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"I cannot sleep."
Jim blinked himself awake as he felt something poking his arm.
"Oh." Jim looked to his side to see a tiny bowl head crowding him. "Hi, Spock."
"May I sleep here?"
"Kid, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why?" Not only the kid sounded tearful, but Jim didn't have the mental capacity for that conversation at that moment.
"Ok. Ugh, ok, then."
Jim watched as the kid climbed onto the bed. He made sure to scoot to one side as much as he could without falling off. Spock laid down facing him, big brown eyes staring up at Jim almost expectantly. Needing to break the tension, Jim sat up slightly to adjust the covers on top of them both.
"You are a handsome bondmate, James."
Jim winced, he'd had a feeling he'd regret this. "I'm not your bondmate anymore, Spock."
"In case my condition is not reversed, I would reach adult age once more. Our bond can be remade then."
"No, Spock." Jim closed his eyes, fighting the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, but it can't," he choked.
Spock sat up suddenly. "Why?" He demanded.
"There'd still be a big age difference between us. It just isn't right."
"But Vulcans have a greater life span than Humans and—"
"That's even worse. It means even when you turn eighteen you'd still be a kid by Vulcan standards. Plus a grown man waiting around for a kid to turn eighteen is just...disgusting." Jim felt nauseous at even the thought of being that kind of person.
"No! Vulcans are more mature than—"
"Spock." Jim sat up as well and the boy fell silent. He was fully awake now. "This is my fault, I'm sorry. I haven't been dealing with this very well," he sighed, running a hand through his face. "I should've had an honest conversation with you earlier." He gave the boy what he hoped was an apologetic smile. Flicking his bedside lamp on, he peered at an ancient alarm clock that was still going strong. "I guess talking about this at 4am is as good a time as any." He turned back to Spock and was floored to notice the boy's eyes shining with tears. "Hey, no, c'mon... Come here." He opened his arms instinctively. "Please, just. Can I get a hug?" Jim smiled encouragingly. Then was almost thrown off the bed with the force of a quite strong 7-year-old knocking into him. His tiny arms wrapped around his neck and he had climbed onto Jim's lap.
"You are my t'hy'la, James Kirk," said a tiny voice in his ear.
"Yes. Yes, I am." He hugged Spock back tightly for a moment, then gently pushed him off his lap to look him in the eyes. "I will always be your t'hy'la."
"But you want to leave me."
"I'll never leave you, for as long as you'll have me." Jim extended a hand forward, he wanted Spock to feel his sincerity. Spock immediately grabbed his hand, holding it like a lifeline. "I will always be your t'hy'la. I will always love and care for you. But I cannot be your bondmate anymore." Spock opened his mouth in protest and Jim quickly continued, "bondmates have a commitment that is romantic in nature. You're aware of this, right?" At Spock's reluctant nod, Jim went on, "well, there's no such thing as a romantic relationship between children and adults."
"I am not really a child," the boy whined, greatly contrasting with his statement.
"But you have the body and the maturity of one." Spock's grip on his hand loosened and fell to his side. "That does not mean I don't love you anymore, ok?" Jim rushed to reassure the boy. "It just means that I have to love you like a son now." Jim didn't actually know how he was going to do that. How was he supposed to look at this boy as his own person, and not a mere fragment of the great love of his life? But he knew he had to. For Spock. "Do you understand what this all means?"
"It means you will bond with another."
"Spock, our lives are so messed up right now I don't even know how tomorrow is gonna look like, let alone if I'll ever be able to—" He sighed in frustration, but then leaned in to cup the boy's cheek. "I promise you, you do not have to worry about that right now. My priority is you. It will always be you. I won't say that I'll never... But when—if—that time comes we'll figure it out. Like we always do. Right now, I'm solely focused on us. I have to figure out how we'll fit together, for both our sakes. You don't even remember much of me, Spock. And you can't be with your parents. I... I'm to be your parental figure now, and I have no idea how to do that. But I promise you, I'll do my best for you. Okay?"
"Yes, James." Spock finally seemed appeased, but he wouldn't meet Jim's eyes.
"Y'know, it was a good thing you came to me tonight."
Still avoiding eye contact, the boy seemed doubtful of his words.
"It's true. Not only because we needed to have this talk, and I was stalling like a coward, but because I want you to come to me whenever you are scared, or sad, or unsure of yourself. I never want you to feel alone or that you have to hide something from me." Taking advantage of the hand on his cheek, Jim gently compelled Spock to look up at him. "In fact, we should make a pact right now. I will always tell you everything. There'll be no secrets between us. Deal?"
