Spock’s mind was a maze of calm precision, logic, and control. He had spent years honing his ability to block his emotions, keeping them locked away under tight mental barriers. But now, as he stood over the unconscious form of Jim, the situation had become.. complicated.

The artifact had been powerful when it struck. Spock had watched helplessly as the Captain fell into unconsciousness, their vital signs wavering dangerously. His immediate action had been to connect with them through the mind meld—an ancient and sometimes perilous Vulcan practice. In these circumstances, it was the only option to stabilize the Captain’s mental state long enough to guide them out of unconsciousness.

As he leaned forward, placing his hands on their temple, Spock felt the familiar delicate sensation of merging with another mind. At first, it was simply an echo of thoughts, fleeting impressions, a ripple of confusion and pain from the Captain’s mind. He reached deeper, pushing past the fragmented thoughts, the disorienting haze.

But as he ventured further, a shift occurred. The barriers he had so carefully constructed began to falter under the strain. The force of the mental connection, the intensity of his own efforts to guide the Captain back, caused Spock’s emotional controls to slip, ever so slightly. He had not intended for this to happen, but the bond between their minds deepened unexpectedly, a merging.

For a moment, he felt something that was not quite his own—an unspoken presence within him, foreign yet strangely familiar. With a sudden, sharp jolt, the Captain’s eyes flickered open. Spock’s mind recoiled, abruptly severing the bond, but it was too late. The connection had been formed, and though it was faint, it lingered, tethering them in a way he had never intended.

He took a step back, his breath steady, but his heart quickened. This was an unforeseen consequence. "Captain," he said softly, his voice calm, but there was an almost imperceptible tension in his gaze. "You are awake.”