance that Kirk might reciprocate his feelings had been almost nonexistent.

Kirk reached forward and lightly touched Spock's hand, pulling it back up to his face. He nodded at Spock, and after a moment, he continued the mind meld.

Spock again felt that warm, bright emotion, and moved closer to it. He surrounded himself in it, seeming to immerse his mind in its depths. It spread to his body through his fingertips, swirling into every part of himself. It washed over him in one giant wave, and Spock found that it seemed to soothe him. The deepest edge of the pain was wiped away, leaving only closed scars in its wake. For the first time in his life, Spock felt completely at peace.

Kirk felt Spock's pain turn to nothing, and his mind flooded with relief. He moved his consciousness even closer, until neither could tell the difference between them. They intertwined their very souls, warmth radiating from their connection. Shared emotions seeming to fill all the trivial space between their bodies. They breathed as one, thought as one, loved as one—and together, they were content.

They stayed like this for some time, neither wanting to interrupt the closeness between them. Finally, Spock pulled away, knowing that they could not continue the meld forever. As Kirk's consciousness separated from his, Spock found that he could still feel the warm touch of Kirk's thoughts. The pain felt softer and less harsh than before, as if Kirk's mind was still surrounding him—protecting him from the worst of his discomfort. Spock wondered if that was a result of the intimacy of the mind meld. A word teased itself into his consciousness, and though it had just now occurred to him, Spock knew with all his heart that it was true.

T'hy'la.

Kirk slowly opened his eyes to see Spock smiling back at him. He discovered that he loved the sight of Spock when he was happy, and wished he could look that way always. He could still sense Spock's strength and devotion, weaker as they moved apart. But it was still there, and it seemed to anchor him, ground him—giving him support and a deep sense of calm.

As they stared into each other's eyes—their love clearly displayed in them—Kirk and Spock realized that the only place they had ever truly belonged was by each other's side.