Slowly, Spock gave him a timid smile. "I accept the terms of this agreement, James."
"Ok, lesson number one: you're supposed to say 'deal'. Lesson number two: it's Jim."
Spock broke into a wider smile, causing Jim's heart to swell. "Deal. Jim."
—
"Jim," said Spock one day, while they were having breakfast.
"Yeah."
"You said in case I remained a child, for the foreseeable future, we could never reestablish our romantic bond."
"That's right." Jim winced, worrying that topic wasn't over in Spock's head.
"But you said you would care for me until I am of age."
"Of course. You won't get rid of me so easily."
"Then perhaps we should establish a parental bond."
"I don't know about that, Spock..."
"Vulcan children rely on parental bonds to maintain their mental and emotional health. Perhaps this lack accounts for my...behavioral problems."
Spock had been unable to sleep alone without having nightmares. They had also tried a few schools, but either Spock got bored out of his mind or he missed Jim so much he couldn't function. Usually, it was a combination of both. There was also the issue of Spock's random rage fits that seemed to come and go without cause.
"You are perfect, Spock. Your brain is just trying to deal with having adult memories inside a kid's body. It's a lot. You will adjust."
"I would like to now invoke our 'deal'."
Putting his cutlery down, Jim smiled. "Thank you for choosing to be honest. What is it?"
"When I am away from you, Jim, it is unbearable. My head hurts and I feel... I feel like the world dissolved under my feet. Even when I am close to you I feel somewhat adrift. I did not feel this way before, when I was under the care of my parents." Spock looked so tortured, Jim felt compelled to extend a hand to him over the table. Spock promptly took it.
"It seems you're right, you need...some kind of bond. You still have your parental bond with Sarek though, I have no idea why that doesn't seem to be enough. How about I contact him tomorrow? I need guidance in this. I won't do something that could be potentially harmful to you."
Jim also worried about what another bond with Spock would do to his head. He had been managing the parenting thing so far, but would it remain like that if he was bonded to Spock again? Could his mind tell the difference when the memories of his husband were still a gaping wound in his heart? And what would little Spock be exposed to?
Jim urged them to finish their meals. And when the boy had gone to do his meditations, Jim allowed himself to cry for the first time since they got to Riverside.
—
Later that night Jim watched the boy as he slept peacefully next to him. He couldn't stop mulling over the parental bond idea. Spock had been a child for quite a while now and even though Jim didn't have a lot of hope left that he'd ever get his husband back, forming a parental bond with him seemed so... permanent. "Ugh." Jim got up from bed, nervous energy unsettling him. He approached a window, pressing his hand and forehead to the cold glass. "Spock, I need you. I don't know what to do without you."
He felt so lost at that moment he even felt angry at Spock. Why did he have to go on that mission? Why would he leave him after promising to love him forever?
"Jim."
Jim stilled at the voice behind. It didn't sound like kid Spock, it sounded like... He turned around and forced his eyes to adjust to the darkened room. "Spock?"
"Return to bed," Spock said, with his normal, grown-up voice. The voice Jim could recognize across several galaxies.
But as he got closer to the bed Spock didn't look any different from earlier, he still looked travel size. Disappointed, Jim almost turned away, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. "Jim, what's wrong?" Spock's voice, the right voice, said again.
"Everything is wrong, Spock." Even to his ears he sounded worn out. "Everything!" Jim couldn't stop the tears blurring his eyes.
"Shh, I am here." Jim felt strong hands around him. And he was so tired he let himself be cradled and comforted. "Sleep, Jim. I am here."
—
Jim woke up alone the next morning. Leaving the bed was not an option. His limbs were heavy and the sand on his eyes indicated he'd cried himself to sleep. He'd had a dream Spock was back to his old self. He tried squeezing his eyes shut to make himself dream again. A reckless thought occurred to him that if he died he could meet Spock on the other side.
"Jim?"
Jim froze. That voice. It wasn't possible.
"Jim, I have prepared our morning meal. I have no recollection of what we are doing in your parents' former residence, however."
"Spock! It's you! It's really you. You came back to me!" Jim grabbed Spock's arms, scrutinizing his adult face, then threw himself into his embrace.
"T'hy'la." Spock sounded worried. "I will never and have never left you."
"Oh my god," Jim sobbed. Sill holding him impossibly tight. "Sweetheart, you have no idea."
And despite himself, Jim laughed and laughed like a madman and didn't let go for hours.